HANKSA — After six months of grief, after an hour’s worth of words, after a minute of silence, the family and friends of Tabitha Trescott and Justin Reinarts stood together with strangers for a while longer following a vigil in Hanska Saturday afternoon.
One of the strangers, who identified herself only as Dawn, came to share the pain of two mothers after seeing her own daughter killed from domestic violence 15 years ago. She spoke to the small crowd in front of the home on Blessum Street where Trescott and Reinarts died on Nov. 2, recalling being knocked to the floor by the news that her daughter was gone and reliving the moment every time she hears of another domestic violence death.
“And I’m sure these two mothers fell into a thousand pieces like I did,” she said.
But she also spoke of the joy of seeing people come together to remember, console and raise awareness.
“It is so beautiful,” she said. “And I’m so happy to be here.”
The vigil was organized by CADA, the Mankato-based nonprofit organization that provides domestic violence services to south-central Minnesota.
Following a homicide, particularly one of domestic violence, it’s important to feel the solace and the strength that grows from people coming together.
“It has an impact on the entire community,” Kristen Walters, development and communications director for CADA said prior to the vigil. “Everybody feels the harm that comes with that violence.”
For many people, there is shock, as well. They didn’t know what their friend or co-worker or neighbor was experiencing. They may have forgotten that domestic violence can exist in any community, regardless of outward appearances or socioeconomic status.
So the vigil was meant to help people grieve, remember, share and learn.
“And then begin to heal together as well,” Walters said.
The gathering occurred outside of the home in the small Brown County town where Reinarts, 50, and Trescott, 32, lived and died. Trescott’s former boyfriend has been indicted on nine felony charges including first-degree murder for allegedly shooting both at close range with a shotgun.
Feeling, again, the pain of what happened in Hanska can prompt a strong desire to act, and Saturday’s vigil aimed to steer attendees to resources and education directed at preventing domestic violence and assisting people who might be in danger of becoming either a victim or a perpetrator.
CADA Executive Director Brittany Wojtowicz spoke about the services her organization offers, the red flags that might identify someone as a potential domestic abuser, the signals that outsiders might see that domestic abuse is occurring and strategies for intervening. Resources can be found at www.cadamn.org/learn-more.
Much of the vigil, though, was focused on recognizing that the deaths of Trescott and Reinarts have rippled outward to the entire community.
“We are collectively mourning …,” Wojtowicz said.
Trescott’s children provided evidence of that — her older son Terrence sharing memories voiced by his aunt, her younger son reciting poetry.
“This is a poem for my mom,” said Charles Trescott.
“If Roses Grow in Heaven Lord, please pick a bunch for me. Place them in my Mother’s arms and tell her they’re from me,” said Charles, 10, reading a poem written by Delores Garcia. “Tell her that I love and miss her, and when she turns to smile, Place a kiss upon her cheek, and hold her for awhile. …”
Tabitha Trescott’s mother offered a similar prayer when it was her turn to speak.
“Dear God, please take care of my little girl,” Terri Smith said. “Could you sit and rock her and read her a story … . Would you comfort her, hold her in your arms tight?”
Morgan Blackstad, a Hanska native, spoke of Reinarts, who moved to Hanska in 2008 and almost immediately joined the volunteer fire department.
“Justin was one of the firefighters who saved my life when I went into anaphylactic shock,” Blackstad said. “… I’m forever in debt to him.”
Blackstad is attempting to repay that debt in part through the creation of Minnesota United Against Domestic Violence, an advocacy organization working to educate the public and work for law changes to lessen the likelihood of offenders committing further violence.
Blackstad joined Cris Gant, a victim of domestic violence, in the grassroot effort after initially feeling she couldn’t participate because she hadn’t personally been victimized.
“Cris said ‘You don’t need to be a victim to be the voice of victims and survivors,’” Blackstad said.
That’s a mission anyone can join, Gant said: “You give voice to victims who don’t have a voice anymore.”
Trescott’s voice wasn’t completely silenced on Nov. 2. There was one final statement Tabitha left behind as proof of how much she and Reinarts adored each other.
Guiding two vigil attendees to the back side of the Hanska home, Smith talked about the dream her daughter had shared nearly a decade ago. Someday, Tabitha had said, she would be able to display a specific adage in the place where she lived. But she said she had to wait until she’d found the love of her life so that the words would be utterly true.
Smith didn’t notice until sometime after her daughter’s death, but Tabitha had painted those words — “Home is where your heart is” — on the window of the back door of their residence on Blessum Street.