Another officer down: Philly has mourned four in 2008

IT WAS MAY 8, the dead of night, when Sgt. Timothy Simpson, clutching handcuffs, walked up to the the home of Sgt. Stephen Liczbinski.

He'd made it in time.

In a few hours, Liczbinski's funeral would begin.

Simpson's buddy, his brother in blue, was gunned down five days earlier, after he stopped three men who fled after allegedly robbing a Port Richmond bank.

Simpson, who worked with Licz-binski in the 24th Police District, in North Philadelphia, entered the living room, solemn, yet proud.

In police tradition, Simpson had two hours before he snapped Liczbinski's handcuffs around the wrists of Eric DeShawn Floyd, the last of the three suspects in Licz- binski's death, who was found hidden in a run-down, boarded-up Kingsessing rowhouse.

"I watched him give the handcuffs to my mom," Matt Liczbinski, the sergeant's son, said yesterday. "It was very emotional. It was very hard."

The gut-wrenching grief bubbled over once again Monday night. Just after 11, Michele Licz-binski called her Matt to tell him that a drunk driver evading cops slammed into Simpson's police cruiser and killed him.

"Not again! Not again!" she cried to her son.

"It's always painful, whoever it is, anyone in blue," said Matt Licz-binski, 24. "But when you know the person, the person was in our house and checked up on us, it hurts more. It brought it all back."

Simpson, 46, who celebrated his 20th anniversary with the department on Friday and who was named supervisor of the month hours before his death, is the fifth Philadelphia cop killed in just over a year.

At 10:30 p.m., Simpson was responding to a priority call of a strong-arm robbery in the area of 3100 Aramingo Ave., said Deputy Commissioner William Blackburn.

At the same time, another patrol car, with lights flashing, was chasing William Foster, 41, of Levittown, who ran at least one red light and was speeding behind the wheel of a black 1998 Chevrolet Camaro, cops said. He drove with a suspended driver's license, was on probation for theft and had come to Philadelphia to buy heroin, Blackburn said. At Aramingo and Allegheny avenues in Port Richmond, Foster plowed into the rear-passenger side of Simpson's cruiser. The impact hurled Simpson's car into the corner of a building; both cars were demolished.

Simpson was pronounced dead at Temple University Hospital about 11:05 p.m. Foster, who had minor injuries, was charged with vehicular homicide while driving under the influence, third-degree murder, simple assault and drug and related offenses.

"The men and women of this department are suffering right now. All of us are," said Police Commissioner Charles Ramsey. "This is a difficult time for all of us, but we have a job to do and we have to continue to do it."

By chance, Ramsey saw Simpson on Monday when he stopped by 24th Police District headquarters, at Whitaker Avenue near Erie.

Ramsey stopped to say hello and to ask how he was doing.

"He was an excellent sergeant, an excellent police officer, loved in the district, well-respected," Ramsey said. "You can't say enough good things about him; it's just a tragedy. And when you see his children like we saw them last night, it just breaks your heart."

At a news conference, Capt. Kevin Hodges, of the 24th District, teared up and paused several times to compose himself.

He called Simpson "the old breed of cop."

"He'd take the job for 10 cents. He loved it," Hodges said. "It wasn't just a job or career to him, but his life's calling."

Hodges was made captain of the 24th two days after Liczbinski's murder. He then had to decide who would take Liczbinski's place leading Two Squad.

"I chose Simpson because he was a strong leader, a great cop and an excellent supervisor," Hodges said.

Although the district disclosed yesterday that Simpson and Licz- binski were never partners, they shared a camaraderie. Simpson held two other jobs, one at a scrap-metal yard, to support his family, and was widely known as the department's scrap-metals expert, cops said.

He kept a list of every scrapyard in the city, and through Simpson's work, the department recently was able to make a number of arrests in break-ins involving copper and metal-pipe theft, Hodges said. Simpson's brother, Terry, is a cop on the SWAT team.

All day long yesterday, police officers and friends stopped by Simpson's brick-and-stone twin on Gelena Road near Walnut Hill Street in Northeast Philadelphia.

By all accounts, Simpson was the caretaker of his neighborhood. Simpson, who had three grown children from a previous marriage, lived with his wife, Kathy, and their three children, twins, Samantha and Terry, both high- school sophomores, and Courtney, a fifth-grader.

Often after coming home from work in the fall, he revved-up his leaf blower, clearing the piles from his sidewalk and yard and from those of his neighbors'. Simpson approached this seemingly never-ending task with the same sense of duty and reserve that he applied while on the job, neighbors said.

"He took care of the whole street," neighbor Christina Smeraski said.

When Smeraski's husband died two years ago, Simpson told the 77-year-old widow, "Whatever you need, any help you need, you can call me - day or night." And he meant it, she said.

Smeraski, who lives next door to the fallen cop, emerged from Simpson's house yesterday afternoon, her face wet with tears. She went over to help console Simpson's wife. They ended up consoling one another.

"She was sitting on the sofa. She was crying so much. So I sat there and cried with her," Smeraski said.

Simpson worked overtime to ensure that his children, who splashed in the backyard pool in the summer and zipped up and down the block on motorized scooters in the fall, wanted for nothing, Smeraski said.

He liked to boat and fish on the Delaware River, but his kids were his passion, neighbors said.

"His real hobby was his kids," neighbor Shawn McPeake said. "He was the best dad that probably I ever saw."

"Best" is also the word often used to describe him as a cop.

After Liczbinski was gunned down, Simpson sold tickets to fundraisers to benefit his family, said Annamae Law, a community-relations cop in the 26th District.

Liczbinski's death was "hard on him," Law said. "But he was motivated to keep everyone on that squad together and maintain their spirit," she said.

Last Thursday, he was in the middle of a narcotics blitz in West Kensington, where cops busted a dogfighting ring.

"He was out there in the middle of everything. He was the hands-on type," said Capt. Debra Frazier, head of the Narcotics Field Unit.

"This is like a kick in the stomach," she said. "It seems like every time we get the mourning crepes off our badges, we have to put them back on again. I don't know how much more we can take."

For months, a police cruiser emblazoned with Liczbinski's name has sat in front of the 24th and 25th district headquarters, both in the same building.

Yesterday, cops went to the scene of the accident at Allegheny and Aramingo and picked up shards of glass and debris. Then together, cops and residents built a growing memorial of teddy bears, candles, balloons, flags, notes and flowers. And now they prepare for yet one more funeral.

This time the Liczbinski family will visit the Simpsons' home.

"Tim always called and asked how we were," Matt Liczbinski said. "Now it's the other way around. It's our turn." *

Staff writers Damon Williams and David Gambacorta contributed to this report.