I’m going to add some perspective from the victim’s survivor’s side. For background, my brother and his best friend were kidnapped, stuffed into the trunk of the friend’s car, and driven around for hours. Eventually they were taken out of the trunk, beaten, then run over with the friend’s car and left for dead. The friend did die, but my brother survived.
Five young men (aged 17-22, IIRC) were arrested and convicted of a litany of charges. Their guilt was not in question - each of them implicated the others in their confessions and at their respective trials, and some implicated themselves, too. Of the five, I believe four are dead. All went to prison, where I think a couple of them died (don’t remember how). Two were released after serving their terms but their lives ended as a result of continuing to make bad decisions. One remains incarcerated, serving a life term but eligible for parole.
The local DA’s office kept my family updated on the convicts’ fates for probably 40 years, as things happened (ie releases, additional convictions, death). I think they still contact my mother every time the last one has a parole hearing.
In all that time, we have persevered. We went on to have typical lives. My brother still had nightmares for the rest of his life, but with time and therapy, they became less frequent and less upsetting. At first, I desperately wanted the DA to seek the death penalty. (They did not.) Even after convictions and sentences, I wanted them dead. Eventually I realized that my bloodlust was only hurting me. My preoccupation with their punishment made me less of a person than I wanted to be. I had to let go of my anger. Once I did that, I no longer ‘sought closure’. I had my closure: each of the perpetrators was arrested, tried, and convicted. I had to move on. So I did.
For me, closure didn’t come when I learned of each of their deaths. In fact, I felt sorrow for them for their wasted lives, the hurt they caused us and their own families, and for the friend’s mother who never, to her dying day, was able to grieve and move on. I did not dance on their graves. I had - and have - things that are more important to me.
(My experience and opinions only. I don’t pretend to think anybody else should react or behave as I did.)