What Now? Navigating the Aftermath of Homicide & Suicide

By Jan Canty

Losing a loved one to homicide or suicide changes your life forever;  . . .

. . . worse, it feels like no one is in your corner as your horrific to-do list lengthens.

But with this empathetic and practical guide, you won't be alone.

 

Homicide survivor and psychologist Dr. Jan Canty has been there. Forced to navigate the unfamiliar and disconnected procedures, personnel, and organizations that bombard survivors following a violent death, she is now determined to help others find their way.

 

With input from experts and fellow survivors, What Now? gathers everything you need to know in the days and years to come, such as . . .

• Organizing your support community
• Facing the media
• Making burial decisions
• What to expect during a police investigation
• When you need a lawyer
• Understanding social changes
• How crime-victim advocates work for you
• Decisions about death-scene cleanup
• Protecting your physical and mental health
• Supporting the grief process in adults and children
• Understanding a homicide trial, sentencing, and parole
• Coping with PTSD
• And more

Complete with a glossary, index, and thorough list of resources, What Now? offers the support you need so you can focus more energy on what matters most: grieving your unimaginable loss and regaining your balance in a world without your loved one—a world few understand.

With Dr. Canty lighting your way, you can navigate this storm toward healing and more peaceful waters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jan Canty, PhD, LLC
• Release date: Mar 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215602706

Book preview

Foreword

I distinctly recall the feeling of dread that accompanied the discovery of a trauma survivor’s contact information. Suddenly it was time to pick up the phone or knock on a door to ask for an interview. Suddenly it was time to burst into a shattered person’s life during what were likely their darkest hours.

Friends, family members, and journalism students have often asked what it was like approaching bereaved loved ones at such a time. I used to say it was the worst part of the job but also the best part. It was the worst because I never knew how someone would respond. Would they curse at me and slam the door? See me through the window and choose not to answer? But it was also the best part because sometimes families did invite me in, share their stories, and thank me as I left.

I recognize now that dialing those numbers or knocking on those doors was always the worst part of the job. Even when I was invited in, many times, I shouldn’t have been there to begin with.

After nearly 15 years as a crime reporter, first with the Toronto Star, then the Toronto Sun, and finally, for the bulk of my journalism career, with CTV News Toronto, I thought I knew everything I needed to know about the trauma survivor’s experience. I was wrong. But I knew enough to recognize that the system set up to support survivors in the immediate aftermath of their traumatic loss was wholly inadequate, including the fact that survivors were often left to navigate the news media without the know-how or mental capacity to do so.

And so, I left journalism and launched Pickup Communications, a public relations firm that supported trauma survivors in their interactions (or lack thereof) with the news media. In journalism speak, a pickup is the act of getting a picture of the latest trauma victim and ideally an interview with their surviving loved ones, and I wanted to benefit both survivors and journalists during these delicate situations. My efforts evolved into a broader campaign to change the system by which trauma survivors interact and are impacted by the media.

It was through this lens that, in the spring of 2020, I launched a research project examining the impact of the media on trauma survivors. As part of this research, I created a survey for survivors of homicide and traffic fatalities and shared it with various bereavement support groups across Canada and the United States. Then, I waited.

Jan Canty was one of the first to respond.

When Jan’s survey arrived in my inbox, I knew nothing of her work with other survivors, of how she supported them virtually through insightful social media posts and private messages, and I had not yet heard of her podcast. I knew only that she was a member of a club that nobody wants to be a part of and that, in the aftermath of her husband, Alan’s, murder, she suffered greatly. Through some back-and-forth correspondence, however, I began to understand more about Jan’s current place in this world of trauma, some two and a half decades after her own world came tumbling down.

Jan invited me to join her online support group so I could answer members’ media-related questions. And I began listening to her podcast, Domino Effect of Murder. As a crime reporter, I had read true-crime books, watched true-crime documentaries, and listened to true-crime podcasts. I was interested not only in the mechanics of investigations but also the impact on survivors.

As I said earlier, I thought I had a good handle on things. But as I listened to episode after episode of Jan’s podcast, I quickly realized that Jan’s podcast differed from true-crime stories in one important way. The true-crime stuff was for the public, offering the often-salacious details storytellers think the public wants or should know. Jan’s podcast was for survivors, offering a rare and thoughtful examination of what it’s like—what it’s really like—to be a member of that most unfortunate club. Jan’s conversations with survivors, guided by her insightful questions that many journalists or other storytellers would not think or care to ask, helped me understand.

Jan’s podcast taught me more about the trauma survivor’s experience than my nearly 15 years as a crime reporter.

Through the course of my research, one of the most remarkable aspects of the survivor experience to witness has been the peer support community. Their conversations taught me how incredibly isolating life can become when one is forced to grieve on the public stage—or in the shadows of stigma—and how many survivors can feel truly heard or understood only when those listening have walked their same path and subsequently know, really know, what it’s like.

Jan knows. She was hit by a tsunami of traumatic grief and endured the multitude of emotions that washed in with it. And while no two grief journeys are the same, Jan has, through her pen, made space for survivors to feel safe and supported and truly understood. And she has done it all with academic insight into the impact of trauma on the brain.

The system set up to support survivors comes with many holes. Jan Canty’s work is helping to fill them.

Maybe you’re a survivor (even if you’re not yet comfortable with the survivor label). Maybe you’re someone who is looking to help. Or maybe you’re here because you want to understand. Regardless of your reasons for picking up this book, I’m sure you’d rather none of this was needed.

But here you are. And, at the very least, with Jan’s experience, wisdom, guidance, and grace, you can rest assured that you’ve found the right place.

—Tamara Cherry,

Founder, Pickup Communications

Acknowledgments

Several professionals graciously helped with source material for this book (some from consultations for the podcast). I would like to earnestly express my gratitude to the following consultants:

Jeanne Dotts Brykalski, (victim advocacy) MVS, homicide survivor, Tennessee

Tamara Cherry, BA (journalism), founder, Pickup Communications, Saskatchewan, Canada

Jeff Deskovic, BA, JD (wrongful convictions) Jeffrey Deskovic Foundation, Pennsylvania

Holly DuBois (crime-scene cleanup) owner/operator, Diligent Decon, Columbia, South Carolina

Michael Ettinger, JD (wrongfully accused) criminal defense attorney, Chicago, Illinois

Charlene Flynn (filicide), survivor of filicide, author, and military veteran

Betty Kovacs, PhD (sixth sense), professor emerita; chair, Jung Society Claremont, CA

Tracy Lowry, RN, (trauma and physical aftermath) speaker, podcaster, and author, Iowa

Doug Noll, JD, MA (restorative justice) practicing attorney, author, Clovis, California

Kari Northey, BS, BFA (death-care industry) licensed funeral director, Michigan

Anissa Perry (victim advocacy) homicide-intervention specialist, Raleigh, North Carolina

Kathryn Simpson (homicide survivor) Shreveport, Louisiana

Alejandra and Justin Stamper (house preparation) Stamper Construction, Washington State

Doug Topolski, BA (law enforcement) chief of police, Mackinac Island, Michigan

Dan Yearick, MA (parenticide) licensed mental health counselor, author, North Carolina

Bruce Either, PhD (psychological treatment) psychologist, Washington

Introduction

A Guide You Never Expected to Need

Someone you care about has died traumatically. You’re in shock. Life is distorted. I’ve been in your shoes, and so have many others. You aren’t alone. But you feel alone. You ask, What now?

A murder or suicide is always tragic and confusing. Intentional death is the epicenter. Its effects surge outward across people, systems, and processes and brings fitful sleep and unanswered questions. It leaves survivors with an aching void, robbed of hopes and unspoken words.

A glance at the following somber numbers will assure you that you’re surrounded by others who’ve had similar experiences. In the last twenty-four hours, 1,700 people in the world started a routine day that ended in murder. And in that same time, about 21,000 people worldwide deliberately ended their own lives. With eight to ten survivors per violent death, this is a tragedy with many victims.

Today, about 200,000 people will get a death notification somewhere around the globe. Others will find their loved ones’ lifeless bodies. Memories of these powerful events last a lifetime.

Throughout the world, suicide and murder claim about 8 million lives annually, leaving an average of 72 million survivors to pick up the pieces and try to make sense of it all. And these shocking numbers don’t include other traumatic deaths, like casualties of war or unidentified human remains.

I understand you feel alone and that numbers provide little comfort. I humbly ask that you put your faith in me and the other sources in this book. When I was a struggling new widow from homicide it soon became clear that I had no map for what to do. I felt isolated with fear, confusion and fatigue.

None of us can understand exactly what each other has felt, but I can combine my personal and professional experience with that of others and sift through ample amounts of information. Finding commonalities has helped me identify how to support fellow survivors.

This work is the natural development of my survivor’s journey. I’ve drawn from my training as a psychologist and family therapist as well as my own loss. I’ve spoken at major conferences for law enforcement and interviewed violent-death survivors and other experts from different countries on my podcast, Domino Effect of Murder. And I’ve funneled all this into the book before you.

You’re one of us now. No one can change what happened to your loved one, but I can help you navigate the next steps. I hope this book comforts you and assures you that you are seen and understood.

Chances are you’ve already met frustrating roadblocks so many of us have faced. When confronted with the ghastly news of the traumatic end of someone we love, we need information, and we need it now. Unfortunately, that information is scattered, forcing us to search through unfamiliar systems (media, law enforcement, death-care industry, criminal justice, medicine, psychology, corrections, etc.), where we don’t understand the vocabulary, procedures, or our place within them.

And they don’t understand us.

It’s no wonder we survivors feel alone and overwhelmed. In looking for help, you may turn to:

• internet sites

• police departments

• emergency rooms

• attorneys

• self-help groups

• the death-care industry

• advocates

• crime-scene cleanup businesses

• fellow survivors (books, videos, lectures, etc.)

• medical or mental health care providers

• clergy

Some information isn’t even written; it’s just known. And there’s little crosstalk between experts. This fractured information hinders the big picture and results in poor coordination of services, the splintering of advice, and difficulty getting information. Not only are we unsure of where to turn, we don’t even know what questions to ask!

The disorganized nature of this information goes far beyond inconvenience. It can feel impossible on our best days. Yet we must navigate it while hobbled by fatigue, anger, fear, and shock. Grief seizes us and digs deep.

To compound the difficulty, the unique nature of every violent death means there’s no one-size-fits-all checklist. Some families must organize crime-scene cleanup after the unspeakable happened under their own roof. Others must soothe children’s fears without glossing over the ugly realities of the changes that have barged in. And survivors wrestling with unsolved murders must learn how to cope without answers.

How do we organize information? Where can we uncover it rapidly? These sudden burdens clash with everyday responsibilities to family, friends, career, and more.

We’re often left to rely on hunches, advice from those who haven’t been through it, or simply to trudge on as best we can. Most of us eventually succeed but only after drawn-out trial and error. We seldom see ourselves as the experts we become.

As I muddled through, I often thought, There’s got to be a better way!

This book organizes crucial information in the usual sequence needed, but the material is designed so you can focus on the chapters relevant to you. You’ll find examples and practical strategies in each chapter. I’ve also cross-referenced information to point you to related information elsewhere.

To further aid in finding information quickly, there’s an extensive glossary, detailed index, and a section devoted to relevant resources. Each chapter ends with a short list of key takeaways to assist recall because we all find remembering to be challenging. You’ll also find places to fill in information, much like a workbook.

This guide is a starting place for answering What now? It can’t replace friends or experts. I encourage you to turn to them early and regularly. Seek out other resources beyond those listed here. This guide was never meant to be the last word or a stand-alone resource on self-care after violent death. Instead, it’s a place to begin, helps you know what kinds of questions to ask, and draws a basic roadmap of what to expect.

The primary aim of this book is to help us, the human shock absorbers. However, it’s also relevant to advocates, first responders, second responders, physicians, mental health clinicians, friends, chaplains, social service personnel, and others.

Chapter 1 starts with the moment of impact and is directed at taming the chaos. We all need to prioritize tasks, increase our personal safety, understand our reactions, direct well-intentioned helpers, and avoid contaminating the investigation.

Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.

—Helen Keller

Part 1

Immediate Challenges

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The Death Notification

Moment of Impact

My husband asked me to come into the living room. He’s standing there with a neighbor and a sheriff’s officer. I see the look on the sheriff’s face, and my husband is crying. My husband walks over and takes my hand. He’s shaking from head to toe.

He says, Your mom and dad . . . They’re . . . They’re . . . dead. He looks over at the sheriff and says, I can’t. I can’t.

The sheriff reaches over and says, I’m sorry, but your parents were killed last night.

You mean a traffic accident?

He says, No, ma’am. They were murdered.

I remember marching around in a circle saying, No! No! No!

I was watching myself.

The officer says to my husband, She’s in shock.

That was the start of my nightmare. The officer brought us my parents’ dog, a big Collie named Honey Bare. The minute I saw her, I wrapped my arms around her, buried my face in her fur and started crying my heart out.

—Jeanne Dotts Brykalski, Homicide Survivor

The death notification overturns our lives so completely we start to see life as before and after. In this chapter, we’ll examine:

➢the usual responses to the news of traumatic death

➢ways of easing the power of those responses

➢strategies to gain some control over the chaos that will follow

We hadn’t heard from my brother Chad in a couple weeks, which was unusual. He was in Arizona and had our mom’s car. When my parents were informed it had been in an accident and the names of the people in the car didn’t match the registration, my dad got a flight right away to find Chad.

The people in the car had an arrest warrant for attempted murder in Florida. While my dad was on the plane, a proactive detective questioned them to see if they were connected to Chad’s lack of communication. They ratted on each other, confessed to murdering Chad for the car, and led police to his body. When Dad’s plane landed, he was asked to identify Chad’s body. He called my mom and told her the news. I was waiting for word at my place, and I called my mom to see if she knew anything yet. She told me Chad had been killed.

I was out of it. I was in shock. I don’t remember some parts after that.

—Michelle K.

A death notification is usually how we learn a loved one has suddenly died. It can take many forms and come from many places. Sometimes we’ve even witnessed the death. It can feel like the current situation is our destination.

The timing, quality, and genuineness with which the death notification is delivered affect how it will be remembered and retold. The story is woven into our family legacy and handed down to the next generation.

Death Notifications Are Seldom By the Book

Most victim families learn about the death in less-than-ideal ways. One young woman read a Facebook post about the suicide of her younger, developmentally delayed brother. She (wrongly) assumed it was a cruel joke. In Ohio, a mother answered a knock early one morning, and uniformed officers told her to call this number. It was a direct line to the morgue in another city where they held her beloved 20-year-old son. Police officers brought a teenage boy from school to the hospital, where he learned he and his younger sister had become orphaned that day. His mother had succumbed to injuries at the hands of his father before his father took his own life.

While a death notification can never be painless, it can always be made worse.

A death notification challenges us in every way possible. Gone is our sense of control. We question what we know. It’s as if the floor beneath us has given way. We have little idea what to do.

I stood on the porch, shivering from the cold and sheer terror. I didn’t just feel alone; I felt I was in a vacuum in the middle of space with everything I knew being pulled away from me. The universe was suddenly a vast place, and I was very, very alone.

—Eleni Pinnow

Just as the death notification takes many forms, so do our reactions. There’s no right way to respond. The next section explains common reactions. Hopefully, it will provide some reassurance and clarification.

Three Responses to Shocking News

Emotional Reactions

A tidal wave of emotions strikes following the news. Some of us become numb and detached. Most feel afraid and wary (hypervigilant), confused (brain fog), and disoriented. Thinking slows, and memory is patchy. There are moments where we can’t remember simple information, much less detailed information, yet we vividly recall other things—some we’d rather forget.

It’s common to feel overwhelmed, self-protective, and angry. We feel alone, and enraged. We worry we’re going crazy. These emotions are common even among relief workers, soldiers, and first responders.

Almost half of us develop acute stress disorder, and some will later be rediagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. However, a sizeable proportion of us will ultimately grow into post-traumatic growth (see chapter 22).

A few of us believe life has lost meaning and consider suicide. If this describes you, call 911 or 1-800-273-8255 for immediate help. Tell someone! Help is a phone call away.

Lori Brennan recounts her response to her death notification, which was finding her son’s body following suicide.

I yelled upstairs for Jacob to get moving. I didn’t want to be late for work or for him to miss his school bus. Not hearing anything, I marched up to his room and banged on his door. No response. Sleeping still? I flung open the door with exasperation but discovered he’d hung himself. I crumpled to the floor with an ear-piercing, primitive scream. I couldn’t catch my breath. An eerie coldness consumed me. The room was spinning, dark and surreal. My boy! My son! No! Why? I have no idea how long I stayed there, crumpled, and frozen, but when I could, I crawled to his cell phone and dialed 911.

Physical Reactions

Our physical reaction is immediate and automatic. We may be hit with sudden exhaustion, then feel hot, then cold. The room may spin. It’s common to feel light-headed and like we’re about to faint. Some get a tingly, floating sensation. We may have brief vision changes—like seeing our surroundings as blue or red with dark spots or having difficulty with spatial relationships (positioning our body in space). We can’t seem to catch our breath.

Survivors also experience lip and hand tremors, perspiration, and clamminess. Our heart pounds, and our mouth goes dry. We may feel a fizziness deep in our ears or on the back of our neck. We sprout goosebumps. Our stomach knots.

We look pale. Urine output is low and sometimes dark.

It’s not unusual for panic attacks to evolve and continue occasionally for months and occasionally years. If they persist, seek professional help.

Children experience stomachaches, reduced appetite, and nightmares. Babies surrounded by this turmoil get off schedule and are hard to soothe. (See chapter 17, on children’s grief.)

Eight of ten survivors report a physical decline for a few months. Indeed, hardly any bodily organ or system is spared. Any preexisting physical weaknesses will be especially stressed.

Emotions affect our bodies. Trauma influences us right down to the cellular level. For example, tears from different causes have unique chemical structures when viewed under a microscope. Onion tears look like snowflakes. Tears of laughter resemble an aerial view of a lake-filled landscape. Tears of grief look like a map of roads that seem to end nowhere (Shim, 2018). Chemically, only emotional tears collect stress hormones, so crying releases these chemicals and bolsters immunity. No wonder we feel renewed after a good cry.

Our immediate grief isn’t just emotional nor under our control. (See chapter 14 for more detailed information on the physical side of grief.)

Behavioral Reactions

Behavior is linked to our emotional and physical states. We’re more likely to snap at someone when we’re hungry, tired, hurting, or stressed. We may repeat ourselves. Our vocabulary becomes simplistic. We stammer. We often ask others to repeat what they said.

We need to sit or pace or both. We may dash to the nearest restroom. Some fall to their knees. We catch ourselves doing something rhythmical (rocking or pacing). While sitting, we wrap our feet around the legs of a chair or hands around the armrests. It’s hard not to throw something or scream. It seems everyone is talking at once or from far away. We may hug ourselves or lift our arms over the top of our head.

Additional stress (a phone ringing, a dog barking, someone at the door, or crying child) is intolerable. Sometimes we behave in ways opposite to our usual self. Someone outgoing may push people away, while someone reserved chatters and gets demanding.

Babies protest the tension. Young children often regress. Teenagers withdraw and grow irritable, fearful, and impulsive. They may put on a mask of being fine around adults, but their social media posts reveal a different story. Most middle-aged adults feel divided in their grief because they have children, themselves and sometimes their parents to consider. The elderly become unnaturally quiet, fearful, confused, forgetful, and vulnerable to illness and premature death.

Why We React as We Do

During a looming crisis, our brain and body instantly respond as nature intended, pivoting into a fight-flight-freeze response. We’re hardwired to do so.

In a crisis, our bodies put every available resource into survival. Unnecessary processes (like digestion) turn off. Blood flow is reduced to certain brain regions (cerebral hypoperfusion) and to our arms and legs (vasoconstriction), to protect vital organs. Our heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure rise to increase alertness. Pupils dilate to maximize light for vision. Sugar (glucose) is dumped into our blood, giving us energy and strength (preparing us to flee or fight). There’s increased blood flow to vital organs (heart, lungs, and kidneys). There’s also a boost in endorphins to reduce pain. Surges of adrenalin and cortisol can cause nausea, restlessness, and even feeling a bit berserk.

These and other sudden physical reactions trigger more changes. They aren’t imagined or willful. They’re not a sign of weakness. They’re not rare or avoidable. It’s simple biology. These changes happen to everyone—soldiers, paramedics, athletes, and mental health personnel. The leading biological change is insomnia.

In time, most of these symptoms pass (especially with good support and reasonable health), but if there is preexisting high blood pressure, asthma, depression, chronic pain, suicidal tendencies, isolation, diabetes, earlier traumas, or if the stress worsens, contact a health professional.

To Ease the Shock and Take Back Control

• Prioritize and postpone major decisions.

• Avoid driving and operating dangerous equipment.

• Have a friend or two stay with you.

• Direct energy by taking a few slow, deep breaths and slowly pace. Walk up and down steps, or rock back and forth.

• Reduce or stop taking in caffeine, alcohol, or illegal drugs.

• Seek shelter; go where it feels safe (perhaps your bed).

• Physical care: see a physician soon for insomnia, headache, teeth grinding, or any worsening of preexisting health problems.

• Reach out and contact a support group, victim advocate (see chapter 10), or mental health professional if there’s an established relationship or if you just want to (see chapter 22).

• Press pause with journalists. If approached by the media, stop and think about your options. You can say no, yes, maybe later, or refer them elsewhere (see chapter 3).

• Plan. Decide if you want to watch ongoing news reports about the death. Regardless of that decision, ask a trusted friend or relative to record the broadcasts and save any newspaper accounts. In time these can become valuable in unexpected ways and may not be available later.

• Kiddos: shelter young ones (see chapter 17).

Our stress response is not the enemy. The stressful situation is the enemy.

When to Call 911

The violent death always comes as a shock. Call 911 in the United States (999 in the United Kingdom, 000 in Australia) if you experience any of the following:

• severe chest pain

• suicidal thoughts involving a plan (especially with preexisting depression, accessible weapons, or previous attempts)

• homicidal thoughts involving a weapon and plan

• sudden numbness/weakness on one side of the body along with a severe headache, difficulty speaking, and changes in vision

• difficulty breathing

• pale skin, extra sweating, ongoing confusion, and difficulty speaking

There will always be someone who can’t see the end to your suffering. Don’t let it be you.

—M. Merrill

Key Takeaways

In chapter 1, we reviewed the following topics:

➢ understanding the three (emotional, physical, and behavioral) common ways we feel stress and our reactions to shocking news

➢ ways to steer our reactions, even though we can’t prevent them

➢ special considerations for children and the elderly

➢ knowing when to call 911

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Backup

Friends

Friends want to help but don’t always know how (or how much). This chapter will assist you in:

➢determining whether to accept offers of help

➢organizing helpers with suggestions and to-do lists

➢protecting privacy within your home

➢giving input on decisions

True friends aren’t the ones who make your problems disappear. They’re the ones who won’t disappear when you’re facing problems.

—fbfreestatus.blogspot

When tragedy strikes, well-intended friends and family will look for ways to help and support us, invited or not. It falls on us to direct those efforts. If we don’t, we could end up trying to offload extra freezer meals or make an appearance at a candlelight vigil we don’t want to attend.

None of us wants our privacy and home overrun with helpers. We want safe boundaries and control, which sometimes involves saying no. This chapter provides tips to coordinate help.

Advocating for ourselves while grieving is exhausting and feels strange because our requests for others to step back can be misread as being ungrateful or rude. An option is to ask a friend or two to read this chapter and advocate for you. Like an anchor on a boat, they can bring calm to the chaos.

No, Thank You

Few of us are comfortable being around others when we feel defenseless. Sometimes that discomfort causes us to push offers of help away. Accepting or refusing help is our choice, but hopefully, we can make that choice with an awareness of our needs and our helpers’ intentions.

It’s been 26 months since my wife was murdered at work. When I think back on how I treated friends and neighbors then . . . Geeze, I was a jackass. Even someone putting their hand on my shoulder pressed my buttons. I said things I didn’t mean. I wanted to be strong for my kids. I thought people were trying to make me look weak.

It’s a surprise those people are still my friends. An article I read in GQ called it toxic masculinity. Was that it?

After this, I wouldn’t look down on anyone who needed help when someone in their family died. My wife’s friend told me I have to remember my kids are learning from me. Would I want them to refuse help they needed? Hell, no! I won’t be here forever.

—Nate

Ways Friends Can Help Us

We can rely on our helpers to think ahead with the understanding that we have the last word about decisions. When left to their own devices, well-intentioned helpers can become a barrier. Here are some lists of specific requests you or your advocate can use to direct that helpful energy in deliberate, meaningful, and controlled ways. Adapt the lists to meet your situation.

Etiquette for All Interactions

Extended family and close friends will likely reach out to you directly. But community members who don’t know you as well may contact your close friends. Here are some tips for you or your advocate to pass on to people who wish to help:

• Respect our wishes regarding visiting hours, unannounced drop-ins, phone calls, etc.

• Stay present, calm, and quiet.

• Don’t touch us immediately.

• Respect our wishes about media contact and watching media coverage (see chapter 3).

• Gently discourage us from alcohol or drug use.

• Don’t give us false hope or platitudes (like Everything happens for a reason or I know how you feel unless you’ve been through this).

• Let us ramble, pace, rock, scream, or safely drain off tension.

• Remain steadfast during our spasms of grief—those times when we burst with sorrow. This can be alarming to witness but will pass.

• Listen without judgment or advice.

• Be understanding when we repeat ourselves or don’t make a lot of sense.

• Overlook our anger, blaming,