“He Will Never Be Forgotten”: Sgt. Dale LaRue’s 30-Year Promise to Fallen Trooper James Gross Lives On Along Interstate 71
ASHLAND, OH — The sound of a mower hums softly along the northbound shoulder of Interstate 71, against the loud noises of the traffic passing near mile marker 190. In the midday heat, Dale LaRue—retired sergeant of the Ohio State Highway Patrol—leans into his work with quiet determination. For nearly three decades, he has been coming to this solemn stretch of highway, cutting grass, clearing brush, and preserving a memorial not only of stone and pine, but of a life cut short in the line of duty.
The memorial, nestled just outside the right-of-way, marks the place where Trooper James R. Gross, only 27 years old, was gunned down during a traffic stop on a freezing January morning in 1996. Sgt. LaRue’s care for this memorial is not just maintenance—it is a sacred vow.
“I promised his family—his wife Veronica, his parents, his brothers and sisters—that as long as I’m alive, there will be a memorial out here for Jim. And I’ll keep it maintained,” LaRue said, pausing from mowing to reflect.
That promise has now spanned 29 years and will reach its 30th anniversary this coming January. “Time has flown, but that night is still fresh in my mind. I remember the call. I remember where I was. I’ll never forget.”
A Night That Changed Everything
On January 19, 1996, at approximately 3:15 a.m., Trooper Gross pulled over what he believed was a suspected drunk driver north of Ashland. Gross was unaware that the driver, Maxwell D. White Jr., had hours earlier shot his own mother, tied up his sister at gunpoint, and vowed not to return to prison.
As Trooper Gross approached the vehicle, White opened fire. A bullet to the arm disabled Gross’s dominant left hand. He ran, slipping and falling, then rising again before two more shots rang out. One bullet struck just below his body armor, severing his aortic arch. He died at the rear of his patrol car, alone on the highway, illuminated only by the flashing lights of his cruiser and the watchful eyes of truckers who reported the attack over CB radio.
White fled but was captured after a 29-mile high-speed pursuit. He was sentenced to death, later resentenced, and remains imprisoned at the Ohio State Penitentiary.
But for those who knew Jim Gross, justice did not erase the pain.
More Than a Memorial—A Living Tribute
In 1996, the very first tribute at the site was simple: a single American flag affixed to a fence. But for LaRue, it wasn’t enough.
“We kept hearing people say, ‘You can’t even see it unless you’re right on top of it,’” LaRue recalled. So, he started mowing. What was once a small patch of grass has grown into a highly visible, lovingly maintained memorial. A pine tree, donated by Gross’s high school softball coach, stands sentinel over the marker. A cross, American flags—now made of aluminum to endure the elements—and seasonal flowers surround the area.
“I do all the repairs myself,” LaRue added. “No one else steps up, but I don’t mind. It’s my honor.”
The land where the memorial sits isn’t even public property. It belongs to a private landowner who gave permission for the site to remain permanently, a personal way of honoring the trooper who gave his life just feet away.
LaRue isn’t just maintaining a site. He’s maintaining memory. And he’s teaching others to do the same.
Brotherhood and Sacrifice
LaRue and Gross worked the same shift at the Ashland Post. They weren’t just colleagues—they were friends. Gross, a Brunswick High School graduate and Akron University alumnus, had joined the patrol in 1993. He met and married Veronica, the love of his life, just two months after graduating from the 124th Academy class.
“He was dedicated,” LaRue said. “When he transferred to Ashland from Mt. Gilead, he wanted to be closer to home. And he really found his stride here.”
That stride was cut tragically short. But what followed was a ripple effect across the law enforcement community.
Retired Chief David Marcelli of the Ashland Police Division remembers how Gross’s death, just a year after the loss of Lt. John Gisclon, shook the department. “The impact was profound. Law enforcement tactics changed. COP bulletins became routine. His sacrifice is still part of our FTO program. We make sure every new officer knows his name.”
The “COP” (Caution Ohio Police) initiative, launched months after Gross’s death, transformed officer safety protocols statewide. By creating real-time alerts for potentially dangerous individuals—even before warrants could be issued—it gave officers crucial information they previously lacked.
“Greater Love Hath No Man…”
The legacy of Trooper Gross isn’t just in policy. It’s in the hands that touch his memorial. It’s in every hand salute LaRue gives when he passes the highway signs at mile markers 189 northbound and 191 southbound—dedicated to Jim thanks to legislation signed in 2002 by then Governor Bob Taft.
It’s in the fact that nearly three decades later, Law Enforcement still remember that night. That fellow troopers still visit. That LaRue still shows up with his mower and his heart wide open.
“I think people take law enforcement for granted,” LaRue said. “They don’t realize the risks. They just see an inconvenience when they get pulled over. But Jim’s death… that’s the cost of safety. That’s the price we pay.”
At the memorial, one can feel the weight of that price. The hum of the highway is constant, the cars unaware of the tragedy that occurred beside them. But for LaRue, and for all who knew Trooper James R. Gross, forgetting is not an option.
“Once we forget,” LaRue said, “that’s when we lose everything.”
Final Rest, Eternal Vigil
Trooper James R. Gross is gone but not forgotten. Thanks to Dale LaRue’s steadfast devotion, his memory lives not just in the annals of the Highway Patrol, but in the hearts of those who pass by mile marker 190 and glimpse the flag, the pine tree, and the cross.
As John 15:13 reminds us:
“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
Trooper Gross lived that verse. And Sgt. Dale LaRue ensures the world remembers it.
