Deep Scars May Remain : Killer’s Death Not Always Consoling to Victim’s Kin

The death of Chester Wicker brought peaceful sleep to Vaughnita Fielder.

The suburban Houston woman had the first good night’s rest in six years after hearing that her daughter’s murderer had been executed.

But there has been little peace for Vern Harvey, not even two years after he watched his stepdaughter’s killer die in Louisiana’s electric chair.

Harvey’s voice still breaks when he talks about her death. “I don’t think anything is going to take this pain away,” he said.

The execution of a convicted murderer carries different emotions for his victim’s family. For some there is the relief of a long-awaited finale. Others find consolation knowing that the murderer will never kill again.

But for many, the desolation of murder remains after the death sentence is carried out.

‘Just the Beginning’

“For some families it is just the beginning of the grieving process,” said John Stein, deputy director of the Washington-based National Organization for Victim Assistance.

Stein, whose group counsels victims and their families, said the murder of a loved one leaves deep emotional scars.

“With it comes an existential crisis,” he said. “The person you thought you were, with the world view you thought you had, becomes insane and doesn’t work.”

Fielder often uses the word “insane” when she describes herself in the days after her daughter’s murder.

Suzanne Knuth was 23 when she was abducted, assaulted and buried alive on a Galveston beach. She was missing 18 days before her body was found.

“My whole way of thinking changed,” Fielder said. “There was a time there where I have no idea why I was doing and saying the things I did.”

Loss Relived

Fielder attended Wicker’s trial and found a certain relief when he was sentenced. But each new appeal forced her to relive her loss.

“It would bring out all that I had tucked away and learned to live with,” she said.

Fielder said she could finally rest easy the night Wicker died.

“It was like a sleeping pill,” she said. “I was asleep 15 minutes after a reporter called to say he was dead.

“It won’t bring my daughter back, but maybe it will keep something like it from happening again.”

Vern and Elizabeth Harvey found similar comfort in the death of Robert Lee Willie, the man convicted of raping and stabbing their 18-year-old daughter, Faith, in 1980.

The Mandeville, La., couple lobbied hard for Willie’s execution, writing their congressman, governor and the President.

“I had to think how I would feel if he got out and killed again,” Elizabeth Harvey said. “I could never have faced another human being and not pushed to see the sentence carried out.”

Healing Unfinished

The Harveys have become active supporters of the death penalty and victims’ organizations. But the healing remains unfinished.

“I’ve heard people say that it’s been a long time and it should be over,” said Harvey, a retired carpenter. “I don’t guess there’s any getting over it. It’s the families who serve the life sentence after a murder.”

The long wait for a death sentence can transform victims’ families into activists.

“A capital case takes a long time,” Stein said. “That puts the families into a state of irresolution for years and years and years, with a fixation on the death penalty as the only way out.”

The 10-year wait to see his son’s killer die turned Jack Stewart, 62, of Jacksonville, Fla., into an outspoken critic of the courts. Stewart’s son Michael, a Jacksonville police officer, was shot and killed in an attempted robbery in 1975.

Stewart petitioned the Florida and United States supreme courts to hurry the execution of his son’s killer. He also became a sheriff’s department volunteer, lecturing on crime prevention.

‘Tears the Family Up’

“The victims’ families are the forgotten people,” he said. “The waiting absolutely tears the family up.”

James Raulerson died in Florida’s electric chair for the crime in 1985. Stewart was a witness.

“I felt relief that justice had been served, but it doesn’t really complete itself then,” he said. “The actual execution doesn’t help you with your grief.”

Joe Hales of Claude, Tex., worked hard for the death of his daughter’s killer, sending 15,000 signatures to the U.S. Supreme Court.

Texas executed James Kelly Pinkerton last May. He was convicted for the 1980 stabbing death of Sherry Welch in Amarillo.

“We felt like an eye for an eye and all that stuff the Bible says,” Hales said. “We are very, very happy that we finally got rid of him, but we didn’t feel as good as we wanted to. I guess nothing will ever bring a daughter back.”