Hugh Curran’s essay, “Wife’s car crash made me an advocate,” reminds me of the many lives devastated by accidental or intentional violence, and the unimaginable effects of trauma and PTSD.

We presume that “compensatory damages,” the costs of recovering, will always be fairly assessed by a jury, and I’m sure Mr. Curran thought the jury would “do the right thing.”

To an extent we can blame the “lawyering” that ranges from high integrity to ruthlessness, but juries themselves can easily misunderstand the enduring effect of violence. Having worked closely with victims of violence and violation, it astounds me how readily we’re inclined to “blame” them for their plight.

Fortunately, most of us have no experience with violence and violation, so it’s impossible to know how suddenly violence and devastation overwhelm its victims. But if we knew what those victims know – that the world is not as safe a place as we think, we might see their plight differently.

More important, we would see punishment and accountability differently. Punishment, as almost any violent offender will admit, is “easy.” But being personally held to account by victim(s) – whether financially or emotionally – is much harder.

If we knew this better, we’d do a better job of holding offenders to account, because accountability is not so much about intentions, but impact. After all, few drivers of any age or level of sobriety intend to injure others, yet the choices they make – to drink and drive, or to drive sober but reckless – have permanent and profoundly devastating effects. I don’t know why we’re so reluctant to hold those who devastate the lives of others to proper account – regardless of intention or experience. But I know this: accountability and responsibility are qualities too rarely found anywhere anymore – from home and school to the highest reaches of government.

Jon Wilson

Brooklin