It is with profound sadness that we announce the passing of Harold George “Joe” Thompson. Joe was a man of many names and roles: husband, dad, papa, father mole, brother, uncle, neighbor, friend, peace officer and Knight of Columbus. 

Joe’s story began in Massachusetts in 1941, during a time of great upheaval. Not long after his birth, Joe’s father, Harold Sr., was deployed overseas during World War II, leaving behind his wife Polly and their young son, Joe. With Harold away, Polly and Joe moved in with her parents James and Anna Dawson — a decision that would profoundly shape Joe’s life.

James and Anna became more than grandparents to Joe; they were his “dad and ma,” his anchors in a world of uncertainty. Anna, though blind, was a remarkable force of creativity and warmth. She crafted beautiful dolls, played the guitar, sang songs, and wove enchanting stories that captured Joe’s imagination. James, with his gentle spirit and steadfast love, became a guiding light in Joe’s formative years. Together with Polly, they created a nurturing and deeply connected environment that became Joe’s entire world.

When Harold returned from the war, he carried the invisible wounds of trauma and PTSD. Life changed again for the family when Harold moved Joe and Polly to Pittsfield where they lived in a big house they shared with Harold’s father Charles Thompson and many of his other relatives. In 1952, they drove with the family dog and cat in a 1938 Plymouth across the country to Chula Vista, Calif. Two years later, they settled in a tiny house on Creelman Lane in Ramona, Calif. The love and lessons Joe had absorbed during those early years with Anna, James, and Polly remained with him, shaping the kind-hearted and empathetic man he would become.

Those formative years instilled in Joe an extraordinary instinct and ability to connect with others — a quality that defined him throughout his life. His deep compassion and presence made him not only a joy to be around but also an exceptional peace officer. Whether he was helping people through mental health crises or navigating high-stress emergency situations, Joe’s ability to bring calm and understanding was a testament to the enduring influence of the love he received as a child.

Growing up in Ramona, Joe made lifelong friendships and lived through adventures that made headlines in the local paper. In the late ’50s, the Ramona Sentinel ran an article with the headline “Sonic Boom Frightens Santa Maria Valley Chickens.” That boom was dynamite. Joe, Bill Bowers and Frankie Groggins, friends from Creelman Lane, found 13 sticks of dynamite. They placed the bundle of dynamite under a boulder, added a blasting cap and primer cord, then ignited the dynamite with Joe’s Blue Diamond matchstick. The only damage was the boulder shooting up in the air and then landing and splitting in half. None of the boys were injured. He wrote to the paper 57 years later, confessing, stating that God protects idiots and children.

As a young teenager, Joe had a date with destiny. He was working at a local chicken ranch, collecting eggs to earn money for his first car. One day while hitchhiking to work, a man named Bernard Clauser pulled over to give him a ride. “Hop on in,” Bernie said. Joe looked in the car and saw six kids all piled on top of each other. “Sir, I don’t think you have room,” Joe said. “Of course we do,” replied Bernie. “In fact, we are on our way to pick up one more!” The family was on their way to pick up Mary Clauser, his wife, and new baby, Kathy Clauser. 

An only child, Joe had always wanted siblings, and he immediately felt welcomed by the Clauser clan. Joe climbed in, found a seat next to a pretty young lady named Betty Jean Clauser (who already had her eye on Joe, having seen him in Algebra class), and all the kids chatted excitedly as they were looking forward to meeting their new baby sister. Joe told Bernie to drop him off at the edge of the farm property, but Bernie drove out of his way, taking Joe all the way onto the farm. Joe used to say that Bernie altered time and space that day. Joe and Betty became high school sweethearts, and were married in 1962.  Bernie was another example of a kind, loving father, who was an important influence in Joe’s life.

Joe attended Ramona High, where he ran track, played football and basketball, and graduated in 1960. The Ramona High Bulldogs were CIF champs in 1959, with the Ramona Bulldogs holding a 23-game winning streak from ’59-’60. Joe was so excited when Ramona High repeated history 57 years later, attending a winning game with brother-in-law and fellow Bulldog Ed Keyser. 

After Joe and Betty married, Joe held several jobs as the young couple started their family. As their family grew with the birth of Joe Jr. in 1963, then the birth of Theresa in 1964, Joe held several physically demanding jobs at once working as a milkman, a loader for Royal Crown Cola, and gas station attendant to make ends meet and pay their $100 a month mortgage. However, his situation improved in 1966 when he was hired as a forest fire truck driver by the California Division of Forestry, and the family moved to the Salton Sea.  They later moved to Beaumont when he was promoted to the new position of Corpsman Advisor at Oak Glen Conservation Camp. Joe then applied to the California Highway Patrol and completed the CHP Academy in 1968. That same year, they welcomed their third child, Cheryl. 

Joe’s great influence during this period was that of neighbors Bob and Marian Bruce, who became very close friends, and were like grandparents to Joe and Betty’s children. Bob was a kind and honest man who at that time was in his 70s, having been born in San Diego in 1894. Bob had a career as a Los Angeles Police Officer from 1924 to approximately 1950 and then served as Beaumont’s Chief of Police from about 1952 to 1962. Bob encouraged Joe to seek his career in law enforcement and to become civically active. Around 1970, Joe joined the Beaumont Library Board, where he served with Bob and others until around 1980. 

In 1972, after the birth of their fourth child Meri, the family moved a short distance to a larger home in Cherry Valley, where Joe started a hobby farm where he kept bees, raised chickens, ducks and pigs, and planted a cherry orchard.

Joe had so many stories to tell, working the beat in the high desert of Southern California. He was an exemplary officer, who did not have one citizen complaint in more than 27 years on the job. For many years he gave presentations about the CHP and driver’s safety to the local high schools and was awarded Officer of the Year for his dedication to public service and for presenting an exemplary image for the CHP. 

If you were pulled over, Joe was the cop you would hope for. Once he pulled over a woman whose car was smoking and falling apart.  As he approached the driver’s side door, he saw her make the sign of the cross. He immediately returned to his patrol car and drove away. The woman sat in her car, appearing stunned. She undoubtedly had her own story to tell about the day she prayed a cop away.

After years of dedicated service at the Banning CHP Office, Joe was presented with an opportunity – a transfer to Humboldt County. With his signature foresight and unwavering care for his loved ones, Joe and Betty made the bold decision to relocate the family north, a move that would prove to be transformative for the family.

Humboldt County became the perfect place for the Thompson kids to thrive and carve out their futures. All four children pursued higher education at Humboldt State University, each excelling in their chosen fields and walking away with degrees that reflected individual passions and talents. Joe Jr. embraced his love for the outdoors, earning a degree in Wildlife Management; Theresa found her passion for educating children and obtained her degree in Education; Cheryl pursued a degree and career in Nursing, driven by her compassion for others; and Meri channeled her creativity and curiosity and earned a degree in Journalism. 

The decision to transfer to Humboldt wasn’t just a geographical shift, it was a gift of opportunity and possibility, the foundation upon which we were able to build our lives. It was, without question, one of the wisest and most impactful choices Joe and Betty made for our family, shaping not only our careers but our futures in ways we did not imagine or understand at the time. 

Joe and Betty purchased an A-Frame home in Eureka, with five acres of Redwoods, a creek, and the most amazing neighbors. Transitioning from the heat and blazing sun of the desert to the serene beauty of Humboldt County was an easy one. When the family would return to Southern California, emerging from gray, foggy weather to the bright sun of the desert, they began referring to themselves as “moles.”

Joe (Father Mole) was a reliable, trustworthy, and non-judgmental dad, and that was a gift that not many children have. As a father, grandfather and great-grandfather, Joe encouraged knowledge, creativity and curiosity. When his birthday, Christmas, or Father’s Day rolled around and we would ask what he wanted, he would just say, “Make it or find it.” 

Joe and Betty always had an open-door policy welcoming their children’s friends, coworkers, and special people they met.  This is how the Thompson kids got their bonus siblings, Dawn Peshka and Adam Jager.  

Joe was a man who provided unwavering support, always providing a word of encouragement when you needed it; and sage advice when you may not have been ready or willing to hear it. Difficult words were delivered with kindness and love. Joe was always there for his friends and family. Joe was the guy who showed up. Need work on the old Craftsman or Victorian you bought? Call Joe. Broke down in that old Ford/Volvo/VW/Rambler/Comet? Call Joe. Broke down again? Call Joe. Moving? Call Joe. Moving again? Call Joe. Joe always said you can measure the strength of a friendship by who shows up to help you move your furniture.  Random stray animals that needed rehabbing or a new home often came home with Joe: cats, trojan cats (pregnant cats), dogs, a raven, a crow, a pigeon, and the list goes on. 

If something reminded him of you, he would not hesitate to reach out and share.  Books were read and passed to another. Song lyrics or a link to a tune would randomly appear in text or email. Fictional stories were told to his kids to encourage creativity. Poems were written and gifted when least expected. However, Joe’s CHP stories were top notch gifts.

Of course, some stories were frightening tales of accidents and shootings, where we were reminded that his job was dangerous and there were very dangerous people in the world. But the stories we remember most demonstrated Joe’s funny side – stories not heard these days when people think of the Five-0. 

Cheryl recalls as a teenager driving her friends to Fieldbrook one rainy night, when she was lit up by a patrol car. Her passengers were in a panic, wondering why they were being pulled over; but Cheryl had a feeling it may be her dad. When she pulled over and rolled down the window of her ’67 Volvo, a hand reached in with a bag of fresh popcorn. Cheryl took the bag, and the cop walked away. Her friends were initially silent, then as the cop drove off, her car filled with hysterical laughter. Clueless as to what just happened, Cheryl left them wondering why a cop sporting a Pink Floyd pin pulled her over only to make a snack delivery. 

Joe wasn’t just a father – he was the heart of our family, the one who showed us what it truly meant to love deeply and care for one another. He had an uncanny ability to be there, fully present, anticipating our needs before we even realized them ourselves.

When his daughter Theresa was diagnosed with cancer and she lost her hair due to chemotherapy, Joe didn’t just offer words of comfort. Without hesitation or fanfare, he shaved his own head – a quiet, powerful action of solidarity and love. This gesture didn’t come as a surprise to any of us. This was who Joe was: a man whose actions spoke louder than words, a father whose love was boundless and unwavering. Such moments defined him. He didn’t just teach us to take care of each other; he lived it every single day. Through his presence, compassion, and his selflessness, Joe showed us what it means to truly show up for the people you love.

Not ready to slow down after retiring from the Highway Patrol, Joe reinvented himself. Trading his badge for a private investigator’s license, and launching his own business, Advantage Investigation, brought a renewed sense of purpose. Shifting from chasing suspects to uncovering truths was a natural evolution of Joe’s unwavering commitment to justice.

Joe’s remarkable character was demonstrated by the cases he chose to take on. Instead of working for high-powered clients or flashy organizations, Joe partnered with the public defender’s office, tackling cases where the stakes were often highest and the odds stacked against those he was helping. He wasn’t just an investigator, he was a seeker of truth, methodically piecing together facts to shine a light where it was most needed.

For Joe, being a PI was not just a job; it was a calling. He loved the challenge, the responsibility, and the opportunity to make a difference in people’s lives. In his eyes, truth wasn’t just something to be found, it was something to fight for. With sharp instincts, he fought tirelessly for truth. Joe dreamed of passing on his craft to a family member, but when none of the Thompson kids joined him, he found the ideal partner in Adam Jager, a retired CHP officer and bonus sibling to the Thompson kids.

Adam, lovingly nicknamed “Adam Mole,” had been like both a brother and son to Joe for more than 40 years. Their bond, rooted in decades of friendship and mutual respect, made Adam’s decision to join Joe in the PI field a natural fit. When Adam earned his own private investigator license, Joe was overjoyed – not for personal gain, but for the chance to see someone he deeply cared for thrive in a role he cherished. They shared an unbreakable bond that made them a powerful team, and watching Adam succeed became one of Joe’s proudest achievements.

Joe was a man of deep faith and was baptized in the Catholic Church in his 20s. Joe had been a CHP officer for a few years and was running late to work due to having been at church, which caused him to miss the daily briefing.  During the briefing, a fellow officer, Ambers “Sonny” Shewmaker, had picked up a case of an accident that should have been given to Joe.  Joe apologized for being late and asked if he wanted to hand the case back to him, and Sonny replied, “No, I got this one – we’ll switch back later.” Sonny worked the accident that night, then later pulled over a vehicle near Yucaipa for speeding, unaware that the vehicle was stolen. As Sonny was in his car using his radio, he was ambushed by the suspect who opened fire, killing Sonny. This event had a profound impact on Joe. 

After Joe’s death, we found a prayer card in Joe’s handwriting, listing the names of loved ones that he prayed for daily. Among the list of names: Sonny. Accompanying the prayer list were lines from the poem “Desiderata.” “You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and stars.” 

Joe was a Knight with the Knights of Columbus, Council 1067, where he also served as Treasurer. Joe was also involved in a local book club, as he was an avid reader who enjoyed discovering and learning new things along with discussing different points of view. If there was something that Joe did not know about or understand, he approached it with respect and desire to learn. 

Joe and Betty were married for 63 years. They shared in the joy of raising four children, 10 grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren with one more on the way. Joe was so proud of his family. He delighted in their accomplishments. In the last year of his life, Joe got to meet a new great-grandchild, Jonah; attend his granddaughter Megan’s graduation (with honors) from nursing school; and attend grandson Dawson’s graduation as a Louisiana State Police Trooper. Joe proudly gifted Dawson his road-worn CHP badge.

Joe would want us all to rejoice as he has been reunited with his beloved daughter Theresa; mom Polly, and dad Harold Sr.; great grandparents Anna and James; Bernard and Mary Clauser; nephew Erinn Edens; brothers Mel Hill, Ed Keyser, Don Clauser and Bill Clauser; Frank Scolari; Bob and Marian Bruce, and other friends and loved ones who passed before him.

A mass and celebration of Joe’s life will take place on Saturday, September 6, 2025. The mass will be held at 12 PM at Sacred Heart Church in Eureka, CA, followed by a celebration of life in the hall behind the church. The gathering will continue until 5 PM. We invite all friends and loved ones to join us to honor Joe’s memory — please come to share stories, sing, raise a toast, and rejoice in the remarkable life he lived.

Our family would like to thank Adam Mole, Daughter Dawn, Fr. Bernard, Fr. O’Hara, Fr. Mike, Fr. Elisio, The Knights of Columbus, the Apron Ladies, and the amazing, caring staff at Providence - St. Joseph Hospital. The nurses on PCU, ICU, Med Surg 3, ED, O.R., aides, lift team, nutrition services, lab staff, respiratory therapists, physical therapists, pharmacy staff, physicians, and imaging services. To Megan M. who was with us when our dad crossed over: your presence and compassion lifted our spirits. To Steve on MS3 night shift: You were a rock star. You continued to give our dad dignity and respect by not only caring for his medical needs, but by addressing him as Mr. Thompson throughout your shifts. You were professional, kind, and recognized Joe Thompson was a man whom we deeply loved. You are nursing excellence. If anyone is deserving of the Daisy Award, it is you. We will always remember you and the compassion you showed our dad.

In lieu of flowers or donations, please read a book to your kids or grandkids (preferably “The Hobbit”), pay for the person behind you, take your dog for a drive with the window down, or feed a raven or crow.  

One final cop story for the road, direct from Joe’s “Volume I CHP Stories.”

“One day I was working an afternoon shift, and I came across a man and his family broken down on Hwy. 299, east of Blue Lake. The man looked like he was struggling to get by, but hard working. He had a wrench in one hand and a greasy fuel pump in the other. 

‘Fuel pump quit,’ he said. I offered to drive him into town. He said he would appreciate that but no need. He did not have any credit or any money, and he just put the last of it into his gas tank to get to Weaverville. So, I said, ‘Come on. I’ll take you to someone who might have a fuel pump.’ I drove to the Napa Auto Parts store in Arcata and bought him a fuel pump. It brought tears to his eyes. He fixed the car in about 10 minutes and went on his way. 

A few weeks later, a letter came to the CHP office. He didn’t know my name but wanted to thank the ‘officer that had a heart as big as he was tall.’

Of course I didn’t say anything. Cops have a way of needling each other. Did I want a new moniker ‘Tall Heart’? No. I preferred my nickname ‘Turbo Thompson.’

Because I was ‘slow and easy.’”

Officer Thompson - 10-10, off duty. 

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