Restorative Justice Week 2009

Restorative Communities Need Restorative Leadership
Shannon Moroney

The terrible crimes that my husband enacted turned the silver bowl of my life into a colander, shaking madly as if in an earthquake. In the aftermath of his violence, I flailed around inside a new and terrifying reality, grasping to hold on to anything while I watched people, places, memories, hopes and dreams inexorably fall through the holes and over the sides. Eventually I fell out too, onto a broken and dangerous landscape. When the ground finally stopped shaking and the toll of destruction could be taken, the losses were numerous, far-reaching and heart-breaking.

As I learned the details of the assaults, my emotions collided into one another and overwhelmed me: sadness, anger, confusion, fear, and anxiety all at once. I began to feel like a widow as the dreams I held for a family shattered. Yet, in many instances, I had to fight for my right to grieve because of the way in which I lost my husband. As a victim, I needed time and safe places to cope, but as the family member of an offender, some chose me as the target for accusations, judgment and blame. While Jason was put into protective custody, I was left in the community-completely vulnerable.

The number one factor that kept me focused on healthy ways of coping was-and is-the love and support I have from my family and friends. While some relationships did not survive the early days of what happened, others strengthened-nurtured by compassion, encouragement and hope for the future. One of these relationships is with Jason. In the beginning, I had so many questions and he was the only who could answer many of them. That he demonstrated remorse and responsibility allowed us to engage in what I now call "restorative dialogue" and it was through our communication that the door to forgiveness and eventual peace were opened. We are no longer married, but we are friends.

One of the most detrimental factors to my healing was the experience of voicelessness. I did not get a say in preventing what happened and I was not given a voice in making important decisions afterwards-ones that deeply affected my life. Instead, "systems" took over. In a vulnerable state, I participated in the investigations by the police, the Correctional Service of Canada, and the National Parole Board, but none of these offered the practical support I needed in return. My employer-a public school board-made a decision to remove me from my job based on rumours and allegations against my character. This action had devastating and long-term effects on my professional image and livelihood. In distress, I turned to my local Victim Services where the counselor told me I did not belong. Through a 30-month court process, I was never approached by the Crown even though I was a victim. While the expression of restorative values was sustaining me in interpersonal relationships, what I desperately needed was restorative justice at the leadership level. I needed an advocate. I needed vindication and I needed my voice back.

In an effort to raise my own voice, I gave a victim impact statement at Jason's sentencing. I told the court of my pain and losses. I listened to the assault victims tell of theirs. What struck me was that the court process was about to end but the harm from crime was still on-going. Through our statements, we had the chance to recount what happened to us, but not to say what we needed now. The ripple-effect of crime was deep and wide-spread, but at the end of the day, it seemed like all that happened is that one person was sent to prison for the rest of his life and everyone else was just sent home.

In the days, weeks and months following the sentencing I felt very depressed. I thought about the courtroom and everyone who was gathered there: victims and their families, the offender and his family, lawyers, police, correctional officers, the judge and a few community members. I felt as though an opportunity had been missed. I wished that there had been a next-step-a way in which to ask each person affected by these terrible crimes what he or she needed in order to recover and feel whole and safe again. How might things be different today if we had been given time, space, a leader, and resource people to facilitate a process in which needs could be understood and a plan made? I have not figured out exactly how this might take place but I feel certain that with integrity, inclusion and imagination-the riches of our communities-it is possible. No one can undo what happened but we can work together for the future.

Please register for the National Symposium on Restorative Justice
to be held in St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador, November 18th - 20th, 2009
Contact Noreen Byrne at (709) 631-0069, cms@nfld.net