For the loved ones of a homicide victim, the phrases tossed about on morbid movie and TV crime shows becomes a terrifying new language to navigate.

Crime scenes, forensic services, autopsy, coroner, detective — it is the language of the alien world they now inhabit.

Warning: the following story contains descriptions of a graphic nature.

In cases of domestic violence murders — such as the recent killing of Hannah Clarke and her three children — the pain continues long after the violence ends.

In the shocking aftermath of a violent crime, families need help to interpret what is going on.

The first 48 hours: the support worker

In Queensland, a peer support worker from the Queensland Homicide Victims' Support Group (QHVSG) is usually offered to a family within 48 hours of a homicide.

This specially trained support worker will help the family with the dreadful practicalities, such as dealing with police investigations and funeral arrangements, even organising a crime scene clean-up if required.

But it is the emotional support they offer that is valuable because each has their own lived experience of homicide.

Sherrie Meyer helped found the service 25 years ago after her daughter's obsessive boyfriend murdered her 17-year-old son Gabriel — poisoning then suffocating him in a brutal act of revenge for the relationship ending.

Sherrie Meyer is a founding member of QHVSG after her son was murdered in 1993. ( ABC News: Charlie McKillop )

Ms Meyer had five surviving children, including an 8-month-old baby, to care for while dealing with the unfolding horror.

In 1993 there was no Queensland support organisation to turn to.

"The police were wonderful, but the police are so busy. Without any support, without information, families were kind of left to fend for themselves," she said.

"Gabe was missing for two weeks. When he was eventually found, they immediately went to do an autopsy and our family just didn't have a clue what we were supposed to do.

"I remember saying 'are we supposed to be there? Do you take us to be with him or, you know, what happens?'"

A peer support worker can help make the experience less confusing and less terrifying, she said, because they have lived through it and have that empathy.

Gabe Meyer was only 17 when his sister's ex-boyfriend poisoned then suffocated him. ( Supplied: Sherrie Meyer )

"Obviously, in the early days, it's going to be extremely emotional. Families are going to be very raw. So you have to be very gentle and tread very lightly," Ms Meyer said.

"The family are really bewildered, confused, and in such a great deal of pain.

"Death is never easy. It's change and loss and grief. And with a homicide, there's just so much more attached.

"The trauma becomes really cumulative. There's one thing on top of the other."

A domestic homicide needs particular sensitivity, Ms Meyer said.

"First of all, safety. So, depending on the family circumstances, we have to make sure that every family member is in a safe place — particularly children," she said.

"Often it's the loss of two members of a family — it could be a parent and child, or partners — so you have two sides of a family experiencing the homicide.

"One of the really sensitive issues with that is the children left behind, because quite often one of the parents has been killed and the other parent is now the perpetrator.

"These children literally become orphans overnight and hopefully there's family members that can step in and care for them. But that isn't always the case.

"It definitely is a very precarious situation when you're dealing with that."

A peer support worker will work with the family for as long as needed, and families may need support even decades on, Ms Meyer said.

Her son's killer was released from prison in 2019 and all of the emotions resurfaced, she said.

"So, 26 years on for us, another period of grief, fear, having to put that back into our lives now the perpetrator that killed your beautiful young boy is now walking the street," she said.

"We feel that he is a dangerous criminal.

"So the homicide support group is there for all of us, even now."

Saying goodbye: the funeral

When a high-profile murder is in the media, Brisbane funeral celebrant Rod Schafferius begins to mentally brace himself, knowing he may get the phone call asking him to lead the victim's funeral.

Funeral celebrant Rod Schafferius steels himself when a high-profile murder is in the media. ( ABC News: Liz Pickering )

In a career spanning 20 years, he has led services for domestic violence victims and learned to navigate the intense emotions of family homicide.

"Automatically you tend to go on tenterhooks because you're aware that you're dealing with a lot more heightened emotion," he said.

"It makes it a lot more personal when a family member is the perpetrator.

"It makes it very intense with the way [the family] are looking at it, as opposed to being murdered by somebody they don't know."

Tension can run high where people sit in a funeral service — especially if the victim's family do not want the perpetrator's family to attend.

"You can't stop anyone from coming to a [publicly advertised] funeral, unless there is an AVO on them or something like that," Mr Schafferius said.

In that scenario, Rod would often find a negotiator within the family to help decide where people are to be seated and he will set the tone of the funeral with his opening remarks.

He often finds shared grandchildren will unite families.

"Sometimes I will start off the service saying 'this has been a really public issue. We're here to say farewell to [the victim]. But there's young lives here today who need to remember their mum's funeral was beautiful, and that's what we're going to concentrate on'," he said.

"When you start to direct it towards that, you find everyone nodding in agreement. It just seems to bring that common purpose.

Tensions run high when the victim's family do not want the perpetrator's family to attend. ( ABC News: Liz Pickering )

Most families decide not to talk about the crime at a homicide victim's funeral, Mr Schafferius said.

"It's all about concentrating on that person as they lived their life and the way they've touched many, many lives. Not making the manner of their death a focus.

"There is this underlying feeling that there may have been no dignity in the way they passed away, but there's certainly going to be dignity in the way we say farewell.

"We're going to make sure they have a beautiful funeral, a beautiful send off.

"Honour and dignity are big words in my dictionary."

After the funeral: families live with memories

After his mother Rinabel Blackmore was killed by her violent partner in 2015, her funeral offered a brief moment of respite for Renzy Libao.

"It was such a big release of emotions and sadness. Remembering all the good times, all the good things. How great she was, the funny stories," Mr Libao said.

"It was one of the final memories of my mum. We're not going to be making any more memories with her, so you hold onto the ones you can remember."

Renzy Libao's mother Rinabel Blackmore was 44 when she was killed by her violent partner in 2015. ( ABC News: Curtis Rodda )

It was in stark contrast to the previous two weeks, starting with the disbelief of police ringing to tell him to urgently get to the hospital.

"In my mind, the whole trip there, I was thinking 'we're coming for the wrong person because stuff like this doesn't happen to our family'," Mr Libao said.

His mum had thrown herself from a car being driven at 100kph by her abusive partner following days of intense domestic violence.

The Queensland Coroner's Court found in 2019 that Ms Blackmore's actions occurred "in the context of a prolonged episode of domestic violence".

"In the preceding 40 hours she had been subjected to several causally connected episodes of verbal abuse and significant physical violence," the Coroner's report states.

"Ms Blackmore's actions were a desperate act of self-preservation.

"It is more probable than not that she exited the vehicle to escape the terror of the events unfolding inside whilst in fear for her life."

Renzy had to make the agonising decision to turn off his mother's life support.

At 22 years of age, Renzy — here with his mother Rinabel — stepped up for his two younger siblings, taking on a parental role. ( Supplied: Renzy Libao )

"Her brain stem was severely damaged from her spine," he said.

"When [the hospital] told us that, and asked us what our decision was, I actually cannot forget [that] my whole family all at the same time looked up at me and then pretty much asked me whether it was time to turn the machines off.

"It was crazy. A crazy decision [to have to make]. A crazy experience."

Even while his mother fought for her life in hospital, Mr Libao was being bombarded by phone calls from her abuser.

"We're in the hospital and I kept getting non-stop calls from him to the point where it's every five minutes. The same number, and the next thing you know it's private numbers, until I was able to block the numbers," he said.

Her killer was initially charged with murder but pleaded guilty to manslaughter, serving three years of a seven-year sentence.

At just 22, Renzy stepped up for his two younger siblings, taking on the parental role in their lives.

"Situations like this really carve out your true character, and the only thing I was thinking about the whole time was 'how do I look after my brothers?'" he said.

"It was mum's job to look after us and then mum was gone.

"With my youngest brother I was making sure he finished school, making sure he had school uniforms, make sure he had textbooks, you know, all the basics. All your regular school stuff.

"I was there for his graduation, any special events that mum would have definitely gone to. I made sure it was me coming along.

Renzy and his brothers relish the memories they have of their mother. ( ABC News: Curtis Rodda )

"It's been five years now and I think it finally started to just calm down a little bit, you know, in the healing process. It definitely takes a long time.

"I do feel like I turned into a parent, but now I'm learning to step back and become a friend and a brother again — a more comfortable world for all of us, I think."

He and his brothers relish the memories they have of their mother.

"She was the most hardest working, caring lady I've ever known, and I think we'll ever know," Mr Libao said.

"Non-stop working for her kids. Everything she did was for us. You don't really appreciate that when she's here, but you really think about it when she's gone."

A different future: the grief process

The grief of a death by homicide can be more complex and longer-lasting than grief from death by other means says Jacob Mangelsdorf, a therapeutic grief specialist for children and families with AnglicareSA.

"Sometimes people can discover [the body of the victim] themselves or be witnesses [to the violence]," he said.

When a death is the result of homicide, the resulting grief is intensified for the bereaved says Jacob Mangelsdorf, an Adelaide-based Therapeutic Grief Specialist with AnglicareSA. ( Supplied: AnglicareSA )

"In family violence situations there's the story that lead to the death.

"The stuff we've either known about or not known about in the last few days, weeks, months, or even years.

"The brain is struggling to piece together different pieces of a story to try and make sense of something that inherently doesn't make sense.

"It can be an incredibly distressing time."

Anger at a violent death, he said, can be even more intense than a death we may have been prepared for — such as through a sickness.

"With cancer we may direct our anger at the cancer. When it's something like a homicide, or more specifically a family violence-related homicide, that anger can get directed at the perpetrator.

"It's a fairly unique response to these kinds of death."

Mr Mangelsdorf said suicide is another death where there is a lot of anger.

There are also risks of intrusive thoughts and thoughts of self-harm for those grieving a homicide, he said, with children who have lost a parent and experiencing a traumatic loss at high risk.

"[For example] the nightmares, the reliving of the event like a video replay of what actually happened if we've seen it or experienced it," he said.

Anyone is at risk of experiencing a post-traumatic stress reaction, and friends of the bereaved are not immune either.

"Vicarious trauma is also a risk to friends and family that might be listening to the story," Mr Mangelsdorf said.

Because a death from homicide may also involve a lengthy process of police investigations and legal matters, and in some cases media interest, the grieving process is interrupted and prolonged.

Each process — even years down the track — can bring the grief to the fore.

"That raw emotional grief is triggered again every time information comes out," he said.

Grief that is not managed in a healthy way can lead to other more entrenched mental health conditions.

"[Therapists] don't really talk about getting over the pain of losing someone, but we do talk about learning some ways of being able to live with this incredibly difficult, traumatic, painful story as part of your life," Mr Mangelsdorf said.

"In time the pain becomes part of a long story. We grow around it.

"And we learn new skills — out of necessity more than anything else — learn to actually live our lives in really healthy and really meaningful ways."