Shelia
Dates says attending one of the memorial services held in Atlanta each
year for murder victims was the first step to healing for her. She holds
a picture of her 21-year-old daughter, Regina, who was murdered Aug.
31, 1999. A UMNS photo by Mike DuBose. Photo number 03-16, Accompanies
UMNS #25, 1/21/03
No Long Caption Available for this Story
The
Rev. Bruce Cook, director and chaplain of the Crime Victims Advocacy
Council in Atlanta, knows firsthand the pain the members of the Homicide
Support Group are feeling. His stepbrother was murdered in 1977. A UMNS
photo by Mike DuBose. Photo number 03-14, Accompanies UMNS #025,
1/21/03
No Long Caption Available for this Story
Each
meeting of the Crime Victims Advocacy Council support group begins and
ends with prayer. Members hold hands and are invited to pray at the end
of the meeting. . A UMNS photo by Mike DuBose. Photo number 03-15,
Accompanies UMNS #025, 1/21/03
No Long Caption Available for this Story
ATLANTA (UMNS) - Every Tuesday night, from 7:30 to
9, a room in Vinings United Methodist Church becomes the center of the
universe for people desperately trying to survive the devastation of a
murder in their family.
On a recent cold and rainy night, the
Rev. Bruce Cook started the meeting the same way he always does, asking
the dozen people there to join him in prayer.
"God, help us
become better and not bitter," he says, before ending. A relaxation
exercise follows the prayer. Then the stories start.
Mary Wojcik
and her son, Russell Turner, are recent additions to what Cook calls
"the club." Wojcik's legs and hands shake and her voice breaks as she
talks about the recent murder of her husband.
Paul Kevin Wojcik
had taken a temporary job delivering pizzas to earn some money while
waiting to be called back to his full-time job as an elevator mechanic.
He had only been with Pizza Hut for three weeks when he was sent to make
a delivery to what turned out to be an abandoned apartment. He was
robbed and strangled to death by two young men.
As she finishes her story, members of the support group cocoon Mary with words of comfort and understanding.
"I
can see you are shaking; I used to do that all the time," Shelia Dates
says. She became part of the support group after getting an invitation
to attend the yearly memorial service Cook holds for survivors of murder
victims.
"It was the guidance of the Lord that brought me to
that first memorial service. It was the first step to healing for me,"
she says. "No one could really identify with me. I felt like a freak."
Dates'
nightmare began early on the morning of Aug. 31, 1999, when a man and
woman posing as FBI agents knocked on the door of her home. She worked
for ACE America's Cash Express, and the two told her they were there to
investigate several recent robberies at her store.
"I looked at
their badges, and as far as I am concerned I made the biggest mistake of
my life by opening the door," she says. Her 21-year-old daughter,
Regina, was also at home that morning.
Dates was forced to go to
the store with the woman to open the safe. After she left, her daughter
Regina was strangled to death. Dates was also strangled and left for
dead on the floor of the store after the woman assailant had the money.
"I
take one day at a time and attend the support group on a regular basis.
My life has changed forever, and I will never be the same. I can only
hope and pray that one day I can talk about this and it won't hurt," she
says.
The support group is a safe place to talk about the grief, anger and feelings of helplessness faced by the ones left behind.
Linda Allen, whose husband was killed in 1988, says the support group is about hope.
"It helps to not feel so alone, to see people who have survived," she says.
The
Homicide Support Group is a ministry of the Crime Victims Advocacy
Council, housed at Vinings United Methodist Church. Cook, director and
chaplain, knows firsthand the pain the members of the support group are
feeling. His stepbrother was murdered in 1977.
A retired prison
chaplain with 23 years of service in the criminal justice system, Cook
says that in one of his former roles as a parole-hearing examiner, "I
heard 1,200 inmates tell me 1,200 reasons why they did not do 1,200
crimes."
The support group is based on a model of mutual
self-help. Cook says the model has been carefully designed and crafted
over 13 years.
"In here, it is like sitting in the warm hand of
God. We practice deep listening. We won't just let someone say they
don't feel good."
Cook says the biblical basis for crime victims' ministry is the Good Samaritan parable in Luke 10:25-37.
"Jesus
selected a wounded robbery victim to be the center of the Good
Samaritan parable. Not a homeless or poor person - a crime victim," he
says. "The church is sadly more prone to help the equivalent of the
parable's robber in a prison ministry, while neglecting to care for the
one who was robbed."
The United States has 7,000 local jails,
state and federal adult prisons, juvenile facilities and halfway houses,
and almost all of them have paid or volunteer prison chaplains, Cook
says. In contrast, there are only 53 faith-based ministries serving
crime victims.
"Crime victim ministry is an under-utilized
ministry in the church. Crime victims are left to fend for themselves,
to un-wound themselves," he says.
Cook says the church's emphasis
on prison ministry started with John Wesley. Churches also have
difficulty getting access to crime victims, he adds. Often a pastor may
only deal with a crime victim if the person is a member of the
congregation. It also takes a lot of time - years - to help a person
heal from a violent crime.
"We help the harmer in the United
Methodist Church but not the harmed. That is also true in other
churches, such as the Presbyterian, Episcopal, Catholic, Islamic and
Jewish."
The Crime Victims Advocacy Council has solved the
accessibility problem by inviting all homicide survivors to an annual
memorial service honoring their murdered love ones. The council gets the
names of the deceased from the medical coroner's office. In the letter
of invitation, the families are told about the support group.
Jessalyn Dorsey says getting that letter from the Rev. Bruce Cook made all the difference in her life.
"Seeing
the word 'reverend' was a trigger for me. I picked up the phone and
called him. His voice was so soothing. The first week I attended the
support group was hard, but by the next week I couldn't wait to come
back. Finally someone understood, and I didn't feel as crazy as I
thought I was," she says.
Dorsey's only son, Terrence, was shot to death by two strangers Oct. 3, 1999.
"I am much better than I ever thought I would be. This support group has been my lifeline."
"Any
church that wants to apply the lessons of the Good Samaritan, helping
wounded and victimized neighbors, can offer a crime victims' support
group in their church," Cook says.
The Crime Victims Advocacy
Council offers training and technical assistance. In addition to the
Homicide Support Group and the annual memorial service, the council also
operates a 24-hour victim's hotline; offers pastoral care to families
and individuals; offers a crime prevention program for schools,
churches, and businesses; and advocates for crime victims through the
legislative process.
For more information, contact the Crime
Victims Advocacy Council, 3101 Paces Mill Road, Atlanta, GA 30339;
telephone: (770) 333-9254; e-mail: askcvac@aol.com; Web site:
www.gbgm-umc.org/cvac.
# # #
*Gilbert is a United Methodist News Service news writer in Nashville, Tenn.
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