The morning after, Mum wasn't sure if we'd gotten much out of it. Nothing was really gained, except that Andrea had gotten off lightly. I felt the same, I wasn’t clear about what we had achieved. Nanna couldn't shake the feeling that she was lying.
We were all worried that the whole scenario had gone to this vague, limitless, unconstructive void called community service. We called a ‘family meeting’. We had never had ‘family meetings’ before the accident. Together we tried to clarify what we meant by community service and what would be written in our collective letter to the judge. It was our family’s first sentencing and we had absolutely no idea what we were asking for. How could we attach an hour to it? What's 200 hours, 1000 hours or one hour? We don't know what’s average, a lot, or what's right? We were really swimming in unfamiliar territory. People study for years to do this. At the end of the day I’m kind of glad that it’s ultimately up to the judge. It takes the responsibility away from us. I just wanted to talk to her; the rest I didn’t consider. Nanna didn’t say much other than she thought we were all terribly nice to Andrea and it made her sick.
Written on 19 Aug 2006
Over 8 years since incident
Tags:
Restorative justice, punishment
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