'You see a worn, drawn face': What it's like work with murder victims' families
There is "no normal" for the loved ones whose son or brother has been killed, a Victim Support worker tells Sky News.
Thursday 26 April 2018 22:03, UK
When someone is killed, it is the police refer the bereaved to a Victim Support worker to help.
As knife crime across the UK soars, a homicide caseworker, who must remain anonymous, explains how difficult it can be supporting the families of murder victims.
You knock on the door. You know no one wants your knock on the door, they want a time machine instead, something to take them back to the day before it happened.
The door opens. You see a drawn, worn face. You see the lines and bags of shock, of numbness, of the most unbearable pain.
You introduce yourself, introduce Victim Support. These people behind the door are amazingly warm and welcoming.
They make you a cup of tea. And then you listen. And you marvel at the strength and determination and compassion and humour in this dark, sad place.
You tell yourself that it's this strength that has led to you coming here, this strength that makes us human, that keeps us going - not random, brutal acts of violence.
As homicide caseworkers we bear witness to emotions that can feel crushing, drowning, unbearable.
We walk with people across a creaking bridge between hope and hopelessness.
:: Knife crime rises as London murders surge
:: London's surge of violence: 2018's victims
Right at the beginning, a few days after their world has been torn apart - people's needs are stark, raw, yelling at you.
Some of them you can meet; many you can't.
You try to offer a sense of being someone on their side, a connection to a more hopeful future, reassurance that guilt and anger and nightmares are normal.
You watch the boy's mum throwing herself into practical matters, making phone calls, greeting family members, fending off the press, reading sympathy cards.
The boy's girlfriend is lost, quiet, unreachable for now. His dad is angry - towards himself, towards the killers, towards the world.
There's a massive hole in this family now, an emptiness that nothing can ever truly fill.
Staying cautiously, realistically hopeful is incredibly hard and you need to be ready to face the desolation together.
You have to connect with people in a way that tries to understand, but doesn't pretend to ever fully do so.
You have to be open and pragmatic and kind. You have to be professional and you have to be yourself.
There's a necessary balance here; this is their grief, their pain and any of your own has to be suspended.
They tell you they don't know when the funeral will be. The police are doing their best, the coroner is doing her best, but the circumstances - the vicious, bloody circumstances - are delaying the process.
Add this to the loss; add not being able to bury your son to the loss.
And add not knowing what happened to your child, the child you took to school when he was five, whose birthday party you organised when he was 10, whose terrible taste in music you hated when he was 15, who you'll be burying at 20.
There have been no arrests yet and they suspect justice may never be done; or there have been arrests and the people who took their son's life turn out to be just children, just like him.
The world that used to make sense for these normal people no longer seems to exist.
The beliefs they had in people's goodness, in God perhaps, in a society that values peace and justice, are shattering.
They don't feel normal anymore. There is no normal right now.
Sometimes we teach and sometimes we learn. But you have to remember we're all in this together, that each person is unique, each person needs their own particular support.
You thank them and you leave and you hope you've made a small difference.
Next time, you hope you'll make another small difference.
One day, you hope - you know - they can craft a new life, one that doesn't ever forget their son but that grows and develops around him, his laughter, his tears, his life and his death.
One day, you dream, there will be no need for the work we do.
:: Victim Support is an independent charity that provides specialist emotional and practical support to victims of all crime across England and Wales.
:: Victim Support's national Homicide Service works specifically with those bereaved by murder and manslaughter.
:: Anyone seeking help and advice can contact Victim Support's free 24/7 support line number on 0808 16 89 111 or get in touch via the website - www.victimsupport.org.uk