Cal Fire Captain Rebecca Marodi: What Really Happened in Ramona

It’s the kind of news that stops a fire station in its tracks. You know the feeling when a room goes silent? That happened on February 17, 2025, when the word started spreading through the Riverside County Fire Department. Cal Fire Captain Rebecca Marodi, a woman who spent three decades running toward the flames that everyone else was running away from, was gone. But she didn't fall on a fire line or in a smoky hallway. She was killed in her own home in Ramona.

Honestly, the details are gut-wrenching. Rebecca, or "Becky" as her friends called her, was 49 years old. She was just months away from hanging up the helmet and heading into a well-earned retirement. Instead, her life ended in what investigators described as a brutal domestic violence incident.

The Life of a Thirty-Year Veteran

Rebecca Marodi wasn't just another name on a roster. She was a fixture in Southern California firefighting. Think about this: she started her journey way back in 1993. Back then, she was a volunteer in Moreno Valley. Basically, she did the hard work for free because she loved the mission. From there, she climbed every single rung of the ladder.

She spent time as a seasonal firefighter in San Bernardino and Riverside before moving into permanent roles. She worked everywhere—Perris, Indian Wells, Menifee, and French Valley. By the time she was promoted to Captain in 2022, she had already seen more in thirty years than most people see in a lifetime.

More Than Just Putting Out Fires

People who worked with her talk a lot about her role in Peer Support. That’s huge in the fire service. When a crew sees something traumatic, they need someone to talk to who actually "gets it." Becky was that person. She was the one who checked in on everyone else’s mental health while handling her own high-stakes calls.

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• She was a key member of the Hazmat team.
• She mentored countless younger firefighters.
• Her colleagues remember her as someone who was "always smiling," even during 24-hour shifts.
• She recently helped battle the massive Eaton Fire in Los Angeles, which burned 14,000 acres.

What Happened on Rancho Villa Road?

The night of February 17 changed everything. San Diego County Sheriff's deputies were called to a home on the 20200 block of Rancho Villa Road in Ramona right around 9:00 p.m. When they got there, they found Becky with multiple stab wounds.

The most haunting part? The first responders who tried to save her life were her own colleagues. Cal Fire paramedics arrived on the scene and realized they were performing CPR on one of their own captains. Despite everything they did, she was pronounced dead at the scene.

The Investigation and the Manhunt

It didn't take long for the focus to turn to her wife, 53-year-old Yolanda Marodi (also known as Yolanda Olejniczak). They had been married for about two years.

According to court records and arrest warrants, the relationship was deeply troubled. Ring camera footage from the patio that night reportedly captured a terrifying scene. You can hear Becky pleading for her life, saying, “Yolanda! Please I don’t want to die.” The response caught on camera was chilling: “You should have thought about that before.”

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It turns out Becky had told Yolanda she was ending the marriage about a week before the attack. After the stabbing, Yolanda went on the run. This wasn't a local search; it turned into a five-week binational manhunt.

1. Yolanda fled across the border into Mexico.
2. U.S. Marshals worked with Mexican authorities (Fuerza Estatal de Seguridad Ciudadana).
3. On March 22, 2025, she was finally caught near a hotel in Mexicali.

A Dark Past Comes to Light

One of the biggest questions everyone asked was: how did this happen? After the tragedy, some pretty dark history surfaced regarding Yolanda. She had a prior conviction for voluntary manslaughter back in 2000. In that case, she had also been involved in the stabbing death of a spouse. She served over 13 years in prison for it.

Friends of Becky, like Vikki Conner, told reporters they had no idea about Yolanda's criminal record. It’s a tragic reminder that domestic violence doesn't care about your rank, your strength, or how many years you've spent saving others. It can happen to anyone.

Remembering "Pure Joy"

In March 2025, Becky's motorcycle group, the Litas, held a memorial ride. They met at the Hillcrest Pride Flag in San Diego and roared through the winding roads of Ramona. They didn't want the last word on Becky to be about the violence that took her. They wanted it to be about her sense of humor and her love for life.

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She was a "butch" lesbian in a male-dominated field, and her ex-wife, Lilia Phleger Phillips, noted that Becky faced her share of rudeness on the job because of it. But she never took it personally. She just kept doing the work. She was tough, but she was also the person who would make everyone in the station laugh until they couldn't breathe.

Taking Action: Domestic Violence Resources

If there is any lesson to take from the story of Cal Fire Captain Rebecca Marodi, it’s that "toxic" doesn't even begin to describe the danger of domestic abuse. If you or someone you know is in a situation that feels unsafe, don't wait for it to escalate.

• National Domestic Violence Hotline: Call 800-799-7233 or text "START" to 88788.
• Peer Support: For first responders, reach out to your department's internal peer support or the Next Rung organization.
• Safety Planning: If you are planning to leave a relationship, do so with a safety plan in place, as the time of separation is often the most dangerous.

Becky’s legacy is in the hundreds of firefighters she mentored and the thousands of citizens she protected over 30 years. She deserved a long, quiet retirement in the sun. Since she didn't get that, the best way to honor her is to look out for one another—the same way she always looked out for her crews.