Man accused of making bomb threat at Miami International Airport ticket counter
Javier Salazar, 66, was taken into custody at the Volaris ticket counter shortly after 2 p.m. after he told an airline agent that he had a bomb in his suitcase, according to a Miami-Dade Sheriff's Office report.
The ticket counter agent was conducting routine security questions when Salazar made the statement.
When the agent warned him that such comments were not allowed in an airport, he claimed he was joking, according to the arrest report.
Airport security was alerted and a K-9 unit conducted a sweep of Salazar's luggage and the surrounding area, which yielded no explosive materials.
Salazar was detained and transported to the MDSO airport station, where he waived his Miranda rights and provided a written statement, authorities said.
Salazar was later booked into the Turner Guilford Knight Correctional Center on a charge of making a false report about an explosive device.
Under Florida law, making a false bomb threat is a second-degree felony.
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The 45-year-old is more than a curator or nerdy archivist. Luna, like his predecessors Alex Villanueva and McDonnell, has entrusted Fratantoni to not just help preserve the department's history but also imprint its importance on the men and women who are its present and future. 'I have always been a fan of history,' said Luna, who has organized lunchtime lectures about the department and civil rights. For Black History Month in February, Fratantoni spoke about the troubles faced by deputies William Abbott and John Brady, who in 1954 became the department's first integrated patrol unit. The recriminations against Abbott, who was Black, and Brady didn't come from within but rather the residents in West Hollywood they served. 'I believe it's important to teach our deputies where we've been and some of the challenges we've faced. You can't help but to want to listen to his stories,' Luna said of Fratantoni. 'Mike is just phenomenal,' said Deputy Graciela Medrano, a 25-year-veteran who was also at the museum the day I visited. A black ribbon stretched across her badge — a sign of mourning, law enforcement style. 'I'll ask him about cases that happened when I was just starting, and he immediately knows what I'm talking about. He makes us all appreciate our department more.' Every year, Fratantoni speaks to the latest class of recruits about the department's history. 'They know it's been around but nothing else. So I share photos, I tell stories. And I tell them, 'You're getting a torch passed to you, and you're going to run the next leg.' You can see their reactions — our history gives them a sense of purpose.' He'll also attend community events with other deputies in vintage uniforms or old department cars. 'Someone will see it and say, 'That's my granddad's car' and smile. We can have conversations with the public we otherwise wouldn't be able to.' Fratantoni was supposed to focus this year on the department's 175th anniversary. Another goal was to seek out an interview with Shirley MacLaine, one of the last surviving queens of the Sheriff's Championship Rodeo, an annual event that used to fill up the Memorial Coliseum and attract Hollywood A-listers. But 2025 got in the way. We spoke a week before the burials of Osborn and Kelley-Eklund (the services for Lemus have yet to be announced). Fratantoni also sits on the committee charged with putting names on the Los Angeles County Peace Officers' Memorial. 'I don't like doing it, and I hope I don't have to fill out paperwork for it ever again, but if that's what I have to do, I'm honored to be a part of it,' he said. 'I hold it close to my heart.' Even the work commemorating what happened during the Barton Mound massacre remains unfinished. The victims were buried at the old City Cemetery downtown but were moved to Rosedale Cemetery in Mid-City in 1914. No one bothered to mark their new graves, which were lost until researchers discovered them a few years ago. Fratantoni and others are fundraising for new tombstones for their slain predecessors. He mentioned Daly's story: Born in Ireland. Came to California for the Gold Rush. Became a blacksmith — he put the shoes on the horses that Barton and his constables were going to use to pursue Las Manillas. A strong, able man whom Barton deputized so he could join them on the day they would all die. 'It's sad to see people who lost their life be forgotten,' Fratantoni said. 'That's just…' The historian tasked with talking shook his head in silence.
