Grieving daughter on a mission to fight crime
Jennifer Chatburn’s father was murdered 25 years ago. Today she’s reaching out to convicts, hoping to make them turn away from a life of crime
THE pretty brunette looks totally out of her depth as she stands in the prison, getting ready to address row upon row of hardened criminals. But as soon as Jennifer Chatburn starts speaking all the men listen with rapt attention. “I want to introduce you to someone very special to me,” she says. “My dad.”
A photograph of Graham Chatburn, a handsome man, appears on a screen behind her. “I’m a real daddy’s girl,” Jennifer (47) tells them. “I loved my dad to bits. He wasn’t perfect in any way. I was sometimes angry with him and sometimes I was a naughty child. But I loved my dad so much.”
It’s so quiet in the room that you could hear a pin drop – the prisoners are totally transfixed as they listen to her story.
The event we’re witnessing is part of Hope Prison Ministries’ restorative justice programme. Jennifer sometimes speaks to prisoners in the hopes of conveying the impact that violence has on victims and their families. And she has first-hand knowledge of this.
In 1992 Jennifer’s stepmother, Louisa, shot Graham with a crossbow while he was sleeping. She then dumped his body in Cape Town’s Liesbeek River.
Although her father’s violent death left Jennifer completely devastated, today, 25 years later, she is able to stand here completely healed, calmly addressing a room full of criminals – some of whom, like her dad’s murderer, know how it feels to have blood on their hands.
Her message is one of hope, healing and rebirth.
Even though it’s unpleasant recalling the bad memories, she does it because she knows it makes a difference.
“If I can save one person’s life and convince him to let go of drugs and gangs, throw his weapon away and inspire him to leave a life of crime, it will be enough,” she tells us.
ALTHOUGH Jennifer is a hairdresser who teaches styling and hair techniques to students, she has a degree in criminology from the University of Pretoria. As a master’s student she chose to focus on the trauma of identifying a body.
Jennifer says that she’d hoped it would provide answers about her dad’s death. She and her family would’ve liked to know who helped Louisa dump Graham’s body – there was no way she’d have been physically strong enough to do it alone. This was never revealed during the trial. “Those questions linger for years,” she says.
While she was studying she heard about restorative justice (see box below right). Because it’s a programme that facilitates dialogue between the victim and perpetrator, Jennifer felt it was something that could help her find closure.
Sadly, Louisa never shared the whole truth with the Chatburns. “At one stage it looked like we were about to have a breakthrough but she kept dodging the truth and refused to tell us who’d helped her with the murder. Unfortunately by that time she’d already heard she’d be getting parole and so it wasn’t necessary for her to work with us and finish the restorative justice process.
Louisa was paroled in 2007. She now lives in Cape Town and works for a plant hire company. After completing her parole she remarried, but her third husband, Hein Bruhin, died of cancer earlier this year.
‘He wasn’t perfect in any way . . . but I loved my dad so much’
IDECIDED Graham Chatburn’s death wasn’t going to be in vain. His death must create life for others. That’s where my journey with restorative justice started,” Jennifer says. As she talks to the prisoners the emotion in the room is almost palpable. Her story starts with her dad who’d found love again with a woman 16 years his junior.
Although Jennifer was happy that the sparkle was back in her father’s eyes after his divorce, she didn’t care much for Louisa.
The last time she spoke to him was the evening of 16 February 1992. It was a difficult conversation. With him not chipping in to take care of her younger brother who was in high school, Jennifer (then 21) was frustrated that she was having to shoulder the financial burden mostly on her own.
Graham tried explaining that Louisa was using the entire salary he earned as the branch manager of a big clothing store.
“I was hugely disrespectful toward him. I yelled at him and slammed the phone down in his ear because I was so angry,” Jennifer recalls.
For a long time afterwards she deeply regretted not phoning him back to apologise.
The next day Graham’s parents arrived at his home for lunch but he wasn’t there. Louisa told them he’d gone for a walk after his argument with Jennifer.
Three days later Graham’s badly decomposed body was fished from the Liesbeek River. An arrow was stuck in his head. Louisa was arrested a short time later.
Jennifer tells the riveted prisoners it was the start of a difficult journey for her. Her dad’s funeral didn’t bring her any comfort.
“They didn’t take his coffin into the church. I didn’t understand it. What was the reason for that, I wondered?”
She left the church during the service and saw the hearse outside.
“The coffin with the flowers was in the hearse. All I wanted to do was put my hand on the coffin and say, ‘Goodbye, Daddy.’”
She opened the hearse’s door. “The smell. It just hit me in the face. That was my last memory of my daddy.” The trial was just as hard. As the trial progressed Jennifer realised that Louisa had planned Graham’s murder in detail. It became clear the life insurance policy they took out for him after their wedding was the motivating factor.
Jennifer felt sick to the stomach knowing that Louisa had used her argument with her dad as an alibi.
Her story is heart-wrenching but she’s not doing it for sensation, Jennifer emphasises.
“It’s not about me,” she explains after her talk has ended.
“There are thousands of people whose loved ones are murdered every day, raped or tortured and for that short time I represent those people.”