News reports said last week's police shooting in Stanton Heights occurred because Richard Poplawski, a young man who had been discharged from the USMC for assaulting an officer, was roused to extreme anger -- to maximal paranoia and fear -- by his mother, by his friends, by the culture around him. But it's difficult to make sense of all this. His mother has been mostly quiet. His friends have shown they are at least as confused as we are. And the culture around him -- mainly the overly suspicious Web sites and radio shows he apparently considers his connection to politics and society -- have bluntly rejected him.
So who will speak for Richard Poplawski?
His public defender, Lisa Middleman, has said virtually nothing to the press. Friends initially offered support, but have since stopped speaking openly. A story yesterday reported that Poplawski's grandmother held a vigil in front of his house, but it wasn't specifically for Poplawski -- it was because she wanted to "retrieve medical records, insurance records, clothes and other belongings from the home at 1016 Fairfield St."
And so the answer, unsurprisingly, is that very few will speak for Richard Poplawski. And you can't blame them.
Now who will speak for the cops Poplawski killed?
I live near the Bloomfield funeral home where two of the slain officers' caskets were on display. Early this week, crowds stretched around city blocks, and police arrived in droves from Toronto, Cleveland, Philadelphia, New York, and elsewhere.
Thursday, at the Petersen Events Center, something like 20,000 people attended. The ceremony must've cost an unbelievable amount -- for the City of Pittsburgh, for police departments in other cities, for local governmental agencies, families, groups, organizations. It became a city-wide event -- plastered, for nearly a week, on the covers of Pittsburgh's newspapers; seeped into song breaks on local FM radio stations; stressed into even the most mundane talk and television discussions; used as leading material in nightly newscasts. One of the more nauseating PR blunders surrounding this kind of catastrophe (and, indeed, an indicator that your story has moved from "news" to "event") is when media organizations transform their coverage into advertising -- cloaking promotional spots in extra footage from funeral caravans, featuring the somber voice of some talking head overdubbed in hushed tones: "When tragedy strikes, we are there." That happened several times this week.
It all comes with the territory, I suppose. And you can argue that a staggering amount of coverage needs to happen in situations like this -- if for no other reason than to support the families of both fallen and living officers.
But what's someone like me (or perhaps you) -- someone with little or no connection to any police force, to any of the directly affected parties, to any of the news stations or funeral homes or government agencies... what can we learn from this?
At Pittsburgh City Paper, Chris Potter wrote a very insightful piece about the confusing political and cultural battle surrounding Richard Poplawski's siege; it duscusses how radical, right-wing commentary figures -- and fails to figure -- into this tragedy.
But beyond politics, how should we, the largely disconnected, take this? What's important here?
It's certainly easy to view the funeral ceremonies -- and all their pomp -- cynically. One might imagine all those visiting officers, and all that money and time -- not to mention newspaper inches and broadcast hours -- could be used in more productive ways. But the gesture's grandeur seems necessary.
Why?
It's for the officers and their families, sure. But there's also always a fringe fear -- especially now -- that cities will somehow break into economic collapse where the sick can't be treated and the hungry can't be fed. Having a strong police force assuages this fear a bit -- comforts The Community, and says that, even if our banks are underperforming and our jobs are in jeopardy... well, at least we're not on the verge of violent anarchy; at least there's a union of individuals who strive to maintain order.
Which is to say that three police officers died and their assailant is behind bars -- but the very public act of unity following these deaths, following this capture, underlines an important message:
We, the Fraternal Order of Police, are everywhere. We are here to keep you safe. And we are also available -- at least 20,000 of us in driving force -- to confront any future acts of violent insanity. Because that's what we're here for: protection, enforcement, and the maintenance of a coherent, secure civilization.
There is truth and consequence to that.
Main point is that police will come out in droves to speak for -- and represent -- their fallen brethren. And the city will support it in any way they can. Poplawski, on the other hand, is left to speak for himself. One wonders how that will play out. And what his words -- his book? his lonely revolution? -- will represent. To himself, and for the rest of us.
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Further reading (re: the fear and paranoia discussion):