Justice often enters people’s lives after something fragile has already fallen apart. When I first sat with young men in Medellín and other cities in Colombia, trust was already worn down. Fear shaped daily choices, and relationships carried tensions few knew how to name. In communities marked by long histories of violence, justice rarely felt welcoming. It arrived late, after too much had already been lost, when young people had learned to move carefully just to get through the day.

I heard this pattern repeatedly in conversations with young men often described as dangerous minds, a term I have written about not as a diagnosis, but as a label placed on lives shaped by pain (Castell Britton, 2025). Carlos was one of them. As I listened to his story, what stood out was not a single act, but the absence of moments where someone had stayed long enough to truly listen.

I came to understand restorative justice through these relationships. I noticed it in how people chose where to sit, in how silence was allowed to remain, and in how conversations slowed enough for trust to grow. Meaning took shape through listening and careful attention, especially when people were allowed to keep speaking without interruption. Over time, the same patterns surfaced in how people treated one another and how they stayed present. In these moments, restorative justice became real to me, not as an idea, but as something lived.

Restorative justice is a way of responding to harm that focuses on how people are affected, not only on punishment. It brings together the person who caused harm, those who were hurt, and members of the community to talk about what happened and how it changed their lives. The goal is to take responsibility and, when possible, rebuild trust and connection (Castell Britton, 2025).

Relationship

Carlos entered the restorative justice process after being involved in acts of violence that had caused harm within his........

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