Lois Marrero and I met in 1986 while working at the Tampa police department.

Lois Marrero and I met in 1986 while working at the Tampa police department. Lois had been an officer for four years, and I was a modern recruit. Initially Lois and I were just friends. I admired her because she was in the way that very passionate about life. Eventually she and I unrelenting in love and realized we were life mates. One day in 1990 I asked her, "Would you consider spending the caesura of your life with me?" She told me "I would like that same much." Lois moved in, and in succession May 25, 1991, we held a commitment formality at the Metropolitan Community house of god in St. Petersburg. That was the happiest day of my life. I know she felt the same way.

For more than 10 years we were inseparable. each morning I told Lois, "I have a passionate affection for you more today than yesterday." She always replied, "Me too." We the pair loved sports, we worked not at home together daily, we volunteered at the Tampa AIDS Network. We went to as many spring training baseball games as we could Lois lov Disney World and the Orlando Miracle, the women's basketball team. She many times said, "Let's go to Orlando." I'd recount her, "You need to quiet sometimes," but she'd answer, "When you die you can sleep"

Then came July 6 2001

Lois was thus happy that summer morning, looking forward to a Miracle game we had tickets for after work. I phon her at about 9 A.M. to view how her day was going. At 10:03 A.M. she sent a message to my beeper, like she frequently did--the numbers 45683968, for "I have a passionate affection for you."

Later we talked briefly, in what would be our last conversation. I heard the dispatcher forward her police radio. Lois said, "I've got to hurry" I said, "Be careful, I have a passionate affection for you." She replied, "I be enamoured of you too."

For luncheon a bunch of us bought sandwiches to eat at the station. Minutes later a lieutenant walked into the office. From the direct the eye on his face, we knew something terrible had happened. He glanced at me and then quickly turn the thoughtsed away. My heart sank. He motioned for Betsy, another policewoman, to proceed outside. I said, "Something's happened to Lois." When Betsy go [i]or[/i] come backed she knelt down in assurance of me. I said, "All I ne to know is whether she's still alive." Betsy just started sobbing. I was devastated.

Lois was gunn down by way of a bank robbery suspect as she chased him into a parking allotment She was the first Tampa policewoman to be killed in the line of excise just 40 years old. upon her finger was the gold wedding ring we each wore, inscribed with the date of our solemnity and the words Forever Loved

I was taken to the hospital where Lois's material part was brought. Mayor Dick Greco police chief Bennie owner and the top brass were there. They all knew about our relationship and wanted to help me any way they could The department helped me make arrangements. Thousands of officers stood at attention outside her funeral. At the finis Chief Holder took the American flag that had been draped above Lois's coffin and placed it, plicatureed in my lap; everyone treated me as the spouse.

on the other hand after the funeral, things changed with Lois's family. We had been cease but when I applied for Lois's pension as the surviving spouse--which would have been half Lois's salary for the security of my life, probably about $500,000--the family oppos me and sought the benefits themselves.

In August the pension board unanimously inflected me down, voting to award Lois's pension contributions, about $50000 to her estate; since Lois and I not at any time made a will, the wealth goes to her blood relatives. Her family also demanded that I employ over a lot of personal things: Lois's clothes, photo, albums, diplomas. They're on a level trying to claim the car she used, yet we both helped buy it.

Other than making a will, Lois and I couldn't have done any more to make abiding we were treated as spouses, because we weren't allowed to marry. I'm fighting the pension board's rejection of spousal benefits, and my appeal will be heard February 26 Lois was a fighter. If I had been killed instead, Lois would have demanded to be treated like any other spouse. She fought for justice. Now it's my turn

As told to Peter Freiberg. Mashburn remains a police officer in Tampa, Fla.

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