Metro police officer remembered in funeral in Moapa

MOAPA — Moments before he was killed in a crash with a wrong-way driver last Thursday while heading home from a shift, officer Colton Pulsipher spoke on the phone to one of his friends.

“The last thing we ever said to each other was, ‘I love you,’” said officer Gabe Broadway, who thought of Pulsipher as a brother.

Pulsipher was someone who believed in making a difference and working with the community, Broadway said.

At The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Moapa, people gathered Wednesday morning to mourn the loss of Pulsipher at a funeral service. They sang hymns — “Be Still My Soul” and “Amazing Grace” — and spoke of his sense of humor, commitment to family and strong faith.

Before the service, Pulsipher’s motorcycle stood, with its seat empty, in front of the church. Officers left gloves, a helmet and a folded flag on it.

Afterward, an honor guard led his casket out of the church as mourners stood silently. Then, a cavalcade of police trucks and cars with flashing red and blue lights escorted Pulsipher’s remains to his resting place at Warm Springs Cemetery, where a riderless horse was waiting for Pulsipher to symbolically take a last ride with his family.

‘He’s gonna be here with us’

“Colton was a good big brother,” his sister Makae Fowers said, crying as she spoke at the service. “I miss him a lot. But you know what? Heavenly Father has a plan. I know all of you miss him too. And he’s still here, he’s still taking care of his kids and he’s still taking care of (his wife) Ashlee and all of us. And he’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be here with us.”

Pulsipher’s survivors include his wife, Ashlee; their three children, Carlee June, Brett Michael and Jonathan Colt; his parents and his siblings, according to an obituary published online by the Moapa Valley Mortuary.

Pulsipher’s obituary said he was born in 1995 in St. George, Utah, but lived most of his life in Moapa.

“Colton was an active, outdoors person,” the obituary said. “He loved shooting guns, being with his family and playing video games.”

Fowers said he grew up with several nicknames, including “Casper,” because, like a ghost, he had a knack for disappearing when his dad and uncles had a job for him and reappearing on the couch later.

“You could usually find him running around in the hills behind our house with cousins and friends or inside singing and dancing,” she said.

When friends visited Moapa, he’d “introduce them to his crazy family, then really hit them with a small town feel by taking them out at night to shoot rabbits,” she said.

And she recalled that her brother “was always shocked” when he was in the police academy and would learn something he thought was normal, like chasing people with cattle prods, wasn’t legal.

Fowers said Pulsipher met his future wife while they were serving on a mission in the same area. She was “the love of his life” and the couple “built a beautiful life” with their family in Moapa, Fowers said.

‘The brightest person I could ever have met’

He also had deep bonds with his Metro colleagues.

The first thing officer Troy Sammons noticed about Pulsipher was his “luscious mullet,” he said. The two clicked and became fast friends.

Sammons said Pulsipher’s wife called him every night. Pulsipher and Sammons would say goodnight to Pulsipher’s kids, his friend said.

Sometimes, Pulsipher and Sammons would meet up at a gas station. Pulsipher would buy a pack of Ferrero Rocher candy and feed them to his friend.

“Now you have to feed it back to me,” Sammons said Pulsipher would tell him.

“He was the brightest person I could ever have met in my entire life,” Sammons said. “And I’m thankful to have been a part of his life.”

Broadway said Pulsipher brought joy to every person who attended Wednesday’s service.

‘Like a kid on Christmas’

A favorite memory, he said, was when Pulsipher spotted a group of dirt bikes and mini bikes while they were riding around and decided he wanted to sit on them.

The bikes weren’t supposed to be on the road, and the bikers started to scatter as Pulsipher approached, Broadway said.

“Colton jumps on the PA and just says, ‘Hey, no, we just want to hang out,’” Broadway recalled. “When we got off our motors, Colton’s face was lit up like a kid on Christmas. And everybody was just dying laughing, seeing how happy he was to sit on the bikes.”

Contact Noble Brigham at nbrigham@reviewjournal.com. Follow @BrighamNoble on X.

Review-Journal staff photographer Kevin Cannon contributed to this report.