The man who died in a Newman Lake house fire was 'kind to a fault' and will leave a legacy, his daughter says

May 7—When Farah Taylor was growing up in her father's lakeside house, she and her brother would force their dad to watch "dive competitions" off the dock for hours until the sun went down. He never complained.

He would always rate them above an eight, which was quite generous, said Taylor, 29. It just showed how patient he was, and how he'd do everything for his kids.

After her father, 67-year-old Larry "LT" Taylor, died in a house fire in Newman Lake last week, she plays that memory over and over in her head.

"He was kind to a fault," Taylor said. "He was even honest to a fault. My mom was saying the other day that she can't remember a time he told a white lie. He was gentle, he was loving and he was so proud of me and my brother. We were his whole life."

Newman Lake Fire and Rescue, along with the Hauser Lake and Spokane Valley Fire departments, responded to 12825 N. Park St. in the middle of the afternoon April 30. The house, which was built completely of wood and sits on the edge of the lake, was destroyed.

Taylor got a phone call from her brother, Cole, while she was at work — "Dad's house is on fire," he told her.

As she nearly sped the 45 minutes from Spokane to his house, she called his cellphone repeatedly. It went straight to voicemail, again and again.

"I was shaking," she said. "It was the longest drive of my life."

Usually, when she pulled onto Starr Road, she could see her father's home from the end of the lake. This time, it was a cloud of smoke.

As more of her family members arrived and no firefighter had located Larry Taylor, neighbors tried to console Farah Taylor about where her dad could be.

Maybe he left with a friend, they told her. Maybe he'll show up.

But she knew if her dad was around, he would be standing right next to her.

"When I saw his car there, I knew he was inside," Farah Taylor said.

His body was pulled from the rubble between 7 and 8 p.m.

Newman Lake Fire Chief Daron Bement said while fire investigators don't have the exact cause of the fire, they believe it started from inside the home accidentally.

Neighbors previously assumed Larry Taylor was legally burning pine needles or trash outside his house, which would have been in the front near the trail to the road. Front door camera footage shared by the family, however, shows the fire erupted toward the left corner of the home, which was far from his "burn pile."

More footage showed him bringing wood inside the house where he would warm himself up by the chimney, Farah Taylor said.

He also had a space heater in his room, but because the house was burned to the ground, it's impossible to know which area inside the home caught fire first.

He spent most of his days on the deck, she said, and the only way off the deck is through the front door of the house.

It's possible there wasn't a way out.

"I could see him trying to put it out, too," Farah Taylor said. "He also could've been looking for his cat. He always said she was his best friend."

His cat, "Rummy," escaped the fire and is now in Farah Taylor's care. A kind neighbor captured her on their outdoor camera and Farah Taylor set a trap. Eventually, Rummy got hungry enough that she climbed into the trap, and Farah Taylor was able to rescue her.

Rummy would often go on kayak rides with Larry Taylor around the lake and wander on the beach. She'd watch him do the things he loved, like baking bread or a batch of cookies, and Farah Taylor always got a cellphone picture of their adventures.

The only physical thing she and her siblings, Fonda and Cole, have left of their dad is a gold bracelet and a gold necklace he was wearing when he was recovered. She was also able to find pieces of a T-shirt.

"I wish we had more of him," she said.

Larry Taylor was born on the West Coast and spent most of his time in Cayucos, California, deep sea fishing and surfing — he even accidentally caught a few sharks in his time, Farah Taylor said. While working a number of blue-collar jobs on an oil rig, a farm, a butchery and inside a warehouse, he was "the most hardworking man" she'd known.

He followed some friends out to Washington and moved to Newman Lake in 1989, a place less dry with a great view, where he lived year-round.

"He would say to me, 'I'm going to die here,' and I think he meant he'd pass in his sleep," Farah Taylor said. "It's weird he would say that, and then that's what happened. But it was his own little piece of heaven. He wouldn't have been happy anywhere else."

His two children, step-daughter and grandchildren all would visit him at the lakeside house.

Farah Taylor remembers how her dad would always make homemade meals for them as kids, but she'd often ask for peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches instead. Rather than telling her to eat the food he made, he would always make her a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich because "that's just the person he was."

The siblings plan to spread his ashes in parts of Cayucos and Newman Lake. They also plan to keep the land their father had and build a new home for current and future grandchildren on the property.

"After that day, I didn't think I would be able to enjoy that spot again, because there's a dark cloud over it," Farah Taylor said. "But since then, I have visited on a beautiful day, and I saw I could visit where my dad's final moments were. There's no way I could ever sell that plot of land. It is all he had and what he wanted to leave to us. It would break his heart if it went to anyone else."

The family has started raising money on gofundme.com to handle services and help with financial strain.

Regardless, Farah Taylor said, the outpouring of support from the community has been "overwhelming." She said she has "all the utmost love and respect" for the kindness and quick response of the firefighters that day, most of whom were volunteers.

The last time Farah Taylor saw her father was a week before the fire at her niece's first birthday party. She walked to the car, hugged him, said, "I love you, drive safe."

"I'll never stop grieving my dad. But I'm OK with that," she said. "That place on the lake — that will be his legacy."