Riggs’ ‘Needless, Tragic’ Killing Mourned

The last time San Diego Police Chief Bill Kolender had to do this, there were two flag-draped caskets. Officers Timothy Ruopp and Kimberly Tonahill were shot to death in September when they stopped to question two men who had been drinking whiskey in Balboa Park with two teen-age girls.

Kolender, in his eulogy for the officers, made assurances that San Diego is “still the safest big city in the country.” Kolender and his police force take pride in this claim, and they often cite statistics to back it up. Among the pallbearers for Ruopp that day was his brother-in-law, fellow policeman Thomas E. Riggs.

Wednesday, there was one flag-draped casket--that of Thomas E. Riggs. This time, amid growing concern about a police mortality rate that the San Diego Police Officers Assn. says is the highest in the nation, Kolender spoke of the ideals and danger of law enforcement.

“Tom became a police officer for all the right reasons--because he believed he could make a difference in this city and that he could make it a better, safer place to live,” Kolender told about 2,000 mourners at First United Methodist Church in Mission Valley. Among those in attendance were hundreds of San Diego officers and scores representing departments throughout the state.

“Tom wasn’t afraid to live these beliefs, and he wasn’t afraid to die for them,” Kolender continued. “We must not, we will not, let his death have been in vain.”

Riggs, 27, was killed in a wild melee Sunday night in Encanto by two bullets from the gun of a fellow officer. Some witnesses said Sagon Penn, a 23-year-old Southeast San Diego man, yanked the .38-caliber pistol from the holster of Officer Donovan Jacobs during a violent struggle and shot Jacobs in the neck, critically wounding him. Witnesses said the suspect then turned the gun on Riggs, and then on Sara Pina-Ruiz, a woman who was with Riggs on the police ride-along program.

Jacobs and Pina-Ruiz, who was wounded less severely, are recovering at Mercy Hospital. Riggs died at the scene. After the three had been shot, Penn drove off in Jacobs’ patrol car, running over Jacobs in the process, to his grandfather’s house, authorities said. With his grandfather at his side, Penn turned himself in at police headquarters a short time later.

The police spent Wednesday remembering Tom Riggs. The church overflowed with uniformed officers, some from as far away as Sacramento and San Jose. The large Riggs family--he had six siblings--filled several pews. A large group of San Diego public officials, including Mayor Roger Hedgecock and several City Council members, also attended the church memorial.

Riggs came from a “police family.” His father, Charles, is a retired San Diego police sergeant. His wife, Coleen, is the daughter of Sheriff’s Department Sgt. Ron Wiebe. Sgt. Harold Goudarzi--like Ruopp, a brother-in-law--served as the captain of the honor guard.

The 23rd Psalm was read and a soprano sang “O Danny Boy,” one of Tom Riggs’ favorite songs. Then Kolender delivered his eulogy.

“I cannot express the despair, the frustration and the horror I feel again at the loss of yet another bright, dedicated young officer,” he said. “Somehow, these needless, tragic killings of our officers, of our family--it just has to stop. Six months ago in this church, I promised the family of Tom Riggs . . . that they would never have to face a greater pain in their lives than the pain they were feeling at Tim (Ruopp’s) loss. That turned out to be a promise that I could not keep.”

The police chief praised Riggs as a leader who was well-liked and highly respected by his colleagues. Riggs had an “impish” sense of humor and a cheerful attitude that was “very contagious to others,” he said.

He was assigned to Southeast San Diego, widely considered the most dangerous area of the city, but Riggs “genuinely liked the community, he liked the people there, and he didn’t want to work anywhere else,” Kolender said.

One officer, Kolender said, recalled that Riggs was even respected by the people he arrested.

“A few weeks ago, Tom arrested a suspect he’d arrested many times on narcotics charges. The man told Tom, ‘You keep arresting me and putting me in jail and I keep getting out. Then you put me in jail and I get out. I gotta respect you, Riggs. You don’t give up.’

“Tom didn’t give up,” Kolender continued. “If there was a job to be done, he did it. In fact, his partners frequently heard him say, ‘Let’s just get the job done.’ ”

Some of Kolender’s comments seemed to have pointed significance in light of the incident that resulted in Riggs’ death.

“One sergeant recalls that, because of Tom’s knowledge and ability, there was no one he’d rather see show up at a difficult scene. . . . No matter what the situation, he could reason it through and didn’t act impulsively,” he said.

Later, Kolender added, “One of his (Riggs’) biggest concerns was officer safety. He practiced it and he preached it, too, to senior officers and trainees alike. He would not tolerate poor safety habits on the part of officers he worked with.”

At the close of his remarks, Kolender presented Charles Riggs with a Commanding Officer’s Citation. Tom Riggs had earned the honor on March 14, but the presentation had been scheduled for later.

The California Highway Patrol stopped freeway traffic to allow for a funeral procession of 400 cars from the church to Greenwood Memorial Park. Police estimated that 1,000 uniformed officers attended the services.

A few people wept, but Coleen Riggs appeared composed through most of the ceremony. The Riggses’ 2-year-old son, Adam, was held by relatives and often smiled.

A 21-gun salute from a Navy guard was followed by the playing of “Taps.” A cool breeze blew under a high, hot sun as the pallbearers, members of Riggs’ squad at the Southeast substation, lifted the flag from the casket and folded it. Then they slowly raised their white-gloved hands in salute.

The flag was presented to Kolender, who in turn presented it to Coleen Riggs.

After the ceremony, the crowd dispersed. A group of friends clustered, including three uniformed officers--sheriff’s deputies Steve Nosal and Dave Martinez, and San Diego Police Officer Manuel Garcia. All had been classmates of Riggs at Sweetwater High School. They shared memories and caught up on each other’s lives, and talked about the upcoming 10-year reunion for the Class of 1975.

One man arrived a few minutes after the ceremony ended. Gregory Williams said he lived just around the block from where Riggs had been killed. On the day before the shooting, he said, he had talked to Riggs in the parking lot of the Denny’s restaurant while Riggs was on his lunch break.

“He seemed like a nice guy,” Williams said. “I wish I had got to known him more.”

Williams said he felt sick about the shooting. He complained that the police are unappreciated.

“They complain they don’t have enough police protection,” he said. “But they’ve been killing off the good people they got.”