The four year battle to a plea deal

Many, if not most, have been critical of the fact that Bennie Caswell was not arrested and will not serve any time in jail/prison for what he did to me. I am ever so thankful that so many people are angry for me. Believe me, that does not go unnoticed. You have given me what I needed and longed for as a child, teen, and young adult. I know that the sentence was light. It was not fair. But it was right. Now let me explain to you why I say that.



This case was not cut and dry. Let's not kid ourselves, I pressed charges 36 years after the fact. Even if I had kept the blood-streaked underwear (instead of throwing them into the trash fire) for DNA evidence, it would be a tough case to prosecute. It was a case of he said/she said from the get-go. Not exactly a prosecutor's dream.

And secondly, this case had to be handled by a special prosecutor/judge/clerk because Caswell's sister is the circuit court clerk in Hardin county. That means that the Assisitant Commonwealth's Attorney from another county had to pick up an additional case. That means that the judge, court clerk, and prosecutor had to commute to Elizabethtown for every court appearance. That means that all parties had to schedule court when Hardin county had a court room open. It was not an easy task. Oh, and one more thing, they didn't get paid any extra to do it. I overheard the judge talking about his concern for his clerk, who had to make the trip to Elizabethtown on her day off and with her own money.

I met with the Commonwealth Attorney in Breckenridge/Meade county in May 2012. He listened to my story and told me , "Well, you're pretty, you're intelligent, and you have all of your teeth. I can put you on the stand." At that he turned the case over to a young assistant. She was a feisty young woman who was genuinely appalled at the heinousness of the crime. She talked quickly with a thick Kentucky accent in incomplete sentences. She was intense and fidgety at the same time. She was also a little bit excited, because this case, if successful, would set a new precedent.

The first legal task at hand was to decide which law to use, present law or 1976 law. Both sides of the table had to write briefs arguing their cases, and the judge had to decide. This took a year. A year. For a year, I emailed the prosecutor monthly to ask for the status. After a year my emails came weekly. Then I called. After 14 months, the prosecutor called for a status hearing, at which time the judge decided to use 1976 law.Next step, transfer the case out of juvenile court and into circuit court.

That's when the real legal wrangling began. Although it was the summer between his sophomore & junior years of high school, he has a December birthday, making him 15 1/2 at the time of the crime. According to 1976 law, juveniles 16 or over accused of a felony were automatically transferred to circuit court and treated as adults. Juveniles under 16 would be granted a transfer hearing, where the judge would hear any and all evidence, the witnesses would be cross-examined by the defense attorney, and then the judge would decide whether or not to send it on to circuit court. But transfer wasn't guaranteed. Circuit court could deny it and send it back to juvenile. 

Defense counsel managed to block the transfer hearing three times, and after 3 years in litigation, argued that the defendant's civil rights to a speedy trial had been denied. When that argument failed, they claimed that the charges had been amended illegally, and that this also violated the defendant's civil rights. (the prosecutor at the time told me that the clerk in the Hardin county office argued with her about how to amend the charges, and that ultimately she yielded to the clerk's demands. As it turns out, the prosecutor knew how to do it correctly all along, it was the clerk's advice that led to a violation of his civil rights. Make of that what you will.)

At that point, the judge was forced to make a decision. The charges were going to have to be dismissed, but would they be with, or without, prejudice. Again, the judge ordered that both counsel present briefs, and he would make a decision. It was at that court appearance the prosecutor told me "I'm tired of this case. The judge is tired of this case," as she stomped off and out of the court house. 

I was devastated. I called the detective to see if he understood what was happening, and what the next steps were. He encouraged me by telling me that no one has the luxury of being tired of my case, it is their job to fight for justice for me. (Side note: up to this point, Caswell was represented by a pair of attorneys.)

After six weeks of waiting, I learned that the judge decided to dismiss without prejudice, meaning charges could be refiled and a transfer hearing was set. Another victory for me.Then defense appealed, first in district court, then circuit court, then they asked for the Kentucky Court of Appeals perform a discretionary review. This part was actually online and open, although the details of the case were still confidential (we were still in juvenile court at this time.) After three months the Kentucky Court of Appeals denied the motion, which upheld the decision, sending it back to district court for a transfer hearing.

I called the prosecutor with the news. Yes, I called her. I knew before she did. That was July 2015. Charges were to be refiled as Rape, 1st degree, victim under the age of 12. After that, the prosecutor stopped returning my emails.

I waited a few weeks, because even on good days the wheels of justice move slowly, before I called victim advocate (for the Breckenridge county prosecutor). Don't be fooled by the title, the victim advocate does not really advocate for the victim, but that's another post. She was very nice, though, and did some research to find that they no longer had the case, and that it was still in Hardin county. I started calling the Hardin county attorney. I would call, weekly, to ask for a status of the case. On one particular day, I was driving my car and speaking to a very sweet woman, who was having trouble finding any information on the computer. I told her that this was a juvenile case, that  I wasn't sure if that made a difference, and she responded "yes, I know the defendant in this case. I can't believe he would do such a thing,"

" Excuse me?!!! You do realize you are talking to the victim in this case, right?" She apologized, and attempted to smooth things over by saying that you never really know what people are capable of doing.

I had several phone conversations with the Hardin county attorney’s office after that. I kept getting transferred to a particular intern, whose job it seemed was to placate me with legel-ease. Here was the best line she used; the commonwealth/county attorney’s office is afforded the right to decide whether or not a conflict of interest even exists, and obviously the county attorney needed some time to decide that matter. This was the second week of October, a full 14 weeks after charges had been filed.  I reminded her that the conflict of interest in question is the same conflict that had existed since original charges had been filed in 2012. I informed her I was calling the attorney general. She asked me not to do that.

I hung up with her and called the attorney general's office. I spoke to one of the AG's assistants, who enlightened me to some frightening legal details. While he agreed wholeheartedly that it appeared the Hardin County Attorney was dragging his feet, county attorneys are autonomous. The AG's office has no authority over them, and can not get involved unless they are either called in by the county attorney, or find evidence of misconduct. Neither had occurred. Never the less, he would talk to a few people and see if something could be done.

The next week I call Hardin county back, and am told that the case had been sent to Breckenridge county for prosecution. Again, make of that what you will.This time a different prosecutor would handle the case. He called me one evening early on to discuss the case with me. His approach was quite different. He was gentle, caring, safe. He listened intently to my story and understood my goals. He had over 20 years experience prosecuting crime, and he was confident we could be successful. His demeanor gave me hope.

Our next court appearance occurred in December 2015, where a January arraignment date was set, as well as a February transfer hearing. Snow in January caused court closures, so everything got pushed back a month.Then the prosecutor called me with a plea idea, one he called "an offer he can't refuse." Keeping in mind my original goal, to hold him accountable and make his name public for others to see, I made a few concessions in this plea. Rather than go down the road of a grand jury indictment, an INFORMATION would be filed instead. This doesn't change the outcome in anyway, but it simplifies the legal proceedings. The main concession I agreed to was taking my age off of the charge, thus lowering it to a D felony. The essence of the plea went like this:

• Defense stipulates that probable cause exists to transfer the case to circuit court

• Defense waives his right to grand jury indictment and appeal

• Defense pleads guilty to sexual assault in the first degree.

• Defendant is sentenced to 1 year, probated, under the terms of a three year diversion program which include:

• monthly meetings with a parole officer, for which he will have to pay a $25 fee each visit

• sex offender counseling

• limited/supervised interaction with children, including his family

• he waives his 4th ammendment right to search and seizure

• unannouned home visits by parole board

• If he meets all requirements of the diversion program, he can have the felony expunged.

• No sex offender registry requirement (which really isn't an issue, legally he wouldn't be required to register anyway, but putting it in the plea will avoid confusion down the road.)

• $1000 fine plus court costs

The positive effects for him taking the deal are:

• establishing which law will be used in the case

• establishing how charges should be filed

• he has already been convicted of this crime, establishing a pattern

• if he starts out in juvenile court again, a transfer hearing will be the next step. Other victims will not have to wait 3 years to get there

Only those convicted of D felonies are eligible for the diversion program. He was charged with an A felony (20-life), but confessed to a C felony (5-10). Offering him diversion was the carrot on the stick, it was the sweet part of the deal for him. There was no way he wouldn't be indicted. His confession alone would secure that. A trial by jury, though, was a crap shoot, for both of us. (However, even if I lost in a jury, I would have won because it would have been public.) The prosecutor and defense attorney offered and counter-offered a few times, and then worked together to massage the plea deal into what was entered April 18, 2016.

Let me digress just a moment. I was very involved in this case, but understand, I had no right to be involved. The prosecutor(s) were under no obligation to discuss any of this with me. Neither the Hardin county attorney nor the Attorney General's office owed me any explanation. Even if I had hired my own attorney, she would have not had any power in the process. The best I could do was be as annoying as possible, and let everyone know that I wasn't going to go away. I was not always pleasant when dealing with some of the actors in this drama; I made a number of vague and pointless threats. I walked a thin line of getting justice for my inner 6 year old and making myself vulnerable to a libel suit. This is why Marsy's Law is important.

Now to my point. Why is this sentence right? Why do all of this fighting for justice and he not see the inside of a prison?

It's simple, other victims. If I am the only victim, I have made his life miserable for a total of 7 years. He will have to behave for the next 3 years or go to prison for a year. And if I am the only victim, I am OK with that. But you and I both know that I am likely not alone. There are probably more women out there who have suffered at his hand, but they do not know that they can make a case. The only way to let them know is by making this case public. My work has made both made his identity and conviction publicly known, it has made their cases easier by:

And no, he will not be offered diversion a second time.

Not to mention an added bonus for me, I never had to testify, and more importantly, I never had to be cross-examined. I was facing having to testify three times; in the transfer hearing, in the grand jury, and again at trial. This way I got to tell my story on the record for everyone and anyone, most especially other victims, to hear. But I never had to go through the stress and risk of a trial of any sort. All of the above listed points could have been lost if he weren't convicted. Setting precedent, making the way easier for other victims, was more important to me than putting him in prison. 

We will know in the next few months which way this will go. I pray there are no other victims, but in my gut I know there are. In my gut I feel that many women have been triggered by this case. They need to see it, they need to see his face, again. They need to know about it; the details of what I've been through, for them, because they are important too. They need to be supported to come forward and seek justice. They need to know that while it won't be easy facing the bastard, the difficult and often disappointing legal work has been done already.

Here is the link to WDRB's coverage, and also the article in the News Enterprise.

One last point- some critics claimed that Caswell pleaded guilty to a crime he didn't commit just because he didn't have money for adequate legal defense. Yeah. Four years of court appearances aren't cheap. Also, here is the citation from Det. Johnson's interview with him in February 2012 ( the 2014 date shown reflects the date it was filed with the court, not the interview itself). He has always denied raping me, but here you see he admitted to Det. Johnson that he sexually assaulted me in my barn loft, when I was only 6, a C felony.

The moment I took my power back

TRIGGER WARNING!!! This is the courtroom video of my victim impact statement. I chose to stand at the podium because the bastard has a hearing deficit, and I wanted to make sure he heard me. This is raw, real, and it's not what I wrote. Not at all. But I opened my mouth, and the little girl who lay in her bed fantasizing about just this event spoke. It was hard. It was painful. I struggled to make myself say the words. But it was also freeing. Powerful. Healing.

https://youtu.be/yakgN8nhYeM

Can you see the victim?

The Kentucky Derby is in two weeks, and preparations for the influx of visitors is well underway. Every news cast is full of Derby news. There will be special Derby themed fund raising events. Residents are being advised of changes in traffic patterns. The city is sprucing up the landscape along the roads leading to Churchill Downs.

And an army of individuals are arming local businesses with the national HUMAN TRAFFICKING hotline number.

Cities love big events because big events draw big money. People will be in our restaurants, buying our gas, and staying in our hotels. Most of these visitors will come, enjoy our city, and then leave. But a percentage of them will do something else while they are here. A few of them will buy a human for the night.

The Kentucky Derby, like all major sports events, triggers an increase in human trafficking in our area. Traffickers are opportunistic, they know that this city will be be full of people looking for a party. They will travel here, just like the Derby goers, but only to make money. The ads on BackPage (and other sources) will increase. The number of solicitation arrests will increase. The number of young women/men/children exploited will increase.

I saw this happen once. My husband attended a tech conference in San Francisco, and I tagged along. (I have since learned that tech conferences are also high on the list for human traffickers.) As my husband and I sat in the restaurant of a 5 star hotel eating Japanese food neither of us could pronounce, I pointed out a victim to him. He was astonished. "How can you tell? It just looks like a couple having dinner to me."

And that's when I realized that I could see things others couldn't. To me, it was obvious. I could see beyond the couple and look at the individuals sitting there. I could see the details, the symptoms, the evidence, but I had to point them out to my husband (and waiter).

The poor girl simply did not fit in. Her "date" was a well-groomed man, 50's, resembling Harrison Ford in many ways, wearing tailored designer clothes, and had manicured hands. He sat, dignified, in his seat, employing all of the rules of etiquette appropriate for this setting. This man looked a lot like all of the other people in the restaurant.

She, on the other hand...

• ...arrived after he did, and had trouble walking in her heels.
• ...was very young. At most, she was in her mid 20's.
• ...wore a cheap black club dress that didn't fit her. 
• ...she had two tattoos, both of them simple and without color. I'm not into tattoos, but I know enough about art to recognize that these tats lacked color, depth, and line. They were not professional tattoos.
• ...was high out of her mind. The poor girl could not sit still. She rocked in her seat, flipped her head back and forth, and (this was the biggest tell) continually rubbed her cheek and nose. Opiates. Opiates will make your face itch. My guess is the girl shot up heroin before meeting this john.
• ...her hair showed signs of long term malnutrition. It was thin, stringy, and frizzy. She did not have it styled, but more or less pushed out of her face. 
• ...had loose skin from sudden weight loss under her arms. Again, this was a young woman.

I watched her through my entire meal. I was hoping she would go to the restroom so I could go talk to her. I didn't have any HT info on me, but I have a smart phone. I googled the hotline number and called. I have no idea what happened to her, but I will forever have her picture in my mind.

At one point during our meal, I asked the waited if he had seen her before, and he asked why.  I told him she is prostitute, obviously high, and likely being held by a pimp for drugs. "She needs help," I said. He just shrugged, and said "it happens," and walked away. My husband was speechless, both at my ability to see her as a victim, and the waiter's inability to do the same.

This is why the outreach Free2Hope is doing next week is so important. Without education and training, the employees in our hotels, restaurants, and gas stations will not see these victims. They will not see the crimes happening right under their noses. They will not see the young women, the young men, or the children being sold for sex. They will simply shrug their shoulders and say "it happens."

Not in my city.

Justice Follow Up

Breckenridge County Judicial Center, where case file 16-CR-00265 is kept. 

I've thought a great deal about justice this week; what it looks like, what it feels like. (see my first post on justice here)  I am part of a tiny percentage of victims who experience this. I thought that justice would bring closure. I thought receiving justice would be the pinnacle, the finish line, that moment when I  could take a breath and know that my fight was over, but I was wrong. Dead wrong.

In the days leading up to the sentencing, I had a friend reach out to me and tell me a story, a story of abuse, evidence, confession, failure to pursue charges, and then death of the perpetrator. It is the kind of story that would nauseate you. The story haunts me; I am angry for my friend. The words "I'll never see justice" cause me pain, because I know that my friend, that child within is still in pain.

I had 4 other friends with me on Monday, three of whom will also never see justice. They went to court with me for several individual reasons, but two were common among them. First, they wanted to support me. Second, they wanted to see justice as it happened, even if it was for someone else. My victory was their victory. That thought was quite humbling for me, and I did not ignore their pain as I walked from the podium to the commonwealth attorney's table after delivering my victim impact statement. I saw them sitting there, in the gallery, weeping from the story I had just told. I ached for them, knowing what it feels like to have a story you want to tell but you are muted by some other power. I so wanted to comfort them, but knew that I couldn't.

In the hours and days after the news story broke I received messages from a dozen or more strangers, commending my courage, congratulating me on a positive outcome, and thanking me for standing up. Each stranger each had a story to tell, and they shared their (abbreviated) stories with me. I listened to and interacted with each and every one of them.  Some of them had been victimized as children or teens, some of them at the hands of family members. One woman had been date raped. One mother was seeking action for the victimization of her 5 years old daughter. One husband talked to me of the pain his wife still endures from being assaulted as a young girl. 

All of these stories had one common element- they would never, ever see justice. These people will forever have a an empty spot in their souls, a longing that can not be fulfilled, They are all, like me, on a path chosen for them by the abuser, powerless to stop the assault, and denied the opportunity to take back their power. They are on the moving sidewalk that never ends. They can be believed. They can forgive. They can find peace. They can heal. But they will never see the ones that abused them held accountable for the lives they destroyed.

I had a long talk with a victim yesterday. She was also assaulted as a very young child, 40 years ago. She told her family about it early on. She was silenced by her family, and since the abuser is a distant cousin, she still has to interact with him on occasion. 40 years later she is held powerless by the monster. He is safe in her silence, and he knows that his family will continue to help him keep her silent. Seeing my story made her angry; angry for me, angry at him, angry at her family. She sobbed as she apologized for allowing them to silence her.

 I don't know that my non-trauma friends will ever be able to truly understand what being powerless feels like, and how important justice truly is. Justice is a huge part of the journey for my trauma friends and me.

Justice is not about punishment or revenge or anger. Justice is about being made just, to be made equitable, proper, or true. It is about holding everyone to the standard of what is moral and correct.

God is just, and he justifies us. That's big church-speak for saying that God balanced the scales for us when Jesus died on the cross. We don't have to try to fill up or empty out our side of the scales. But know this, if justice is important to God, it is important for us.

That's all victims want when we talk about justice. We want the scales balanced again. We want to be back on even footing with those who abused us. We want our power back.



To my trauma friends: do not assume that your window of opportunity for seeking justice has closed. Don't assume that what you've been told by well-intended loved ones is true. Check out the statutes of limitations in your state.   To those who have been denied justice too long and/or now deal with the fact the the abuser is dead, I don't know. I've got to think about that for a while. I wish I had some great idea or resource that would fulfill your need, but I don't. At least not yet. My heart hurts for you.

To my non-trauma friends; please continue to support victims. Please continue to help them find their voices, to make easy the path for seeking justice. Do not be afraid to listen to them. They don't expect you to understand.

I realize now that my fight is not over; I am simply shifting my focus.

How ARE you?

I knew it was coming, but that hasn't lessened the impact. I knew that I would enter a new phase of some sort on April 19, but that hasn't really helped my understanding of what's going on. I knew that my emotions would fluctuate, but that didn't prepare me for them.

I knew people would reach out to me once I made myself available because it's happened before. While I've never kept being a victim a secret, I only made it public knowledge when I pressed charges 4 years ago. Even then, still within my bubble, as I started to tell my story, friends started telling me theirs. It was humbling to hear "I've never really talked about this before, but I was assaulted..." Facebook friends messaged me, telling me their stories, sharing their pain and frustration, seeking relief from the silence they'd been forced to keep.

 And so I've opened a door, no a flood gate. I've received messages from friends, friends of friends, and strangers. I have talked to women and men who have dealt with abuse. I have prayed with moms who are fighting for their child's rights. I have had counselors and sexual assault group leaders make contact with me.

I have a few trauma-friends who get it, who have helped me a great deal. They are raw, real, and have kept me grounded. Daily at least one of them asks "how ARE you." They put that emphasis on the word "ARE" because they know; they know that I will put on my advocate persona in public and protect myself. They have helped me understand my own emotions better. One of them talked about her emotions being "agitated" right now. Yeah. I think that aptly describes it.

One of the women with me Monday is an attorney who was victimized by a client. She has become a staunch advocate for victims, and has asked me to write a blog for her, outlining my court room experience for other victims. I am also preparing for my story to appear in the Southeast Outlook. Both of these tasks seem daunting right now as, like my friend, my emotions are agitated.

I'm still not ready to write a great deal, but I want everyone to know I'm OK. I have scheduled a session with my counselor to debrief the experience. I am going to the court house today to get a copy of the court documents and video. I have not decided if I will watch the video this weekend or not, but I want to have it on hand when I'm ready.

Thank you for your love and support. Thank you for helping victims find their voices.

A letter to the six year old me

Dear little girl in the light blue sweater,

Today is yours. This is the day you've been waiting for for oh, so long. Today is the day your voice will be heard. In a few short hours, you and I will watch him as he stands before a judge and pleads guilty to hurting us. We will sit, together, in the witness box and confront him. We will then get to watch the judge sentence him. Oh, how I know you've so often thought about doing this very thing. I'm so happy for you that this day is here. But before all of that happens, there are a few things I need to tell you.

First, I'm sorry this happened to you. It wasn't your fault. You did nothing wrong, you could not have stopped it, and you did not deserve it. I know it will take a while for that to completely sink in, because it took way too long for those words to be spoken to you. Many people failed you over the years. People who should have loved you and protected you did neither. You started to believe a lie. But dear child, know that the words I tell you now are true.

Your childhood was ripped from you without warning. Children are supposed to grow up feeling loved and protected, and yet you did not feel safe in your own backyard. I'm so sorry. You are precious, and you are worthy. You should not have had your innocence taken from you. There is no way to give back to you what was stolen, nothing will ever make amends. Someone else chose a life-path for you that no one would ever choose for herself. Yet you have lived it.  No. You have not just lived it, you have survived, and you have conquered it.

You have taught me a great deal, little one. You amaze me. At such a young and tender age, the measure of your strength and tenacity was incredible. You had the courage to resist a monster even though there was no way for you to win. You had the forethought to develop a strategy of survival, more than that, you prevented yourself from being injured again. I know you were scared. I am too. But that, dear child, is the definition of courage. You were scared and managed to face down a monster anyway. Oh, I know you think that you were just running away, but I know the truth. The truth is you were trying to run to safety, even though that safety was merely an illusion. Again, that was not your fault.

I am proud of you. In the ugliness that was your world, you found beauty in little things. You found God. Sometimes I wish we could go back and do things over for you. I wish you had known a life without pain, without fear, a life where you felt cherished and wanted. But in your heart, you always knew there was something more out there. You somehow knew that what you were being taught as "truth" was actually a lie. I don't know how, but you managed to hold on to hope until we could break free of the lie. Thank you for that. 

Today will be completely different for you. Today we will sit in the courtroom, together, and confront the bastard who tried to kill us. But don't worry, you don't have to be afraid. You don't have to run away today. All you have to do is sit, and let me hold you, as I tell your story. He can't hurt us anymore. I will be your voice, your advocate. I will protect and love you today, the way your should have been protected and loved many, many years ago. 

There are many people in our life now, safe people who have shown us what it truly means to be loved. They have been with us through all of the ups and downs of this journey. Some of them will even be there with us today, friends who are angry FOR us, who find you too valued to be abused as you were. Listen to them, let them love you. Let them continue to replace the lies you were told with the truth. Today, may you feel just, that you are no longer powerless and mute. May you feel bold, brave, and beautiful. 

Know that I love you. Know that I know you will still feel pain from time to time. I know that you will always have to live with the memories he planted in your mind. But also know that together we have already healed a great deal. We use our experiences to help others in pain. We have found peace and joy. We have been redeemed.

Today, dear me, we win. 

Preparing for the publicity

It's Wednesday. I'm now in the the final mile of this legal marathon, and I'm tired. On Monday morning he will stand before a judge and accept the terms of the plea agreement. He will be sentenced. And I will tell the world what he did to me.

My impact statement is 10 pages long. It has been painful to write, as I have had to painstakingly choose the best words to describe events that should have never occurred in the first place. I was told by the prosecutor, counselor, victim advocate, and my attorney to be specific, detailed, to include as many sensory details as possible, as my statement will be on the record and searchable. I have had to go back to being that child. This week I have heard every sound, felt every touch, tasted every taste, and felt all of the fear all over again. I have cried a lot this week.

I don't expect Monday to be pleasant, I expect it to be one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. Maybe the hardest. I am going to revisit, publicly, the darkest, most painful moments of my life. I will be raw and exposed as I confront the defendant in front of my husband, my friends, strangers, and quite possibly the media. And that is OK. In fact, I invited all of them.

Here's the deal. There's something that has bothered me for a long time, but I haven't really had a good way to talk about it. I had a conversation recently with a friend about a rape case in another state. Part of the victim's testimony had been aired on the news, and there was a discussion about it on Facebook. A number of people had posted comments about the victim and whether or not her testimony should have been aired. "It's too private," was one comment. "It's too personal" being another. While I appreciate that these comments are intended to support the victim, I think they also have another effect. They are in a way victim shaming.

As a victim, I have a different take. Sex and intimacy are personal and private. Rape is about neither sex nor intimacy. Unfortunately, many of us (victims) have been told way too often that "what happened" (a phrase people like to use instead of the real word, crime) to us is personal and private. We begin to associate being raped with having sex, and our ability to be intimate becomes compromised. Rape is an act of violence more similar to theft or being stabbed than having sex with someone you love. Something was taken from me. Yes, it involved my "private" parts, but that does not mean I view him taking my body as private. I was injured. And yes, that injury involved parts of my body that I don't normally talk about in public, I did nothing wrong.

Keeping quiet helps only one person: the perpetrator. 

I am inviting media coverage for two reasons. First, I am of the opinion there are other women out there who have been victimized by him. I want them to know that they are not alone. If he does have other victims, perhaps hearing my story will embolden them. Second, I want all victims who suffer in silence to feel empowered.  I want them to know that they can come forward and have their voices heard. I want them to know that they do not need to hold the shame for the violent acts they suffered at the hand of another. The shame does not belong to them, it belongs to the rapists who came only to steal and destroy.

So, if I'm on the news, if you see video of me in a fragile state, on the witness stand, testifying about all of the horrible things he did to my body (and my mind) in graphic detail, know that it's OK. I don't mind you hearing about it. I have no reason to be embarrassed or ashamed. I do not hold the shame for what happened, he does. I did nothing wrong, he did. I have nothing to hide, he does.

40 years later, and it looks like I won.

Friday is my 46th birthday, but this morning I am thinking about my 6th birthday. I got roller skates that year. And Mickey Mouse ears. It meant that I would get to go to school soon.

And it is one of my last memories of me before I was forced into the role of victim.

We moved to Glendale shortly after my 6th birthday. All of my memories from then on are marred by sexual assault. And even though I have moved from victim to survivor, my life's trajectory was irreversibly altered the day I was raped.

For virtually 40 years I've been seeking justice. For 40 years I've desired to have my voice heard, to have my day in court. For 40 years I've felt deprived of closure.

And now, suddenly, I am going to get it.

I literally have no idea what it will be like to live life AFTER justice. I know it will change me somehow, but how? Even though I pressed charges and have hounded the prosecutors to stay on top of my case, I don't think I actually believed that this day would ever come.

I've been working on my victim impact statement for the last few weeks. I've decided to let the 9 year old in me address him directly. This is no less than a (day)dream come true. While most 9 year-old girls are daydreaming about Disney movies and Barbie toys, I was dreaming of holding him hostage with an audience composed of our families and the police, decisively and deliberately enumerating the ways in which he hurt me, and revealing the secrets he held so powerfully over me. I wanted nothing more than to scream at the top of my lungs "He raped me!" but had no means to do so.

40 years later I will finally get my chance.

What happens to that dream? I don't know what it is like to NOT look forward to that day. I think that is why I am painstakingly putting together my victim impact statement; I want to make sure that when I relive the plea hearing in my mind, it is without regret. Nothing left out. The words I use must completely tell the story, they must paint for the listener a clear picture of the life he forced me to live.

How else will this change me? I mean, I have already moved from victim to survivor. I am even cocky enough to call myself an over-comer from time to time. But is there any place else to go? The reality is that whatever I become, it is the direct result of first being a victim, a title that I did not choose for myself. I did not get to decide to be a survivor, I was forced. I did not foresee myself becoming an over-comer one day based on the sheer value of being an over-comer. I was relegated to work my way up, and it very much was work on my part, because remaining a victim was unacceptable.

I think I can appreciate the amount of time God allowed the Israelites to wander in the desert now. After 40 years, whatever life you had before that time, it is pretty much erased from you memory banks.

But it's a whole lot easier for me to tell you what won't change on April 18.

I won't stop speaking out. I won't pretend it didn't happen; I've been to hell and back. Some of you have too, you just aren't ready to talk about it. I remember what it was like to want to talk about things, but I felt alone, isolated, broken. I will continue to be a voice for those who have been silenced by abuse.

I will still be hyper-vigilant. The rules that I developed to

1- cover your back
2- have more than one exit
3-know where the adults are
4-be ready to feign an accident or cause a scene

survive at age 6 are rules I still use today. Some of you have experienced these neurotic tendencies when traveling with me. If you were ever my student, you most certainly experienced rule #3, know where everyone is at all times. These rules are the reason I'm not afraid to wander the streets of New Orleans or San Francisco alone. These are the rules that have kept me safe. And while I recognize that the "safety" I feel by sitting in a restaurant with my back to a wall is only in my head, I will continue to choose the seat that has me face the dining room when possible.

I won't stop being an advocate. It may not be a role I chose, but it is something I've gotten pretty good at doing. I will admit I think it's a whole lot easier being an advocate for other people than it is to be an advocate for myself. I had to work at being my own advocate for the last 4 years. But now that my fight is (almost) over, I can see myself helping victims seek justice. It's a long and hard road, and no one should have to walk it by themselves. I have been blessed to have the love of my dear husband and the encouragement of good friends along this road. I have discovered that I have trauma-friends, people who are like me, who have been assaulted and abused in their past, and who understand the nuances of life after victimization. I have had an excellent, Godly pastor to guide me spiritually, and an empathetic counselor who helped me develop my voice. I am truly one of the lucky ones. Not every victim has these resources at her ready.

As April 18 draws closer, I am sure my emotions will continue to fluctuate. I have no idea how it is going to feel to speak in open court. I have already invited some of you to come along with me, to be part of justice as it happens. When the time comes, when I can make details public, I will issue an open invitation to the rest of you.

I was not a liar until you abused me

Having a conversation with someone this morning, relaying an event that I have thought about many times in the last few years, I had a startling realization. I clearly remember the first time I lied to my mother, and it was his fault.

I was six when he groomed me, molested me, assaulted me, and then raped me twice. The first rape left me in stunned silence. I had no words to describe what had happened. But I also had no reason to use words. I was simply silent. 

The second rape was different. He left me physically traumatized. He left evidence. At six years old I sat alone in a barn,crying, scared, clutching a stuffed ostrich, trying to figure out how to keep  my mother from finding out. 

And so I lied. 

And the thing is, my lie was very believable BECAUSE I was so young. 

I lied and told my mom that I had had an accident while playing, and I needed new underwear and clothes. The truth is I threw my underwear in the fire barrel as I ran from the barn to the house and into the bathroom. I didn't want to simply hide my underwear, I destroyed them. 

I'm not sure how I learned how to lie, but I'm pretty sure my motivation to lie came as a direct result of being groomed. Grooming is a predatory behavior used by many abusers, and it can make the victim feel complicit in the abuse.

Of these grooming behaviors, he used befriending first. I was lonely, and he was my only friend. He didn't give me gifts, but his mom made me cookies. He made the sound effects for my Barbie car. He wrestled with me and played tickle games. He gradually increased his contact, holding my hand, sitting me in his lap, "teaching" me how to kiss like an adult. Time passed between our first contact and rape. Even after the rape he continued to groom me, telling me that we needed to practice so that it wouldn't hurt anymore. And don't forget, if I told, I'd get in trouble.

These are the reasons I believe there are other victims out there. These are the reasons I fight to have my day in court, to make his identity public, to open the door should other victims desire to come forward. He has been safe in my silence for far too long. He caused me to lie then, I will not lie for him anymore.  

Speak up, loves. Speak up, speak loud. Those who abuse us are only safe in our silence. If you need a hand to hold, I have two. If you need support to stand, 

I'll hold you up. If you need a voice, you can use mine.  I know it's hard. I know it's scary. But we've been to hell and back already. It's amazing how much support there is out there, how many others have a story to share, how many lives you can touch if you simply speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.