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January 22, 2023

Unfortunately, I know firsthand what secondary victims of homicide deal with since my 23-year-old brother, Seth Alan Barkas, died from the injuries caused by a stabbing during a mugging several days before by a teenage gang. I was 20 years old at the time and majoring in fine arts at Hofstra University.  I know it sounds naïve, but back then, before the Internet and social media, I thought violent crimes like that only happened to other families, not to my upper middle-class family with a dentist father and a kindergarten teacher mother. Seth was an aspiring playwright, film critic for Baltimore magazine, and a freelance theater critic for a major national theatre newspaper. It was on his way home from reviewing an off-off-Broadway play that the stabbing occurred in Manhattan’s East Village.

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There is such widespread coverage of crime today that it is hard to remember a time when there was maybe just a brief mention in a newspaper, if that. Crime victimization was not played out in the public eye the way it is today. Today, few are unaware of the tragic stabbings of four college students in Moscow, Idaho on November 13, 2022, the weeks of fear and conjecture that followed, and the arrest of the alleged suspect, who is in jail awaiting his next court appearance in six months.

The media has tried to keep the names, ages, and even some of the details about each of the four victims in the public eye so as not to focus only on the alleged assailant. This is a positive development compared to the situation decades ago. Consider the horrific murders committed by Richard Speck, who killed eight student nurses in Chicago in July 1966. Or the BTK Killer, who was finally arrested and put in prison in 2005, who had killed ten victims over the course of thirty years.

Most of us would be hard pressed to recall the names of even one of the 18 victims of both Speck and the BTK Killer, a/k/a Dennis Rader.

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By contrast, many know the names of all four victims of the November 2022 tragedy in Idaho: Ethan Chapin, 20; Madison Mogen, 21; Xana Kernodle, 20; and Kaylee Goncalves, 21. But that is small comfort to the parents, siblings, friends, and classmates of these innocent victims who are dealing with the violent deaths of their loved ones.

The media has been trying hard to make the victims of the Idaho massacre more than just names and ages as they have been sharing details about their interests, goals, and hobbies.

However, the process of grieving is still the same. In my book Victims, originally published back in 1978 by Scribner, and, decades later, in my textbook, Essentials of Victimology, I share the reactions to the sudden news that someone has a terminal illness, the five stages of grief theorized by hospice doctor Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, applying it to finding out a loved one is a homicide victim, namely, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. David Kessler, who worked with Dr. Ross, wrote a book published in 2019 in which he adds a 6th stage, namely, Finding Meaning

For me, finding meaning has been critical as a way that my brother’s murder would be more than a statistic for homicides in 1969. Finding meaning for me began when I put my art and therapy career goals aside and obtained an MA in criminal justice (Goddard College Graduate Program), followed by publishing Victims, an expansion of my master’s thesis, “Victims of Crime and Social Change.”

I have been teaching criminal justice and criminology courses since my mid-twenties, even before I received my graduate degrees. Over the years, in addition to obtaining my Ph.D. in Sociology, with specialization in the areas of Deviance/Crime, Family, and Medical Sociology, I have taught  criminology, sociology, and victimology courses at several colleges and universities, Since august 2014, at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, where I am an Adjunct Associate Professor.

It is hard to believe that my older brother Seth Barkas has been gone more than 50 years. My sister Eileen and I fortunately can still reminisce about the positive family memories we share. Seth was married at the time of his murder; his adopted son was five and he and his wife were about to welcome a second son two months after Seth died. Those sons have grown up and have families of their own; my brother, if he had lived, would even have become a great grandparent in the last year.