How often
do you recall your worst experience? Is it something that creeps up on you at
random times without prompting? Is it triggered by a scent, a word, or a
picture? Do you dream about it? What is the catalyst that causes you to recall
that which you would rather not? For me, it is an article from a local
newspaper that keeps floating to the surface of my attention when I thought I
had drowned it sufficiently. Paper may easily be destroyed, but the memory of
what is written on its pages is not. Even more so when the composition is a patchwork
quilt of testimonials, culturally relevant thought terminating cliches, and
seemingly victorious outcome knit together with strong thread of bias.
“We take
particular care in crime stories to ensure reporting does not perpetuate
stereotypes, remove the presumption of innocence or pose harm to the
vulnerable.”
https://caj.ca/wp-content/uploads/Ethics-Guidelines-v2023.pdf
I first
stumbled upon this article several months after it had been published. The
physiological effects of my fury emerged in the form of flushed cheeks and
shaking hands after reading only the heading. The subheading elicited a verbal
response I will not document. I wanted to respond immediately and, quite
honestly, inappropriately. Remembering what I have always tried to instill in
my children, “cool heads prevail,” I set the article aside and attempted to
once again drown the memory that it had hooked and reeled.
Yesterday,
the article and the memory came up for air. Found by the very person to which
it could do the most damage. You see, while I consider it to be my worst
memory, it is only a vicarious one. She lived it.
The COVID-19 era was not easy on anyone; its impact was
undeniable. It seemed like the entire world was fighting; some for their lives,
some for their freedoms, some for their sanity. Members of my family, at times,
fought for all three. While all citizens were supposed to be isolated to a degree, one
of my daughters was isolated with her abuser. Hers followed the same pattern so
many domestic abuse stories do, but a worldwide pandemic provided the barrier
between the abused and her loved ones that usually requires some extra effort
under normal circumstances. While I was worried about things that seem frivolous
in retrospect, she was worried about the next incident from which she would
have to hide or heal.
When she
finally and frantically revealed to me the atrocities she had endured, I started
to piece together the clues I had missed as every other mother of a battered
child does. I drove her directly to the police station. With support from us,
the guidance of a trusted mentor, and her own inner strength, she submitted her
report and an overwhelming (to me) amount of evidence she had collected.
As court
proceedings usually do, time lapsed and just as the dust would start to settle,
another appointment was made. She grew weary of it all, being forced to relive
the experience from which she was desperately trying to move on. Sides were
heard, bargains were made, sentencing was pronounced, and a restraining order
was implemented. We thought it was over – as over as anything like this could
be.
Then, the
article appeared.
I
considered writing a letter to the editor. Letters to the editor are usually
limited to two hundred words or so. I did not feel two hundred words were
enough to convey my thoughts on the matter. I even asked CoPilot for some help
composing it – it was good, but still not enough.
The article published in The Sudbury Star titled "Sudbury man got help after violent outbursts directed at former girlfriend" by Harold Carmichael overwhelmingly focuses on the abuser’s mental health diagnosis and his steps to seek help. While information detailing some of the assaults presented in court testimony is reiterated in the article in almost clinical language, mention of the perpetrator’s struggles are outlined in a way that risks eliciting sympathy for him while minimizing the severity of his actions and the impact of them on my daughter.
I believe mental
health is a key factor in understanding human behavior to determine the best course of action for retribution, treatment, and rehabilitation, but it should never
overshadow the impact of abuse on the victim. Carmichael's article is not balanced journalism.
It is a narrative that reinforces the silence surrounding domestic abuse, especially
in teenage relationships, where victims can often be dismissed or overlooked.
Balanced
reporting must include the perspectives of victims, the realities of their
trauma, and the broader societal implications of abuse. Only then can we begin
to foster a culture that truly supports healing for all involved.
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