A Message from Rose Preston
Founder of Crime Survivors NOLA
First of all, my deepest condolences to you, for I know you are in the depths of grief and feel like your world has shattered to bits.
Homicide affected my life: on September 3, 2003, my husband and his mother were brutally murdered by a tenant who was about to be evicted for not having paid rent for a year. I was in another country at the time, and a phone call awoke me in the early hours of the morning. I was asked if I was sitting down. My heart and mind raced: whatever the news was, it was bad. James and Patrina (my husband and his mother), the woman (a relative) said, were both dead. The logical part of my brain said: they’ve been in a car accident. But the woman went on to say: “I’m sorry to tell you they were murdered.”
At that moment I was spun into a surreal space. I remember thinking I was in a nightmare where an unreal agony had possessed me. In those first days I felt like an egg that had broken, hopelessly scrambled in every respect. I would go from sobbing uncontrollably to being in a daze of disbelief, and soon an agonized fury came into the mix. The grief was complicated because I was not only mourning the sudden death of my loved ones, but also the traumatic way in which they had died from unimaginable violence. I have friends who had the pain of not knowing who had killed their loved one, others where a body was never recovered, others where the rapist was never caught, and others where attackers were not convicted.
This guidebook is the outcome of my experience. Especially in those initial days and weeks, everything was so overwhelming. There was so much I had to deal with that I couldn’t have imagined. I found it hard to remember information. Cloaked in a depression that felt bottomless, I had no energy. At the same time, I was seething with rage and a desire for justice. Pursuing justice, I was to find out, was a long and drawn-out business. It took time, but I started to piece together how the police, prosecution, and court system worked, finding helpful officials along the way. I slowly found out about various resources, including things that helped to relieve some pressure of this heartbreaking pain. I also realized that if I was struggling to piece together this information, then most likely others would also be at a loss to comprehend the flow of the justice system or where to go for help – so I decided to write the book I wanted to read. This is the second edition of the guidebook.
Just before the case was to go to trial, the killer died of medical complications. I felt furious and cheated – I had wanted to see him ‘go down by law,’ and now he was dead. The killer’s wife had been indicted as an accessory after the fact (she had lied to the police and hidden evidence), and so attention now turned to her. Then Hurricane Katrina happened and the evidence room was flooded. The District Attorney’s office told me I needed to do a plea bargain with her because the case was now so weak. I ended up negotiating this with the wife’s attorney. I had heard of restorative justice (or victim-offender dialog), and wanted this to be a part of the plea. This was agreed to, and some of it was accomplished, and I learned information that would probably never have come to light in a trial. But because the process is voluntary, I could not force the killer’s wife to continue when she decided to stop. Nonetheless, it was a helpful journey that allowed me to ask questions that had haunted me.
I have battled to come to terms with this new reality, what people sometimes call the ‘new normal,’ because nothing is ever the same again. There is a stigma that sometimes sticks when murder or traumatic violence is part of your story. I quickly learned to discriminate between those hungry for sensationalism and those who had genuine compassion. There were other issues: I sought out oblivion, increasingly in alcohol and drugs, and became an insomniac (not sleeping), deeply depressed and suicidal. But through professional counseling, getting medical help, attending grief groups, and with guidance from people and groups who had experience and empathy for my situation, I was able to make a gradual adaptation. (See Resources for listings at the end of this book)
I know there is no completion date to grieving, and I will never forget my loved ones; there is no ‘closure’ that I often hear spoken of. As time passes, my feelings have shifted to more of the good memories than sadness, but a core of pain remains, and waves of emotion still overcome me, especially on anniversaries or if I hear or see something related to them. But I also embrace healing and joy where possible.
My hope is that you find the strength and courage to be a voice for yourself, for your loved one(s), and that you seek and are given the support you need for your adjustment to this new stage, your ‘new normal.’
Warmly,
Rose