On February 10, 1995, Liz White-Dibb and her children became survivors, joining the thousands of law enforcement families across the country who have lost a loved one in the line of duty. On that day, she lost her high school sweetheart, best friend, kids’ father, husband — her world. “I was 29 when Mark was killed, and we had been together more than half my life, so when I say he was my world, he was,” she says. The loss of her husband upended her life, altering its trajectory in ways she could never have imagined. It set her on a path of daily remembrance — honoring him and his fallen law enforcement brothers and sisters across the nation, and supporting those they left behind. “I honor Mark’s memory by talking about him, by sharing who he was,” she explains. “Mark made a difference in this world, and I want everyone to know that.”
In 1995, she became a member of Concerns of Police Survivors (C.O.P.S.) — a national organization that helps rebuild the shattered lives of survivors and colleagues affected by a line-of-duty death — which helped her navigate the “winding, narrow and dark” path as a survivor through various programs. During her now 30 years with the organization, she has attended numerous Spouses Retreats, where she has connected and forged unbreakable bonds with new and longtime survivors alike. “It is my hope that I can help other survivors, just by listening or by showing them they can do this, and hopefully they can be happy again,” she says. “Our husbands or loved ones are still with us; you must be open to seeing the signs. There is a light at the end of this tunnel. At times, it is nothing more than a freight train, but keep moving forward, because ultimately it is happiness.”
White-Dibb first attended National Police Week in May 1995, just months after her husband was killed. The Roseville P.D. encouraged her to attend, even though White wasn’t being honored that year, so that she could experience the weeklong gathering and its cornerstone events, such as the Candlelight Vigil and National Peace Officers’ Memorial Service. She ended up meeting many survivors who have become her best and lifelong friends and has made the pilgrimage every year since. (She now adds the Tennessee Walk of Honor to her Police Week itinerary, which she began attending after relocating to Tennessee in December 2020 and becoming a board member of the Middle and East Tennessee Chapter of C.O.P.S.) “Seeing my husband’s name on the wall each year is extremely emotional. It hits you like a punch in the gut each time,” she reflects. “It’s almost impossible to see his name and not think, even if briefly, what could have been. A stranger may see a name, but as a survivor, we see the person, his smile, his sense of humor, that goofy thing he would do only in front of me.”
On top of the support that she received from C.O.P.S. and her blue family in Roseville, White-Dibb also found comfort in San Diego County Sheriff’s Deputy Randy Dibb, a longtime PORAC director-at-large and president of the San Diego DSA, whom she met at a PORAC Conference in Monterey in 1996. The two married in 1998, and White-Dibb relocated to San Diego with her young children.
White-Dibb’s connection with PORAC evolved when she was tapped by the organization to become a key advocate for legislation that significantly enhanced benefits for survivors of line-of-duty deaths. The first addressed the “remarriage letter” that many survivors received following the loss of their spouse. It asked whether they planned to remarry — selecting “yes” meant losing 50% of survivor benefits, while choosing “no” allowed them to keep all benefits; however, if they later chose to remarry, they would lose all benefits entirely.
“PORAC asked me if I was interested in helping them with a bill that they were trying to get passed that would assure no widow is ever asked such an abhorrent question again,” she says. “I jumped at the opportunity to help PORAC, as I was pissed that I would even be asked such a question. PORAC didn’t know it, but I wasn’t helping them; they were helping me by giving me a purpose, something to fight for, and it forced me to get up, get dressed and leave my dark bedroom.” After a tough road of advocacy work, the legislation eventually passed — ensuring that widows would no longer be asked that question and there would be no penalty should they choose to remarry.
The second bill addressed the removal of the California Public Employees’ Retirement System (PERS) designation of fallen officers as “retirees” and the distribution of “retired” benefits to their survivors. “My benefits were calculated as if my husband retired. My husband did not retire; he was killed in the line of duty,” White-Dibb says. So she worked with PORAC and a handful of widows to get a bill passed that would ensure their husbands were no longer referred to as “retired” and that their benefits accurately reflected their line-of-duty deaths. “For me, that meant I would receive everything the Roseville police officers negotiated up until the point in time when my husband would have been of retirement age, basically 3% at 50 at that time,” she says, adding that she and others walked the halls of the State Capitol advocating for the bill, which passed.
“I’m very thankful to PORAC, as well as the other large assisting law enforcement organizations for both of these bills,” she says. “PORAC was the driving force in helping me and other survivors eliminate the ridiculous ‘remarriage penalty,’ as well as pass the bill that ensures our husbands are recognized as having been killed in the line of duty — not as having ‘just retired.’ Think about it: a widow at 29, expected to decide immediately whether she’ll ever remarry? How ridiculous! It’s so important that PORAC continues to advocate for what is right and just for our survivors.”
Read “Fallen but Never Forgotten” to learn more about Officer Mark A. White and how the Roseville P.D. continues to honor his legacy.