11/10/2013

   Thank goodness we had a core group of family and friends who supported us all through the court proceedings, many of whom were actually in the courtroom with us every time we had to attend. Finally, after many months of raised hopes and dashed expectations we were told that the DA's office had reached a plea agreement with the suspect and his lawyer. He was to plead guilty to three counts of misdemeanor vehicular manslaughter and serve one year in jail for each count. Was I satisfied with this arrangement? Not really, but I had long ago realized that no punishment was going to satisfy me because no punishment could do what I needed the most, which was to restore my son to me. At the very least we would no longer have to make those agonizing trips to court and see the man sitting there showing no emotion and seemingly unconcerned about what he had done to us. It meant that this particular chapter of our journey could be closed, hopefully for good. It also meant that on the day of sentencing we would have a chance to make victim impact statements which would be read into the official court records. Anyone who wanted to speak to the court could do so and the accused would have to hear how his actions that night had impacted all of us. Well, he would have to hear our words, whether he would really listen to us or not who knew? But, at least, well over a year since the accident, we would get the opportunity to finally speak directly to this person who had caused us so much anguish and changed our lives forever. I immediately began thinking about what I wanted to say to him and how I wanted to say it. I didn't want my message to get lost in the emotions of the moment, but I certainly wanted to try to make him understand what he had done to us. Where to begin? What do you say to someone who has done you such grievous harm? How do you make somehow like that understand what you have lost? I won't relate here what I actually said when the day finally came, except to say that I wrote a multi-page message that took several minutes to read to the court. I tried to explain what kind of person our son had been and why we felt such a keen sense of loss. At first, I didn't want to look at him, but by the time I finished I realized that I had to look him in the eye if he would allow me to. Throughout most of the time people were making their statements (and many people took this chance to speak, either directly themselves or have their messages read by others) his head was down, as if he was too ashamed to look at us. I suddenly realized that for far too long now, I had given this man far too much power over how I was living my life. Yes, what he had done had horribly changed my life forever, but I could not change that part now. Nothing would bring my son back to me. But I knew that Curtis would not want me to allow this man to continue to cripple my life. That would not honor my son's memory. I had to let him know by words and actions and attitudes that I was taking back control of my life from him. I no longer would let him have any place of importance in my life. He would not look up at me, however, but I knew that really didn't matter. I'd let him know, whether he listened or not, that I was done with him. After we had all had a chance to speak to the court, the judge asked him if he had anything to say before sentencing was pronounced. I remember he rose slowly to his feet, turned toward where we were sitting, and softly said, for the first time to our knowledge, that he was sorry and hadn't meant to harm us, it had been a horrible accident that he wished he could go back and change. I didn't know then, and still don't know now, if he meant he was sorry for what he had done to us, or just sorry he had made such a mess of his own life and those of his own family, but I remember feeling a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders. I didn't really care anymore whether he felt contrition or not, whether he was being honest or not. All of a sudden, those words I thought I had to hear come out of his mouth, those words I'd waited months to hear, no longer mattered. He no longer mattered. It was as if he didn't even exist anymore. When I left the courtroom that day I felt emotionally drained by the experience, but also triumphant-I had taken back at least a part of my life that had been under his control for too long.