What happened when a mother met her son's killer was extraordinary
At the age of 19, Jacob Dunne killed trainee paramedic James Hodgkinson with a single punch
Listening to the radio recently, I heard the father of Eli Schlanger, the British rabbi killed in the Bondi Beach massacre, speak about the things left unsaid. The words never spoken because we assume there will always be time. It stopped me in my tracks. How many of us carry those missed moments, the conversations we meant to have but didn’t?
This time of year sharpens that feeling. Around Christmas tables, families gather. Some are close, others fractured by arguments, estrangement or old hurts. Talking can feel impossibly hard. Yet silence often costs us more than words ever could.
I’ve been thinking about that since meeting Jacob Dunne. At 19, Jacob killed trainee paramedic James Hodgkinson with a single punch. One moment of anger and a life was gone. Jacob was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to four years. When he left prison, he was worse than when he entered. Homeless, angry and lost.
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Choosing dialogue over silence
But this story isn’t really about Jacob. It’s about James’s mum, Joan Scourfield. Supported by Victim Support, Joan was introduced to restorative justice.
In simple terms, restorative justice is about creating a safe, supported space where the person harmed can ask questions, be heard, and decide what they need, including whether they want contact with the person responsible. It’s never automatic or forced, always carefully managed.
After years of exchanging letters, Joan chose to meet Jacob, with a trained facilitator present. Two people, bound by tragedy, chose dialogue over silence. They didn’t erase the harm, but they created something extraordinary. A shared commitment to speak publicly about restorative justice and the devastating consequences of a single punch.
Talking to Jacob, I saw how deeply that meeting changed him. Prison hadn’t reached him, but this did. He felt the full weight and burning shame of what he had done. He saw James not as a name on a charge sheet, but as a son, loved and cherished. That encounter became a turning point.
Our shared humanity
Jacob rebuilt his life, earning a criminology degree, campaigning against violence alongside Joan, and writing about his experience. His story became a play, Punch, performed in the West End and on Broadway.
Joan, too, found something. Not forgiveness and not forgetting, but answers to the questions that had kept her awake at night. She spoke about the importance of being heard and of regaining some control in a situation where everything had been taken from her.
Restorative justice always starts with the person harmed. That’s what matters. Recently, I spoke with someone who had lost a loved one to murder. I approached that conversation with trepidation and was left humbled by their courage and willingness to seek understanding despite unimaginable pain. Time doesn’t soften loss, but it can change what people feel ready to ask for.
As we enter an election year, when rhetoric hardens and hurt spills easily across social media, I wonder if we could all use a little more of that approach. Less shouting, more listening. Less certainty, more curiosity.
Silence can protect us, but it can also trap us. When conversation is possible, and chosen, it can be a way through. Not to agree, not to excuse, but to recognise each other’s humanity before everything else gets in the way.
Karyn McCluskey is chief executive of Community Justice Scotland