Seeing people sit behind Terrell in support of him, knowing the evidence shows undeniably that he killed two people, is a hard trial within the trial. Seeing Terrell turn around and talk and laugh during a break, and then look as if he isn't even listening during the proceedings, is salt in the wound.  

I begin to wonder about Terrell's family and about what our society means by "support." If one of my children committed a crime I know how I would support him: I would be on my knees, asking God to give him the grace of repentance, of contrition, of courage. Courage to tell the truth, to admit his wrongdoing, to accept his punishment and to make amends for what he has done. I would not sit behind him in court if he were pleading not guilty to something he did. I would be in church instead, pleading for him before God. I would be ashamed for his sake. I would do what I could to make amends to the family of his victim. I would apologize to the victim's mother and father, brothers and sisters. I would not feel worthy to be in their presence. 

For my child's sake, for his salvation, I would want to suffer the punishment right along with him. In my mind, that is the only "support" that is life-giving for everyone involved. 

Joe Scheidler, a giant in the pro-life movement and graduate of Notre Dame (he is now 82 years old), did something remarkable for one of his seven children. One of Joe's sons stopped going to Mass on Sundays. He was a young adult, feeling independent and a little rebellious. Joe didn't say anything to him. Every Sunday Joe would go to Mass with his wife and any children still at home. Then he would attend another Sunday Mass, to "stand in the place of my son." Joe did that until his son returned to the church. That's support.

There are so many delays during a trial: the judge is working in chambers; there are numerous sidebars that take 10 - 20 minutes, there are breaks for the jury, etc. A lot of time to think and pray. I thought about the people sitting a few feet away. I didn't want to be hard on them. I tried to understand them. They thought they were doing the right thing, coming to the courthouse and talking to Terrell. I wondered: what were they doing in 1999, the day Terrell left for Steubenville? Were they with him? Did they try to help him during his terrible childhood? Did they hurt him? What was their guilt in this life-taking, heart-breaking crime? Those questions would be answered soon. 

During one of the breaks, early in the trial, a woman from the "other side" went up to Chris. Chris, so strong but so approachable. As Father Lutz said, "Chris is the faithful son, always at his mother's side."  

This woman is named Michelle. Michelle told Chris that she has tried over the years to convince Terrell to say he is guilty and when the trial date was set, she doubled her efforts. She visited Terrell when she could and was probably the only consistent visitor he had. She said that except for one small handful of visits over 10 years, Terrell's mother didn't visit, his uncle didn't visit, his aunts didn't visit, his brother didn't visit. Not until about a month before the trial started. Then they started talking to him. What did his "mother" say? "You fight this, boy." Coming from the woman who deserted him his whole life. And who did Terrell listen to? Not Michelle, who tried to get him to acknowledge his guilt. Not his attorneys, who tried to get him to plead guilty and avoid the trial. He listened to his "mother." More about her later.

Michelle told Chris that she has read everything on www.BrianMuhaFoundation.com and on www.aaronandbrian.com. She told Terrell about the prayers we offer for him and she told Terrell that we are the ones who really care about him. Wow. 

She also told Chris she was alone. No one else in the family was telling Terrell what she was telling Terrell. 

Michelle asked Chris to tell me that she is sorry, she is the same age as Terrell and she was living with Terrell's brother, Frank, at the time. She and Frank just had a baby in mid-May, 1999 and even though Terrell stayed with them, she couldn't control Terrell. She asked him not to leave for Steubenville that day, May 30th. He didn't listen. Michelle said she has felt guilty ever since. Poor girl. 
 

Michelle was in the courtroom every day. She had textbooks with her. I wondered what she was studying. I wanted to talk to her but thought I would wait until everything was over. Still, I turned to Chris during a sidebar and said, "Let's do something to help Michelle get through school." Chris agreed. That was one way we could help bring some good out of this evil.

A couple of days later Michelle and I came close. She stood still, looking at me but not approaching. I went to her and hugged her. "It's o.k.," I told her, "this is not your fault." "Thank you, M'am. Thank you," she said. "We will talk when this is all over, Michelle, o.k.? You can tell me what you are studying and tell me about your children." (She told Chris she has 4 children now.) "Yes, M'am." She said. It made me uncomfortable that she called me "M'am." "Please call me, Rachel." "Yes M'am."

After that day, Michelle smiled and talked to us a little. She showed us a picture of her oldest son, Frankie, the one who was born two weeks before Brian was killed. Terrell held a newborn in his arms and then 2 weeks later brutally killed two innocents. How can that be?

The mystery of evil. It can't be figured out. It can only be prayed against.

Love and prayers,

Rachel