Ann Mannix was not only the first woman on the San Francisco police department’s special operations team. She was also not only the first woman to actually lead special operations, as deputy chief. She was also, her brother, Richard Correia, told the crowd of hundreds that filled Saint Ignatius Church, exceptionally good at racquetball.
Mannix beat him every time but one, Correia told the crowd. He was pretty sure that even that one time, she let him win.
“We shouldn’t be here,” said Correia. “Ann and Katie were torn from us in a brutal, horrible act of violence.”
Ann Mannix and her daughter Katie died on Oct. 11, 2026, when Kevin Mannix, Sr. — Ann’s husband, Katie’s father, and a retired SFPD sergeant— shot them both before turning the gun on himself, inside their family home outside Mill Valley.
At the front of the nave lay two coffins — Ann’s and Katie’s. Earlier that morning, a long procession of police cars led the hearse carrying them to the front steps of the church, where they were unloaded, with Ann’s draped in American flags and carried up the stairs by white-gloved police officers in dress uniforms, as bagpipes played. A procession of mourners followed — District Attorney Brooke Jenkins first, followed by many other powerful officials in San Francisco politics, including Mayor Daniel Lurie.
Inside the church, the grief was overwhelming. Throughout the Catholic service, mourners wept openly, or walked out of the service entirely.
There was no third coffin. Throughout the three-hour service, Kevin Mannix, Sr., was not once referred to by name.
Only a handful of people spoke at the service. Correia, himself a retired SFPD commander, remembered Ann as “Anna Banana,” a nickname given to her by their father. He said that she was born when Correia was only three years old, at Saint Mary’s Hospital, only about 500 yards from where the service was being held. “Ann was special from her first day to her last,” Correia said.
“Life felt noticeably larger, more vibrant, whenever she was there,” said Kevin Mannix, Jr. Ann’s son. “Underpinning everything she said and thought was a genuine care and desire for the happiness of her family.”
Lauren Mannix, Ann’s daughter and Katie’s sister, described Katie Mannix as a funny and kind person, who was in school studying to be an ICU nurse at the time of her death.
“She is spunky, beautiful, smart, kind, and always keeps you on your toes,” Lauren said. “Katie would have made an amazing nurse.”
“Like my mother, Katie was a trailblazer. She carved her own path,” added Kevin Mannix, Jr. He remembered her for her “radiant smile,” and for being someone who “never failed to speak her mind.”
“The only thing Katie longed for was living a life full of adventure and spreading her infectious love to those who would follow,” he said.
What happened to Ann and Katie “was not part of God’s plan,” said Father Greg Bonfilio. “How could something so terrible happen to people so deeply loved? How do we begin to make sense of it all?” said Bonfilio. “What happened was a terrible violation of love and trust. It was evil.”
Kevin, Jr., and Lauren both remembered the same phrase from their mother: “I love you to the moon and back.” They say she told this to them throughout their lives.
Still waiting for someone from the press to ask SFPD and/or their union to ask what, if anything, they’ll be doing to address the high incidence of domestic violence by officers – training? therapy? stricter obligations around gun use in off hours?