16 to Life, 28 January 2013

Today my brother-in-law was sentenced to prison for the murder of his mother.  He's going to have a lifetime to--as the judge told him--"come to grips" with what he has done.  The judge spoke to him today before pronouncing the sentence, and emphasized that he is going to "have to find a way to deal with" the reality of committing this crime.

The judge said that while he tries his best to stay detached from his cases, this case moved him.  There were tears in his eyes this morning while my father-in-law described my MIL as being "particularly undeserving" of her death, and while I related "The Taking Boy" story and the fact that my children pray for their uncle...but are afraid of him escaping from prison.  The judge listened intently as Jay eloquently spoke his compelling perspective on all the events.

Three members of the jury voluntarily attended the proceeding, sitting in the row of chairs in front of us, rather than being segregated on the platform as they had been during the trial.  They shook our hands when we thanked them for their great care in reviewing the case, and when we said we were glad to see them today, they replied, "We need closure too."

As for the convicted--he is no longer the defendant--we cannot know if any of our words affected him.  The district attorney observed a change in his demeanor as Jay spoke, and we pray that Jay's words of truth and love seeped into some crack of his emotional armor.  But we can't know.

In his speech to the judge, Jay leaned on the fact that he does not know the future.  He hopes that while serving his sentence, his brother will "learn to love somebody--anybody."  If he can learn that love and pity are not the same thing, perhaps he can be open to caring about somebody else someday...and be able to accept someone else's love for him.

But for all our safety, we are glad that the convicted will be "coming to grips" and "learning to love" behind bars.  Realistically speaking, he will serve a life sentence.  Convicted murderers basically never receive parole in our state.  (Our prison system does some things right.)

So what now?  I'm certainly not sorry to be done visiting that musty old courthouse!  But as we continue to heal, what does moving forward look like for us?

It looks like calling my sister-in-law on the phone and crying together when we need to.

It looks like writing and talking about our feelings with others and our ever-listening Lord.

It looks like looking ahead to beautiful possibilities like vegetable gardens and 1st graders' loose teeth and family vacations.

It looks like rejoicing with family members who are relieved at this trial's outcome, and learning to lovingly disagree with family members who feel differently.

It looks like every day aiming to give and receive, to teach and be teachable, to love and be loved.

And,

It looks like learning to forgive as we have been forgiven.

That is something I will be learning for the rest of my lifetime.


P.S.  I would just like to clarify that while I do not believe my brother-in-law committed this crime out of insanity, I do believe he has some sort(s) of mental illness.  Ironically, he is in a better position to receive consistent mental health care in prison than he did before.  I pray he can be diagnosed and treated for whatever is diagnosable and treatable.