Chapters Eight, Nine: Not one more
“Forced back to South Central, blocks from where his brother was murdered, Antonio struggled. A court later found that ‘[l]iving just blocks from where he was shot and his brother was killed, Nunez suffered trauma symptoms, including flashbacks, an urgent need to avoid the area, a heightened awareness of potential threats, and an intensified need to protect himself from real or perceived threats.’” Bryan Stevenson, Just Mercy, p. 155
As a social worker who treats children with trauma backgrounds, I find Antonio’s situation heartbreaking. Antonio’s traumas and losses—like many of the children I see in therapy—started early in his life. He grew up in a neighborhood and home that was filled with violence; his mother had significant mental health problems; he had no one to attend his school events. Then, as if he had not already suffered enough in his 13 years, Antonio was shot by a stranger. His brother, Jose, heard him yelling for help and rushed to his side. Tragically, Jose was shot and ultimately killed in his attempt to protect his younger brother.
I cannot imagine the depth of Antonio’s sadness, and, perhaps even worse, the survivor’s guilt about his brother losing his life to save Antonio’s life. Who did Antonio talk to about these intense emotions? Who helped him through his grief?
On top of the inevitable grief and confusion and anger, having to return home to the same neighborhood must have been horrific for Antonio. The trauma and loss reminders would have been everywhere—maybe the favorite corner store where Jose would buy snacks after school, maybe the park where Jose and Antonio played when they were younger, maybe running into Jose’s best friend. Not to mention having to pass by the site of Jose’s murder.
I try to imagine my 13 year old self losing one of my brothers in this way, and it gives me goose bumps. And then, I try to imagine having a loss like this without bigger, stronger, wiser, and kind adults to support me. The thought of this makes me want to cry. I am certain that I, like Antonio, would have been on high alert at all times and desperate to find some way to protect myself. I also know that I would have been eager to find some sense of community.
All of these human desires ultimately led Antonio to accompany two men twice his age in committing some crimes. In the end, Antonio became the youngest U.S. citizen sentenced to life in prison without parole for a crime in which no one was injured.
As I reflect on the course of Antonio’s life, the question that keeps coming back to me is who was there to help Antonio shoulder the immense pain that life brought him? Our court system eventually acknowledged that he was suffering from trauma reactions that “intensified his need to protect himself from real or perceived threats,” but that was only after he was sentenced to die in prison. What good does that acknowledgment do for a child behind bars?
My hope is that Antonio’s story motivates each one of us to do more, earlier on, to help children and families who have been traumatized. We have good trauma informed interventions, but we need to make sure that all families can access these treatments. I cannot tolerate the thought of even one more child falling through the cracks in our system.
Cait Hanley is a lover of Ann Arbor and a long time parishioner of St. Mary’s. She is a social worker who does child therapy with a wide range of ages, but she has a special place in her heart for working with young children. For fun, Cait enjoys spending time with her family, friends, and her two dogs, Jonathan and Susie.
