The Thin Blue Line

A story in today’s Tri-Parish Times details the difficulty Bonnie Riggenbach is having with getting information on the death of her husband, Sgt. Rick Riggenbach of the Chitimacha Tribal Police, that will satisfy her need for details.

The information Mrs. Riggenbach seeks is not necessarily pertinent to the prosecution of Wilbert Thibodeaux, the man accused of pulling the trigger, but it is pertinent to her as the widow of a law enforcement officer killed in the line of duty.

I’m covering the story, so I am supposed to be devoid of opinions on this, and indeed am remaining professionally neutral.

But tension between Mrs. Riggenbach and the authorities closest to this case, District Attorney Phil Haney and St. Mary Parish Sheriff Mark Hebert, and the process of reporting on that, has led to some interesting realizations.

I was present at the funeral of Sgt. Riggenbach in January, which was a solemn affair complete with traditional playing of bagpipes and representation from law enforcement agencies throughout Louisiana, as well as beyond.

A U.S. flag from Texas, which was flown above the 9/11 Ground Zero site and is now carried to law enforcement funerals throughout the U.S., was present as well.

Anyone witnessing the ceremonies or the motorcade to the Morgan City Cemetery that followed had no difficulty understanding that a great tragedy had occurred, one that affected all of us in one way or another.

But as for those who didn’t have a chance to witness the events in question, I am left wondering.

I grew up in New York City, where the death of a police officer is seen as a major event affecting every single person who lives there. Due to the size of that city’s police department, these police funerals take up block upon block outside the churches or synagogues or mosques where they are held. And there is no mistaking that the police officer’s death is something that has diminished everyone in some way.

It is not that police officers should be viewed according to different standards than the rest of us. But an understanding of the concept that when a law enforcement officer is killed, the line that separates the good folks going about day-to-day business and the bad guys is weakened somehow, needs to be clear.

A person who kills a police officer, or tries to do so, is not just attacking the police officer. He or she is attacking all of us because the cops are the first line of defense.

Our laws don’t always reflect this. And a good place to look is in the statutes related to battery and assault of officers.

Battery of a police officer in Louisiana carries upon conviction a $500 fine and imprisonment of not less than 15 days upon conviction, making it clear that the offense is a misdemeanor.

Louisiana is not the only state to make such an act less than a felony.

But laws in some other jurisdictions show that legislatures have determined the crime of striking out at an officer to be an especially serious thing. Florida, for example, enhances its assault and battery statutes to felonies when a law enforcement officer is the victim.

Police officers are not above the law, nor is anyone else. But there is nothing wrong with the law differentiating between the penalty for striking or harming someone who is in harm’s way in order to protect us and just a plain old Joe getting smacked on the street for no good reason.

Because the police are our protectors, there is a difference. And we should be willing to have our laws reflect that, not only for the good of cops but for society as a whole.