…… Not How She Died
I’ve recently been reminded the Criminal Justice System, for the most part, is almost always focused on the offender – reform, rehabilitation, re-entry, recovery, restitution. But a new friend and very good person reiterated to me that the system, the whole system, needs to and should focus on the most important part - the victim of any crime, of any criminal.
I’ve said numerous times that the system forces my family to focus on the disturbing details of how Mom died every time we face the Pardon and Parole Board. We dwell on the ugliness because we have to fight to keep her killer (her judge, jury & executioner) behind the fence forever, where he belongs. And just talking about her life, may not have the same result. It’s been excruciating, but so far, it’s worked.
It’s not parole time now, however, so I would like to tell you about Mom, who is loved by countless family and friends. Maybe it’s ironic that my first story is about the first time we went before the Parole Board, due to the Pre-Parole Conditional Release program. It was 14 years after the sentence was imposed, instead of the normal 1/3 of the sentence. We had to attend every year at that time, and after we and the district attorney had finished our verbal protest to release, then Chairman Ray Page said, “Robbie, I want you to know that this is the most letters of protest we have ever gotten.” I replied that the reason for so much mail was because everyone loved Mom.
Mom was a good Christian woman with a wonderful heart, smile, attitude and personality. I remember so many things that make me smile, but I will limit this blog to just a couple. The first is I think I inherited my love of music from her. Mom hummed all the time, and when she hummed, she sounded just like a trumpet! She probably didn’t, but to me she did!
And, I think I inherited my love for games and gambling from her side of the family too! Well, I know I did! Most of the Fussell kids liked to play. The first time my cousin went to Vegas, her mother, my mom’s youngest sister asked her if she wanted Aunt Charlottes’ lucky numbers. She said, “No. I’d rather have Aunt Macky pray for me!” And I’m sure Mom did!
Okay, that’s enough for this time. But rest assured there is much more, and I never tire of talking about how Mom lived. Thank you for asking, Lori. You are right. It’s important the public never forget the victims. So all of you out there who have been thrown into the injustice system, I encourage you to find your Victim Voice and join me and my family in our quest for Victim Justice Reform.
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