“The way of wisdom is the way of pondering, the way of holding every kind of pain, suffering, delight, and contradiction long enough until it transforms you, gestates compassion within you, and brings you to your knees in a thousand surrenders.”
Ron Rohlheiser
Perhaps you, like me, vividly recall seeing the 1983 photo of Pope John Paul II, meeting in a prison in Rome, with Mehmet Ali Agca, the man who had shot him four times, critically wounding him in an attempt to assassinate him two years earlier during a procession at the Vatican. John Paul II survived, but for days his life hung in the balance. Even then, he asked people to “pray for my brother…whom I have sincerely forgiven.”
I recall that, long before the advent of social media, this photo and the story behind it ‘went viral’ in the international press. Pope John Paul II had apparently said that he wanted this meeting photographed and publicized in hopes that it would speak to a world filled with “unforgiving hatreds, with hostile superpowers and with smaller, implacable fanaticisms.” Most of the resulting commentary was positive, much of it expressing astonishment that anyone could ever take the step of meeting with one who had intended, and done, such violent harm to them. And far beyond just meeting, had forgiven him. The story played out: Agca was pardoned, at the pope’s request, but extradited to his native Turkey where he was convicted of earlier violent crimes. He served a total of 29 years in prison before being released. In 2014 he visited Italy again, this time to lay flowers on John Paul II’s tomb. The former extremist had experienced a personal transformation, touched, and compelled, by grace.
What struck me then, and does today, is that the international press treated John Paul’s visit to Agca as an astonishing event, as a rare anomaly, as though it was virtually unheard of for a victim/survivor of a violent crime to need or desire to meet with the assailant; as something reserved for saints (or popes). Some expressed skepticism, seeing it as even less likely that such a meeting would have an impact on the offender, much less that any offender could be motivated by their own depth of remorse to initiate such a dialogue.
It certainly must be true that these sorts of victim offender encounters are relatively rare in the grand scheme of things. Yet, here at CJI, (and across the country now that the Victim Offender Mediation Program (VOMP) we pioneered in 1990, functions coast to coast), these kinds of scenarios play out over and over again, year after year, in prisons across the nation. This year saw some of the most memorable outcomes we have witnessed in 26 years of the program’s operation.
It should be clearly stated that not everyone who seeks to participate in VOMP does so motivated to forgive (or to seek forgiveness). In fact, many victims/survivors start in a far different place, simply needing answers to questions never answered in the Criminal Justice System’s processing of their cases. Some need respite from desperate pain, and hope that their experience will be as helpful as that of others whose stories they have heard. Some seek what they describe as “healing”: a new degree of resolution of the trauma, recognizing that the practitioners are well informed in these matters, hoping for an increase of peace and greater resilience for themselves and their loved ones. Others still, (both victims and offenders) participate in hopes that their involvement will impact the other for good, as Pope John Paul II did.
Whatever the motivation, most find a good deal of what they were looking for when they determined to ask for an encounter with “The Other”. And, did as the participants in the story I’ll relate here, some report experiencing that granting forgiveness can set both themselves and their offenders free in ways they had never expected nor anticipated.
There is really only room for one case story in this report, one story representative of a number of others that could be told from last year’s referrals, alone. We’ve been given permission to share this one by the woman involved. In fact, she, herself shared the story, writing a letter in which she recounted her experience of CJI’s Victim Offender Mediation Program as one Aboriginal woman to another: our new Minister of Justice, The Honourable Jodi Wilson-Raybould. As always, we respect the need of our program participants for privacy and, in that light, have used pseudonyms for them below.
‘Ann’ was one of a number of children whose father, a police officer, was murdered in the line of duty by two men whom he had pulled over on the highway. Ann and her siblings had adored their father and were devastated by his loss to them, to their mother, and to their community. As in far too many cases, while the people responsible were arrested and sent to prison, the needs not only went on, but magnified, over time. Ann is very open about what transpired in the aftermath of her father’s killing: anesthetizing the pain led to years of addiction, downward spiral, despair, and dysfunction.
Many years had passed when, ‘Charles’ one of the men responsible for her father’s death contacted us through his Institutional Parole Officer. Charles had heard from another inmate who had met with the family survivors harmed by the commission of his own crime, that it had been an astonishing experience, one he would recommend to others. That began a time in which we visited with Charles from time to time to try to discern together whether or not to attempt to reach the victims/survivors in his case. Charles was torn between wanting to share with them the depth of his sorrow for having taken their father’s life, and wanting to avoid the possibility of re-traumatizing them with a further contact, even by a sensitive third party. We made clear that, in the absence of any further information from the victims indicating interest in the process, we would not proceed until either he was more certain, or something new had transpired to indicate victim interest in the program.
Then, out of nowhere, Ann’s brother wrote to us, unaware that we had been in conversation with Charles, saying he had been informed that Charles was incarcerated in our region, and wondering if we might be able to get a letter to him. We quickly responded to his letter by phone. “This step,” he explained, “is one I need to take toward my own healing: I’ve written a letter for ‘Charles’ unconditionally granting forgiveness to him.” He had come to the conviction, he said, that in order to be completely freed from the last vestiges of his addiction, he needed to forgive Charles, and finally rid himself of the remaining animosity, anger and desire for vengeance that he had used to justify his own substance abuse and long-term addiction. We promised to deliver his letter to Charles.
A few days later, we met with Charles, who sat quietly as he read the letter we had just handed him, slowly shaking his head in amazement at the words he was reading. He took the letter to his cell, read it a number of times daily, then composed a reply, finally able to express to one of the family members the depth of his sorrow and remorse for having taken their father’s life, and ending with a profound statement of gratitude for the gift of forgiveness he had been given.
Within a few months, the next letter arrived from a member of the victim’s family, this time from Ann. She had seen the impact on her brother of just the exchange of correspondence, and the new degree of freedom he exhibited. She wrote saying she wanted to write to Charles, as well, but that she had hoped that an exchange of letters between them would culminate in an actual meeting: a face-to-face dialogue which VOMP staff would facilitate. Charles needed some time to get his head around that notion, meeting with the Institutional Elder and praying about it together. It didn’t take long before he asked us to set the meeting up, saying just the prospect of meeting with her had him almost overwhelmed with emotion at times, not certain what he could ever say that would be remotely adequate to the circumstance, yet hoping that whatever he might offer would help assuage her pain and increase a sense of peace for her.
At the end of March, Ann flew into Abbotsford, where we met her and spent some additional time with her to help prepare her for what the following day’s meeting might bring. For 2 hours the next morning and two more in the afternoon these two met, sharing along a simple format: the past—the impact of the crime and its aftermath for both; the present (what each was doing to heal and move on toward a more successful future), and the future: what hopes Charles held, given the length of sentence he had yet to serve, and what Ann hoped to accomplish, working with others, especially young women, from backgrounds and circumstances not dissimilar from her own. Toward the end of the afternoon, the Institutional Elder, who had previously been invited, joined us, He commended both Charles and Ann for having done “this courageous thing”, then, using the traditional drum that Charles had expertly painted with symbols deeply meaningful to Ann from her own Aboriginal tradition, the Elder sang a song befitting their meeting, shared deeply from his own heart, then prayed a prayer of thanksgiving, a celebration of the new degree of healing they had witnessed to, and safe travel for Ann.
In the next few weeks, we debriefed that encounter with both Ann and Charles. Ann told us she had written a letter to the Minister of Justice, believing that, as a woman of Aboriginal heritage, the Minister might just understand the deep healing of the spirit Ann was attempting to describe. She sent a copy of the letter to us, with permission to share it with others. This is what she wrote, edited only slightly for length,
Dear Ms. Jodi Wilson Raybould, Minister of Justice,
I am writing you this letter today in regards to a successful story of Fraser Region Community Justice Initiatives Association’s Victim Offender Mediation (Restorative Justice) Program, Langley, British Columbia.
My late father [a police officer] was gunned down in the line of duty [a number of years ago]. The offender is currently serving a life sentence in a prison in British Columbia. I had the chance to visit him in prison for a face-to-face meeting to help my healing process of this horrific loss in my life. This encounter took place on March 29, 2016. I believe this meeting to be history in the making.
I would like to thank you personally for having these programs in place so that families can take these opportunities to guide them in their healing process. I would like to commend the amazing work of Mr. Dave Gustafson and Susan Underwood, the two mediators that made this possible for myself to accomplish. Without the hard work that the staff do for this program, I would not have been able to take this path in my journey to heal and to guide the rest of my family towards this avenue.
The killing of my late father has been the hardest and most difficult thing to overcome; however no one (I believe) ever overcomes it. A person is able to forgive but never forgets. Two entirely different situations. I firmly believe in miracles as well, as the spirit world is in me, I feel it as I am an Aboriginal person. I was able to witness a miracle because I was able to forgive the offender and saw with my own eyes and heart that he truly was sorry and took full responsibility for his actions. Without the work of these mediators, the two of us (myself and the offender) would not have been able to meet one another for this very important event in our lives.
I could go on and on, however… all I need for you to know is that I came back home from this meeting with no hatred, anger or resentment in my heart whatsoever.
If you ever need a voice in the success of these stories, feel free to contact me. I will try to help other families find the closure they need, as I did. Once again, I would like for you to know that the VOMP Facilitators are angels from God. I cannot thank them enough for helping me in my journey to live happy, joyous and free.
Sincerely,
Ann
For the VOMP staff, while we have seen these dynamics played out multiplied times now, each case, each outcome, has about it something absolutely unique, for each person is unique, and precious in their own way. We find ourselves often pondering how, as we assist in holding every kind of pain, of suffering, and often witnessing delight, these processes can produce what they do, never able to answer that question, quite, but recognizing that being part of it all brings transformation to us, the facilitators, as well, recognizing that, indeed:
“The way of wisdom is the way of pondering, the way of holding every kind of pain, suffering, delight, and contradiction long enough until it transforms you, gestates compassion within you, and brings you to your knees in a thousand surrenders.”
Thank you to each of you: CJI staff, Board Members, Association Members, supporters, Correctional Service Staff and Public Servants whose commitments and collaboration enable these outcomes. Thank you on behalf of those we serve, and thank you for the joy of meaningful work which you enable.
Peace In Our Loss
Last May, my son and I sat across from “M”, the offender serving a 10-year sentence for 2nd degree murder for the death of my son’s father.
Both the offender and my son’s father struggled with alcohol over the years and both were in the same place at the same time: the wrong place at the wrong time. The altercation started with an argument and a beating ended it – my son’s father died later the next day in hospital of a brain hemorrhage.
Our son, Darshan, meaning blessing, has felt everything but blessed since that terrible night. He was 15 years old at the time – a bright light suddenly dimmed by the devastation of his father’s death.
Prior to the mediation, I read in the sentencing transcript that ”M” apparently suffers from fetal alcohol syndrome and learning disabilities – his personal challenges are immense and often overwhelming. Both of his parents and at least one uncle were victims too – of the residential school program – a shameful era in our country and in the church. I’m so sorry for everything and for everyone – for the generational damage it’s done – and especially for them and their son. It’s so sad and so obvious to me now that this man was a victim himself long before he ever became an offender.
I had also found the name of an advocate speaking on his behalf. Susan is a retired probation officer and has been a long-time friend of the offender’s First Nation, and has known “M” since he was a child.
I called Susan and explained who I was and that I was considering victim offender mediation with an inmate she had once been an advocate for at a sentencing hearing. We met later that week and discussed it some more. Then Susan drove me down to the reserve and introduced me to the offender’s uncle who had also appeared as an advocate at that sentencing hearing.
We all talked for a while and it became clear that everyone affected needed healing in one way or another and the uncle agreed that mediation with his nephew would be a good start. A healing circle upon “M’s” release could be another.
The mediators, Dave and Aaron, cautioned us not to expect “M” to say much, and maybe only to stay for 10 minutes, as he’s quite shy and was feeling very nervous. Before he arrived we prayed for comfort and confidence for him and my son, and that they would have the words they needed to express themselves. “M” stayed and talked with us for almost 2 hours!
I started by telling him that we were there to see his eyes and to see his heart. I read M’s statement from the transcript aloud, “I would hope that one day they could understand that I wish that this did not happen and I wish I could take it back. I wish there could be a way to show them I am sorry”. Victim offender mediation was the way – and I hoped that he would show my son how sorry he was.
Making eye contact with us, “M” then spoke softly and bravely from his heart and his apologies were very sincere. He himself was clearly so wounded, so deeply sorry and so surprisingly humble.
My son Darshan was courageous, respectful and open throughout the meeting. He confronted ”M” cautiously and asked only a few questions. Over those few hours, he moved from his place of rage to a place of understanding, and from there to empathy. My son couldn’t forgive “M” at that time, but it’s important to note that forgiveness is not a required or expected outcome of victim offender mediation. However, I believe that forgiveness is the key to releasing my son from his own prison of grief.
We thanked “M” for his heartfelt apologies and then we just paused to breathe. Dave said it took courage for us to face each other in this way, and it did – and then we all started to relax – finally.
We then spoke of the loss of Dar’s dad in an intimate and meaningful way. “M” told my son he had an idea of how hard the death of his dad has been because his mother had passed away a few years ago. He then apologized again and told him how sorry he was, especially because he was responsible for it. We then talked about regret, unrealized milestones, addiction, and broken families. And then we talked about restoration.
“M” told us he’s been knitting scarves for school children in the Chilcotin in one of his occupational therapy programs. He smiled when he told us how good it feels to help those kids. He even agreed to make one for me – a symbolic offering—and the only thing available to him to offer, in the circumstances. “M” said he’s “learning to think right and to act right” and is learning how to become a healthier man.
As we came to the end of our mediation, I asked “M” if I could come over to give him a hug from his uncle. He said sure, grinned and got to his feet right away. As we hugged I was able to tell him that I could finally forgive him and that while we’ll all never forget the person he took from us: a father, son, uncle, brother and friend, I hoped that he too could forgive himself in some measure and move forward to become the healthier man he wants to be. He apologized one more time, right into my eyes, and said again he won’t ever forget what he did, and that he never wants to hurt anyone ever again. By talking it through with “M”, I am free from my own feelings of fear and anger about my ex-husband’s senseless death.
I’m told that a month after our mediation, “M”, for the first time in his incarcerated life, took the initiative to ask for more help from the counsellors and therapists available to him. It seems he now continues his inner work and his programs with renewed interest and purpose. I pray his desire to help people will lead to a transformed life and that he will be blessed to do that in some way upon his release – then he too will truly be free.
As for my son, the unbearable weight of his father’s death has started to lift, and with it, some of the defiance and depression he’s been nursing for the last number of years. He now has more energy and interest in life, and is reconnecting with people and sports. His bright, personable self is re-emerging and he’s looking toward the future and making some plans.
So while we too wish that the offender could take it all back, we finally have peace in our loss.
Restorative principles have spiritual roots, I’ve learned, and pave the way to restoration and transformation – for victims and offenders.
Meeting with “M” has certainly infilled the holes in our souls – I’m so grateful he agreed to it.
The offender’s name has been withheld from our story to ensure privacy and confidentiality. I would rather have used his name because my opinion of him changed after meeting and talking with him. He’s not the monster we thought he would be – he’s a son, a brother, a cousin and friend. I hope this is clear by what I’ve written here.
