In the weeks leading up to the fulfillment of the death penalty sentence of Taberon Honie, I was disturbed and saddened. Not for the reasons many would think. I express no opinion on the death penalty or its merits, but I believe the focus of news coverage is misplaced.
Lost in the discussion of Mr. Honie’s change in demeanor over the last 26 years, his last meal, who he was seeing for the last time, what music he was listening to, etc., was who his victim was.
The victim and her family.
Most articles gave just a few lines to what Mr. Honie did and who he did it to. Some mentioned his victim’s full name, others even less. Even rarer were multiple paragraphs of who Claudia Benn was, rather than how she died.
Unfortunately, this is common across all media surrounding not just the death penalty, but homicides in general. Society has become obsessed with true crime. True crime is the most popular podcast form. It’s all over our TVs and social media. We can’t escape it.
“Murdertainment” is a multi-billion dollar industry that causes traumatization and seeks to profit off pain rather than raise awareness or give a helpful spotlight on the victims that the stories should focus on.
After a homicide, a lot of news articles are published, which is to be expected. Utah has, on average, close to 80 homicides per year — so it is a big deal when it happens. But most focus on the gruesome details of the crime: Who was the alleged killer? What did anyone suspect or know about this terrible person? Very few articles give what I believe to be proper attention to the victims.
Since 2018, I have worked with hundreds of surviving family members of homicide victims, some of whom had discussions with the elected county attorneys about whether the death penalty was appropriate punishment.
Recently, a family contacted Utah Homicide Survivors to retain them for legal services, including representing and enforcing crime victims’ rights during the criminal case. The charges were aggravated murder and, due to the circumstances surrounding the case, it would be a death penalty eligible case. I arranged for the family of the victim to meet with the elected county attorney where I witnessed the county attorney, his staff and this family have a very appropriate trauma-informed discussion. Before starting the discussion, he had the family start by showing photos of their loved one and telling their stories. He then had them share thoughts on what justice would mean to them — all while acknowledging that true justice was impossible.
The family had varying views on what justice meant and whether they wanted the death penalty to be considered, some changing back and forth while discussing. After hearing them, he thanked them for sharing and told them he would take all their feelings into account when making a decision.
This family told me after our meeting that they were so grateful that he wanted to know about their loved one, hear their stories and memories and truly know the person they had just lost.
The sentiment among these incredibly strong people and their peers is clear: No one knows what they have gone through but other survivors. Nevertheless, they try to help others understand. They will never receive true justice. Their loved one was taken from them in a violent manner. Their pain is never truly gone. They never really move on — they just learn to live through the pain.
The stories of their loved ones in the news are a flash in the pan. They often see a non-stop barrage of articles the first two weeks after their loved one is killed, then nothing until the criminal case is over and then nothing ever again. Instead of sharing the details of who a victim was, too many articles focus on recounting every gruesome detail of their death.
So I have a call for journalists: Rather than spending all your time focusing on how it happened and who did it, do a little extra work. Learn about and report on the victim and their family. Who were they? What are they going through? How can you report on facts while respecting those harmed?
Balance the public’s need for information against potential harm it could cause the victim’s family and avoid pandering to lurid curiosity, even if others do.
Brandon Merrill is the founder, executive director and an attorney for Utah Homicide Survivors.
Brandon Merrill is the founder, executive director and an attorney for Utah Homicide Survivors, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization that provides legal, therapy and social services to families of homicide victims free of charge.
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