CASE STUDY

In the past year, I have co-facilitated approximately fifteen victim/offender conferences for Restorative Justice. The case I am about to relate was, in many ways, the most rewarding.

When I phoned the victim, a woman whose snowmobile had been stolen, and asked if she would be willing to participate in a victim pre-conference, there was a long pause at the other end. When she finally spoke, her response was “no.”

When I asked why, she spoke of her fear that the offenders might take out their anger on her family once they were able to identify her as their victim. She spoke of her sense of violation. This was the first new machine she had ever owned. How dare those punks do this to her! She spoke of her desire to see these kids get the punishment they deserve. As she spoke, I listened.

When she ran out of things to say, I spoke. I explained that my partner and I would make sure that she had an opportunity to express her feelings to the offenders in a “safe place.” I talked about the healing that I had witnessed in the previous conferences that I had facilitated. I concluded by saying: “But, it is your choice. Think about it. If you change your mind, call me.”

In the meantime, I called the offenders; three young men in their late teens. I explained how lucky they were to have been considered for the program. I told them that the victim was uncertain about her participation but that if she decided to go to conference these young men would indeed be fortunate. Each boy agreed.

The victim called me at home the next night. She asked if I had spoken to the boys. When I explained that each of the boys seemed to be genuinely remorseful and that I felt she would feel much better if she were to participate, she reluctantly agreed.

My partner, Dan, and I met with the offenders first. One young man spoke of his fear that this crime would ruin his chances to join the army. Another spoke of his shame. His father had been murdered a few years earlier. The young man had vowed to lead a life that would make his father proud. The third young man, whose idea it was to take the machine, sat silently as he listened to his friends speak of the crime into which he had drawn them.

Then Dan and I conferenced with the victim and her husband. She was articulate, controlled and determined to see that the boys received the punishment they deserved. She wanted every penny back for the machine. She wanted each offender to do 150 community service hours. She had found a friend who needed help on his farm. They had better be willing to work. Dan and I listened.

Then it was time to bring victim and offenders together. The victim spoke first. She told the boys of her fears for her family. She expressed her sense of violation. She spoke of the anger that she held and her desire for justice. The offenders sat with eyes fixed on her. Then, it was their turn.

The young man whose father had been murdered, said: “I feel like a murderer myself.” He went on to explain how he wanted his life to be better. After his father had died, he had moved in with his grandmother. Now, the woman who had been so good to him had to deal with this shame.

As the victim listened, she began to console the young man. She said: “You are not a murderer. Your grandmother has much to be proud of.”

The young man who was about to enter the army expressed his regret. He told her that he feared this incident would ruin his life. He used to be proud to walk down the streets of his town. He was a good student and a fine athlete. He donated his time coaching young boys. Now he was ashamed to walk down the street. He knew that people were talking about him and the things they were saying weren’t nice.

Then, the third young man spoke. He said: “It’s my fault. I saw your machine and wanted it. I deserve to be punished. I’ll do whatever you want.”

The victim, who had feared these young men and had only wanted to see them punished, spoke again. She looked at me and said: “I’m afraid 150 hours of community service is too much to ask. What do you think, Mary, do you think 75 hours are enough for the two boys who were accomplices?” The young man whose father had died said: “It isn’t enough. I deserve more!” The victim looked at the young man who had stolen her machine and said: “I don’t think you are a bad boy but you made a bad choice. I want you to do 150 hours.” He shook his head and said: “I’ll do as many hours as you want.”

The victim asked the boys how they planned to repay her. Each boy presented his plan. Two boys could pay $50 per month. The third could pay $100 per month.

As the conference was coming to an end, the victim asked to speak one more time. She told the boys that she thought they were good boys who had done a foolish thing. She wished them well. She told the one young man that his father would be proud of him. She told the other boy that she hoped he would be a good soldier. She told them that she felt everyone deserved a second chance and that this was theirs. Use it well. She said: “Don’t make me regret my decision!”

As the boys got up to leave, they walked around the table to the victim. Each boy shook her hand and thanked her. One young man said: “I’ll try to make you proud.”

As the young woman left the room, she hugged me. As I looked at her face, I saw strength where fear had been. I saw compassion where anger had been. I saw empowerment where helplessness had been. And I said to myself: “Restorative Justice works!”