Project Diary: as her mission expands

Until late 2000 and 2001, when Marilyn started stepping in to accompany families in the hours and days after a killing in Oakland, no one had been there to push authorities to address, or really to even consider, the state of mind and the very practical needs of survivors. No one had recognized, or admitted to, the right they had to some level of support in their impossible passage through. Marilyn showed the way with her actions and her non-judgmental kindness.

The uniqueness and surprise of Marilyn’s mission, her sudden presence in the aftermath of a homicide -- among the families, among the police, the coroner, the mortuary staff, at the Victim of Crime office -- transformed the experience for traumatized families. No longer where they so utterly alone in their darkest moments. (Today that work is carried on beautifully by Marilyn and the staff of Youth Alive’s Khadafy Washington Project.)

Her presence and her work changed the way other people, outsiders, think and see. Not just me, but people who matter, like police detectives and city leaders. As documented in my last Project Diary post, Marilyn’s work, and her philosophy of kindness, inspired Mayor Libby Schaaf to compose and deliver a letter of condolence to the family of each victim while she was in office. Sheng Thao, briefly mayor, continued the practice, though with less personalization. Unlike Schaaf, she does not appear to have hand-written a personal note to accompany each official letter.

A veteran homicide detective described for me once how it is for the police when meeting families in the aftermath of a homicide. Police are trained to create order and solve crime, not to comfort the grieving and the shocked. You could sense his relief at the advent of Marilyn. The detective told me, “Some officers don't have the emotional intelligence to deal with people who are grieving. People who are grieving aren't gonna be having conversations like you and I are having. They're usually very heightened. They're usually screaming. They're emotional. And the officers who aren't comfortable with that feel intimidated.”

Anyone would, of course. We are all intimidated by extremes of emotions, especially negative emotions, especially the despair and grief and hot anger Marilyn dealt with every day.

She still does. These days, as the twenty-fifth anniversary of Khadafy's death approaches, her mission has expanded. Because of her citywide reputation for knowing how to help families who have suffered a sudden death, she now is approached regularly by those who have lost a loved-one to overdose. Because they too have a right to support, she does everything she can to help them, but recently the City grant that supported this work ended. She is scrambling to find funds to serve these often-destitute, traumatized families, many of whom can’t afford to bury their lost loved ones. It’s not easy.