When cadets attend a law enforcement academy, they can expect to learn about physical fitness, firearms safety, marksmanship, writing reports, and the legal aspects of their future job. They also learn how to interrogate a suspect, as well as how to look for inconsistent or overly rehearsed stories. Yet, in cases of domestic violence, these particular skillsets do not offer a complete appreciation of the signs and evidence needed to protect crime victims or law enforcement officers.
Louisiana is ranked 5th in the Nation for domestic violence homicides, and the longer a victim waits to contact law enforcement, the more dangerous the situation becomes. Perpetrators are usually volatile and violent by the time police arrive on the scene; yet officers are often overworked, backup is typically not available, and if things go south, it will take time for additional manpower to arrive — time they might not have. Unfortunately, for these reasons, the most dangerous calls for law enforcement often relate to domestic violence.
To minimize such risks, the slow burn of domestic violence must be better understood, as well as the culture insulating it. Victims of abuse are often shamed into silence, with the belief that they should have been stronger, tougher, braver, or bold. As a result, few disclose what happens at home until the situation has escalated to a dangerous level, or family and friends learn of it far too late.
Domestic violence is never something experienced on a first date. Instead, the escalation of abuse is slow, like water carving into rock. It’s also confusing. In many cases, a victim will genuinely love their abuser, not for the violence — but because of the inevitable good times they share as well. There’s also long-term manipulation to consider, trauma bonding that may have occurred as early as childhood, and previous experiences that make controlling behavior, chaos, and daily interrogations feel like love. These consistent experiences ultimately change a victim’s brain chemistry, making them more likely to accept a dangerous situation and even stay in it far longer than they should. It’s also what makes it that much more difficult to leave.
Imagine if a police officer entered your home on a domestic violence call and declared, “You have to leave him right now — tonight. You have twenty minutes to gather your things.” You have to pack your belongings, as well as the necessities for any children or pets. Then, where do you go? There are shelters available, but what if the nearest shelter is full or a long drive from home? What’s the plan? Many victims don’t have one, even though the most dangerous time in that relationship is when they try to leave.
Tragically, the dangers of staying can be even worse, as witnessed during the COVID pandemic. Once the lockdowns began, there was a sharp decrease in calls made to 911 for domestic violence. Victims were completely isolated, and no one saw the bruises because no one was going to work, church, or even family gatherings. And by the time victims did call 911, the situation was considered severe.
Post-COVID, there has been a distinct rise in calls, along with an increase in strangulation cases and domestic violence homicides. For greater context, when a person is strangled in a domestic violence situation, they are 750x more likely to be murdered by their perpetrator with a firearm. Moreover, that same perpetrator is more likely to murder a law enforcement officer when they arrive on the scene.
That is why the Louisiana Department of Justice has fought to prepare law enforcement for these tumultuous calls — not only to protect the citizens of Louisiana but to also protect themselves. We’re teaching officers how to better serve the victims of domestic violence by changing their hardwired interrogation tactics, so that a victim’s story of abuse can be told in a way that makes sense to them, highlighting sensory experiences and flashes of memory that might not be linear or follow a traditional script. Finally, we encourage victims to contact their local domestic violence center and create a safety plan, whether they are ready to leave or not.
As Attorney General, we have learned that it is the time we spend now, in preparation, that saves lives, which is why our team has hosted several dozen trainings attended by thousands involved in the criminal justice system over the past seven years. Through these efforts, we have protected the sanctity of life while enabling victims to tell their stories, leave their perpetrators, and ultimately change the pattern of abuse. But it all starts with education, and that is why we are actively guiding law enforcement on this path forward.
Jeff Landry
Louisiana Attorney General
