Instead, she broke with convention. Drawing inspiration from the
Amish who were so quick to forgive her son, Roberts, 62, has
embraced the victims' families in return and now publicly tells her
story about the power of forgiveness.
On October 2, 2006, Charles Roberts, 32, took 10 Amish girls hostage
in their one-room schoolhouse in rural Pennsylvania, lined them up
and shot them in the head. He then killed himself. Five girls died.
Five survived.
Along with that, Terri Roberts herself became a victim, forced to
confront life knowing that her son had committed such an atrocity.
"I remember falling to the ground and writhing," she said, recalling
the day of the shooting.
When the Amish forgave her son, it allowed Roberts, who is not
Amish, to forgive him as well.
The response to mass murder in America has become almost routine. A
gunman goes on a rampage, killing defenseless civilians. Families of
the victims grieve. Investigators gather evidence. The media descend
on the scene until the narrative moves elsewhere.
The shooter's parents, who face blame in the public eye for having
produced a killer, typically issue a brief statement and then try to
find solace in anonymity.
In Newtown, Connecticut, where the anniversary of last year's
December 14 school massacre is approaching, the shooter's father
issued a written statement expressing grief. After last year's movie
theater shooting in Aurora, Colorado, an attorney for the gunman's
family read a statement. In September, the mother of the Washington
Navy Yard shooter recorded an audio message. Subsequently they have
all remained in the background.
After nine months in hiding, Roberts went public. She has traveled
to eight states so far, with plans to journey abroad as far as Japan
and Peru, to offer her message to churches and other groups who
invite her.
"Absolutely nothing about this has felt wrong," Roberts told Reuters
in an interview. "I feel compelled to share this message."
It all started with the Amish. Famously reclusive, they are
traditionalist Christians who shun modern technology — preferring
the horse and buggy over cars, for example — and live much as their
ancestors did when they migrated to rural Pennsylvania in the 18th
Century.
Many of them attended the funeral for Charles Roberts, one day after
they had buried their own girls, ages 7 to 13.
"I never even thought about going to the girls' funerals, and yet
the Amish came to Charlie's," Roberts said on Sunday, addressing
more than 200 people who came to hear her at the New Covenant
Community Church, in Delta, Pennsylvania, about 25 miles from the
site of the shooting in Bart Township.
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"The first two parents to meet our family were parents who had lost
two daughters," Roberts said. She then addressed a question to the
stunned and silent congregation. "Who here has anything inside that
they cannot forgive or will not forgive?"
A FATHER FORGIVES
Forgiveness came more slowly to one Amish man whose 12-year-old
daughter died in the shooting. He needed more time, even after he
decided to forgive, he could not yet feel it in his heart.
He still feels "anger and disturbing thoughts" sometimes, said the
father, who spoke to Reuters on the condition of anonymity out of
respect for other Amish families who are not comfortable with media
attention.
Upon hearing the reason behind Charles Roberts' violent act — he was
distraught over the death of his infant daughter nine years earlier — the Amish man found it easier to forgive.
"The journey of grief and forgiveness is much easier with faith in
God," he said.
Roberts has maintained a relationship with her son's Amish victims'
families in the seven years since the attack. She spends every
Thursday with the most badly wounded of the five survivors. The
wheelchair-bound girl needs a feeding tube.
One of Roberts' three remaining sons, Zachary, is making a
documentary called "Hope" about his mother's journey. He is trying
to raise funds online in order to complete his work.
A reporter asked Roberts if her message might help the people of
Newtown, Connecticut, as they approach the first anniversary on
December 14 of the attack at Sandy Hook Elementary School, where a
20-year-old gunman shot dead six adults and 20 children ages 6 and 7
before killing himself.
"Oh, if they want to hear it, they can hear it," Roberts told
Reuters, her voice breaking and eyes moistening. "I would just never
force myself on them. I know what they are going through. So many
unanswered questions."
(Reporting by Daniel Trotta; editing by Gunna Dickson)
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