When Loss Goes on For Miles

It all began when my father announced that he was living and dying with cancer. When we found out, Andrew and I with our two children (who were teenagers then) moved from McFarland, Wisconsin to Phoenix, Arizona to be closer to my Dad as he negotiated the passage of death. 

We moved into our Phoenix home in 112-degree August heat. Arizona heat may be a “dry heat,” as they say, but sweat was pouring from every pore. Even then, we had no idea how metaphorically scorching that first Phoenix summer would become for us. 

Three weeks after our move, on a leisurely Sunday evening, we received a phone call that shook our world: Andrew’s father, Jim, and Martha (Jim’s wife of five years) had been murdered by Martha’s son from a previous marriage. There is no sufficient way to describe the horrific shift of perspective that took place for us when that senseless act ripped Jim and Martha from the earth.

Amazingly, to our devastated hearts, things only got worse. Ironically, it wasn’t the violence of the murderous act that became the most difficult aspect of our grief to navigate. There were more insidious violent acts that we experienced at the hands of the probate judge assigned to the case.

The murders took place at a vacation home Jim owned in North Carolina on September 3, 2004. Jim and Martha drove to the home to escape a hurricane threatening the coast of Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, where they lived for most of the year. When they entered the North Carolina home, Martha’s son, Tom, was hiding like a sniper in military attire. He shot them both before fleeing the scene. 

There was no criminal trial. Tom was quickly and easily apprehended in Florida, allegedly making his way toward the home of his father. Tom pleaded guilty, was indicted, and received two life sentences without parole by the North Carolina criminal court. That fact brought some sense of closure to the tragedy, but our shock and devastation were ignited repeatedly as Andrew discovered he was named as executor and trustee of his father’s multimillion-dollar estate with no knowledge or preparation of it before his Dad’s death. 

Suddenly, we were grieving our monstrous loss and taking on what some of the top probate lawyers considered to be one of the most convoluted probate cases they had encountered. All too soon, we were entangled in a seemingly never-ending stream of contentious court hearings and demanding “mediations” that mostly served to diminish Jim’s estate assets, batter the already wounded souls of his children and grandchildren, and cause family relationships among beneficiaries and in-laws to become increasingly problematic.

For the first nine years, the judge who was assigned to the probate case never spoke a word of consolation to the families. As the case bumbled along, his egoistical courthouse demeanor vacillated between nonchalant arrogance and abrasive tirades. He dragged hearing proceedings out for years with promises of expediency and no explanation for the delays. What’s more, relevant laws were completely ignored in the probate judge’s “final judgment” regarding Jim’s estate assets. Irrelevant and misinterpreted common law cases were used as his justification. 

The bizarre outcome, which took over five years to acquire, was this: After Jim’s life was taken by Martha’s son, the majority of Jim’s assets was granted to Martha’s daughter. It was like rubbing salt in an open wound. We were so emotionally exhausted by then, it would have been easy to give up the fight, but fighting was the only option we had to honor Jim’s final wishes, life’s work, and the provisions he bequeathed to his family members, co-workers, and friends.

Our estate lawyers immediately filed for an appeal. However, we were told that the lower court’s decision might well be “rubber-stamped” at the district level. We weren’t holding our breath for a positive outcome. By then, we knew: no matter who wins the court battle, no one really wins. There was plenty of loss to go around for a good long while. So, imagine our astonishment when after two more years of waiting, we received the news that the appeals court had overturned the probate judge’s earlier decision. 

The probate case was finally closed almost 13 years after Jim’s death. By that time, we were well aware that the damages suffered could never be repaired in a court of law. Even if the court awarded damages in the amount of the total financial loss, there is no way for the court to compensate a family for years of suffering caused by the negligence and error of its representatives. Judges are protected by law from being held accountable for harmful consequences of their erroneous judgments. 

So, in the end, my family’s saving grace is our resilience and willingness to heal our grief, despite a slew of broken relationships, squandered assets, and disillusionments we encountered as we battled our way through the probate court. Thank heavens that our healing is something we don’t have to depend on a judge to acquire.

After Jim’s death, my family members and I learned to gather every gift we could uncover from the wreckage of Jim’s murder and probate case. Fortunately, amid the damage, we found opportunities to honor and celebrate Jim’s life and legacy; rethink goals, priorities, values, and beliefs; clarify and deepen intimate relationships; re-establish connections with estranged loved ones; and transform disillusionments into meaningful life lessons. We learned that the more grievous our loss, the more we stand to gain by healing our pain and suffering.

Since my family’s “up close and personal” awakening to the potential deficiencies of the U.S. court system, we are keenly aware that we’re some of the fortunate ones. Some grievers fighting legal battles in probate, divorce, family, civil, or criminal court who are up against an inefficient, uninformed, or corrupt system, don’t always have the resources, opportunities, or appeals outcome we do. What’s more, some victims stand to lose a great deal more than time, money, or faith in the legal system.

Consider Mario Rocha, the subject of the documentary Mario’s Story, who went to jail at the age of sixteen and spent twelve years fighting a conviction for a murder he didn’t commit. During his ten-year incarceration, Mario suffered severe injuries twice when fellow inmates knifed him. 

Fortunately, due to the persistence of a creative writing teacher Mario met in juvenile hall (when he was awaiting his first trial) and the unrelenting efforts of the pro bono lawyers she acquired for him, Mario was finally released temporarily from prison after an appeals court ruled that he was not adequately represented in his original trial. After waiting another two years for the Los Angeles County prosecutors to decide that Mario’s case would not be retried, Mario’s lengthy legal nightmare finally came to an end.

No doubt, Mario Rocha and his family members know that he’s one of the lucky ones, too. Once a person is convicted of a crime in Los Angeles County, an appeals case is rarely heard. Only a minuscule number of convictions are overturned without retrial. What’s more, not everyone has the emotional, psychological, or physical stamina of a Mario Rocha. Unlike the resilient Mario, whose creative writing and indomitable spirit sustained him through his imprisonment, there are others unjustly incarcerated who are psychologically and spiritually damaged beyond recognition.

How can we hope to define “normal” grieving behavior when life after loss gets that messy? When tragedy strikes, the blow can resound with ongoing tremors that create pain and havoc for years on end. So, when we assess “normal” grieving responses for ourselves or others, let’s put “normal” in its proper place alongside all that is abnormal. 

Grieving can be complicated. Feel free to color outside the lines.

Grieving becomes simpler only 
when you accept its complexities.

Shea Darian, Doing Grief in real Life