Comment: Why I'm glad Grace Millane's murderer hasn't been named

COMMENT:

I've spent much of the weekend moderating comments on the NZ Herald's social media accounts, stopping people attempting to flout the suppression order for the man convicted of Grace Millane's murder.

Every time I see his name, I vomit a little bit in my mouth.

I understand the desire to "name-and-shame", I really do, but I also wonder what naming him would achieve.

We can't publicly say his name but we know enough about him to know he's not worth knowing about.

A pathological liar and a potential narcissist who would probably get some sort of twisted satisfaction from seeing his name in headlines.

I refuse to give him that pleasure.

"Lift the name suppression! Poor Grace had all details of her private life released to the world. Why does his name get to be kept a secret," a comment on Facebook read today, similar to many others to the same effect.

I don't disagree, I really don't. But hear me out: what if we don't name him, for now?

When you say he "gets to keep his name secret", you are interpreting that from your perspective - the perspective of a normal person who wouldn't want their name out if they were in his position. You are assuming he wants to keep his name secret.

This is a man - and I use the word "man" in the loosest of terms here - with nothing else to lose. Maybe he thinks he might as well get famous out of it? Many of the narcissistic character traits this trial exposed would actually hint he'd get satisfaction from being named, from being exposed, in some messed-up ultimate power-trip.

I can't know for sure but I sure as hell don't want to give him the space right now.

This name suppression was not what any of us wanted but it's in place - and breaking it comes at a high cost for anyone who does.

Police were forced to remind the public yesterday that naming the killer on social media constitutes breaching the suppression order. The penalties for contempt of court are steep: a $25,000 fine or six months in prison.

So, instead, let's use the suppression order to our advantage: let's use it to make space to celebrate Grace, who she was, what she represents - and create a lasting legacy from grief.

Much like the alleged Christchurch mosque gunman (and yes, the law means we have to say "alleged"), this absolute excuse for a human being does not deserve any attention.

Grace Millane, murdered by a man we cannot name. Photo / Supplied

Like many New Zealanders, I know the name of Grace's murderer. Still, I have no interest in naming him.

Frankly, I don't know what "naming and shaming him" would do to help Grace's family either. They already know his name - and I can't see how it'd help them move forward.

Of course I'm angry that Grace's private life was exposed in the way it was by the defence lawyers.

But if the choice is between seeing his name and face plastered everywhere or seeing Grace's beautiful name honoured in online tributes, like the beautiful #ForGraceWithLove hashtag full of sunshine, it's an easy choice for me.

Like everyone else, I was furious when I heard he'd been granted name suppression. Why the hell would he get privacy after this?

Instead, I'm choosing to turn this suppression into the opportunity to amplify and elevate Grace's memory, without polluting it with his name.

At some point, this murderer will be named. The suppression will lift and his time will come. Justice, as we saw on Friday afternoon, will be served. For now, let's keep Grace's memory alive rather than highlighting the vile act of this obvious narcissist.

For now, let his name begin to rot in obscurity, along with the rest of him, and make space for Grace and the light her photos emanate. Let his name be forgotten, let her name be remembered.

His name can't be published but his actions can. It's not his name that we need to remember and revolt against, not for now anyway: it's what he did. You don't need to know his name to stand against his actions.

Instead, while we can't name him, let's keep Grace's memory alive and, through her, the memory of all the women who lost their lives at the hands of violent men.

We can't name all those women (sadly, the number is far too big, and growing) but we can name some. And we can name Grace.

She's worth naming. She's worth remembering.

He's worth nothing.