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Current age:  74               

Name of victim:  K         Relationship to victim: Friend       

Crime impacted by: Murder      

Years since crime committed: 19         

Current city residing in:

When I was a child growing up in Iowa, I have to admit I never thought much about crime or criminals. There were the TV shows in which people like Perry Mason miraculously discovered who the criminal was and then the criminal got his/her “just” punishment. I remember my dad saying that things were never that simple but didn’t elaborate. As I attended college in the 1960s and eventually came to work counseling alcoholics and addicts, I began to understand what he meant. I also came to believe what Bryan Stevenson said, “Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.” My story is about how that belief was tested.

Who I was Then: 

In 2005, I was working in a community college teaching students how to be chemical dependency counselors. One of the graduates of the program had become a friend as she worked in the field. K had amazing potential to be a very special counselor but in August of 2005, she was murdered by one of the clients in the residential treatment program where she worked. When a fellow student of hers came to my office the morning K was murdered to tell me what had happened, once I got through disbelief that such a thing could happen to such a wonderful woman, I felt overwhelming anger and grief. My anger was not only toward the man who killed her, but also toward the agency where she worked. If only they had not accepted into treatment a man who hadn’t completed detox (He had attacked her to get the keys to the med room); if only they had better staff to client ratio; etc. But mostly my anger was toward the person who killed my friend. I was consumed by that anger for several days until, during a gathering after the funeral, one of our mutual friends said, “I wish Iowa had the death penalty.” I saw how his anger was consuming his naturally forgiving nature and how it had consumed me. Another friend who was with us said, “That is not what K would have wanted.” At that moment, I let go of my anger but I wasn’t yet ready to forgive.

Who I am Now: 

Fast forward a year or so. I was volunteering for the Alternatives to Violence Project at the Iowa State Penitentiary. Each month, I would get the list of inmates who had volunteered to attend that month’s weekend workshop. One month, I looked at the list and saw the name of the man who had killed my friend. I immediately got nauseous and started shaking. I had to decide whether I was going to live by my words and by the principals of the AVP program but in my heart I was hoping he wouldn’t show. On that Friday morning, I was greeting the new participants as they came into the room. One of the inmate facilitators asked me a question and I had turned to answer. As I turned back, I found myself face-to-face with the man I had been dreading seeing. So many thoughts went through my head…he is so young; he doesn’t look at all scary; he’s the same age and size as my son; he looks scared to death. He said to me, “If you don’t want me here, I will understand.” I said, “Please come in.” I then went in the hall and burst into tears. One of the inmate facilitators came out and said, “You don’t have to do this, you know.” I explained that these were tears of release, of letting go. I had found not only forgiveness but also empathy and compassion. 

Conclusion: 

I am now in the twilight years of my life, as they say, which causes one to reflect on one’s life and the experiences and people along the way. Today I can say that I really know, not just in my mind but in my heart and soul, that we are all, indeed, so much more than the worst we have ever done.