Arsonist of Esperanza Fire Gets Death Sentence

Read here and here. Five counts of first degree murder. Move your piece to Death Row. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

The fact that Oyler was sentenced to death will never bring back the crew of Engine 57. It won’t bring back Jason McKay, Jess McLean, Daniel Hoover-Najera, Mark Loutzenhiser, and Pablo Cerda. The first three died at the scene; Lotzi died several hours later, and Pablo died a few days later, on Halloween. The debt will never be redeemed. Never. There’s no such thing as an eye for an eye. The scales will never level out.

And his execution won’t happen any time soon – there will be appeal after appeal, and stay after stay. We all know the story. He’ll live well within the walls of the prison, live better than any innocent, down on their luck homeless person. Justice? What’s justice?

I wonder how the family feels. Relief? Sorrow? Do they feel justice has been done? Is there closure? Will life truly go on?

Oh yes, I agree with the sentence. I would have been part of the mob had there been one. I cried for a straight week when Lotzi and the crew were killed. When they released the picture of the scene of the fatality and knew at once they’d had no chance, I cried harder. I cried when I heard about everyone’s back story, and other things I know that I can’t divulge because they’re private and confidential (let’s just say I know more than the public does, even though I haven’t been on the Forest for eleven years). I was cried out and numb by the time I got into my sister’s vehicle and went to the memorial at Glen Helen. I pray to God I never have to witness another. I cried when I read that joke of an incident report.

It’s not just because I was once of the ranks of those in the green trucks; it’s because I knew Lotzi during my time there, and because my sister knew Lotzi very well for twenty years. I mourn because there are five less fine and upstanding contributing members of society. I still know many of the people on the Forest, and always worried that one day, it would be one of our own. I mourn because I’ve spent a horrific week in the burn ward from a freak accident, know what it’s like to be treated for third degree burns, and in the end, I essentially walked away and came back to work.

They didn’t walk away. They had no chance. The fire set by Oyler burned so hot and so fast that as soon as anyone with any fire knowledge saw the pictures when they were released, knew the crew of Engine 57 never had a chance. It’s a travesty and a tragedy, and those left behind will mourn forever.

A part of my heart from this incident will always be heavy because I’ve pulled the hose and humped the hills with a pack on my back on the engines, been part of a near-burnover (and spent a terrifying fifteen minutes thinking that another crew I was close to had been), been flown into fires and was a stump-jumper, a ground pounder, a Hot Shot.

And once you’ve been part of the fire community, and particularly the wildland fire community, it is always a part of you.

At least this chapter is closed, but I don’t know if the book ever will be.