Forgiving My Daughter's Killer

by Kate Grosmaire

  How frequently do you think of Ann?

  I used to be haunted by what I’d done and didn’t know how to deal with it.

  “How do I get over this?” I asked Sujatha. “I just feel so terrible for what I’ve done, and I can’t stop beating myself up over this.”

  “Conor, it’s never going to be okay,” she said. “But you’ll come to a place where you’ll be okay with it not being okay.”

  That was the key for me. I’m not okay with the fact that I’ve killed Ann. But I’m okay with the fact that killing Ann will never be okay. I did a horrible, terrible thing, but I cannot let that hold me down. I need to move forward and be productive, because I really feel a responsibility to live for two lives. I was living for myself before, and that didn’t work out too well. I want to live for Ann in the sense of genuinely caring for the things she cared for and doing more than just what I would’ve done otherwise. Ann was always interested in opening a rehabilitation center for injured raptors, birds of prey. She had a general concern and care about animals, so I wanted to do something in that vein . . . possibly working for St. Francis Wildlife. That’s what she would’ve wanted.

  There are some days I look back at what I’ve done, and it’s really rough. I hate myself for it. I’m down on myself. I realize that’s not what Ann would’ve wanted. She’d want me to be productive and to actually live.

  Sometimes, I find myself in a place where I remember the good things. Other days, I just remember the bad things. It’s always keeping it in context. There was good; there was bad. There’s a lot to be learned from it all. I’m not stuck on her death. I don’t define her by her death. I don’t define myself by killing her.

  How do you define yourself?

  One of the classes we have here in prison requires you to make a tombstone that has your epitaph. The idea is that you make goals and plans in life to make that epitaph come true in death. On my tombstone, I wrote one word: “forgiven.”

  Only in forgiveness can I move forward and live, without being trapped by the horrible decision I made. I’m not chained by my past or by beating myself up forever. I’m moving forward, I’ve forgiven others, because of the forgiveness shown me.

  I don’t deserve forgiveness at all. But the Grosmaires still chose—out of love—to forgive me.

  That’s all I need my tombstone to say: forgiven.

  Now, it’s up to me to live that way.

  At the restorative justice circle, were you tempted to obscure things, to tell half-truths, or to lie about that day?

  Yes and no. The reason I say that? There was a certain element of fear. I heard a little voice, saying, “Don’t tell them.”

  Thankfully, Sujatha had coached me.

  “You have to be completely honest. That’s what this is about,” she said. “This isn’t about making yourself look good, hiding something, or convincing them to give you a lesser sentence. It’s about healing, open dialogue, and communication.”

  There was no room for lying, hiding, or obscuring. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I was about five feet from Andy. There was nothing between us. Andy and Mrs. Grosmaire were sitting there, and I had to tell them how I killed their daughter, the events of that day, what led up to it, what was going through my head. It would’ve been an even greater injustice had I lied.

  I had to be honest with them. It was the least I could do . . . The only real way I could give back a little of what I’d taken.

  What was the one question during the circle that you were most apprehensive to answer?

  [On the day of the shooting] I’d left the room and gotten the gun. When I came back, Ann was on the floor, on her knees. That’s when I shot her.

  Andy asked me this: “So you’re telling me you shot her while she was on her knees?”

  Confessing to Andy that it happened this way was probably the hardest question to answer.

  No, it was definitely the hardest question to answer.

  Were you nervous the Grosmaires would take back their forgiveness after the restorative justice circle?

  When they shared what it meant to lose their daughter, it gave me such a greater understanding of the loss. I’d already understood it from my perspective, but I didn’t even have an inkling of what they were going through. I still don’t fully understand. I’ve never been a parent. I can’t know.

  But they described the loss, the sorrow, and how much of a waste it seemed to them. They talked about the dirty diapers, the food, helping her with her homework . . . it just made it clear. It opened my eyes to the impact of what I’d done. It was no longer just what I had lost or what I had experienced; it showed me what they were living through.

  They shared first; then I shared. Then Sujatha turned it back to them.

  “How do you respond to Conor?” she asked them.

  That was that moment of [gasp of breath] when Sujatha asked that question. I wondered how they would respond after hearing the details of the shooting. I didn’t know if they would continue to forgive me, or if they’d say, “You know what? Yeah, this was a bad idea from the beginning. You’re sick. You’re twisted. We have every right to hate you.”

  I didn’t know what was going to happen, but that’s when they told me they’d decided to continue to forgive me.

  Do you have friends in prison?

  I have a small group of people I associate with and hang out with. You can’t say that you can really have friends in prison, because of the environment. But these are people who sit down and read the Bible together. One might say, “I have trouble believing in God, because my relationship with my dad was so bad. I don’t understand God, because my dad was abusive.” He has trouble understanding a loving God. Everyone has experiences, and we all share and try to encourage one another.

  What is your faith practice like now?

  Normally, the dormitory I’m in is quiet in the morning, so I try to read my Bible while it’s peaceful and not many people are moving around. I try to do it daily, but I’m not great at it. There are also classes that the institution offers. I’m in one now called, “All of Grace,” based on a sermon by Charles Spurgeon. We have several Bible studies within the dorm itself. Then my group of friends meets on Thursday. Apart from that, on Sunday afternoons, they have Catholic services. Father Mike comes in and volunteers his time for mass or a communion service. What’s really interesting is that the group that meets for mass feels like family. It’s a very tight-knit, very loving and caring group. We look out for each other in prison. Frequently, I see people from mass who say, “Hey, how are you doing? I haven’t seen you in a while.” It’s pretty cool. It feels like you step away from prison. It feels like a very secure and comforting place.

  Do you fear you’ll kill someone again?

  I don’t know. I don’t think any person knows how they will react in any given situation. I know some of the causes and triggers . . . not that there was any one thing. But little factors added up to me exploding. Now, knowing those things, I can address those issues—whether it’s my issues with anger, relationship issues, stress from work and school. Those things can be evaluated. Now I’m at a place where I can better address my anger. “Okay,” I can ask myself. “Am I all right? Am I doing things that are pushing me to the edge of anger, when I’m going to snap in my everyday life?” I’m not necessarily talking about killing someone, but in my general day to day life. I have to be aware and cognizant of my threshold, my anger, and what triggers it. That’s where I am now. I will never do that again. I will never harm someone again, because I am actively making sure I don’t.

  What do you do to address your anger?

  A couple of things. One is spiritual counseling. Scripture, like James 1:19–20, helps. Although I’m not an alcoholic, I’m involved in Alcoholics Anonymous. Some of the principles taught in that class are interesting, like not building up resentment, letting things go, knowing what you can control and what you can’t. Most of the things we worry about are completely beyond our con
trol, so there’s no reason to get upset about those. Prison has taught me not to worry about people because you can’t control them. You can only do what you can. It’s helped me to take a step back and realize, “Okay, I’m stressing over things I don’t need to stress about.”

  You’ve been in prison five years. What is the difference between how you would feel at this moment with the knowledge that you’ll get out when you are thirty-nine versus how you’d feel if you had life imprisonment?

  I can’t even imagine.

  I’d have to come to peace with life in prison, and I think I could . . . eventually. But I can’t say where I’d be right at this moment. I knew when I was sitting in jail, facing the death penalty and life in prison, I knew I deserved that. I don’t deserve a lighter sentence. I killed Ann.

  I was only blessed with a lighter sentence because of forgiveness and mercy. It’s real and tangible. There is no comparing that pending freedom. I cannot imagine not having a date to look forward to. I know some guys who have life sentences, and they’re doing really well. They’re productive, they’re helping others, they’re even teaching classes. But I don’t know how long it would’ve taken me to come to a good place, where I might realize I could do something productive, even if I had to spend my life in prison.

  How frequently do you think about getting out of prison?

  At least once a day there’s a fleeting thought about life after prison, like, It’ll be nice to have a cheeseburger. While I think about what life will be like, there are a lot of doubts. Kate and Andy have mentioned me getting out, having a life, having a family, having kids. Part of me doubts that working.

  I know I still have work to do; I’m still trying to get my mind right. I’m still trying to make sure that my triggers and issues are addressed. I don’t know what it’s going to be like when I get out.

  Do you let yourself imagine a family?

  It’s something I want. I really wanted kids. I wanted to be a dad. I was really looking forward to that. But the reality is that I made some extremely bad decisions that severely hampered—if not ruined that chance.

  What was your biggest regret?

  My biggest regret was pulling that trigger and killing Ann.

  I know it could’ve all been avoided, but I never reached out for help.

  Do you think the Grosmaires’ forgiveness of you is “real”?

  It’s not “forgiveness for publicity.” It’s the real thing. They still talk to me; they still tell me they love me. It’s a very real thing . . . five years later.

  How do you feel about becoming more well-known because this story is now a book?

  I don’t define myself by my crime. So, okay, a bunch of people will hear this story and might say, “Oh, you’re a horrible person.”

  No, I screwed up. I messed up big time. But that’s not the point.

  What is the point?

  You’ve heard the story of how two parents forgave the murderer of their daughter.

  What can you do in your life?

  Who can you forgive?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  God gave us the seeds and so many people helped to tend the plant.

  Thank you to the following individuals who without their contributions and support this book would not have been written:

  My friends who encouraged me to write this book—if I named one, I would have to name one hundred. The love and support of our community provided the perfect soil for the seeds to grow.

  Chris Park, my literary agent, and garden architect who knew just how the planting should go and provided endless encouragement through the entire growing season.

  Nancy French, who worked side by side with me, teaching me, adding the nutrients that made the plant so much fuller than I could have made it on my own.

  The editing and design team at Thomas Nelson Publishers, master gardeners who weeded and trimmed until everything looked perfect.

  Webster Younce and Thomas Nelson Publishers—I am forever grateful they had faith that my story was worth telling.

  Finally, my husband, Andy, who still tends the garden with me.

  NOTES

  CHAPTER 11

  1. Florida Department of Corrections, “10–20–Life, New Mandatory Minimum Prison Sentences,” http://www.dc.state.fl.us/secretary/press/1999/1020life.html.

  CHAPTER 18

  1. “Grosmaire, McBride Families Discuss Healing After Tragedy,” Tallahassee.com, August 27, 2011, http://archive.tallahassee.com/article/20110829/NEWS01/308290007/Grosmaire-McBride-families-discuss-healing-after-tragedy.

  CHAPTER 19

  1. Adam Liptak, “U.S. Prison Population Dwarfs That of Other Nations,” New York Times, April 23, 2008, http://nytimes.com/2008/04/23/world/americas/23iht-23prison.12253738. html?pagewanted=all&_r= 0.

  2. Emily Badger, “The Meteoric, Costly and Unprecedented Rise of Incarceration in America,” Washington Post, April 30, 2014, http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/wonkblog/wp/2014/04/30/the-meteoric-costly-and-unprecedented-rise-of-incarceration-in -america/.

  3. C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory (New York: HarperCollins, 1976), 46.

  CHAPTER 20

  1. Paul Tullis, Twitter post, January 12, 2012, http://twitter.com/ptullis.

  2. David Belden, “Radical Compassion: Restorative Justice Program Meets Needs of Both Victims,” Alternet, January 20, 2013, http://www.alternet.org/radical-compassion-restorative-justice-program-meets-needs-both-victims-and-perpetrators.

  3. Timothy Keller, The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism (New York: Penguin, 2008), 189.

  4. Quoted in David Matthew Brown, “Anyway Poem by Mother Teresa,” Patheos.com, July 31, 2012, http://www.patheos.com/blogs/wrestlingwithyourself/2012/07/anyway-poem-by-mother-teresa/.

  CLOSING EPIGRAPH

  1. Martin Luther King Jr., The Words of Martin Luther King, Jr.: Second Edition (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2008), 23.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Kate Grosmaire became an educator about Restorative Justice after her daughter was killed. She and her husband are the cofounders of the Ann Grosmaire “Be The Change” Fund, a charitable fund to promote forgiveness and restorative justice practices. Kate lives in Tallahassee, Florida.

  Nancy French is a three-time New York Times bestselling author who has written books with former Alaska Governor Sarah Palin, Chinese dissident Bob Fu, Iraq war vet and Constitutional lawyer David French, Olympic gold medalist Shawn Johnson, and Bristol Palin. Read about these—and other books—at www.NancyFrench.com and connect with her on Twitter at @NancyAFrench.