Perception Of Strength

As a prosecutor it is customary for us to have photographs of the crime scene in our files. Once I moved to the homicide unit, I knew I had to brace myself for what I would find in my files. There are photographs in my files that I wouldn't want to share with anybody. But this post isn't about how those pictures affect me. Until I moved to the homicide unit, I didn't think twice about showing scene photo's to victims or their families. The first time I was asked to view scene photo's was at the request of the aunt of a victim. This case involved a young woman who was killed by her boyfriend. The two had been arguing in front of their one year old child, and they began to fight. He began to choke her eventually killing her. Hours passed, and he drove her body in the car to a secluded place. A nearby business had a surveillance tape that captured him on camera getting out of the car, and setting it on fire. The pictures included snapshots of the victims' corpse. All that was left was a skeleton. I practically begged the victims' aunt not to look at the pictures, but she insisted. She had a picture of the victim, and I told her that the person in the picture she has is the person she should see when she thinks of her neice. Seeing her remains would permanently be marked in her memory. She continued to insist so I let her view the pictures. There was such disbelief and pain on her face. She walked off and out of the courtroom.

This past week, I had two visitors. The first one was the stepmother of a victim who was shot and killed during an armed robbery on the lakefront about four or five years ago. She and I talked and as I was going through the file she asked if I had pictures. I looked up at her and told her she didn't want to do that. I talked her out of it because I knew it would hurt her and I didn't want it to cause her to cry more than what she already has. I think I more so talked her out of it because she is a woman and may not be strong enough to endure it. She kept a smile of hope on her face, and indicated she was glad she spoke with me.

The second one was the stepfather of a victim who too was shot and killed while he was talking to someone else. The victim was seated in the driver seat of the car and sustained a gunshot wound to the back of his head and his brains were on the passenger seat of the car. The person he was talking to refused to testify, and so I had to refuse the charge. The stepfather was trying to get his car back, and we were going through the paperwork process. As I was going through the file, he asked if I had any pictures. Again I looked up at him and told him he didn't want to see the pictures. He said he needed closure and seeing the pictures would help him say goodbye considering it was a closed casket funeral. Because he was a man, I figured he would be able to get through it. I was wrong. He cried as he viewed the pictures and I apologized for letting him see them. He asked if the car would be in the same condition as it was in the pictures. I told him yes, and he no longer wanted the car.

I realized from those two situations that strength has no gender. It is a trait that some have more or less than others. No two people express their strengths the same way. But what I also learned was that crying has absolutely nothing to do with strength or weakness. It is a natural reaction to what causes our pain. And in more ways than one, it gave me something to think about on a more personal level.