More Thoughts on the Ravi/Clementi Case The Dharun Ravi case clearly evokes strong reactions, manifest in the number of comments my post yesterday received. I was glad to read through them and fascinated as I did. I admit I wasn't able to give each a careful look, but I did get a sense of the variety of sentiments and of some recurring themes. Based on that, I wanted to offer a few additional thoughts. It was noted that perhaps Dharun has been reluctant to apologize in a big way because he or his lawyers fear his words could be used against him in a civil suit by the Clementi family. Thus far, it's unclear that any such suit will be filed. I checked this afternoon with my colleague Kate Zernike, who has done such riveting work on this story, including today's report on the way the judge approached his tough sentencing decision, and she's not aware of any pending legal action, though the deadline for filing hasn't passed. For now, Kate noted, the Clementis seem invested in an appeal of the sentencing that the prosecutors are filing and seem to be looking to the criminal courts, still, for something that feels more like justice to them. A civil suit could be a messy, complicated, painful thing for the family to go through. It would no doubt get into questions of what sort of damage Dharun did to Tyler Clementi - and, thus, what caused the pain that pushed Tyler toward that bridge - and it's hard to see how the Clementis" relationship with their son wouldn't come under the microscope. There'd be renewed discussion of something that several reader comments to yesterday's post underscored: Tyler's supposed sense of rejection from his mother. I say "supposed" because the rejection story wasn't exhaustively detailed or broadly chronicled; it comes principally from Ian Parker's superb New Yorker piece on the case, in which Parker notes that Tyler once wrote to a friend that "mom has basically completely rejected me." Tyler didn't delve too deeply into specifics, and it's impossible to get any full understanding of his frame of mind when he wrote that, impossible to ascertain whether he was describing a true, profound hurt or speaking broadly, quickly. About so much of this case and this story, we should keep reminding ourselves that we don't know, and can never have, the whole truth. Life is frustrating that way, and so is the criminal justice system. Its many inadequacies and its frequent failure to satisfy arise in large part from the often severe limits of knowledge, of what we can safely and responsibly determine, of what's sufficiently provable. Here's the relevant passage of Parker's piece: Clementi reported that his father was "very accepting" of his news, but added, "Its a good thing dad is ok w/it or I would be in serious trouble / mom has basically completely rejected me." He later added that she had been "very dismissive." Jane Clementi told me recently that Tyler announced his sexuality to her in a private, late-night conversation, which "snowballed" to cover his perceived shortage of friends and the uncertainty he had about his faith. At the end of their talk, she recalled, "he cried, I cried, we hugged." They said that they loved each other. But, Jane Clementi said, "I must admit, other than being surprised, I felt betrayed." He had not confided in her, though he had known he was gay since middle school. She told me that she and her husband had long assumed that Tyler's brother James was gay, and had even discussed the matter with Tyler, asking him, "Why won't he just talk about it?" James is now out. The day after Tyler's disclosure, she said, "I guess part of me was grieving a little bit. I expected Tyler to be married one day, and be a father. She said, "I was sad, I was quiet," and she wonders if this is what he was reacting to when he wrote "rejected"; the word hurt her. She recalled that she spent the rest of the week with him, delivered him to college, and, throughout September, spoke to him on the phone. And she was expecting to visit Tyler for Parent and Family Weekend: "We had tickets to the football game. We had plans for the day. Whatever happened between Tyler and his mother and however it left him feeling, I hope all parents are prompted by his death and by this case to ask themselves how they'd deal not only with a gay child but with any child growing into a person who doesn't conform to expectations, assumptions and wishes. I'm not implying that Jane Clementi bears blame: as I said, we'll never really know all that was in Tyler's head and heart during his final days and hours. I'm looking beyond these particular events and saying that there's enormous worth in seizing any moment and every opportunity, including this one, to think about the consequences of a child's feeling less safe in the world, being judged for aspects of his or her identity that aren't volitional, and wondering if a parent's love is provisional. Other observations: I've received feedback from readers who say that Tyler himself had been insensitive in asking Dharun to stay away from their dorm room so he could have sex. I've read or heard that opinion elsewhere, too. And I wonder if that reaction would be the same if the person meeting Tyler in that room for those encounters had been female. Should Dharun really have felt more put out by two men using the room than by a man and a woman? Is that excusable? As Kate Zernike noted in today's story, there was some discomfort among gays and lesbians about the phrase "alternative lifestyles," used by the judge when he was outlining the community service he was ordering Dharun to do. I'm not fond of that phrase, but I'm told that the judge was lifting and repeating it from language that had previously been in prosecutors" plea-bargain offers to Dharun. And I'd like to note that during the sentencing, when the judge mentioned the individuals beyond members of the Ravi and Clementi families whose lives had been disrupted and possibly diminished by this case, he expressly and emphatically included "M.B.," the man who visited Tyler in his dorm room and later wound up on the witness stand. I was impressed by that, and it struck me as sensitive indeed. Finally, I had my attention drawn recently to an Out magazine article by James Clementi, Tyler's gay older brother, that had escaped my notice before. In case it escaped yours, too, I just provided the link. It's moving and worth a look. Here's just a bit of it: I wonder what you would think, seeing all the commotion you've caused. It is surreal and meaningless to see you as a mere story on The New York Times, a brief glimpse at a life with none of the detail. You were a typical college freshman, trying to adjust to a dorm room, make some friends, meet a cute guy, and enjoy your independence, and no one noticed. The headlines tell of how you were violated and ridiculed; your last moments are a cautionary tale, a scandal, something to sell and entertain . . . . You are youth, potential just beginning to unfold. You are blood, my connection to the past, and my hope for the future. You are beauty, fleeting and marvelous. I know there was pain, and I'm sorry for that, but you were joy, too. Your voice, your smile, tiny hands clinging to mine. I will never let go.