A devoted officer: Santaquin Police Sgt. Bill Hooser’s dedication, friendship remembered a year after his death
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- The gravestone of Sgt. Bill Hooser is pictured Monday, May 5, 2025, in Santaquin.
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- Sgt. Bill Hooser is pictured.
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- Blue ribbons are wrapped around town to honor Sgt. Bill Hooser Monday, May 5, 2025, in Santaquin.
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- Blue ribbons are wrapped around town to honor Sgt. Bill Hooser Monday, May 5, 2025, in Santaquin.
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- A sign of support is pictured outside of the Santaquin police station on the year mark of Sgt. Bill Hooser’s death on May 5, 2025.
Blue ribbons wrapped the poles of nearly every light post and traffic sign throughout Santaquin on Monday in remembrance of Sgt. Bill Hooser.
It was one year ago that Hooser died while in the line of duty, and the shock of the tragedy hasn’t subsided.
But the desire to carry on his memory persists.
“I think we miss him more each and every day,” detective Cody Tipler said. “We still want to move forward, but keeping him and his legacy alive, I think, is what’s important for our department.”
Hooser made a strong impact in his seven years at the Santaquin Police Department, quickly climbing the ranks from corporal to detective to sergeant.
He held a higher standard than anyone, Tipler said, first as a field training officer, where his training became the ultimate test of whether a new officer would be successful, to his time as an investigator, where he wrote thorough reports and rarely went to court.
Being a police officer was his life’s calling, according to his wife, Kinda Hooser.
“Anyone who knew Bill knew that law enforcement was what he always wanted to do, and in his mind, he had his dream job,” she said during a memorial ceremony last week at Capital Hill in Salt Lake City. “Bill never cut corners and put his heart and soul into the job, no matter the length that he had to go through.”
Who Sgt. Hooser was
Tipler learned of Hooser’s devotion to his job before the Santaquin days, back when the two were fellow cadets at a police academy in San Juan County, New Mexico.
The standard procedure at the academy was to shine your boots until “you could see your face in them,” Tipler recalled, and trainees did everything they could to get their boots as pristine as possible — spitting on them or shining them with cloth shirts.
But no matter how shiny the trainees’ shoes were, they were no match for Hooser’s shoes. He walked into the academy every day wearing boots that sparkled like they were straight out of Disney World, Tipler said.
Everyone wanted to know how Hooser did it, and he finally let everyone in on his secret.
“He finally told us, ‘Yeah, I put a 20-pound weight in my boot, I use the high shine gloss, and I get my wife’s pantyhose, and I just go to town on them,'” Tipler said. “I was like, there’s no way. … I don’t know what his secret was, but he had the best looking boots around.”
The tale reflected the way Hooser approached the job, Tipler believed. Immaculate. Dedicated. “Honest days work for honest days,” he said.
But also, lighthearted and witty. “He’d always have some crazy joke,” Tipler added.
It’s also how he lived off the job.
Kinda Hooser said her husband was always in competition with a neighbor, whether they knew it or not, on who could keep the nicest, greenest lawn. He frequently teased his daughters and nieces and nephews and got them to laugh along.
“He was the life of the party, always joking around and bringing light to any negative situation,” Kinda Hooser said.
Hooser was also a good friend, offering Thanksgiving dinner every year to officers who were on patrol and couldn’t go home and pulling out his smoker and hosting barbecues with his friends in the department, Tipler said.
He was even the one who convinced Tipler to make a job change, recruiting him to move to Utah — a place where Tipler had no ties – to join Santaquin’s department.
“I think Bill was just looking out for our well being, really,” Tipler said. “He knew New Mexico is a great area. We love the place; we love to go back and everything. But I think he just saw bigger and better things for (my family), like a growing opportunity. … He was just a good guy, man. I don’t know any other way to describe him.”
One year later
Hooser’s absence looms large as the year mark passes. At the memorial ceremony, Kinda Hooser recounted some of the things he’s missed in the last year — a wedding of one of their daughters and the first birthday of a grandchild.
“It’s hard to believe I’m standing here almost one year after Bill was taken from us,” she said. “I can’t quite put into words how hard it’s been without him here. I often think about everything he’s missed out on in such a short amount of time.”
The impact he’s had on people’s lives continues, though, and is as prevalent as the blue ribbons that scatter the town.
“We’re here for a limited amount of time. So in that amount of time, how are you going to make a difference?” Tipler said. “And I think that was Bill’s way of thinking when he was here, is how is he going to make a difference?”
