Two mothers, that’s what we were… two mothers, alone with our pain. Not to say we didn’t have people around us, we did. When the jury went into deliberation we could hear the quiet chatter of the reporters, police officers, family and friends echoing in a void we could not touch.
And then, one by one the people disappeared up the hall, looking for coffee and a bite to eat. In the awkward silence the victim’s mother and I found ourselves standing alone on opposite sides of the corridor. I went over to her; the one whose son my own had killed.
They were only sixteen … the thoughts in my mind went round and round, searching for some understanding, some reason why life had taken our two sons so young. Holding out my arms I approached the fragile woman with caution.
“We’re in this together,” I whispered.
The grieving mother hugged me back and then quickly released my embrace. “I must go,” she whispered. “My family will be coming back soon and they won’t understand.”
Within the hour we were called back into the courtroom and the judge announced the verdict.
“Guilty”, he said. “Ten to life.”
That night I cried myself to sleep. Brutal scenes from prison movies and stories of rape and violence flashed through my mind as the relentless sobs racked my body with grief. Towards morning I had a dream. The victim’s mother was leaning over my bed compassionately holding out her arms to give me a hug.
‘We’re in this together,’ she said, and I awoke with my arms reaching high in the air.
It was almost twenty years later before I saw the woman again. She had come for my son’s parole hearing and was waiting for the proceedings to begin. Over the past several months, a mediator from the Restorative Opportunities Program had been helping my son communicate with her and her daughter through a series of letters. When the daughter agreed to meet with my son, two ladies from the program filmed their healing exchange and then brought it to my house for a private viewing. They also showed it to the victim’s mother who lived across the country, near her daughter.
After watching the video, the victim’s mother was so touched by the changes she saw in my son that she offered to speak on his behalf at his parole hearing. She also asked to meet privately with us after the hearing. It was during this time that the two Restorative Opportunities mediators helped the victim’s mother and my son speak openly about the horrible night he killed her son. After so many years of keeping it all inside, my son was finally given the opportunity to express how sorry he was and offered to answer any and all questions the woman needed to ask. After a couple hours of frank discussion she turned to face me.
“And I want to apologize to you.” she said. “Apologize to me?” I asked, rather shocked by her offer.
“Yes” she said. “I was so angry and hurt that I think I treated you poorly during the trial.
She looked relieved when I told her my only memory of her was our short exchange in the hallway outside the courtroom while waiting for the verdict to come in. I shared with her that, “I cried myself to sleep that night and towards morning I dreamed you were leaning over my bed to comfort me. ‘We’re in this together,’ you said kindly, and when I awoke I was reaching up to hug you. I have no memory of your treating me poorly. In fact, I’ve been praying for you all these years that someday you might find forgiveness in your heart so you won’t have to hurt so much anymore.”
Just then, the victim’s mother pulled out a plastic bag she’d been holding on her lap.
“I brought you a gift” she said, passing it to my son across the large oval table.
“A gift?” he replied, his wide-eyed surprise impossible to conceal.
“Yes, it’s a dog,” she said, as he pulled the small stuffed animal out of the bag.
“A dog Isaac! Just what you always wanted!” I said, recalling our prison visit conversations over the years.
“And when you get out I’m going to buy you your first real dog.” the woman promised. Then, quite unexpectedly, she pushed back her chair and went around the table to embrace my son. Without a moment’s hesitation he stood up to accept her hug. Before going back to sit down, the woman whispered something in my son’s ear.
As the meeting came to a close the woman asked if she could continue to contact us to which of course, we both heartily agreed. Once everyone was gone I asked my son what the woman said to him while they were hugging.
Turning the little dog over and over in his hands he replied quietly, “She said, ‘I forgive you’.”
