I had to forgive my son’s killer. I didn’t have a choice

Restorative justice has been lauded by some as beneficial to both criminals and their victims – but the process is far from easy

Maya Angelou called it “the greatest gift you can give yourself”. For Gandhi it was the “attribute of the strong”. Alexander Pope famously wrote “to err is human; to forgive divine.” But are there some crimes which are too heinous to ever be forgiven?
Last week, it was revealed that the brother of Valdo Calocane, who killed three people and seriously injured three others in Nottingham last year, had written to the families of the victims to express his apologies. But the letter was reportedly not well received.
James Coates, whose father, Ian Coates, a 65-year-old caretaker, was on his way to work when he was murdered by Calocane, told BBC Radio 4’s Today programme that he received a letter from Calocane’s brother, Elias, “months ago”.
Calocane, a paranoid schizophrenic, also killed Barnaby Webber and Grace O’Malley-Kumar, two 19-year-old students returning from a night out. Calocane had been sectioned under the Mental Health Act four times before NHS services lost track of him and then discharged him.
“It wasn’t the right time and it has fallen on deaf ears,” said Coates. “Me and my brother Lee read it, but I know the other families had not read it at the time and were very upset that this letter had been passed on to them. Since then a few of them have read it, but I’m pretty sure there’s a couple of the family members who just don’t think they could ever bring themselves to read this letter. It was basically offering condolences and apologising for what happened and saying they can’t imagine what we’ve gone through.”
It raises the question of whether forgiveness should even be sought in some circumstances, and if restorative justice – a practice that seeks to open up a dialogue between victims and those who have harmed them – has its limits. “Context is everything when it comes to restorative justice and forgiveness,” says Marina Cantacuzino, who started the charity The Forgiveness Project in 2004. “With these letters from Calocane’s brother, we have no idea how they were delivered, or if the families were asked if they were open to receiving a letter. It’s also very recent – one year on from an attack like that and people are still utterly traumatised. Restorative justice can take decades. If forgiveness is sought too soon it can do more harm than good. It might re-trigger or re-traumatise the survivors. Forgiveness is difficult, costly and painful – and it’s not always appropriate.”
Cantacuzino has interviewed numerous survivors – and perpetrators of crimes – about the effects of forgiveness. In 2015, she published her book The Forgiveness Project: Stories for a Vengeful Age. She says the inspiring stories of forgiveness she has heard through her work has taught her not to hold grudges in everyday life. “There are certain personality types more likely to forgive, and skills you can develop to become more forgiving, such as remaining curious and letting go of resentment,” she says. “Sometimes I think it’s harder to forgive the smaller betrayals by loved ones than the bigger harms by strangers. There’s an expectation and a personal hurt to overcome.” Although forgiveness often takes time, Cantacuzino notes that, for some victims, the feeling of compassion and empathy is “almost instantaneous”.
She says: “They instinctively refuse to enter the world of pain and bitterness and hatred, because that’s the world that took their loved one away.” She mentions Esther Ghey, the mother of Brianna, who was just 16 when fatally stabbed by two other teenagers in February 2023. During the trial, the judge praised Esther Ghey for her “fortitude and humanity”, after she called for “empathy and compassion” for the families of her daughter’s killers. “I don’t carry any hate for either of them because hate is such a harmful emotion to the person that’s holding that,” said Ghey. “But with regards to forgiving them, I think … no, no, not really.”
Forgiveness is “not essential or even important” in restorative justice, says Cantacuzino. Nor is it always logical. Cantacuzino remembers the mother of a victim of the 7/7 bombings in London, who forgave the bombers, but not the police. She is careful to also include in her book people who haven’t forgiven or don’t believe in such a form of forgiveness.
In March 2024, Esther Ghey met with Emma Sutton, the mother of Scarlett Jenkinson, one of Brianna’s murderers. “It was a positive and respectful meeting, which allowed us to initially get to know each other,” said Ghey. “We discussed family and the challenges of parenting.” They also spoke about working together on Ghey’s Peace of Mind campaign, which teaches mindfulness in schools.
Prof Lawrence Sherman, one of the leading experts in restorative justice, says the meeting between Ghey and Sutton was “extraordinarily unusual”. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. In 30 years, I have never heard a victim or survivor of crime offering through the media to have a meeting – and for that offer to be accepted so quickly,” he said. “The fact they may even partner on these issues is even more remarkable.”
“It’s important that victims don’t feel under any obligation to forgive or think that if they don’t they are somehow lesser or won’t heal,” says Cantacuzino. “For some people, the pain is actually what keeps them strong, it keeps them alive. But for many survivors, forgiveness can bring them a sense of peace and allow them to move on.”
Figen Murray, 62, a counsellor in Manchester, says that forgiving the man who killed her son has preserved her sense of humanity. Martyn Hett, 29, was one of 22 people murdered in the Manchester Arena suicide bombing in 2017. She says it took her just “weeks” to forgive Salman Abedi, a 22-year-old radical Islamist who detonated a shrapnel-laden homemade bomb. “Three days after the attack, I walked past a pile of newspapers in the dining room and froze on the spot because I saw a picture of the perpetrator. I was startled by how young he was, and it challenged me to ask: ‘why would someone so young throw his life away and kill so many people, especially children?’,” she says. “I thought about it very deep and hard and realised that for me, personally, there was no other choice. I knew that to forgive the attacker meant not tapping into all the anger and darkness in my heart.”
Murray recently walked 200 miles from Manchester to Downing Street to campaign for Martyn’s Law, which would make it mandatory for public venues to adopt adequate security measures. She says speaking out about her forgiveness initially caused “bewilderment” among the other bereaved families and caused her to be the victim of online abuse.
“I often fear that people see me as naive and soft, but I am neither,” she says. “I just feel the cycle has to break by refusing to hate, by stepping back and looking at the bigger picture and asking questions about how these terrible things happen.” In 2022, Murray was awarded an OBE for her campaigning.
For many victims such as Murray, the effects of forgiveness can be long-lasting and beneficial. Cantacuzino mentions Anne-Marie Hagen, whose father was murdered by a schizophrenic neighbour, Ron Ryan, in front of her when she was 19. Hagen was campaigning to ensure Ryan was never released when they met face-to-face. She describes the moment she forgave her father’s killer as “16 years and 10 months of misery just wiped away”.
Restorative justice can be helpful for both the victims and the perpetrators. “It’s a lengthy process that requires care and attention but the outcomes can be really positive,” says Sara Dowling, the chief executive of Why me?, a charity that aims to increase access to restorative justice. “Victims report really high satisfaction rates, and the data suggests that perpetrators are less likely to reoffend, so economically it has a really good impact too.”
Why me? was set up by Will Riley, who was burgled and assaulted by Peter Woolf in 2002. Riley and Woolf met in Pentonville prison through restorative justice and the process changed both their lives. Woolf, a petty criminal and heroin addict who by his own admission had committed over 20,000 crimes, never offended again after meeting Riley. They remain good friends.
Restorative justice might even save lives. A study in Canberra, Australia, found that the death rate for suicide among young violent offenders who were prosecuted, rather than being randomly assigned to restorative justice, was 10 per cent after 15 years, compared with zero among those who did receive restorative justice by random assignment.
Dowling says that for restorative justice to be effective, it must be flexible to meet the bespoke needs of the people involved. “Sometimes it might be letter writing, or it might be an ‘empty chair scenario’ where the victim can imagine the perpetrator is in front of them, and they can tell them how they feel,” she says. “Eventually it might become a face-to-face meeting. It is always victim-led and victim-centred. Many survivors find it empowering as it gives them a voice. Sometimes just hearing an apology is what they need to recover.”
But for James Coates and the other families affected by Calocane’s violent atrocity, it’s clearly too soon to even begin the process. “Grace and Barnaby’s parents will never see their child grow up, because the NHS and the police didn’t do enough,” he says. “Valdo knew what he was doing and his family have still got him, they can still speak to him on the phone. I will never be able to see my father again.”