Tasha shared how trust and agency coordination provided an exit path out of trafficking: “As a survivor of human trafficking, you don’t trust anybody, period, except your trafficker . . . What actually worked? The FBI worked, informants worked, therapists worked, housing worked, college worked.”

Parker, witness to a shooting, wanted to see other options for responding to violence instead of law enforcement: “The way cops respond to incidents . . . could be better, just from like when an incident occurs, that’s where my mind went to, all those initial things that could be helpful and often aren’t."

Olivia said after reporting sexual assault, "I had a great experience with the police but not a great experience with the court system. I am still very, very angry about the judge who was given my case," explaining how she felt the judge's opinion unfairly influenced the district attorney's office, ending in a plea deal.

Lucy, a survivor of domestic violence, said people in her community are not comfortable calling police or reaching out to therapists after violence, leaving them with few options: "The police department, that's a no brainer . . . not really a place that families who don't want to be torn apart can go."

Helen did not expect to experience so much frustration with the criminal legal system in the wake of her son's homicide, sharing a sense of broken trust: "It’s not just (not) having my son here but not being able to trust the people put in place that you should be able to depend on to do things."

Helen was initially denied crime victims reparations to pay for her son's funeral: “After looking at all their rules and criteria, there was no reason it should have been denied.” Helen attended a board meeting in order to appeal the denial and said, “It was painful and traumatic to have to go stand in front of people who were human—like I am—and feeling judged" and "it's not necessarily about the money, it's about doing what's right."

Christina experienced a lack of support for her daughter after homicide loss, describing how harmful racialized narratives about Black people and pain shape medical and mental health care offered by providers: "Tell me if you’ve heard this one before. Children are resilient. It is a damaging awful perspective to have as if somehow, they are better equipped to deal with things, frankly, no child should have to deal with at all."

Rosemary was incarcerated after harming her abuser in defense and later released after many years in prison. Describing being "bewildered" after the incident, Rosemary found little support in prison to help in the aftermath of trauma: "That’s what the mind does to protect itself from something it can’t absorb. Those things stay with you, and they don’t go away. I went through (over two decades) in prison . . . there’s no help there."

Parker found it hard to find help after witnessing violence, sharing “I just witnessed a really intense event and am not super connected to anyone ongoing,” and "I have found myself reaching out to anyone I knew who has been in a similar situation attempting to have care and having that not work out.” Unrestricted support groups run by the community partner on this project were one place where Parker found community.

Lucy, who survived childhood sexual assault without adequate help, highlighted that many who commit harm also lack support. Lucy said the person who harmed her as a child "didn't get the services that he needed either," also pointing out "So many people are on waiting lists for mental health help that they need. That kind of led to my DV as well, I married someone with a mental health issue that didn’t get the services they need."

Christina observed the time, financial, emotional and mental health impacts of violence and felt the burden should not be on survivors to pay for these costs, using an example of money spent on therapy and travel to attend court proceedings: "when things happen to people, it’s not their damn fault, and they should not have to pay the cost—medical, mental, emotional" and reflecting, "the cost of being a victim is so high."

Christina had strong feelings about public portrayals of those impacted by violence: "I think it is a crime on top of a crime, the way we regard and talk about people who have been victimized," sharing, "You tell yourself these things, and it makes you comfortable that it can't happen to you. You're projecting things onto the person without knowing the whole story."

Tasha was in a good place in life before the high-profile trafficking trial of famous musician Sean Combs. Shocked by public reactions to Cassie, a survivor and witness, having “not seen the negative side of what people felt about trafficking,” Tasha said the trial “sent me into depression...I saw what they said about her, and I was like, ‘That’s what they think about me.’"

Helen questioned the priorities of local media, who regularly report on the high volume of murders: “We hear more about the actual act of the crime more than we do hear about what we can do to support those this has happened to," asking "What more can we do to help those who are still left behind to take care of a grandchild, to take care of children?"

Parker discussed media bias regarding those who commit harm, and if someone comes from privilege "when they do horrible things . . . it’s like ‘oh they’re just in their youth’ or something," yet "other people are characterized as irredeemable monsters." Parker called for a "shift in the media and our culture," suggesting seeing "everyone as humans" will reduce harm.

Christina compared media coverage of domestic violence to negative and blame-filled portrayals of survivors of Hurricane Katrina (near its 20th anniversary): "In rewatching the footage, anger rolls up." Christina strongly criticized those who "frame survivors of DV as people who should have known better, protected their person, been better parents."

Samara described herself as a human rights advocate, speaking at the local, state, and national level, explaining “I’m there to cover up the hurt that I feel inside, but yet I’m there to speak out for the voiceless, that’s my goal, to speak out for the voiceless every time I get a moment to speak and say something about being a victim."

Christina, who experienced homicide loss, “went on a mission to set the story straight” about her friend, after harmful true crime and media coverage, discovering how hard it is to control public narratives: "I had to realize none of that would bring her back. The people who know and love her remember her for who she is, and I had to choose."

Olivia stopped talking to media after feeling misrepresented, yet felt internal conflict, explaining, "If I said something about my brother, I would lose control of it and never be able to take it back . . . It’s hard though, because I also feel like my brother’s going to fade away. If you google him, he’s not even the first search response anymore."

Lucy felt strongly that "you have to make your voice heard," at places like city council meetings, while criticizing the media's shift of focus from her professional requests as an advocate to her personal history: "You go and you put your head out and the news takes clips of it and they pull out your personal business and share that instead."

Helen said "you have to advocate and be the voice of your son or daughter," after hearing the state Crime Victims Reparations board, who review claim applications, "talk about people's children or loved ones as if they were no one . . . just another case or another ID number, not someone's son or daughter," sharing "I had to put them in remembrance of."

Noah was grateful for the role the media played in bringing attention to his loved one's homicide when the case remained unsolved. While he described one "super inappropriate" invasive experience with a reporter, he also felt grateful to have a "warm embrace" with a family member captured on film by another reporter later on.

Helen created a space for others to grieve, sharing she found some healing for herself through helping others: “I have a nonprofit . . . just trying to find a common space for people who are grieving, whether it’s through violence or just grief alone, to find a place where they can heal with hope as they are going through their process of grief.”

Lucy said, “a lot of (domestic violence) survivors don’t feel like they have a space to talk about it” and “some people feel like certain spaces don’t fit for them,” including professional-feeling spaces (like the research study), explaining people “don’t have to feel put together all the time or have the correct terminology to vocalize how they feel."

Rosemary shared, "There is safety in numbers too…when you’re being abused and there’s no one but you . . . that’s a very, very, isolating place," finding it helpful to interact with others "who have been there and who are dealing with the results of their life afterward," concluding "That's what these zoom calls (are) . . . it's safe."

Christina called trauma responses "a cry, an expression of inner pain," stressing the importance of advocacy groups which "help people find a way to say the thing that will get through to the people who hold the purse strings, to get the resources for the help. They have voices. They are just not being heard with empathetic ears. Thank you for your work."

Noah described how listening to a podcaster interview people "who had gone through crazy horrible things" made him feel less alone. Noah tried attending support groups but felt he couldn't relate to others: “I chased that feeling of trying to find stories where they had more extreme cases happen to them, because I wasn’t finding that.”

Tasha, who described feeling vulnerable and dissected when speaking publicly, said of our study, “I like how you gave us options in sharing. You gave us boundaries, but there are options as to how we can share. Even in this little space, it turns my stomach a little, but I think you’re being gentle with us and I’m grateful.”

Christina explained: "(I) joined a lot of Facebook groups about grief...and one of the things they talk about, in addition to ‘give yourself permission to grieve,’ be prepared for your relationships with others to change in ways that may add to the pain. Even with that heads up, it did not prepare me adequately for that additional pain."

When the group was asked what they'd want others to know about their experiences, Parker said, "I don’t actually want other people to know about my experiences. I don’t really want to talk about it or want others to know about it. Someone has to be really close to me...to want to share that stuff...it seems easier to not have it be the center of attention."

Christina shared how complicated life can become for survivors, juggling practical obligations, trauma, and grief: “You’ve got to go back to work, figure out how to go to counseling, therapy appointments, physical therapy, go to police stations fill out a report and speak to detectives – all of that, and still figure out how to go to work, cause you’ve got to eat."

Samara felt forced to return to work with visible abuse injuries, unable to take time off work. Suggesting a policy or city ordinance to allow survivors of violence to take bereavement time for the loss of a loved one, or time off to heal, Samara said, “just that you still have your job with the same rate of pay, and that the job supplies the supports needed for the person.”

Olivia explained how mental health care impacted her work schedule, "I couldn’t have a therapy session and talk to her for like an hour and then go back to my computer and go through all my spreadsheets . . . My brain wasn’t able to do it. I was self-employed at the time, and PTO (time off paid by an employer) wasn’t a thing, so it was just me not billing as many hours."

Lucy felt "numb to street violence," recounting witnessing a shooting, rendering aid, and never being interviewed by police: "You get abused on the street, and it’s like . . . go ahead and just go work tomorrow. That’s why I am in (another city). I don’t feel safe on the streets in (the study area). I try to do my work from here if I can. So many avenues of violence I have been a victim of."

Rosemary, having survived domestic violence and incarceration, said, "I self-isolate . . . it’s safe," and while feeling safe at home "being the queen of that castle and feeling safe that everything is ok here," Rosemary also observed of trauma, "This is a lifelong thing . . . I can’t see this as ever healing. It’s getting better. I will never walk through the world with rose colored glasses."