Everyone thinks they know what’s best when it comes to domestic violence. All offering the same advice — regardless of the victim’s sex, age, demographic.

Just leave. Cut all ties. Start the healing process. Move on with life.

Sounds simple enough. Right?

Wrong. And as last month’s murder-suicide in Buffalo Township so sadly illustrated — sometimes the consequences can be dead wrong.

Mary Jo Kornick took all the right precautions. She broke off ties with the man who abused her. Sought help from authorities in the form of a protection from abuse, commonly known as a PFA.

And yet, the court order wasn’t there to protect the Freeport woman from her abuser when he showed up at her work, waiving a gun and attempting to kidnap her in December.

And where was that piece of paper when Nicholas Domek arrived again in May. This time intent on not merely kidnapping Kornick, but murdering her before turning the gun on himself in a Pittsburgh cemetery?

This past weekend, another victim of abuse bravely came forward to recount her harrowing story of abuse. She challenged the same legal system Kornick thought would protect her from the man who terrified her, hurt her and ultimately killed her.

Jane didn’t have to come forward to share her story. She could have remained hidden in the shadows as so many other victims.

But her story — her experience with the legal system — needed to be told. And we applaud her courage to step out of the darkness and her willingness to shed light on the complex dynamic that is domestic violence and the cumbersome court system that is a PFA.

Without intending to, Jane has started what we hope will became a much larger community conversation about how we protect victims of domestic violence.

According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, nearly 20 people per minute are abused by an intimate partner. Twenty. Per minute.

Put that in perspective — think of 20 friends, family members, co-workers, even mere acquaintances — men and women. Now imagine all 20 of them bruised and battered by someone they love and trust.

Just like that. All in the course of the time it took you to read that last paragraph, quickly run through your mental Rolodex, and come up with 20 people.

So far this year, that same coalition reports there have already been 275 gun-related domestic violence fatalities across our nation. That’s 275 daughters, sons, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends, family or co-workers whose lives were stolen by the very person they at one time believed loved them and would protect them from harm’s way.

We’re sure Jane heard that same advice from the people around her. Just leave. Cut all ties. Start the healing process. Move on with life.

But until any of us walk a mile — or by the national statistics, even spend a minute — in her shoes, we will never be able to fully appreciate and understand the depths of her fears. Never will we fully comprehend the mountain she faced as she sat in that small room at the courthouse waiting for her name to be called to face the monster she once loved.

And she stoically sat with several other scared domestic violence victims — all traumatized by the very system that was supposed to protect. They awaited their appearance before a judge with the monsters they sought shelter from just feet away across the aisle.

Jane’s story should serve as the tipping point for change. We hope the community conversation sparked by her blunt honesty leads not only Butler County, but our state and nation as well, to take a hard look at the domestic violence process.

We hope it leads to increased awareness about the system surrounding PFAs, its pitfalls and potential improvements in the system to better protect victims.