In my student days I had friends in London who gave me a home away from home. And one day I was there alone wallowing in the bath before heading back to my university dorm an hour away. I suddenly became aware the noises in the house had changed. I heard voices. But whose were they?

I froze and my heart went into overdrive pounding so loudly I could barely think. Was I alone or not? If not, who was in the house? I got up. Wrapped myself in a towel, cracked open the door to be confronted by a strange man running up the stairs towards me. He shouted “the geezers are home” and ran down the stairs, and I surprised myself by screaming down the stairs after him, yelling “get out”.

Hours later, I still couldn’t stop shaking and shivering. I was sure the house had been under surveillance so that the break-in could be done when the house was empty.

I drove back to university glancing distractedly in my rear mirror, wondering whether I was being followed? I barely slept that night and for many nights after. I tried to stop thinking about all the terrible things that could’ve or still could happen.

I couldn’t find peace of mind. I was besieged with worry that the people who’d broken into the house had seen and could identify me. I started checking my dorm room. I had to tell myself over and over again that I was overreacting, but that made no difference.

When I talked to my friend, it was another story. She was angry, felt unimportant, powerless, afraid and frightened — of faceless, nameless people against whom she had no redress. She felt let down by the system, unimportant to the police.

She talked bitterly about the personal treasures that had been stolen to be sold for a pittance. But the biggest concern she had was her children’s safety. How could she feel able to keep her children safe when the house had been violated almost effortlessly despite extensive security?

Did we both take it personally — absolutely. But underneath all of this, my biggest desire was wanting to tell the people who broke in how awful it felt, and to extract a promise that they wouldn’t subject another family to the same horror.

Did this lead me to have an interest in restorative justice? Not then. At the time this happened I was studying to be a lawyer. I’d never heard of restorative justice and I certainly didn’t study it, although it is now and has been part of the curriculum for lawyers in countries like Canada and New Zealand for many years.

What I’ve realised since I became aware of restorative justice is that my needs and those of my friend and her neighbours who were all affected by this crime were not met. There was no resolution, no chance to tell our stories and no opportunity for redress, help, having a voice or feeling vindicated, validated or important in the process. And we were the people most harmed.

My friend never recovered any of her property and her neighbours were left with the uneasy feeling of wondering if they would be next.

What is restorative justice?

First, let me say what it is not:

• 1. It does not let the offender off the hook. It does not affect the offender’s sentence

• 2. It is not about forgiveness or reconciliation, although this may be part of the outcome

• 3. It is not about winning or losing a case

• 4. It is not a new idea. It echoes ancient and indigenous practices employed to solve problems and conflicts in cultures all over the world, from Native American and First Nation Canadian to African, Asian, Celtic, Hebrew, Arab and many others.

• 5. There is no blueprint for restorative justice and it is not a replacement for the justice system, but rather a tool to complement that system by giving victims a voice that they do not have.

It’s more than mediation, although mediation is definitely restorative. It’s more than a victim impact statement, although that is restorative in aim.

What does it do?

Restorative Justice sees success differently. It measures how much harm is repaired or prevented. It is about doing things with offenders and victims rather than for or to them.

It gives the wider community (like the neighbours in my case) who are also harmed by crime a chance to express their feelings. It can fill a gap that is felt very keenly by many victims of crime who, like me, often feel their specific needs are not met or worse they feel abused, blamed, neglected or violated by the justice process.

It is a voluntary process.

The most common restorative tools are face-to-face meetings of stakeholders. The aim of restorative meetings is to give victims and the greater community the opportunity to ask: Why?

To express how their lives have been affected and changed. How they’d like the offender to put it right. Many want an assurance from the offender that they will turn their lives around and make a positive contribution to society. They want sentencing to include restitution and, where possible, to have input into what that looks like.

At the end of the meeting, an agreement is signed. This may include creating a support system for the offender to be productive on release from prison.

For offenders, it is often the first time they have to confront in a real and meaningful way the devastating impact of their crimes on real people with real feelings and lives, and be directly accountable and held responsible for the harm they have caused.

Many offenders who go through restorative conferences for the first time have real feelings of empathy and compassion for their victims.

Studies show that 85 per cent of victims that participate in restorative justice are satisfied with the outcome.

Countries adopting restorative justice and practices are finding that recidivism rates among offenders who participate are markedly lower than those who don’t — an unexpected but thoroughly welcome benefit, saving money in the criminal justice system. In South Africa, restorative justice was the foundation for the Truth & Reconciliation Commission and Archbishop Desmond Tutu has been a tireless advocate for restorative justice to continue the process, not only in South Africa but in all countries.

Does Bermuda have restorative justice?

Prison Fellowship volunteers have been working restoratively in the Department of Corrections since 1989. During 2014, the Prison Fellowship team under the supervision of the Department of Corrections completed its first round of restorative meetings between victims and offenders of unrelated but similar crimes, using the Sycamore Tree Project model, and is pleased with the outcome.

Chief Magistrate Juan Wolffe and the team manning Bermuda’s Drug Treatment Court are having remarkable success in using restorative justice. This is proven because 75 per cent of its clients do not reoffend after completing the programme.

Prison Fellowship, Curb (Citizens Uprooting Racism in Bermuda), The Coalition for Protection of Children and The Bermuda Coalition, which is a consortium of 27 organisations and activists, will be holding a series of restorative initiatives through various forums and seminars throughout 2015.

If we wish to have community involvement in solving some of our problems and conflicts, and bring an increased sense of peace and security into our community, then restorative justice is one very important tool that can help us to move forward.

• Monica Jones is a retired former partner of Appleby. She is an artist, writer and activist who promotes the creation of more humane and peaceful communities. She completed restorative practices training at the International Institute for Restorative Practices in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania