Larry Canfield's motorcycle brothers escorted his body into its final resting place Thursday afternoon with all the solemnity, honor and precision befitting a law enforcement officer's funeral.

And with unlit cigars in their mouths.

It was a small tribute to the 43-year-old sheriff's deputy for whom the cigar became a trademark on and off duty.

But it was one that seemed perfect for a man described as a caring family man, a dedicated cop and a prankster with one hell of a sense of humor.

Thursday's memorial service for Canfield was full of moments like those, moments that inspired laughter and tears among a crowd known for stoicism and strength.

More than 2,000 people packed First Baptist Church of Elk Grove and spilled into its overflow chapel, a majority of them brothers and sisters of the badge. About 500 were motorcycle officers, riding in from as far away as Portland, Ore., in about twice the numbers often seen at such funerals, said sheriff's Sgt. Tim Curran.

Canfield, a 13-year veteran of the Sacramento County Sheriff's Department who most recently served on the Rancho Cordova Police Department's motorcycle unit, died in a traffic accident last week.

The loss has had a tremendous impact on a department reeling from five line-of-duty deaths in just four years. To his immediate colleagues, Canfield's death has been most devastating.

"I lost a piece of me along with my dear friend that day, that day I will hate forever," said his patrol partner, Deputy Scott Padgett, who has known Canfield for 11 years.

Padgett described himself as a partner and wingman to his friend – whom he liked to call Lawrence of Arabia, if only to annoy him – and said the two sometimes acted like an old married couple.

He once drew a cartoon of Canfield, complete with cigar, to which the subject responded: "You dork. My cigar goes on the other side."

Several of Canfield's childhood friends said his history with law enforcement began long before 1997, when Canfield was sworn in as a full-time deputy: In their teens, the friends were chased by police for their mischief.

Among their most legendary pranks described by friend Jimmy Stemler: the "Great Chicken Caper of Galt High School" – when they dropped (unintentionally) dead chickens through the windows at a campus dance – and a class of 1983 prank involving a Volkswagen on the school's roof.

As the tales poured out of Canfield's buddies, tears of sadness became tears of laughter. Stemler, a Clovis firefighter, joked that he felt comfortable sharing the potentially incriminating stories with an audience of cops because Sheriff John McGinness had assured him the statute of limitations had surely expired.

The two-hour service ended on a somber note, as speakers boomed with the simulated static of police radio traffic. When a dispatcher attempted to raise "5Mary5," Canfield's call sign, and was met with silence, Padgett – "5Mary10" – radioed the dispatcher to say his partner was "End of Watch."

"I love you, brother," he choked.

McGinness officially has retired that call sign, and badge No. 1079, in Canfield's honor.

A procession six miles long accompanied Canfield's body to Galt Arno Cemetery, where he will be interred with his mother.

Residents and firefighters, some sitting atop their rigs, lined Highway 99 and freeway overpasses to watch the procession pass. Some carried signs reading "God Bless You" and "We Love You."

At the cemetery, a 21-gun salute, bagpipes, a bugler's taps and a riderless horse paid homage to Canfield. Seven helicopters flew over, one veering to the west to symbolize his departure.

On bended knee, McGinness presented Canfield's widow, Michelle, and the couple's two sons with a folded flag. She clung to it as the crowd dispersed.

Before they, too, dispersed, Canfield's motorcycle brothers said a prayer around the coffin, upon which they placed their white-gloved hands and a red rose.

Call The Bee's Kim Minugh, (916) 321-1038.