Not only have I had this happen, but when I refused to hear the 12-stepper in question out, his sponsor commenced nagging me to hear him out so that he could “make amends” and complete his step. Make no mistake, he owed amends. He owed considerably more than amends, frankly.* However, I had (and have) no interest in having him be a part of my life, even fleetingly, and I certainly had no interest in having an active part of his recovery, which is what both he and the sponsor strongly implied I owed him.
At the time (which was quite some time ago, mind you), having any contact with him was at the bottom of my list of things I wanted. Frankly, to this day, I don’t give a red rat’s ass if meeting with me in a coffee shop to apologize would have helped his recovery or in some way aided in his therapy. What I know is that it would not have been beneficial to my mental health at the time - and what was even less beneficial was him and the sponsor hounding me about it. Both of them were clearly very focused on what was best for the 12-stepper, and neither one of them were giving so much as a passing thought to my feelings on the matter. I eventually had to threaten (and I meant it!) to get a restraining order against the pair of them to make them stop - at which point they proceeded to piss and moan to anyone who’d listen about what a heartless bitch I was.
The thing is, for a lot of people, they view the opportunity to “make amends” and reap the following glow of righteous self-satisfaction as essentially an entitlement. They don’t actually have any real interest in making it up to their victim - or providing the victim with any value. If you’re looking to make amends and the proposed recipient of the amends has cut you entirely out of their life, respect their goddamn decision.
I eventually moved all the way across the damn country in part to get away from the situation. For a while, I still got occasional attempts at contact from him so he could make his fucking amends. They never seemed to come with either anything tangible or any sincere admission that he’d inflicted actual injury on me. The attempts finally stopped, and I have no interest in determining if he finally thought better of his behavior or if he’s in prison or dead or what have you. Literally all I care about is that the attempts have stopped.
*While drunk, after I had broken up with him because he was an unrepentant drunk, he broke into my apartment in the middle of the goddamn night and attempted to “persuade” me to get back together with him by crawling into bed with me, naked and ready to go. Upon being brained with my bedside lamp, during my daring escape to the bathroom, where I promptly locked myself in, opened the window, and commenced screaming, he stole my purse, including my keys and then used my keys to steal my fucking car, which he wrapped around a telephone pole two blocks from his parents’ place. He walked from my totaled car home, passed out again, and swore up and down he did no such thing and I’d done it to myself to make him look bad. I was a broke college student and he was the only child of a county prosecutor, so the matter was quietly dropped despite the charges I insisted on pressing.