A 1993 murder left a Southland family forever grieving, but the bereavement camp they started to help others facing similar trauma is still making a difference more than a decade after its inception, and growing under new leadership.
Sheilah A. Doyle, a nurse at Little Company of Mary Hospital in Evergreen Park, was followed home from work July 3, 1993, by three men, ordered into the trunk of her car inside the family’s garage in the Mill Creek subdivision of Palos Park, shot and left to die. Her son, Kevin, was just 17 at the time, and though he says “time helps” he will never truly get over the tragic loss.
“My mom’s story, it feels like it happened almost yesterday,” he said. “It’s so fresh in my mind, and it’s been almost 30 years.”
But there is something else Doyle vividly remembers. After he and his siblings lost their mother, Dick Divine, who in 1996 became the Cook County state’s attorney, had a scholarship program for victims of violence. Both Doyle and one of his siblings received scholarships.
“I always remember what kind of impact that had on my sister and I,” Doyle said. “So when I graduated college, I said we should start something like that because that went away. So we did.”
In 2009, they started the Sheilah A. Doyle Foundation that by this November will have given away a total of $90,000 through 19 scholarship awards. The organization became a nonprofit and, in 2011, held its first Camp Sheilah, a bereavement camp specifically designed to bring together youths age 7 to 17 who have suffered the loss of parents or siblings to homicide. It is free for participants, and the goal is to provide the information, resources and support they need to work through the trauma.
“It’s great that we can continue to keep my mom’s memory alive,” Doyle said.
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The camp has reached more than 200 families and now rests in the hands of Kids Above All, a Chicago-based nonprofit focused on helping children. Kids Above All took over Camp Sheilah last year after roughly five years of providing counseling resources to the campers. Doyle said the camp is stronger than ever thanks to the organization’s clinical expertise, reach and fundraising capabilities.
“That was the whole purpose of starting this partnership and giving them operational control of this thing,” Doyle said. “Our family, we’re only so big; we can only do so much.”
Facing new challenges amid the COVID-19 pandemic, Camp Sheilah was held virtually last year and in a hybrid format this past weekend for 23 campers from 15 families. Portions of it were held online, with one day in-person at a suburban location organizers asked be withheld for the privacy and safety of participants.
Activities included art therapy projects, rope course challenges and group counseling sessions, as well as shared meals, an ice cream truck and a bonfire.
“It really is group therapy,” said Jeri Laureano, Kids Above All chief clinical operating officer and director of Camp Sheilah. “Not only is it fun, but they’re with kids who are just like them, who aren’t pointing fingers and saying ‘Oh, you’re the kid who lost your parent to that killing.’ They can be a kid again and be able to be vulnerable and talk about the different feelings that they have, and not have to worry that someone is going to shame them, blame them or get horrified by what they have to say and walk away from them.”
Laureano said the camp counselors are “prepared to deal with the intensity of the trauma these kids have gone through.” They weave different concepts into activities and have discussions about the campers’ trauma through grief circles. Parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents also attended the in-person portion of the camp for their own activities.
Doyle said it can be hard for people who have not been through the experience to truly understand what it does to the lives of the survivors. Homicide has many layers, he said, meaning every story is different. Some people saw justice for the crimes that took their loved ones. Others live in fear. And there are campers who still have no idea who committed the crime.
“Losing somebody because they die is traumatic, but losing them the way these individuals died, it just lingers within these youths’ brains,” Laureano said. “Trying to help them release that and help them make better choices is really the outcome we want.”
This year’s camp theme was My Story, with a focus on empowering campers to share their grief journeys.
“There is some value, therapeutically, to journaling and to be able to express yourself with your own words and be able to go back and look at that at a later date to see ‘Do I feel the same way? Has it changed? Do I want to talk to somebody about that feeling?'” Laureano said.
Camp participants often think of their loved one’s death as something that will define the rest of their lives, she said.
“What we’re trying to help them realize is this is part of your story,” Laureano said. “You still have the rest of your story to unfold, and you get to make the choice of what that story is going to be.”
Doyle said the type of people who want help after experiencing such trauma will often actively seek programs like the camp. But Laureano noted Kids Above All also connects with police departments about the program, has staff on crime victims committees and works with health departments and schools. Community activist Andrew Holmes also makes referrals to the program.
Kids Above All now handles the day-to-day of the camp, while Doyle and his family focus on the foundation’s scholarships. But Doyle said the family remains involved with Camp Sheilah, and he was at this year’s camp. As much as the mission is to help youths, Doyle said sharing his story and being vulnerable with others has helped him to heal, too.
“It’s absolutely helped our whole family in our grieving process,” he said. “I never thought I would learn so much about myself and others through this program.”
He is proud that two programs continue to carry his mother’s name.
“My mom dedicated her life to helping people,” he said. “That’s what she did. It’s great that even my own kids know who their grandma was through this organization. They understand the story and the impact and all that stuff. At the end of the day, I think what this does is it gives people hope.”
Bill Jones is a freelance reporter for the Daily Southtown.