Kevin Skinner, 56, dedicated his life to the service of others. A 25-year veteran with the Orange County Fire Authority, his compassion and commitment to helping the community extended beyond his official role as a public servant.
Nicknamed “Skindog” by his peers, the firefighter and fire apparatus engineer touched the lives of many throughout his career. Working overtime at department stations across Orange County, he offered guidance, mentorship and a listening ear to anyone who needed it. His absence was felt deeply by his colleagues, who mourned his passing after he suffered a fatal cardiac arrest on Jan. 5 while on-duty at a house fire in Laguna Niguel.
“He led with his heart,” Battalion Fire Chief Juan Perez said. “And if eight grown men crying in here, in front of a stranger, isn’t any kind of testament to who he was, then I don’t know what is.”
The battalion chief sat alongside other colleagues and longtime friends of Skinner. Some had only known him for a few years, others decades. The loss still felt the same, like processing the death of a family member, said engineer James Watson. To them, he was irreplaceable, and it seemed like everyone in the department had a story about him.
One Thursday evening, engineer Serge Morosoff said he walked out of the station and found Skinner holding a ceremony for an aspiring firefighter in the reserve program. Earlier that day, Morosoff had handed Skinner a gold coin the reservist had received in the mail, which marked their 10th year of volunteer service. Knowing what it was, Skinner held onto it and took it upon himself to form a little ceremony for the recipient among their peers.
Had Morosoff not walked out in that moment, he would have never know. It was just how “Skindog” was.
“He didn’t want to just hand the kid the coin and say ‘thanks for coming out for 10 years,’” said Morosoff. “He wanted to make a meaningful ceremony that person could remember and make an impression on the younger ones, so they could see what it means to be part of a job like this.”
On busy days out of Station 22 when the two fire engines stayed running all day, fire apparatus engineer Cameron Spicer would compete with Skinner and see how many calls they could stack through their long shifts. He also loved being an engineer, from driving to taking care of crew members. He took pride in keeping his rigs tight, clean, and ready. In between that, Skinner was still mentoring, smiling and being there for others.
“He would work in some of the busiest (fire) houses we have and smile when he gets off in the morning. Some of our guys that have only been here for a couple of years cry when they walk out,” Spicer recalled.
Capt. Robert Bucho, who was hired alongside Skinner, said he helped boost group moral during their time in the academy, as they struggled learning hoselay techniques or got yelled at by an instructor. He was just a good barometer to keep everybody nice and even, said Bucho. Like “Hey you’ll be alright, we’ll get through this.”
His care for others also reflected in his bedside manner during calls.
“He was able to come down to their level of grieving need, whatever it may be on a call and be able to relate to that. That’s a hard skill set to have at 2 in the morning. It didn’t matter, he was a professional and knew that you could count on him,” Bucho said.
For some, his magnetic personality would be the highlight of a difficult day on the job. He was laid-back but professional, always ready to take on a project or be the first to join you at the table for coffee and ask how you’re doing. He loved sharing his knowledge and experience with others, and if you had a question, he either knew the answer or where to find it.
“We were blessed to have him. He had an impact on everyone in this room,” said Spicer.
Before joining the fire, Skinner spent four years in the U.S. Navy. He is survived by his wife Lucia and three children, Sierra, Kate and Zac.
