Nicholas Bernard staff writer
Even as law enforcement, some cases just change a person, says St. Charles Parish Sheriff Greg Champagne.
The murder of 11-year-old Barbara Jo “Bobbi” Brown in 1981 was one Champagne still calls the most brutal he has ever seen.
“It opened my eyes to how there are real monsters out there,” he says.
“She was a sweet little firecracker… just full of bouncy energy. She’d be riding her bike, eating a pork chop.”
On the evening of Oct. 7, 1981, Brown was abducted in Luling, Louisiana, after stopping to visit a nearby neighbor. Prosecutors later said two men, John Brogdon and Victor Bruce Perritt, lured her into their car. She was raped, tortured and killed that same night in St. Charles Parish.
Perritt, who was 17 at the time, received a life sentence. Brogdon, 19, was sentenced to death and later executed by electric chair on July 30, 1987, after his final appeal was denied.
Champagne, who served as an assistant district attorney during the case, says the trial left a lasting impression on him.
He recalls sitting across from Brogdon during jury selection, describing the defendant as “emotionless,” as though the proceedings “concerned someone else entirely.”
Despite the emotional toll, Champagne says the goal remained clear.
“We had to focus on the case and focus on getting justice for her family,” he says.
When the death sentence was handed down, Champagne called Brown’s mother who said, “Thank you, I can finally rest tonight.”
More than four decades later, the weight of the crime still lingers, but for those who knew her best, Brown is remembered for far more than the violence that took her life.
Brown was described as a tough, smiling tomboy who loved to run track and race anyone willing to line up beside her. She had a natural ability to make people feel included, especially those others overlooked.
“She was very loving and kind to everybody,” says her niece, Sheree Matherne. “Even the people others wouldn’t make friends with, she would befriend those people.”
To her older sister, Robetta Pysarenko, Brown was unforgettable.
“She was a sweet little firecracker… just full of bouncy energy,” Pysarenko says. “She’d be riding her bike, eating a pork chop.”
“Some people are too innocent to stay in this world.”
As the youngest in the house, Bobby brought constant motion and life into their home.
“You couldn’t slow her down,” Pysarenko says. “You had to constantly keep up with her.”
Even decades later, her absence is still deeply felt.
“There’s a big hole, but we just try to remember all the good stuff,” Pysarenko says. “We never forget the good stuff.”
Matherne was only a child when her aunt was killed but remembers the morning after, waking up to learn why no one was going to school.
She recalls walking hand in hand with Pysarenko and Brown with them lifting her over puddles.
“She is missed every day,” Matherne says. “When she was lost, it fractured our family in a way that will never be repaired.”
Still, Brown’s family hopes she is remembered for the joy she brought into the world, not just the tragedy that took her from it.
“She loved everybody… there was nobody that was a stranger to her,” Pysarenko says. “Some people are too innocent to stay in this world.”
