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For Eileen Cajuso, the number was 191. For David Jaramillo, it was 181.
That is how many days had passed since Mrs. Cajuso learned her husband, Sgt. David A. Cajuso, of the Miami Beach Police Department, died after crashing his patrol motorcycle while on duty, and since Mr. Jaramillo learned that his 27-year-old son, Deputy Devin M. Jaramillo, had been fatally shot by a suspect he was trying to subdue.
On Thursday, May 7, 2026, both grieving relatives gave speeches during the 45th Annual Miami-Dade Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Ceremony at Tropical Park.
About 2,000 people attended the ceremony, nearly half of them dressed in uniform, brothers and sisters in blue, supporting the two families, and paying tribute to the 171 Miami-Dade County officers, deputies, agents and other law enforcement officials who made the ultimate sacrifice.
The relatives of officers killed in the line of duty in Miami-Dade County were escorted from a hospitality tent to their seats Thursday evening in preparation for the start of the ceremony. They sat in the front rows, some clutching flowers, some wearing buttons or t-shirts with their fallen loved one’s name on it. The sound of bagpipes marked the start of the ceremony. There was a procession of 27 flags, each one from a Miami-Dade County law enforcement agency that has in its history an officer killed in the line of duty.
For both speakers, the venue carried familiarity.
In recent years, Eileen Cajuso would load the couple’s three children into her car and drive to the memorial ceremony. David Cajuso would already be there, in his uniform, working near the entrance of the memorial, and his wife and children would stand nearby and keep him company. Eileen Cajuso would listen to the speeches of grieving families, never imagining she would one day stand among them.
“Back then, I stood here as his wife, watching him, and admiring him in his uniform. Today, I stand here as his widow, honoring him,” she said. Grief pressed through her voice as she continued.
“Let me put it this way, I once stood on the edge of someone else’s loss, looking in, and now I’m on the inside living it.”
 
Devin Jaramillo had followed his father into law enforcement, lateraling from the Coral Gables Police Department to the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office, where his father spent more than three decades before retiring. Throughout his career, David Jaramillo made it a point to attend the annual memorial ceremony at Tropical Park.
“I first stepped on these grounds back in the early 90’s, a dear friend of mine, a partner, Carmen Gonzalez, was killed in the line of duty, November 28, 1993. I stood up here and represented her, to her family, and from that moment on, I came to a lot of these tributes. I witnessed the loss of a lot of colleagues and friends from this department, and other departments, but today is bittersweet… it’s come full circle for me,” David Jaramillo said.
David Cajuso’s and Devin Jaramillo’s names were the 170th and 171st etched into the granite memorial. Four slabs bear the names of every Miami-Dade County law enforcement officer killed in the line of duty since 1895.
Aventura Police Department Chief Michael Bentolila, president of the Miami-Dade County Association of Chiefs of Police, said during his opening remarks,  “No matter how many years pass, their sacrifice will never fade. Just as we begin each roll call with Officer Rhett McGregor, who gave his life in 1895, we will continue to honor every name that follows. Time does not diminish their legacy, it strengthens it.”

A 15 percent reduction in crime within any defined district would be considered a significant achievement by most law enforcement standards. A 50 percent drop borders on the improbable.
 
Yet in the agricultural fringes of Miami-Dade County, where suburban development gives way to groves, nurseries and backyard stables, deputies assigned to the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office’s Agricultural Patrol Section have done just that. Since 2023, they have cut in half a stubborn and often overlooked category of crime: the theft of avocados and other produce, and the grisly, illicit slaughter of horses for meat.
 
The crimes, while niche in appearance, are neither small nor isolated. Fueled by a persistent black-market demand, organized groups have siphoned off hundreds of thousands of dollars in crops, slipping into groves under cover of darkness and stripping trees bare. Horses, in some cases taken from private properties, have been butchered and processed for sale, their meat trafficked far beyond county lines.
 
The stolen produce often reappears in plain sight — sold at roadside stands or in open-air markets, advertised with little more than handwritten cardboard signs. The horsemeat trade is more discreet but no less extensive, moving through informal networks and turning up in plastic bags in clandestine locations as far away as Okeechobee, roughly 160 miles north, sometimes behind the anonymous sprawl of big-box retail centers.
 
“When I started out here in 2023, there was an average of five or six horse slaughters a year,” said Sgt. Pedro Guerra, who oversees the small, specialized unit of three deputies. “Through our investigations, we identified the main players — the criminal organizations — and we brought those main antagonists to justice. In 2025, there wasn’t a single case.”
 
Such results do not emerge by accident. They are the product of methodical investigative work, persistence and a familiarity with a landscape where agriculture and crime intersect in ways that are both highly localized and deeply organized. For example, through their investigation, the Section discovered that the individuals who were hitting the groves and loading box trucks to the hilt with avocadoes, were undocumented but answered to a hierarchy that paid them in cash. Through collaboration with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, those undocumented individuals provided valuable information that helped  the Section in its investigations of not only produce, but also with the horse thefts and other criminal activities.
 
Among the deputies credited with uncovering the main perpetrators is Detective Josue Guerra Jr., no relation to his supervisor, whose investigative work has drawn recognition beyond law enforcement circles. This year, he was named the Dade County Farm Bureau’s Deputy of the Year — an acknowledgment not only of arrests made, but of a broader disruption to a criminal ecosystem. He has been a member of the agency for 21 years, 11 as a detective, and was assigned to the Section’s investigations unit in June 2023.
 
Detective Guerra also was credited with recovering stolen exotic birds, valued at over $25,000. The birds were stolen from a business, and after Detective Guerra watched surveillance video of the theft, he traced the suspect to his residence in Opa Locka.
 
“I met a lot of the farmers, we’ve interacted a lot, and I’m honored to get that award,” Detective Guerra said. He will receive his award on Saturday, April 25, 2026, during the Dade County Farm Bureau’s 46th Annual Barbecue at the Florida Farm Bureau’s Dimare Annex, 500 N. Krome Avenue, Florida City.
 
The Bureau’s Executive Director, Jocelyn Guilfoyle, applauded the Section’s work in helping to dramatically reduce thefts. “Detective Guerra has been great, and the farmers are very pleased with the results that the section as a whole has delivered,” she said. “They’re always available, and willing to respond to any situation.”
 
According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the annual market value of agricultural products from Miami-Dade County is over $1.14 billion.
 

Body camera footage of the moment a Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office deputy was struck by a car on the Florida Turnpike on Dec. 27, 2025, reveals that in the split second before impact, he likely saved a Doral police officer’s life by pushing him out of the vehicle’s path.
 
Deputy Leonard “Leo” Cantave was driving to work that Saturday morning when he responded to a routine call. Assigned to MDSO’s Midwest District in Doral, he stopped on the turnpike to assist Florida Highway Patrol troopers at the scene of a multi-vehicle crash.
 
Two vehicles involved in that crash were parked in the inside lanes of the turnpike. Deputy Cantave activated his emergency lights and positioned his marked patrol vehicle in the inside lane to shield those on scene, placing himself between oncoming traffic and the stranded motorists. He then made contact with one of the drivers to assess her condition.
 
Deputy Cantave then walked over to the Doral officer, gave him a fist bump, and suddenly raised his hand to the officer’s chest, pushing him away. He had noticed a vehicle swerve around the Doral officer’s patrol car and head directly toward them. Footage of that moment, and the aftermath, was captured on the officer’s body camera.
 
Deputy Cantave sacrificed his own safety. Although he attempted to move out of the path of the car, it was too late. The vehicle struck him and hurled him approximately 200 feet across three lanes of traffic.
 
The Doral officer and troopers ran to where Deputy Cantave lay. He was on his side, barely conscious, and his leg was twisted in a way that made it obvious it was broken. They turned him onto his back, and one repeatedly said, “stay with us Leo.”
 
Deputy Cantave, in critical condition, was flown to the trauma center at HCA Florida Kendall Hospital, where he underwent several surgeries. He suffered a broken leg and arm, an injured shoulder and internal injuries. He remained in a coma for about a week and then underwent months of rehabilitation.
 
“Honestly, that day, I was just doing my job, like every day, and not only me, but all of you guys,” Deputy Cantave said during an awards ceremony on March 26, 2026, where he was presented with the Deputy of the Month Award, a Gold Medal of Valor — the agency’s highest honor — a Lifesaving Award and a Purple Heart. Members of the trauma team who treated Deputy Cantave attended the ceremony and applauded his tenacity in fighting for his life and committing to his rehabilitation.
 
Lonnel Brinson, 28, the driver who struck Deputy Cantave, was charged with reckless driving causing serious bodily injury, DUI with serious bodily injury, driving with a suspended license and other charges.
 
As a member of the Midwest District’s Neighborhood Resource Unit, Deputy Cantave’s work focuses on community outreach. During his rounds in May 2023, he met a homeless woman living out of her van. She parked overnight at a local park. When Deputy Cantave observed her one day attempting to get a jump start, he determined her battery was dead and he bought her a new one. He and police dispatcher Nicole Sears started a GoFundMe account to help the homeless woman pay for necessities and secure a post office box. He also connected her with housing and job assistance.
 
“I just love helping people, that’s my nature, and God blessed me, I have a good job that allow me to provide, and if I can help out somebody, then I’ll do it,” Deputy Cantave said.
 
 

By Brian Ballou
 
Long before it became a place for deadlifts, rope climbs and rowing sprints, the Conex box  was a tool of war.
 
Steel shipping containers were invented by the U.S. military during World War II and then refined by the U.S. Army for use in the Korean War to solve a logistical problem: how to move massive amounts of supplies quickly, efficiently and securely across continents. Designed to be portable, stackable and nearly indestructible, the containers became the backbone of global shipping — the same steel boxes now seen hoisted by cranes at ports and stacked high on container ships.
 
At the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Training Center in Doral, the latest variation of the Conex, short for Container Express, sits ready to help sculpt muscle.
 
Gunfire cracks steadily from a nearby shooting range, sharp and sporadic, echoing across the grounds. For first-time visitors, the noise can be jarring. For those who train here regularly, it barely registers — just another layer of sound in a facility built around readiness, repetition and physical demand.
 
This is where candidates for the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office endure the academy, and where seasoned deputies return to sharpen skills, update certifications and stay in shape. Spread across the campus are two indoor fitness centers, a full-length indoor basketball court, an Olympic-sized outdoor swimming pool and a large sandlot used for strength and conditioning work. Nearby sits an indoor mixed martial arts facility known as the Hive, its name a nod to the constant and collective hum of movement inside.
 
The grounds also include a running track, an obstacle course and extensive classroom space for instruction. Tucked into one corner is “Survival City,” a carefully constructed slice of what resembles a city block, where deputies train for real-world encounters in a controlled environment. Nearly every inch of the training center signals physicality and preparedness.
 
The Conex Performance Training Locker is the latest addition to that footprint — and, in its own way, adds to the noise.
 
Officially opened during a ribbon-cutting ceremony January 15, 2025, the Conex is a fully outfitted gym housed inside a steel shipping container, positioned between the fitness center and the shooting range. Inside are roughly 20,000 pounds of equipment, including bumper plates, dumbbells, barbells and benches. Affixed to the outside are nine squat racks, along with crossbars that allow at least 108 people to train at once. At one end, a rope climb rises high enough to test grip strength and resolve, especially for those uneasy with heights.
 
The opening event reflected a broader view of fitness that extends beyond lifting. Vendors and specialists were on hand to discuss recovery, sleep, nutrition and overall wellness — a recognition that physical readiness is sustained not just through exertion, but through rest and care.
 
Artificial turf surrounds the container, turning what was once unused space into an outdoor training zone. Rowing machines stored inside can be rolled onto the turf for conditioning sessions, and plans are already underway to expand the area with a covered workout space and an additional Conex. The design allows workouts to spill outdoors without sacrificing structure or capacity.
 
Performance training lockers like this one have been installed around the world, but they remain uncommon in law enforcement training environments. Miami-Dade is among the few agencies to integrate such a system into both recruit and veteran training. Professional staff are also welcome.
 
Dr. Kelly Kennedy (PhD, CSCS*D) the facility manager for the center’s wellness program, said the idea had been years in the making.
 
“At a conference over twelve years ago, I remember thinking how incredible this would be for our agency, especially without being limited by space inside the fitness center,” Dr. Kennedy said. “There were many times we tried to give recruits opportunities to better understand movement patterns and how they build strength and endurance. We’d take equipment outside and do the best we could.”
 
For Dr. Kennedy, the Conex represents a shift in how training space is imagined.
 
“I had my eyes on this for many years,” she said. “Being able to use a container like this, with all of the equipment available, really feels like the start of a brand-new day. It gives us a way to keep our employees healthy for the rest of their careers. We can train up to 108 people around this container, and I’m incredibly happy to introduce it to our agency.”
 
Built by Beaverfit North America, a Reno, Nevada-based company that specializes in modular training environments, the Conex was designed with flexibility in mind. Jason Clark, the company’s director of mission success, said the goal is not to impose a single training philosophy.
 
“We don’t marry ourselves to a methodology,” Clark said. “We marry ourselves to a system.”
 
That system, he said, is designed with growth in mind, both in terms of those who use it and the structure itself.
 

Below the surface of a canal or lake, sound dulls and water turns opaque. The familiar world above vanishes, replaced by a perilous underwater landscape. Sediment clouds the bottom — sand, silt, clay and decaying organic matter — while alligators, venomous snakes and flesh-eating bacteria lurk. This is where Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office divers work, searching for what — or who — has been deliberately hidden.
 
Deputy Amber Pascual knows this world well. She is the first full-time certified female diver for MDSO’s Underwater Recovery Team,  part of the Special Patrol Bureau.  She follows the path of Deputy Grace Green, who was the first certified female police diver in MDPD history, assigned to the Marine Patrol Unit.
 
The Underwater Recovery Team is small, consisting of just three divers. Together, they recover submerged vehicles, locate weapons tied to violent crimes and retrieve human remains that can reopen investigations gone cold. With thousands of miles of canals and lakes crisscrossing Miami-Dade County, the work is constant.
 
Deputy Pascual is 5 feet 1 inches tall and about 135 pounds. Some of the oxygen cylinders stacked in the Bureau’s office are nearly half her size. But underwater, her stature is an asset. She can maneuver through tight spaces — crushed vehicle cabins, narrow openings and twisted metal — that larger divers cannot access.
 
That advantage was tested on Oct. 28, 2025, during what team members described as a “once-in-a-lifetime” dive. A 100-ton Caterpillar industrial mining truck — 41 feet long, 25 feet wide and 18 feet tall — had plunged over a berm into a water-filled limestone quarry near the Florida Turnpike and West Okeechobee Road. The massive vehicle was fully submerged. The driver’s body had not been recovered.
 
Because of the scale and danger, the dive required extraordinary preparation. The team requested a duplicate truck be brought to the site. On land, Deputy Pascual and fellow diver Deputy Pete Delgado practiced repeatedly, closing their eyes as they moved through the cab, memorizing handrails, door latches and blind angles by touch alone.
 
When they entered the water, both divers wore hard hats equipped with GoPro cameras, that recorded dive footage that was forwarded to homicide detectives and investigators from the U.S. Department of Labor’s Mine Safety and Health Administration.
 
Visibility was almost nonexistent. The truck loomed underwater not like a vehicle, but like a submerged building. Its enormous wheels were buried halfway into sediment. Boulders littered the quarry floor. As the divers worked methodically around the structure, they felt rather than saw their way forward, conscious that a mistake could trap or disorient them. The scene was surreal, like a sci-fi movie.
 
Inside the cab, the front windshield had blown out, likely from pressure as the truck sank. Deputy Pascual located a boot, a lunch-filled backpack and a hard hat inside the cab. The truck driver, she concluded, had likely been pulled from the cab by the force of rushing water. Despite exhaustive searching, they couldn’t find the body, but three days later, as they prepared for another dive, the driver’s body surfaced.
 
Deputy Pascual’s calm in moments like these is rooted in a lifetime of preparation. She was born and raised in Miami, spending much of her childhood in the water alongside her father, Marco Pascual, a longtime member of the Miami-Dade Police Department’s Underwater Dive Team (He retired in 2017 but has since returned, and currently works in the Community Affairs Bureau). As young as eight, she snorkeled with him, hunting for lobster and exploring coral reefs. Family memories centered on boating in the Keys, rafting freshwater springs and listening to stories from her father’s career — including high-profile recoveries such as the ValuJet crash.
 
Following that path was not inevitable, but it was influential. Deputy Pascual attended the University of Florida, earning a dual Bachelor of Science degree in criminology and women’s studies. She initially considered becoming a medical examiner, drawn to how the human body tells its story after death. But the pace felt limiting. Law enforcement, she realized, offered immediacy — the chance to act, not just analyze.
 
She joined the agency — then known as the Miami-Dade Police Department — as a 911 dispatcher, learning crisis through voices before encountering it firsthand. After graduating from the police academy, she was assigned to patrol in The Hammocks. In August 2021, she completed dive training and joined the underwater unit. The department officially transitioned to the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office in January 2025.
 
Joining the team required months of grueling preparation. Divers train for zero visibility, entanglement hazards and stress-induced disorientation. Certification comes only after repeated evaluations. Since then, she has completed hundreds of dives. Some are routine — submerged motorcycles, abandoned cars. Others are macabre: corpses, intact skeletons.
 
“We are a very small unit, we have to trust each other, said Deputy Delgado.  “I can close my eyes and know that she is there. We are always on the same page when we are pulling cars or doing complicated things underwater, we can even tell by the way we’re breathing, that something may be off.”
 
Deputy Delgado added that working in the unit takes special qualities. “The hardest part is being comfortable in an uncomfortable setting. Panic and fear are the hardest things to overcome. There are lots of things here that can kill you, vehicles shifting, and we work with heavy equipment. We work in an environment that is not conducive to human life.”
 
On a day in mid-December, the team recovered a Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle from clear, shallow water. Hours later, Deputies Pascual and Delgado spent nearly an hour in murky canal water searching more than 800 yards for a submerged Chevrolet Camaro, located by a civilian hobbyist who uses sonar to scan waterways, and then forwards the coordinates of anything he finds to law enforcement.
 
Each year, the team recovers dozens of bodies, each one triggering a homicide investigation. Fraud adds to the workload, as vehicles are often intentionally dumped to stage insurance claims.
 
In water where visibility rarely extends beyond an outstretched hand, Deputy Pascual relies on training, muscle memory and a rule drilled into every diver: Do not panic. For her, the danger is inseparable from purpose. Beneath the surface, she carries both her father’s legacy and her own — proving that skill, preparation and resolve matter more than size, and that even in the darkest water, someone has to be willing to go in.
 

The cheers came first — loud, spontaneous and unmistakably joyful — as a four-legged visitor trotted into the grassy courtyard of the Bowman Ashe/Doolin K-8 Academy. Students leaned forward, clapped and cheered as the robotic dog paused, turned and seemed to take in the crowd of nearly 300 children gathered to meet it. By the end of the hourlong ceremony on Dec. 17, 2025, the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office robot would have a new name — Astro — and a fan base eager to claim it as their own.
The visit was the result of a partnership rooted in the mutual love of robotics and technology. Bowman Ashe/Doolin is a magnet school with a focus on STEAM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Arts, and Mathematics), and robotics has quickly become one of its most popular offerings. The school fields two elementary robotics teams and one middle school team that competes against other schools. The program began three years ago and is building toward a full eighth-grade pipeline. The lower academy serves pre-kindergarten to fifth grade, and the upper academy serves sixth through eighth grade.
“They were so excited to be a part of it, and they learned a lot,” said Cristy Nudd, a middle school science, biology and physical science teacher who also oversees robotics. “To be front and center and interact with the robot dog before the presentation, they learned a lot of things.”
About 15 students, from third grade through seventh grade, participate in the program. The initiative began through the school’s magnet designation, which helped provide students with robotic equipment and kits and team shirts. Their black T-shirts are marked by a bold, graphic design. Across the chest, gray block letters spelled out BDK8, short for Bowman Ashe/Doolin K-8. Below the lettering, a yellow gear formed the centerpiece, its mechanical edges framing a wrench that ran horizontally through the middle. Superimposed inside the gear was the school’s friendly dragon mascot.
Astro moved across the courtyard, directed by a control pad in the hands of a member of the MDSO’s Incident Management Team. Though inanimate, the robot displayed the mannerisms of a dog — stopping, pivoting, and even playing fetch. At one point, a student tossed a tennis ball, and Astro extended its clasping arm, picked it up and held it steady, prompting another wave of cheers.
Among the loudest supporters were the robotics team members. Anthony Condte, 12, said, “I love robotics, especially the competitions.” Alejandro Ortega, also 12, traced his interest to family influence. “One of my uncles in the Army is a drone pilot, and that got me interested,” he said.
For Lia Hernandez, a 13-year-old seventh grader, robotics is part of a longer vision. “I’ve always been interested in robotics,” she said. “When I grow up, I want to be a civil engineer.” Matthew Diaz, 13, now in his second year in the program, called the visit a glimpse of what lies ahead. “I love it,” he said. “I fell in love with it at a young age. It’s going to be our future, technology developing. I loved the robot dog and seeing our robotics teams coming together.”
Ricardo Enfante, a 12-year-old seventh grader and team captain for the school, summed up the day with enthusiasm. “I loved the helicopter flyover and the robot moving around,” he said. “It was so much fun to watch.”
Midway through the ceremony came the moment many students had been waiting for: the name reveal. The Sheriff’s Office had invited the school to participate in a naming contest, and students submitted ideas before voting schoolwide. Astro emerged as the clear winner.
“It’s a great event, and it’s a great partnership,” said Principal Aryam Alvarez. “We are a magnet school offering STEAM, and to see Astro really brings it all to life — robotics, Sphero, VEX IQ…”  Both Sphero and Vex IQ are robotic toys and tools designed specifically for young students.
Principal Alvarez said the partnership began when the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office reached out to the school in mid-October 2025, after learning about the school’s robotics program. “The kids came up with some of the names, we did a schoolwide voting, and the name Astro won,” she said. “Seeing the robot come to life kind of pieces everything together for them. It shows them what the future holds.”
That future of robotics, students learned, is already part of modern law enforcement. Astro is operated by Deputy Jonathan Streetzel, a 31-year member of the Sheriff’s Office and part of its Special Patrol Bureau. He has worked with robotic systems for about two years and explained that operating Astro is surprisingly intuitive. At one point, Assistant Principal Alberto Martinez took the controls, and did a worthy job of navigating Astro through the crowd of students.
“It’s really simple, like a first-person video game,” Deputy Streetzel said. He told students that Astro’s core technology is about 20 years old, though the newer robotic dogs now feature even more advanced capabilities. Astro can transmit high-quality images, including thermal video, and has two-way communications.
“This piece of equipment actually saves lives,” Deputy Streetzel said. For members of the Special Response Team, he explained, the robot provides a visual of environments that may be unsafe for deputies to enter. “They can see the layout,” he said. “They can see if the subject is armed or not.”
Deputy Streetzel emphasized that Astro is used in dangerous situations, including barricaded subjects, building searches, and people experiencing mental health crises, offering deputies critical information before they make contact. “It’s another layer of security,” he said, adding that the robot is unarmed and designed not to hurt anyone.
For the students who sat on the grass and watched, Asto was like a family pet. For an hour, a piece of advanced tactical equipment became something else entirely: a shared experience, a spark of imagination and a reminder that the knowledge they are building in classrooms and robotics labs holds so much potential.

Deputy Eddie Quintana knows The Hive well. He arrived there seven years ago as a novice, eager to learn the martial art of jiu-jitsu. He trained almost every day, drilling escapes, guards and submissions until they became second nature.
 
The Hive opened about a decade ago at the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Training Center in Doral. It is a large room, with little more than a gray mat covering nearly the entire floor. Over the years, it has produced numerous purple and brown belts — but never a black belt.
 
The first one came on Dec. 15, 2025.
 
In front of his five-year-old daughter, his father, his Priority Response Team brothers, and the deputies he trains alongside, Deputy Quintana was awarded a black belt. He is the first person at The Hive to progress from white to blue, to purple, to brown, and ultimately to black belt.
 
Deputy Sean Gornewicz, one of The Hive’s three founders, presented Deputy Quintana with the belt and explained what it represents.
 
“A black belt is not just your prowess or the techniques you have on the mat,” Deputy Gornewicz said. “It’s also about whether you’re able to coach, mentor and build other students up. Can you teach anyone walking through the door? Can you teach your advanced students? Can you inspire? Can you sustain a program on your own? And most importantly, can you continue to grow?
 
Deputy Quintana’s path to jiu-jitsu began long before law enforcement. He wrestled at 160 pounds in high school, initially to get in better shape for football. But he fell in love with wrestling and dropped football altogether. He had modest success — winning districts and qualifying for regionals — but never advanced to state competition.
 
After graduating, he coached middle school wrestling for two seasons, then spent five years coaching CrossFit while waiting to be hired by the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office, then the Miami-Dade Police Department.
 
In September 2017, he entered the academy. During a self-defense class, an instructor applied a triangle choke.
 
“I was like, what was that?” Deputy Quintana said. “I made up my mind right then and there that when I graduated from the academy, I would pick it up.”
 
The jiu-jitsu training began in late 2018. Early classes were quiet and methodical, often with only two or three people on the mat.
 
“The worst part of the training is that you’re really bad at it for a very long time, until you get better,” Deputy Quintana said. “But the good part is that once you start getting better, you’re able to help others, teach them what you learned. You start off not knowing what’s going on, and then you learn how the moves translate to something else.”
 
While assigned to the Hammocks District, Deputy Quintana worked midnight shifts. He would get off at 8 a.m., sleep for about an hour in the training center’s parking lot, and then train at The Hive. For the past five years, he has been assigned to the Priority Response Team and has continued to train jiu-jitsu almost every day.
 
“I knew I was getting better, but each belt came as a surprise,” he said. That was also true of the black belt. “I had no idea. Then he — Deputy Gornewicz — started giving a speech, and I knew. It’s an honor. It’s a great feeling. I’ve been doing this for the last seven years, since I’ve been a cop. It gives you confidence.”
 
Because jiu-jitsu emphasizes control and leverage, it is especially valuable during encounters when subjects refuse to comply or become combative.
 
“Punching doesn’t always work,” Deputy Quintana said. “But if you make somebody feel that no matter how hard they try, they can’t get up, they will give up. Almost everyone I’ve encountered, there’s no use of force beyond holding them down.”
 
He trains alongside fellow MDSO deputy Luis Hernandez, a professional mixed martial arts fighter with a 7-0 record, as well as retired boxers and others with varying levels of martial arts experience. The Hive’s classes are open to police officers, deputies and first responders, as well as non-sworn members of law enforcement agencies.
 
The Hive’s name reflects its purpose: a collective space where everyone contributes to the strength of the whole.
 
Sergeant Juan Colon, a member of the Priority Response Team, said he has witnessed Deputy Quintana’s growth firsthand.
 
“I was his instructor in the academy, and we became coworkers in PRT, and I actually recruited him to become a defensive tactics instructor for PRT,” Sergeant Colon said. “So I’ve literally seen him from the beginning, progressing from a beginner to a black belt. It’s been a privilege and an honor, and I’m still in awe of him. He’s an absolute natural at it.”

In a quiet cubicle tucked inside the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office’s Government Services Bureau in downtown Miami, Police Crime Analysis Specialist Chante Obadeyi sits at her desk and works to put together a puzzle — only the pieces come in the form of numbers, reports, and fragments of historical data that contain small but telling patterns.
 
As a member of the Crime Analysis Unit, she assembles the pieces carefully, scrutinizing them to predict when and where crime is likely to occur — providing deputies with actionable intelligence as they patrol an extraordinary cross-section of Miami-Dade life.
 
Because criminal activity rarely stays in one place, often moving from one venue or jurisdiction to another, Obadeyi shares this “operational analysis” with other law enforcement agencies. Her reach extends beyond her bureau’s boundaries, connecting a network of analysts and officers across the county.
 
“We don’t have the same patterns and trends as most of Miami-Dade County,” she said. “We get a lot of people who come down here to vacation — a more transient population, people staying short amounts of time to enjoy the area. Our major stakeholders are tourists. We don’t have many residential areas here — we’re more specialized.”
 
The Government Services Bureau’s responsibilities are vast — protecting causeways, marine areas, tourist hubs, and key infrastructure. Its patrol area includes Jackson Memorial Hospital, loanDepot Park, Fisher Island, Vizcaya Museum & Gardens, the Metrorail and Metromover, and the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts. Deputies might handle a traffic incident on the Rickenbacker Causeway in the afternoon, and a disturbance at a performance venue by nightfall.
 
It’s a dynamic environment — and one where Obadeyi’s puzzle-solving instinct makes a measurable difference. Last March, her analysis helped deputies disrupt a rash of scooter thefts in and around Jackson Memorial Hospital. By studying the timing and location of each theft, she predicted when the next incidents were most likely to occur. Some stolen scooters were later found abandoned on Metrorail platforms miles away. Acting on her analysis, deputies made seven arrests, and the thefts all but disappeared.
 
That success, like much of her work, was built on collaboration. Obadeyi recently formed what she calls the “Rickenbacker Quad” — a coalition linking MDSO, the City of Miami, the Village of Key Biscayne, and the Florida Fish & Wildlife Conservation Commission. The agencies now share data through Flock Safety’s License Plate Reader (LPR) system, which includes fixed cameras and other investigative tools. With shared access agreements in place, analysts and officers across the network can view the same real-time information — a major asset in addressing persistent issues such as vehicle break-ins and the use of stolen credit cards for large purchases.
 
“Partnerships are key to solving cases,” she said. Through October, she and other MDSO staff met with Coral Gables Police to compare notes on a string of boat thefts moving through North Miami, Coral Gables, and areas patrolled by MDSO. She also organizes regular Zoom meetings with analysts from nearby departments to strengthen collaboration and information flow.
 
Her path to this role began years ago, behind the front desk at the Northside District, where she worked as a Police Records Specialist 1, logging fingerprints and running criminal history checks. It didn’t take long for a sergeant there to notice her aptitude for patterns and data. Soon, she was assigned to the crime analysis unit.
 
“Numbers, reports, and talking with deputies — that’s what I go off of to put it together,” she said.
 
Now, she’s helping strengthen the network of analysts across the agency. Working closely with the MDSO Chief Analyst, Obadeyi is helping create more synergy among the office’s roughly 160 analysts — from entry-level specialists to Intelligence Analyst Supervisors.
 
“We’re looking to collaborate more, to share ideas and strategies,” she said. “I can remember when information wasn’t being shared.”
 
One recent case illustrates that evolution. When an individual assaulted an off-duty deputy at the Main Library, the suspect refused to provide his real name. Obadeyi, following a hunch, reached out to the City of Miami Police Department — and discovered that their records contained his true identity. The suspect, from Mobile, Alabama, had a violent criminal history there.
 
“That’s what sharing information does,” she said. “It connects the dots that might otherwise be missed.”
 
Never content to stop learning, Obadeyi will attend the Florida Analysts Academy in West Palm Beach beginning in January 2026. The six-month program isn’t required, but she sees it as another way to sharpen her skills and bring new techniques back to her team.
 
“It’s about staying ahead of what’s coming next,” she said.
 
In a region defined by movement — tourists, commuters, shifting tides, and transient crowds — Obadeyi’s work is both quiet and profound. Every chart, spreadsheet, and line of data is a puzzle piece that, once assembled, reveals something larger: a glimpse of where the next crime might occur, and a chance to stop it before it happens.