The Long Shadow of Gun Violence (In Loving Memory of Bette Clark)

I met Bette and her oldest son, Joey, during a death penalty trial in Center City.  It was the sentencing phase for the two men who killed her youngest son, Timmy, who was gunned down execution-style when he was 15.

Caroline, an advocate with the Families of Murder Victims, introduced us.  "Bette, this is Jooyoung.  He's a researcher and wants to interview you."  Joey sized me up and seemed protective of his mom, who had already been through so much.  Her eyes were red from crying, so I said, "I'm really sorry to hear about what happened." She smiled a little and said in her Tacony accent, "Thank you. It's been such a long day.  But, call me whenever, sure."

I spent the next day with Bette and her family at the courthouse and visited them weekly over the next year.  I hadn't planned on following the families of murder victims, but my ongoing research in Philly had pushed me in this direction.  

While getting to know gunshot survivors, I also met the people most affected by their injuries and trauma. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, grandparents, cousins, and children are all negatively impacted by a loved one's shooting.  

Bette was the first person I met who had lost someone in a fatal shooting.  Her experiences taught me a hard lesson: The families of murder victims never get over it. There is a sadness that hangs over them for the rest of their lives.  Sure, some people are better than others at coping with the murder of a loved one.  But, many families carry an immense sadness around with them.  And mothers bear the brunt of this trauma. 

I am grateful that I got to know Bette over the years.  I saw how much she loved her boys and I saw how much she continued to suffer long after Timmy was killed.  I was there when her oldest son, Joey, started to relapse.  I still remember the day when Bette told me about Joey's ongoing battle with heroin. We were having lunch and she was distraught.  I did my best to console her, but saying, "everything will be alright" felt hollow since I knew the demons that Joey was grappling with.  Joey could never really shake the memory of his slain brother.  When he was still alive, Joey would often recount in pristine detail the horror he felt when police showed up on his doorstep and asked if he could identify the bodies at the end of the block--a mere 100 yards from his doorstep.  Joey took drugs to numb the pain and guilt he felt from not being able to save his little brother.  I balled my eyes out years later when Bette called me and said that Joey had overdosed and died.

And then, there was Matt.  The middle brother.  He was shy and quiet and wouldn't say much whenever I came over.  He'd just give me a handshake and he'd ask how I was doing. Matt had recently enlisted into the army reserves and was gone on different weekends doing different things with the military.  Bette was so proud of him, but also worried that he was bottling up all his emotions.  She told me that he was guarded about his feelings and didn't really like to open up a whole lot about the pain he felt.  I was sad to learn about his legal troubles years later and wrote a letter speaking about the long effects of trauma and how I had never known Matt to be a violent person.  I pray that he finds support during this difficult moment.  

After moving to Canada, I lost some contact with Bette.  I'd keep in touch with her on Facebook and Instagram, and we'd talk occasionally, but life has a funny way of rolling on.  It wasn't long until I was caught up in my own little world.   

Bette and I were supposed to have lunch together during my most recent visit to Philly.  I was looking forward to the meeting, but then she called me and said that she wasn't feeling well. We agreed to meet up during my next visit and she joked, "And then I can meet your beautiful wife!" I didn't think twice about it then and believed in my heart that this meeting would happen, probably in the summer. I regret now not renting a car and just driving over to her home, even if only to pay my respects.

Bette was a beautiful, friendly, compassionate, funny, and intelligent person.  She always welcomed me into her home and had this incredible warmth about her.  Despite all that she had been through, she was always ready to help other people out when they were in need.  She often let the friends of her sons sleep over when they needed a place to crash, and was always so happy for other people when life smiled in their direction.  I wish that life would have smiled a bit more in her direction, too.  I regret that I never got to say goodbye or give you another hug.  I hope you rest in peace, Bette.  And I hope that you know how much you were loved.