Las Vegas shooting victim remembered at California church service
SANTA BARBARA, Calif. — Riding on the back of her husband, Eddie’s Harley-Davidson motorcycle, Gloria Avila secured the urn containing the ashes of her niece, Route 91 Harvest festival shooting victim Denise Cohen.
Above the gold etched flowers, Gloria tied fluffy white angel wings in a bow. She held the urn tightly to her chest as she and Eddie, clad in a black denim biker jacket, rode to Santa Barbara Community Church.
During the 5 miles-or-so trek from the couple’s motel, Avila spoke to the chocolate-colored vase.
“This is your last ride, babe,” the 59-year-old told her late niece’s ashes.
Cohen, a 58-year-old mother of two and grandmother of three, was killed in the Oct. 1 mass shooting on the Strip. Her boyfriend, Derrick “Bo” Taylor, also died that night.
Outside the church Saturday afternoon, the wind smelled of pine and sent leaves dancing on the pavement. The 10 Harleys in the motorcade for Cohen’s memorial rumbled around the corner.
“Denise is rolling up,” said Janda Nunes, a cousin of Cohen’s. “She loved motorcycles; it’s kind of in the family.”
Avila’s husband, Eddie, steadied himself and held the urn as his wife removed her helmet and adjusted her American flag cardigan. Underneath, she wore a shirt with pictures of a smiling Cohen. Eddie’s jacket was inscribed twice on the back, it read “Brothers of Solitude” on top, “Las Vegas” on the bottom.
Funeral attendees had been told Saturday’s gathering was a celebration, and not to wear black. Instead, most wore purple — Cohen’s favorite color — or filled half the seats in the church in brighter colors.
The Avilas traveled to Santa Barbara on Friday from their Las Vegas home. They were supposed meet their niece the night of Oct. 1 — and had been frantic to reach her. It wasn’t until after nine hours of waiting at the Red Cross that Gloria had learned Cohen was killed.
On Saturday, she held her remains.
“This is Denise,” she told the friends and family standing outside the church. Her salt-and-pepper hair was braided to the middle of her back. “I’m letting people see her.”
Nunes hugged her aunt and said, “Let’s walk her in.”
They walked past the guest book, with 12 pages filled front to back. And past two jigsaw puzzles of the ocean, one each for Cohen’s sons Jeff and Brandon Rees; guests signed the back of each piece. The puzzles would later be assembled and displayed under glass.
They placed Cohen’s urns next to her photo, amid pink, purple and red roses and to the right of her Bible, opened to the book of Psalms. She was surrounded by her photo album, hats, candles and a pair of her cowboy boots.
As the service started, Pastor Rino Dattilo told the crowd he was there when Cohen accepted Jesus into her heart at South Coast Church in Goleta.
“I don’t even walk very well in cowboy boots, but I’m wearing them for her,” he said.
Kristel Vogel wiped tears from her eyes as she remembered her older sister, who sometimes took her to see “R” rated movies when she was too young. Vogel remembered the laughs they’d shared, the songs they’d sung together.
She also remembered the girls’ relationship with their father. Recently, Cohen had come to visit in Northern California, and she was worried their father, who had dementia, wouldn’t remember her.
But he perked up with a smile, pinched her cheek and said, “Oh, my little sweetie.”
The father, who died within the last month, had often told stories of Cohen as a little girl, recalling her cute dimples and how she danced around in her tutu.
“I know that I was meant to take care of him here on Earth, and she was meant to be there and greet him in heaven,” she said. “I love you, sis.”
Nunes and Cohen lived together for some time, as preteens. When Cohen’s mom left the house, they would stage backyard fashion shows, donning and stuffing Cohen’s mom’s bras and parading her clothes and jewelry down a runway they’d created. Cohen would describe herself as a “fashionista.”
“She was always a character, that Denise,” Nunes said. “And I loved her dearly. We all did.”
Eddie Avila told of taking his niece down the Strip on his motorcycle; she’d raise her arms to the heavens and scream “Woo!” in his ear.
“I’ll see her again,” the man with tattoos on his arms said. “I don’t know if I can take my bike, though.”
Leana Osuna had known Cohen for nine years; they’d been roommates and best friends. Cohen had compared the two to Lucy and Ethel.
“I thought we were more like Thelma and Louise,” Osuna said, laughing.
Osuna and Cohen had many differences. Cohen had been married twice with two kids, and Osuna had never married or had children. Together, however, they always found new adventures, traveling to Costa Rica and zip lining, riding horses, hiking and soaking in mud baths.
Osula will miss seeing Cohen sitting in her favorite chair, drinking Cabernet and watching “Wheel of Fortune.” Over the years, Cohen became a travel buddy and second mom to Osula’s dogs. Cohen would give up weekends to help Osula work a chocolate fountain or go out for drinks.
“Denise was way more than a friend to me,” Osula said. “She was family. She made my house a home.”
In addition to her sons, Cohen is survived by her grandchildren Samira, Evan and Landon; her mother MaryAnne and her loving family members and friends.
Contact Briana Erickson at berickson@reviewjournal.com or 702-387-5244. Follow @brianarerick on Twitter.