Wilma Derksen's 13-year-old daughter, Candace, disappeared while walking home from school in Winnipeg on Nov. 30, 1984.
Her body was found seven weeks later, frozen on the floor of an Elmwood storage shed. Her wrists and ankles were bound with twine.
Mark Edward Grant is currently being retried for the murder of Candace.
After a jury found him guilty in 2011, Grant filed an appeal and two years later was granted a retrial. His defence lawyer put forward several grounds for appeal, arguing evidence that may have helped acquit Grant was withheld, regarding the abduction of another girl.
This is an excerpt from the sixth book written by Wilma Derksen.
Here in his Sermon on the Mount, the Teacher is saying that not only is murder wrong, but the emotions of wanting to kill that lead up to murder are as serious as the act itself.
He is not only saying don't act it out, but he is drawing attention to the dangers of even fantasizing about murder.
After I admitted that I wanted to shoot ten people who had murdered children, I went back to our support-group members and asked them if they had felt the same things. Did they harbor revenge fantasies?
I was surprised by what I heard. The revenge fantasies were powerful — and it felt as if they could become real at any moment.
Candace Derksen, seen in an undated file photo, was found slain in a shed in Winnipeg in early 1985. ((Family photo))
The Nazarene teaches us that anger fantasies and murder are indistinguishable.
If each person took responsibility for dealing with his or her anger and hatred internally, it could eventually eliminate the need for the police and the courts by stopping violence at its source.
It is always hard to recognize when I've become angry. But when I do, I know it is a futile, puffed-up energy. I saw that as I talked to my friend.
At the bottom of my heart, my murderous thoughts could, if left unattended, rise to the surface — and if I exploded, I would be the murderer. I would become everything I hated.
I was all alone. I remember stopping at the café at the bottom of the hill to quiet myself. It was a terrifying moment. As I drove up, I had a chance to concentrate on the imposing edifice of the castle-like penitentiary, its Tyndall stone historic and intimidating.
'I had to let go of my rage and redirect my energy into battling for good.'- Wilma Derksen
It was thirteen years after Candace had been found murdered that I responded to an invitation to visit a prison institution. After passing through security, I was ushered into the Lifer's lounge that was painted mellow beige. There were about five huge fish tanks around the room.
For the first hour, the inmates described their organization, Lifeline, especially the peer support-group aspect of it.
First of all, they said that a life sentence meant life. That even though they could apply for parole, not all of them did. They would never get out on the street without being monitored and on parole.
When I started to feel more comfortable, they asked me about the needs of victims. What did I want? I said I just wanted to feel safe to live my own life.
Then it was time for me to ask the questions I needed answered. The agreement was that they would answer anything.
The first question I asked was what crime landed each of them in prison. We went around the circle. I noticed that every race was represented.
Wilma Derksen's new book The Way of Letting Go launches Feb. 21, 2017.
There was a young man who had killed his common-law wife. He said that he came from a family and lifestyle of violence. He was a slight man who thought he needed a gun to defend himself; he had never expected to use it.
A young, handsome man killed his wife because she was making out with his friend — jealousy.
One man said that he was simply too proud to commit suicide, so he hurt and killed others instead. He was in prison because of drug-related killings. He was the first to tell me that he couldn't look at himself in the mirror for six months after the murders because the remorse had been so real.
Another man said that he came from a strong patriarchal family where everyone just assumed that you could be strong, keep the family happy, and never show anger. But he blew up and killed his wife.
I asked them how much time they were sentenced to and how much time they had done. Then I asked them how they felt now that they had been charged and sentenced for murder. They said they were humiliated and ashamed.
I asked them what their explanation for murdering was, and they gave that answer solemnly and without rationalization. Anger led each one of them to kill. They were all very careful to say that it wasn't an excuse for what they had done. None of them looked like killers.
I wish I could remember more. I wish I could remember every word that was spoken. All I know is that at the end of the afternoon, I didn't want to kill them. I understood them and valued very much what they had given me.
There were exactly ten men in that room.
I had to let go of my rage and redirect my energy into battling for good.
Taken from The Way of Letting Go by Wilma Derksen Copyright © 2017 by Zondervan. Used by permission of Zondervan. www.zondervan.com.
From murderous thoughts to battling for good: Excerpt from Wilma Derksen's book
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