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.