CHAPTER 14

My hands paused over the keyboard as I thought about what combinations of words might inspire Jack Campbell to seriously consider our request. As the Leon County assistant state attorney, he was no stranger to North Florida’s high-profile murder cases. But he’d never handled a murder case this way.

“Neither has Sujatha,” Andy reminded me. “Just write it. Worst he can say is no.”

“No one has said no to us up to this point. If we ask reasonably, he’ll have to say yes,” I said.

As I sat there looking at the screen, the sheer improbability of what I was asking threatened me. Is there a way to reasonably ask a state attorney to use restorative justice for a capital crime? Jack Campbell had made it clear that he would take care of everything for us. He was used to driving the bus and having the victims come along for the ride. I tried to push the negative thoughts from my head. It was getting late, and I wanted to get this done before I went to sleep.

“As you know, we are interested in pursuing a course that includes restorative justice,” I wrote, before continuing to explain our situation. When I got to the end, I signed it, “Sincerely, Andy and Kate Grosmaire.”

The next day, Andy drove it—as well as all our petitions—to his office.

“This is for Jack Campbell,” Andy said as he handed the thick packet of papers to the receptionist, who politely accepted the package and went back to her work.

Days turned into weeks. After a month with no response, Andy suggested we e-mail him.

“I don’t want to annoy the man who holds Conor’s future in his hands,” I said.

Finally, the amount of time with no response became so unreasonable that a gentle e-mail nudge seemed appropriate. Once again we carefully composed a note to him, which we sent through Conor’s attorney, Greg.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Greg said. “Jack never got your letter and never saw the petitions.”

“What happened to them?” Andy asked. “Why do you think I drove them down to his office and hand-delivered them?”

“They misplaced them,” Greg said, trying to smooth over the loss. Julie and Andy had gone to so much trouble to collect them all. Was it for nothing?

Well, we knew it was definitely not for nothing. The McBrides had been deeply affected by the signature gathering for the petition. They hadn’t been churchgoers throughout their marriage. In fact, Michael had proclaimed that “there is no God” after his brother had unexpectedly passed away from a brain aneurism when Conor was a boy. As the McBrides collected signatures for the petitions, however, they saw firsthand the strength and love of a Christian community. Together, they began to search for a message of faith by attending the Good Shepherd six o’clock mass. Michael still maintained that he was not looking for religion, but he began to believe the statement of faith proclaimed each week had been written just for him.

“It’ll be okay,” I told Andy, placing my hand on his shoulder. “So now that we know Jack has our request, what do we do?”

“Wait for his response,” Greg said.

There’s a reason wait is a four-letter word.

To my surprise, however, I got a very brief, perfunctory e-mail from Jack later that very day.

“Contact your restorative justice expert,” he wrote, “and proceed with your restorative justice circle.”