KEY POINTS:
I was at a funeral recently for a man I knew only slightly. We had said hello to each other every Sunday at church. He was tall, with kind eyes that hinted at a humorous disposition and I sensed, rather than knew, that he was a good man.
It was only after he died, from cancer, that I found out what kind of person he was. He had been, among other things, a policeman, a faithful and devoted husband, an adored grandfather and father, and a good friend and neighbour.
My daughter and I were pleased to have our good opinion confirmed. You can tell a good person, I'd told her, by the people around them - good people rub off on others and attract others of the same ilk.
She replied, in her typically knowing teenage way, that good people stand out on their own account.
Strange how we almost always agree on whom to confer goodness, despite the generation gap.
According to us, a good person can't just be someone who hasn't broken any laws, or lived a blameless life. There must be active goodness at play, a shining sense of decency and humanity.
I think of my father as the model of a good man. Not just because he was devoted to the same woman for nearly 50 years, but because he took on responsibility for other people's children as well as his own, because he was humble, honourable, dignified and principled. And because he was prepared to stand up for his principles when it counted.
Many years ago, when he was fighting a seemingly hopeless legal battle, my father's young lawyer explained why he was working so hard for my father - because my father was a good man, he said, as if that settled everything. My father's refusal, as treasurer of his church, to accept the minister's misuse of church funds, resulted in a bitter split and a lengthy legal battle.
My father won. And after the court awarded him the church assets he gave half to the parishioners who had followed him, and half to those who had made his life hell.
Good and bad, moral and immoral - these are unfashionable concepts in today's "anything goes as long as it feels good" society. We like to think the lines have been blurred to the point where nothing is ever really bad or good on its own. As long as it's legal, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else.
Why then is there such a visceral reaction to the idea of Clint Rickards getting his job back as Auckland's police chief? Why do we want to punish him for the sexual activities of more than 20 years ago, when he was in his early 20s? Why are we, the supposedly sexually-free, liberally-minded people of the 21st century, repulsed?
If the man has been convicted of no crimes, if his sexual proclivities didn't prevent Police Commissioner Rob Robinson from promoting him before, why should they prevent him returning to his job now?
A Herald reader says it isn't necessary for a police officer to be morally virtuous to properly fulfil his duties. So what has morality got to do with this? More than we like to admit. Rickards' actions fall below a level of decency that I think most New Zealanders still expect from its police force. By decency, I don't mean the type of sex Rickards and his colleagues indulged in, but their behaviour and attitude towards vulnerable young women.
Rickards says he regrets it, that he is deeply ashamed - although he appears to say this without a hint of shame or regret.
His justification is that it was the usual infidelity, the natural behaviour of a tomcat, and that he can tell the difference between rape and consensual sex. But this wasn't sex between equals. Louise Nicholas was a mixed-up teenager. Rickards and his mates Brad Shipton and Robert Schollum were the ones with all the power.
Former assistant commissioner Bruce Scott, who investigated Nicholas' 1995 allegations, described the behaviour of Rickards, Shipton and Schollum as "disgraceful and unacceptable", that they had used their position as police officers to "take advantage of a promiscuous young lady".
At the 2005 sentencing for the 1989 Mt Maunganui abduction and rape of a 20-year-old woman, Justice Ron Young described Shipton and Schollum as corrupt police officers whose arrogance knew no bounds, who had treated their victim like a piece of meat, and who had seriously abused their power as police officers.
Rickards wasn't involved in that crime, but his outspoken support of his mates - despite compelling evidence of their guilt at Mt Maunganui - settles the question for me.
By many accounts, Rickards was a highly effective police officer. But his blurring of the line between right and wrong suggests he was never a good one.
