As we continue our Founding Five series, we honor Salvador “Sal” Osuna—a man whose tireless fundraising, generous spirit and determination helped turn CPOF’s earliest vision into lasting support for correctional families nationwide. Today, that legacy continues through his grandson, Anthony.
Some people serve an organization through the position they hold. Others serve through the work they are willing to do—the calls they make, the miles they travel, the hours they give and the problems they quietly solve.
Salvador “Sal” Osuna did both.
As one of the five founding Directors of the Correctional Peace Officers Foundation, Sal helped create an organization dedicated to ensuring that correctional professionals and their families would not face tragedy or hardship alone. He served on CPOF’s Board of Directors for 35 years, remaining devoted to its mission until his passing on October 30, 2020.
But a title alone cannot capture what Sal meant to CPOF.
Sal was someone who wanted to be involved. He wanted to help. When something needed to be done, he rolled up his sleeves and went to work—usually with a smile on his face and another idea already taking shape.
He did not simply believe in CPOF’s mission. He gave himself to it.
A Life of Service
Salvador Osuna. was born on November 18, 1945, and raised in Sacramento, California. He was the son of Salvador Sr. and Agnes Osuna and grew up alongside his siblings, Dennis, Roberta, Jerry and Eva.
Before beginning his correctional career, Sal served for two years with the California Highway Patrol. In 1972, he joined the California Department of Corrections as a Correctional Officer at Folsom State Prison in Represa, California.
For nearly three decades, Sal served within one of California’s most storied correctional institutions. He understood the demands of the profession, the sacrifices required of those who wear the uniform and the impact the work could have on an officer’s family.
Sal was also a longtime member of the California Correctional Peace Officers Association and assisted with the organization’s annual conventions. His commitment to the correctional community extended well beyond his assigned post. He believed in supporting the people beside him, advocating for the profession and finding ways to help correctional employees and their families.
After more than 30 years of combined state service, Sal retired in 2001. His retirement from the California Department of Corrections, however, did not mean a retirement from service.
By then, helping others had already become an inseparable part of his life.
Building CPOF From the Ground Up
In the early 1980s, Sal joined Don Novey, Glenn Mueller, Larry Corby and Richard “Dick” Waldo in pursuing an idea that would ultimately change the lives of correctional families throughout the country.
Some of the earliest conversations about that vision took place in Sal’s own backyard.
His grandson, Anthony Osuna, remembers the founders gathering there for meetings. They would talk about the correctional profession, play pool in the garage and dream about the changes they hoped to make. At the time, they were five correctional professionals united by a belief that the families of fallen officers and staff deserved greater care, recognition and support.
They dreamed big—but even their dreams were not big enough to imagine everything CPOF would eventually accomplish.
They could not yet see the thousands of families who would one day receive assistance, the nationwide community that would gather each year at PROJECT 2000 or the generations of correctional professionals who would embrace their promise of “Taking Care of Our Own.” They simply recognized a need and believed they had a responsibility to do something about it.
Together, the five men established the Correctional Peace Officers Foundation.
The organization they envisioned did not begin with a large staff, an established donor base or guaranteed resources. It began in conversations between friends—in meetings, backyards and a garage where five men imagined a better future for correctional families.
If CPOF was going to help families, the founders first had to find ways to raise the money needed to provide that assistance. Turning those conversations into a national foundation would require years of sacrifice, persistence and work.
Sal was willing to give all three.
Whatever It Took
Sal became known for supervising and organizing a wide range of fundraisers on behalf of CPOF. Circuses, variety shows and auto races were not merely community events to him—they were opportunities to introduce people to the mission and raise the funds necessary to support correctional families.
Sal helped organize circus fundraisers through which CPOF received a portion of ticket sales. He arranged campsites at Laguna Seca Raceway and sold the spaces to race fans, combining his enthusiasm for auto racing with his determination to generate support for the Foundation.
He was constantly searching for creative and unique ways to raise money.
These efforts required far more than simply appearing at an event. They involved planning, organizing, promoting, coordinating volunteers, selling tickets and spaces, answering questions and ensuring that countless details came together.
Sal did all of it while continuing to work as a Correctional Officer at Folsom State Prison.
For the first 15 years of Anthony’s life, his grandfather never took Thanksgiving or Christmas off from work. The vacation time Sal did have was frequently devoted to CPOF—traveling, organizing events, attending meetings and doing whatever was necessary to help the young Foundation grow.
It was only when his wife, Anita, became ill that Sal began redirecting that time toward caring for her.
This was not simply a busy season in Sal’s life. It was a sacrifice sustained over many years. Time that might otherwise have been spent resting, celebrating holidays or being at home with his family was repeatedly given to a mission he believed correctional families desperately needed.
Anthony’s memories help reveal the true measure of that sacrifice. As a child, he saw how much of his grandfather’s life was devoted to CPOF. Later, he would come to understand why.
Sal knew that every fundraiser had a purpose. The money raised was not merely a total on a ledger. It could become assistance for a grieving family, relief for an officer facing catastrophe or reassurance for someone who feared the correctional community had forgotten them.
In the Foundation’s earliest years, every dollar mattered. Each successful event helped CPOF become more capable of responding when a correctional family was suddenly confronted by tragedy.
That knowledge kept Sal working, creating and giving.
He did not wait until helping was convenient. He did not limit his involvement to meetings or decisions made around a boardroom table. He stepped directly into the work, gave it his time and used his own leave to help build something that did not yet have the resources or reach it has today.
And he did it with a smile.
CPOF Was Family
Sal’s relationship with CPOF extended well beyond his official responsibilities as a founding Director.
During his retirement years, he remained a familiar presence at CPOF’s headquarters in Sacramento. His visits were welcomed by the office staff, who remember him as a kind and thoughtful man who was always happy to spend time with the people carrying the mission forward.
Sometimes he arrived with an added gift: a pan of his homemade lasagna.
It may seem like a small detail compared with decades of Board service and fundraising, but it reveals something essential about Sal. His kindness was personal. He cared for people in practical, memorable ways. He brought warmth with him, whether he was organizing a major fundraiser, visiting the office or sharing a meal.
CPOF was not merely an organization Sal helped establish. It became an extension of his family.
And, over time, Sal began bringing someone especially important with him.
Sal and Anthony
During approximately the final 10 to 15 years of Sal’s life, his grandson Anthony frequently traveled and worked alongside him at CPOF events.
Those who knew Sal came to know Anthony, too.
Anthony witnessed firsthand what CPOF meant to his grandfather. He saw Sal’s commitment to the families, his willingness to help and the relationships he had built across the correctional community. He did more than observe, however. He supported his grandfather, traveled beside him and became part of the work.
For Sal, having Anthony with him must have made those years especially meaningful. He was able to share not only where he went and what he did, but why he did it.
Anthony experienced CPOF through his grandfather’s eyes—not simply as a charitable organization, but as a family united by service, sacrifice and compassion.
That time created a connection that did not end when Sal passed away.
Carrying His Grandfather’s Legacy Forward
Today, Anthony continues to be part of the CPOF family that his grandfather helped build.
Together with his wife, Amy, Anthony volunteers at PROJECT 2000, CPOF’s annual gathering honoring fallen correctional professionals, survivors and the families whose lives have been forever changed by tragedy.
Anthony regularly serves as the DJ for the Friday evening Family Dinner, helping create a welcoming space where families can come together, share a meal and experience moments of fellowship. At PROJECT 2000 XXXVII, he also volunteered with the transportation team, helping ensure guests traveled safely from the airport to the hotel and returned for their flights home.
These may appear to be very different responsibilities, but both carry forward the example Sal set: notice what needs to be done, step forward and help.
Anthony’s continued service is a living tribute to his grandfather.
Sal was not physically present when Anthony married Amy, but the family he helped create was there. Anthony was surrounded by members of the CPOF family—people connected through a mission his grandfather had devoted much of his life to building.
There is something especially powerful in that.
Sal helped create CPOF so correctional families would never stand alone. Years later, when his own grandson reached one of life’s most meaningful milestones, that same CPOF family stood around him.
The support Sal had spent decades giving to others had become part of the love surrounding his own family.
A Devoted Family Man
Beyond his service to corrections and CPOF, Sal was deeply devoted to his family.
He shared 38 years of marriage with his wife, Anita Oreb Osuna. Together, they were the parents of Maria and Salvador III and the grandparents of Anthony, Dominic, Gabriel and Sarah. His family later grew to include great-grandchildren, continuing the generations of a family he loved deeply.
When Anita became ill, Sal devoted himself to caring for the woman with whom he had shared nearly four decades. The same man who had spent so much of his life showing up for correctional families was there for his own family when he was needed most.
Sal was preceded in death by his wife, Anita; his parents; and his sisters. He was survived by his brother, his two children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nieces, nephews and the extended CPOF family who had come to know and love him.
His devotion to family and his devotion to CPOF were never separate parts of his life. The mission of CPOF was rooted in family—in protecting families, caring for families and remaining beside them when life changed without warning.
Sal understood that mission because he understood the value of family.
The Work of a Lifetime
Salvador Osuna passed away at his California home on October 30, 2020. He was 74 years old.
His passing marked the loss of a founding Director, a correctional professional, a tireless fundraiser and a familiar friend to generations of CPOF leaders, employees, volunteers and families.
Yet the work of his lifetime continues.
It continues in the correctional families who receive assistance during their most difficult days. It continues in the national network of members and volunteers who believe in taking care of their own. It continues at PROJECT 2000, where survivors and families are welcomed with compassion and reminded that their loved ones will always be remembered.
And it continues through Anthony.
Every time Anthony and Amy volunteer, every time Anthony provides music for the Family Dinner or helps a guest reach the hotel safely, another part of Sal’s legacy moves forward.
Sal taught through his actions that service does not always require grand gestures. Sometimes it means giving up vacation days. Sometimes it means working through holidays. Sometimes it means selling tickets, organizing campsites or spending long hours making an event successful. Sometimes it means bringing lasagna to the office. Sometimes it simply means showing up, seeing what needs to be done and doing it with a smile.
That was Sal.
He showed up.
He rolled up his sleeves.
He gave tirelessly of himself because he believed no correctional professional or family should have to go without support when they needed it most.
Years earlier, Anthony had watched his grandfather and the other founders gather in a backyard, play pool in the garage and dream about how they might change the correctional profession. Today, Anthony volunteers within the nationwide CPOF family that grew from those conversations.
The dreams of the Founding Five may not have been large enough to encompass everything CPOF would become—but their commitment was strong enough to make it possible.
As we honor the Founding Five, we remember Salvador “Sal” Osuna: Correctional Officer, founding Director, fundraiser, Board member, husband, father, grandfather and friend.
The thousands of dollars he raised helped sustain CPOF through its earliest years. The 35 years he devoted to its Board helped shape its future. The love he gave to its people helped make it a family.
And through the grandson who once traveled beside him—and who now continues the work without him—Sal’s legacy remains very much alive.
Salvador Osuna
November 18, 1945–October 30, 2020
If you knew Sal, attended one of his fundraisers or have photographs and memories of the years he devoted to CPOF, we invite you to share them with us. Your stories will help preserve the legacy of a man who gave so much of himself to ensure that correctional families would always have someone standing beside them.
