The reversal does not occur in a vacuum. Instead it comes long after the accumulated pressure of
the death notification
the investigation and arrest
the funeral
the trial
media exposure (or indifference)
learning gruesome details
the long process of removing the decedent’s personal belongings
financial strain
change of relationships
possible geographic move (to escape notoriety or to downsize)
the fallout of traumatic stress (insomnia, anniversary reactions, hypertension, digestion problems, etc.)
and after the exhaustion of simply trying to find one’s footing again
After survivors have finally, painstakingly, begun reconstructing a life around the damage, they receive the news. Sometimes they learn about the overturned conviction through an official phone call. Other times it’s from an eager reporter on their doorstep looking for another “gotcha” moment.
And suddenly the ground shifts again.
What the public often sees as a legal development, lands squarely inside a survivor’s life as another emotional earthquake.
It’s so much more than mere “upsetting news.” It collides head on with an already overloaded nervous system that has been struggling to function under chronic strain for years.
And psychologically, that resurrection can feel almost impossible to prepare for because survivors often believed they had already paid the emotional price. And they also believed the legal system would do the right thing. This was supposed to be a “one and done,” wasn’t it?
But homicide grief rarely behaves linearly. The legal system keeps reopening doors:
hearings,
appeals,
parole,
documentaries,
anniversaries,
press coverage,
public debate.
One of the greatest misconceptions surrounding homicide is the belief that healing arrives through the legal system.It does not. It cannot.
But if emotional healing had been experienced at the conclusion of the legal procedure, then a conviction reversal should be well-tolerated. It isn’t. Instead, it holds the potential to collapse the entire structure.
Our culture reinforces this myth of healing through news, movies, podcasts and television dramas. It is well to remember that the courts are designed to determine culpability – not emotional well-being.
This should not be interpreted to mean that the court system is useless to survivors, however. Not at all. At the least the court system creates temporary and needed structure during a time of ongoing chaos. For some it also brings relief knowing the accused is behind bars and not outside their bedroom window at 2:45 a.m., or waiting around their children’s school at baseball practice. The courts are well equipped for these tasks.
Survivors who survive long-term usually learn they must build healing somewhere more durable than court rulings.
The legal system can pronounce judgment. It cannot restore innocence, safety, attachment, or meaning.
Because that is where real healing evolves. Survivors tell us over and over that if one is to find peace, it must be rebuilt elsewhere.
So where is this “elsewhere?” There are many possibilities.
walking in a sanctuary of nature or gardens,
time spent with grandchildren who were too young to remember
support groups of different stripes
advocacy work
friendship (especially new friendships forged out of a common tragedy)
faith
storytelling in prisons, to homicide detectives, shared with other survivors or written inside the covers of a memoir
True healing, to the extent it exists at all after homicide, is usually built quietly and imperfectly in the ordinary spaces of human life — far beyond the walls of a courtroom.
It is found in a return to deep sleep and feeling of being rested.
It is found in holding a newborn relative.
It is found on a quiet walk in nature over green grass under arches past tranquil reflecting ponds.
