On February 4, 2025, North Las Vegas lost more than an officer. It lost Jason Roscow, a 46-year-old public servant whose life had been given to protecting others. After 17 years with the North Las Vegas Police Department, Officer Roscow answered a call involving a subject brandishing a gun. He went because that was the work before him—and because someone had to go.
The call ended in gunfire. Officer Roscow returned fire and killed the subject, but he was struck by multiple gunshot wounds and later succumbed at University Medical Center. His badge, 2090, now carries a grief that cannot be measured in metal or numbers. A man who had served his city for nearly two decades was taken from the people and community that depended on him.
Seventeen Years Given to North Las Vegas
The verified record of Jason Roscow’s service is simple, but its meaning is not. He served with the North Las Vegas Police Department for 17 years, a span long enough to make public duty part of the shape of a life. Year after year, shift after shift, he wore the uniform and answered the responsibilities attached to it.
Before and alongside that police service, Officer Roscow was a United States Air Force veteran. That history matters because it reflects a continued willingness to serve—first in one uniform, then in another. His life was marked by a commitment larger than himself, and North Las Vegas was the community where that commitment continued.
There are no supplied details that can fully describe the person behind badge 2090, and it would be wrong to fill those silences with invention. What can be said is enough to make the loss heavy: Jason Roscow gave 17 years to the North Las Vegas Police Department, and the city now carries the absence left by that devotion.
A Call That Became a Permanent Goodbye
Officer Roscow was responding to a report of a subject brandishing a gun near the 4700 block of High Creek in North Las Vegas. The danger was already present when he arrived. Then the subject fired at him, forcing a violent confrontation that ended with Roscow returning fire and killing the subject.
Even in that final act of courage, the cost was devastating. Officer Roscow sustained multiple gunshot wounds. He was taken to University Medical Center, where he ultimately succumbed. The official facts leave no room to soften what happened: he answered a dangerous call, faced gunfire, and did not come home.
That ending is difficult to accept because it was needless. A public servant who had already given 17 years of his life to protecting others should not have been forced into a final exchange of gunfire simply for doing the work his community asked him to do. The sorrow is profound, and so is the anger at a life cut short in the performance of duty.
What Badge 2090 Now Means
A badge number can look impersonal in a record. Badge 2090 belonged to Jason Roscow. Behind it was a 46-year-old man, a veteran of the United States Air Force, and an officer who spent 17 years serving North Las Vegas. The number now stands as a small, enduring marker of a life that was far greater than an identification entry.
The loss reaches beyond the moment of gunfire. It reaches into the department that Officer Roscow served, into the city where his work mattered, and into the lives of everyone who expected him to return from duty. The supplied facts do not name those closest to him, but the existence of that absence needs no embellishment. Someone is missing because Jason Roscow is gone.
North Las Vegas will remember the cost of the protection he provided. His final call cannot be reduced to the subject, the shots, or the hospital where he died. It must also be understood as the last chapter of 17 years spent standing ready for others—a chapter closed by violence, but not emptied of meaning.

Officer Jason Roscow’s end of watch came on February 4, 2025. He was 46. He had served his country as a United States Air Force veteran and served North Las Vegas for 17 years. Those facts cannot restore him, but they preserve the truth of what he gave.
The badge number 2090 should never become merely a line in a memorial list. It belongs to Jason Roscow, whose courage carried him toward danger and whose life was taken while protecting the public. North Las Vegas lost an officer, a veteran, and a human being whose service deserved a safer ending.
Heroic Outfitters