When her only daughter was killed in the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing, Marsha Kight plunged into despair so deep that it threatened her very life. Kight, a former nurse, says she couldn’t bear the thought that something had intentionally murdered her daughter, 23-year-old Frankie Merrell.
“I’ve been through a lot in life,” says Kight, “but this was different. Losing a child is a grief you never get over. It felt like part of me went with her. I can’t imagine anything hurting any worse.
“During the first six months after Frankie’s death, I was in a downward spiral, often drinking to excess,” Kight says. “The pain would become so unbearable that I would have to have relief. Then one morning, I woke up on the floor in a pool of blood. I had fallen and cracked my head open.”
That morning, Kight decided that she had to make a change.
“I knew I’d have to turn my life around,” Kight says. “Frankie wouldn’t have wanted this to happen. I needed to get out of myself.
“There were so many other people struggling after the bombing. I went to a memorial meeting in September 1995 and overheard some people talking about their unmet financial needs. I thought, Somebody needs to do something to help. I have the time, why not me?”
One month later, Kight started Families and Survivors United, a national victim’s advocacy and support group.
“I’ve been a single parent before,” Kight says, “so I knew what these families were struggling with. At our first meeting, I called in numerous organizations that were willing to help those families in need.
“So far, over 200 victims and survivors have participated in the organization,” Kight says. The group’s web-site (http://FamiliesandSurvivors.com) offers links to numerous support groups, as well as hundreds of testimonies from those who have been touched by the tragedy.
“Our mission is helping each other help ourselves,” she says. “It’s all about empowerment.”
That feeling of empowerment is important to those facing great loss, Kight says. She knows this from experience.
“I had just started back to school to study photojournalism that spring of 1995,” she says. “I was feeling good about my family and raising two great kids.”
But on April 19, 1995, in the blink of an eye, Kight’s treasured life changed forever.
“I had just stepped out of the shower that morning when I heard an explosion. It was so loud, I thought it was a gas line. I threw on a robe and ran outside. I met a woman out walking who said the blast had come from downtown. When I looked in that direction, I saw black smoke.”
Kight ran back inside and turned on the news. She was horrified to see pictures of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building, where her daughter worked, reduced to rubble, smoke and ashes.
“My immediate thought was that my daughter was dead, that she couldn’t have survived,” she says. “My husband, Tom, was at his office when the bombing occurred. He rushed home. He knew when he saw the look on my face that it was Frankie’s building.”
Merrell, the mother of a 2-year-old daughter, had been working for the Federal Employees Credit Union.
“I just had spoken with my daughter the night before,” says Kight. “The last thing she said to me was, `I love you, mom.’ We had planned to meet for lunch that next morning.”
But their scheduled lunch never happened. Instead, Kight and her husband spent April 19 waiting frantically behind the barriers of a bombed-out building, trying desperately to get information about their missing daughter.
Merrell’s husband, Chuck Merrell, and her younger brother, Cody Farmer, raced to join the rest of the family as they waited for word.
“The waiting dragged on for the next four days,” Kight says. “It was a nightmare. I felt so powerless. Watching hours of footage, scanning for a glimpse of her and seeing the building collapsed where she had been brought unbearable grief. It felt like someone was ripping my heart out. If I could have reached in and ripped it out myself, I would have, because it hurt that badly. With such grief you wear yourself out crying and then give in to exhaustion, only to feel it all coming back again. When people have that kind of grief, it’s not a normal cry. It’s a wailing.”
On Sunday, April 23, Kight and her family were called to an Oklahoma City church. They were told Frankie had been found. She had died instantly.
“I was overwhelmed by sorrow,” Kight says. “Grief is a very individual thing. The word `closure’ is such a quick fix-it approach. Loss takes a long time to get over. It takes time to heal from the inside. We have problems with drugs and alcohol in this country because there is a cultural pressure to go on and get over it. Those expectations can cause isolation and depression.”
Kight hopes that support groups like Family and Survivors United will be able to help others who face loss due to violent crime. The group’s support was especially important when the Oklahoma City bombing trials began.
“When several families couldn’t afford to attend the proceedings, we planned a fundraiser to help victims make the trip to Denver,” she says.
Kight was among the many victims who vowed to attend each day of the trial.
“Between hearings and both trials, I spent over five months sitting in a courtroom in Denver. It cost our family around $16,000.”
But the cost of attending was not the most surprising factor involved. Kight was shocked and saddened by what she saw in the American criminal-justice system.
“Before the bombing, I just assumed that victims were part of the judicial process, that you were notified and informed of things. But that wasn’t the case. It felt like my daughter was just a piece of evidence to the prosecuting attorney,” Kight says.
“As is stands right now, the defendant has all the rights. Those rights are enshrined in the constitution; yet the victim is not guaranteed any rights, not even the right to be heard.”
This became clear to Kight, she says, when U.S. District Judge Richard Matsch said the victims could either remain in the courtroom to view the trials or make an impact statement at sentencing, and he gave them 90 minutes to decide.
Kight once again felt victimized, this time by the system she had thought would protect her.
“People were horrified by the judge’s decision,” Kight says. “There was crying. How can you make such an important decision in such a short time? Many of those traveling to Denver had just arrived. For me, having lost a child and not being able to say anything about it was devastating. I made the decision to stay and view the trial, then fight the ruling.
“We filed an emergency petition with the 10th Circuit Court, but they wouldn’t even hear it. Then we asked all 10 circuit judges to review our case, but were denied voice. Finally, we went to Congress.
“When NOVA (the National Organization for Victim Assistance, http://www.try-nova.org/index.html) asked if I wanted to testify at the Senate Judiciary hearing, I told them, `You bet!’ “
Kight was pleased when Congress passed the Victim Rights Clarification Act of 1997, allowing those who wanted to testify to remain in court. But for Kight and thousands of other crime victims, that law is not enough.
Kight has become an ardent advocate for victims’ rights, campaigning for a constitutional amendment that would guarantee victims of violent crime a voice in the courtroom.
Sen. Jon Kyl (R-Ariz.) and Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) reintroduced the amendment last April. If passed, it would guarantee violent crime victims the right to get an order of restitution, to be informed of, present and heard at critical stages of the criminal process, to have a victim’s safety considered in determining a release from custody and to receive justice without unreasonable delays. The proposed amendment was not passed and would need to be reintroduced in the new Congress. In the November elections, three additional states passed the proposed amendment, bringing total to 32. (More information on the amendment is available at http://www.nvcan.org.)
“I don’t take the idea of amending the Constitution lightly,” Kight says. “I know that it has only been amended 27 times in 200 years. But never before have so many been hurt by crime. This amendment is necessary to balance the scales of justice. Victims’ rights must be enforceable and meaningful. Victims must have a voice in the court of law.
“The victim’s right to be heard must be made as sacred as the defendant’s right to counsel, and must be protected as zealously as the accused’s right to remain silent,” Kight has said numerous times. “We aren’t looking to take away the rights of the accused, but to balance those with the rights of the victim.”
Kight has found another way to give voice to the victims of the Oklahoma City tragedy.
“Soon after the bombing, we (Kight and several volunteers) began gathering the personal stories of victims and survivors. We gathered over 80 personal accounts of the tragedy,” she says.
The resulting book, “Forever Changed” (Prometheus, $26.95), is a heart-wrenching account of those who lost their lives as well as those they left behind.
“I wanted people to be able to tell their stories, so that others can understand what was lost. This book is a historical record. It’s part of American history. More than anything, I didn’t want these people’s experiences to be lost.
“This is everyone’s book. Each contributor has a royalty interest, and it was a great joy to see the pride and satisfaction each person got out of it. It was an empowering experience for everyone. The book is a memorial to the 168 souls who were lost in the bombing.”
As for the future, Kight plans to continue her campaign for victims’ rights, speaking out on behalf of those who have been impacted by violent crime.
“Sometimes I think it would be a lot easier if I had another job,” she says. “I tried a part-time job a while ago but couldn’t stay focused. It just didn’t seem important. I can’t do anything else until the amendment passes. How can I not help other victims?”
