When family and friends of fallen soldier Sgt. Andrew P. Wallace gathered in Ripon, Wisc., to attend his funeral early last month, they had a few uninvited guests. And they were in no hurry to grieve for the loss of a U.S. soldier in the War on Terror.

Rather, the guests advocated a far different message, one of — shockingly — outright celebration over Mr. Wallace's death. The U.S. is far too tolerant of homosexuality, they claimed, and God had killed Mr. Wallace to exact revenge.

Oh, and remember those 12 coal miners who died in the West Virginia mine explosion early this year? God killed them too. Same reason.

Or at least that's the despicable view of the Westboro Baptist Church, a small group of gay-bashers from Kansas storming funerals throughout the country, picket signs in one hand and virtually inconceivable amounts of disrespect in the other. So far the group — led by Rev. Fred Phelps — has made it to the funerals of three Wisconsin soldiers killed in Iraq, including Mr. Wallace's in early January.

Like several other states, the Wisconsin Senate has responded swiftly to this plague, unanimously passing legislation that would ban disruptive protests at funerals and memorial services. Although Senate Bill 525 must still pass the state Assembly, Gov. Jim Doyle has promised to sign the bill when it reaches his desk.

Unfortunately, despite SB 525's early success, its path toward establishing itself in the statute books is likely to get far rockier from here on out. Free speech advocates — including the Westboro Baptist Church — are crying foul over the legislation, arguing that impinging upon political speech in a public forum represents a clear violation of First Amendment rights.

It's a stance that I normally would be inclined to agree with. Freedom of speech and protection from prior restraint is perhaps the most important enumerated right granted to citizens of the United States — one deserving of its lofty position in the constitutional hierarchy.

But I can't side with free speech here. Another right comes into play, too — namely privacy from being forced to listen to unwanted messages — and although it is far from an absolute right, it should easily trump the First Amendment at an event as solemn and private as a funeral.

The dynamics of the situation go as such: The funeral is held on private property, where protestors certainly have no right to venture to advance their message. But what about the sidewalks, streets and parks around the funeral house? All are considered forums where citizens can openly advocate their views on public matters — places where such discourse, even of the offensive variety, is considered vital to the functioning of our democracy. So why can't Mr. Phelps and Co. express their views regarding homosexuality in those places, even if a funeral is going on across the way?

The answer lies with a deeper dissection of the speech in question here. It is first important to note the type of activity Mr. Phelps' group engages in — and the type SB 525 bans — is not pure speech.

Rather, it is disruptive behavior better classified as "conduct involving speech," and as such, it is subject to certain time, place and manner restrictions.

In fact, given the level of mourning and emotions running at a funeral, it isn't much of a stretch to define such protests as fighting words, a class of speech unprotected under the First Amendment. Given the Supreme Court's reluctance to use the fighting words doctrine, however, I'm hesitant to argue for its application here.

So instead it comes down to whether banning demonstrations at funerals is an appropriate time, place and manner restriction. At the risk of delving too deep into the legalities involved with the issue, that means any such law, subject to intermediate scrutiny, must abide by three principles: It must be content-neutral, it must leave other opportunities available for speech and it must be narrowly tailored to achieve a significant government interest.

The bill appears to satisfy the first requirement. SB 525 bans a person from "engag[ing] in a loud protest, with or without using an electric sound amplification device, that involves singing, chanting, whistling, yelling, or honking a motor vehicle horn within 500 feet of any entrance to a facility being used for the service if the protest is intended to disrupt the service."

It is clear the bill is aimed at all messages equally. It does not just prohibit Mr. Phelps' gay-bashing chants; it bans all speech found to be disruptive to mourners.

SB 525 also is clearly written so as to allow protestors other channels of communication to advance their views. The bill prohibits demonstrations from 60 minutes prior to the start of a funeral service to 60 minutes after its end, and it applies to a zone of 500 feet around the funeral site's entrance.

But outside of those limitations, protestors can say or do whatever they wish. They could rally in a park a mile away. They could march, signs in hands, a few blocks down the road. They could buy space on billboards and plaster their message all over town.

After all, funeral goers could just divert their eyes.

But when protestors like the Westboro Baptist Church picket and holler outside a funeral, mourners enjoy no such opportunity. They can't shield themselves from the behavior so utterly offensive to the concept of honoring the dead.

Former Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black, a man whose jurisprudence in defense of free speech rights stood beyond reproach, recognized the First Amendment does not always provide absolute protection to picketers and protestors.

"Were the law otherwise, people on the streets, in their homes and anywhere else could be compelled to listen against their will to speakers they did not want to hear," Black wrote in his dissent in Cox v. Louisiana.

It is true that the right to avoid hearing undesirable speech in public succumbs to the rights of the speaker to advocate his views, even when that person is as offensive as Mr. Phelps.

But the area immediately surrounding a funeral is different. The Supreme Court has ruled such a buffer zone constitutional to abortion clinics in the past, and similar protection should be afforded to wherever a funeral takes place.

After all, when Mr. Phelps dies, his family will undoubtedly wish to grieve the loss of their disgraceful patriarch.

I can only hope nobody else would mourn the loss of this sicko. But for one brief moment at one specific place, nobody should celebrate his death either.

Ryan Masse ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in political science and economics.