A Hero's Soul Released

Six years ago, the soul of a hero was released from his battered and bloodied body. Today, I grieve. I grieve hard and the tears come too easy--not only for Luke, but also for all that has been lost, which cannot be recovered.

My thoughts, my memories and emotions are diverse--existing along a spectrum from deep, mired grief to enormous, swelling pride for my brothers' bravery.

At this time, six years past the date that will forever mark the before and after in my life, closure is still elusive, and I question exactly what is justice. Nothing has happened that I would consider justice in this case. Punitive, vengeful reactions are not justice. Justice is transformative, creative, safe. If justice had been served, we would feel safe and assured that the harm will not be repeated. Considering that Joseph Irwin will most likely be out of prison on this date one year from now, will we feel safe?

Why is it that an offender is released to serve parole or probation in the county of committal? It seems that would most likely return the offender to the area where the crime was committed. And where the victims may still live. How is that fair? As one identified by the State of New York as a victim of a violent crime myself, I can tell you I absolutely do not believe that the prison sentences that have been and are being served have done anything to transform the offenders in this case. I see no reason that Joe will not have been hardened by his time on the inside. I see no indication that Tiffanie or Sarah will be better people for having done time. Debi came out the same way she went in. Let's be real. Violence is a result of trauma, and trauma is not healed by incarceration. And once the offender has been released, what support do they receive for re-entry? Precious little in this area--furthering the trauma and tendency toward violence. Our society denies basic human rights to these human beings--instead treating them worse than animals.

The civil court case that forced the sale of the Word of Life building in Chadwicks is still unsettled. The building was sold, and the buyer promised great things--plans that would honor Luke's legacy and her honor her own son's struggle with substance abuse. The building is again up for sale. My father's house sits as a kind of time capsule in the middle of Clayville. A copy of the Sunday Observer-Dispatch Utica newspaper still sits on a chair on the front porch, dated October 11, 2015. A bank statement addressed to Luke, dated 10/01/2015, lies in an open cabinet in the kitchen. My nephew's notebook with scripture copywork from 10/10/15 is flopped on a little table in the attic where he was living with his mother, my step-sister and convicted killer, Sarah. The family disappeared. The social problems that led to their disappearance are still with us.

Sure, I think about ways I could lash out in revenge, committing violence myself. I think about wanting to egg the building on Halloween. I sometimes wish harm to befall those who victimized my family. But then I think about the ways I know they too were traumatized--in their own upbringing and then even as adults in vulnerable seasons. 

Today, the best way to honor Luke and all who suffered at the hands of the evil cult is to consider what is your definition of justice. Perhaps, you too will realize justice is not about punishing those who cause harm but about creating a society where trauma can be healed and harm is transformed into growth. As the daughter of botanists, I must conclude with an anecdotal tree analogy. 

At my house, we have a row of Green Giant Arborvitaes. They were only 8-10" tall when we planted them, but they were advertised as fast growers--putting on as much as 3' per year. We live on a hill, and winter winds are harsh. The first few years, the little trees suffered harm. They were battered and dried out by the winds and didn't grow more than a few inches. But after those first years, I noticed that the trunks had grown massive--and then the trees grew tall. We provided them extra protection by wrapping them in burlap and spraying them with an anti-dessicant, and the trees responded to harm not with revenge, but with growth. They grew because they were given the support they needed. Former offenders and their victims each deserve support.

Justice must be transformative.