Lessons for Scott Brown

Politics is mean business.  My guess is the junior Senator from Massachusetts knew this already; he didn’t get where he is as a retiring flower. Nevertheless, even he might have been surprised by some of the backlash that’s been tossed around regarding his revelation on 60 minutes last month that he was both physically and sexually abused as a child.Brown revealed some of the details of a difficult childhood, including suffering at the hands of an apparently brutal step-father, and also sexual abuse at the hands of a camp counselor at the age of 10. What he revealed is both time-honored and typical.  As I’ve noted before, I don’t have a crystal ball; that being said, I see nothing in Brown’s account that would suggest it’s made up or the product of fantasy. Particularly when describing the sex abuse, he notes it wasn’t “fully consummated,” presumably meaning that no sexual penetration took place. While full penetration certainly does happen in male child sex abuse, what Brown infers (sexual contact short of penetration) is generally more common. Likewise, the threats from the counselor he reports “I’ll kill you/I’ll make sure no one believes you” are also incredibly common.  They’re a primary reason that most victims never reveal childhood sexual abuse.  Further, Brown’s acknowledgment of the embarrassment and hurt that kept him silent is also eminently reasonable.Nevertheless, an unholy collection of comments from readers on various reports of Brown’s revelation (for instance at the 60 minutes page and also here) suggest several reasons why Brown has clearly made all of this up. While I think all of these explanations are wrong, from least to most ridiculous, here are a few:1. He wants to sell books.2. He wants votes.3. He is a homosexual, evidenced by his 1982 Playgirl spread, his metrosexually-handsome appearance, and his RINO (Republican In Name Only) tendencies. And he’s been “caught with a man,” so he’s on damage control.4.  He is a closet socialist, attempting to tear down institutions celebrated by Christian-capitalist systems like the nuclear family by claiming sexual and caretaker abuse.And then there are those who have nothing but scorn for Sen. Brown regardless of the truth of his revelations. Some of these are nakedly political, suggesting that, while perhaps he was abused as a child, he’s now getting back at his constituents and the American people by politicking as a heartless Republican.  Or on the flip side, his failure to be manly and keep silent on the issue betrays his deep-seated liberal tendencies.I’m not a Republican, even a Scott Brown Republican. I disagree with him on many issues, and I’ve seen him act and speak on more than one occasion that left me less than enamored. But I have reason to question neither the substance nor the timing of the allegations he’s made against the men in his life who made it miserable, frightening and dark- and exactly when he was powerless and dependent.To the extent that his voting record or political stances truly reflect an insensitivity toward victims, I agree that he should consider his own struggles more deeply. Although he sponsored a ‘conscience clause’ exception to medical professionals charged with providing emergency contraception to rape victims in his home state, his provision would still have mandated alternatives for the patient to receive the same medication. I don’t support conscience clauses, but I don’t see this as proof-positive of his callousness toward victims.More troubling to a bigger-government guy like me is what appears to be his faux-populist, anti-government stance that has the effect of starving programs that do make a difference in the lives of victims (programs I know work from close professional experience). That he tends to take this stance even while protecting a rapacious financial industry in exchange for a ton of campaign support makes it even more disturbing, but I digress.Scott Brown is as imperfect and complex as any of us.  He is also, in my estimation, someone who has worked hard to overcome myriad personal challenges, among them debilitating child abuse.  He deserves credit for coming forward, which- whatever his intentions- has the effect of shedding desperately needed light on this shadowed epidemic.  It also demonstrates that personal and professional success can still lie at the end of a very difficult road. For that, I salute him and wish him well as his journey toward healing unfolds.

Thank You, Dan McCarthy

“The qualities of a good prosecutor are as elusive and as impossible to define as those which make a gentleman. And those who need to be told would not understand it anyway. A sensitiveness to fair play and sportsmanship is perhaps the best protection against the abuse of power, and the citizens safety lies in the prosecutor who tempers zeal with human kindness, who seeks truth and not victims, who serves the law and not factional purposes, and who approaches his task with humility.”Robert H. Jackson, United States Supreme Court Justice, 1940This quote adorns the plaque with my badge affixed to it, given to me by Randy Sengel, Commonweatlth's Attorney for the City of Alexandria, Virginia when I left the office in 2003. It is a sentiment I've seen embodied in a happily large number of men and women over the course of my career, but perhaps never so profoundly as in a friend who passed away unexpectedly this week, Dan McCarthy.It's been observed in the legal community that, oftentimes, there's an inverse relationship between the skill and success of a trial attorney, and his or her skill and success as a human being. Simply put, some of the most effective and remarkably talented trial attorneys out there are walking disasters in their personal lives.Daniel McCarthy, Chief Trial Counsel and Director of Trial Training at the Bronx District Attorneys Office, was the very best trial lawyer I ever knew personally, and recognized as one of the best in the country. He was also a remarkable success as a human being. Dan could do both, and with what looked like effortless aplomb.I worked in the Bronx, where Dan was an ADA for 18 years, for a little less than two. When I contemplate my service there I sometimes feel the guilt of soldiers who, for whatever reason, spent very little time in a combat zone. I am grateful for the experience, but I hold my service cheap compared to friends, colleagues and giants like Dan who spent much of their careers in service in this good and fascinating, but often brutal and challenging community. Dan had every opportunity to leave prosecution almost 20 years ago and make a remarkably good living as a litigator in the private sector. But instead he went from one tough environment (Queens) to an arguably even tougher environment (the Bronx) in order to continue to seek justice and serve victims.Thankfully I knew Dan before and after BXDA, but during my time there he taught me things I still hold dear. My favorite example might be this one: ADA's, when they appear in court, usually announce their appearance for the "District Attorney." It was Dan who taught me to personalize my appearance to the good man who hired me. "He represents this community and he deserves your loyalty and respect," he said. "When you appear in court, say you're there on behalf of the office of Robert T. Johnson." It was a gesture I maintained when I appeared on behalf of then Attorney General Andrew M. Cuomo two years later.It was Dan- more than anyone else in my career, and I have had great mentors- who emphasized in deeply compassionate terms the reality that lingered behind the case folders. Lives are broken by crime and they are not put back together by criminal litigation. The dead are silenced and their potential truncated, leaving behind grieving loved ones who never fully recover. The wounded and paralyzed- mentally or physically- are at times left to navigate lives that can draw out like a blade in numbing, endless days of struggle. Victims fight nightmares, despair, hopelessness and rage, all long after the publicity is over, the juries are dismissed and the accolades are shared. Dan never let us forget this.The Bronx, at once magnificent and godforsaken, lush with green space and choked with urban density, home to centuries of history and yesterday's arrivals from every point on the globe, possessed of both world-class schools and grinding poverty, is itself a study in contradictions.When I think about it, I suppose Dan was also. He was a nationally known attorney with sobering responsibilities who was always ready to poke fun at himself and never too busy to brainstorm with a young ADA facing a first larceny trial. He was endlessly creative, pincer-like and pulverizing when proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, but hyper-ethical and deeply compassionate to everyone on both sides of the tragic cases he handled. He was erudite and analytical but fun-loving and folksy. The man could, very simply, do it all. His loss leaves an empty space in the American prosecution community and the lives of his friends and family that won't be filled. But he also leaves a legacy of decency, compassion and justice that will, in the spirit of true success, endure forever.

The Baby Ad: Myth, Reality, and Danger in Prevention

They call themselves Men's Rights Advocates, or MRA’s.  I’ve aimed a fair amount of criticism their way over the years as paranoid-sounding myth perpetrators, which I believe many of them to be.  So I was surprised when I found myself agreeing with them- marginally- on an anti-rape video produced by a Midwestern rape crisis and DV advocacy center run by a male advocate named Josh Jasper, now the poster-boy enemy for the men's rights movement.  Jasper, a former Marine, ex-cop and now CEO of what appears to be a vibrant, multi-location facility, is a guy I’d probably admire and agree with more often than not.  But I think his video misses the mark, although not exactly for the reasons the MRA pitchfork crowd is seething about.The video depicts an adorable and utterly innocent, smiling male infant as a potential future rapist, and suggests that teaching him different ideas of masculinity is the key to ending sexual violence.  So presumably he can be taught to rape, or taught not to rape.  Jasper himself contends that no one is born to be a rapist or a batterer, but rather that it’s learned behavior.  MRA’s, though, seem to believe that Jasper wants us to think all boys are by default potential rapists who must be taught to behave more gently than the naturally crazed beasts they are.  That, in their view, constitutes misandry (a hatred of men and boys) and is part of a hyper-feminist, emasculating pandemic fueled by government largess and the self-hatred of guys like Jasper (and me).But I think Jasper believes the way many of us did in the early days of studying non-stranger sexual violence.  He sees a boy’s default setting as non-sexually violent, but believes the wrong rearing and education can turn almost any boy into a rapist.  It’s probably a distinction without a difference for the MRA’s, but I think it’s important.  I also think, unfortunately, that Jasper is wrong.As I’ve written in this space before, the best research we have shows that most men, regardless of what they’re taught, naturally won’t commit acts of sexual violence.   A good upbringing certainly promotes respect for women and a view of them that isn’t grossly objectifying (although societal cues are anything but helpful).  But what we’ve learned is that, even of the cads and womanizers out there, most naturally recognize and respect the boundaries of consent or incapacitation.  And a minority of men, some of whom seem quite upstanding otherwise, view sexuality in a way that leads them to rape, and that they do so repeatedly and won’t be deterred regardless of what they’re taught as boys.  They do most of the damage.In a way, this is a kind sentiment for men to hear. We’re not, as previously suspected, all potential felons with testosterone fueled libidos in need of restraint. But the other side of the coin is a very dark one indeed.  Domestic violence, it might be argued, is more of a learned behavior.  But where do rapists come from? What causes a boy to emerge in adolescence as a rapist or a sex offender?  The fact is, as researchers like Anna Salter have disturbingly but compellingly suggested, we just don’t know.  A tempting but inaccurate answer is that men who rape or otherwise offend sexually were themselves perpetrated upon as children.  I believed this for a while as an ADA.  But Salter and others have revealed that claims of abuse (over 90% for convicted sex offenders) is almost completely the result of self-reporting.  Even threatening offenders with polygraphs takes that number way down.  Will a sex offender or convicted rapist claim earlier abuse before a sentencing judge?  Of course, because he knows it’ll usually produce a more favorable sentence, and he'll be seen as less of a monster than an offender who alleges no previous abuse.What's much worse is when this argument is reversed; when it's believed that boys and girls who are offended against need to sufficiently “heal” in order not to become abusers.  This "vampire theory" is both appallingly cruel and completely inaccurate.  The vast majority of survivors grow to become more protective and cognizant of the risks when they have or interact with children, even if the pathology they suffered leads them to make bad choices in other areas of their lives.Both of these ideas- one benign but mostly wrong and one malevolent and completely wrong, nevertheless stem from usually well-intentioned, Judeo-Christian efforts to understand evil acts by people allegedly created in His image.  I’ve argued this for years with religious friends who can’t accept that a loving God creates people within whom malignant, torturous things simply bloom and create monstrous behavior. People just aren’t born with broken souls.Except that they might be.I’m only a lawyer; I have neither the ability nor the inclination to draw ontological conclusions.  As my father was snarkily fond of saying when I asked him as a kid what God was thinking about this or that, “I don’t know, I haven’t talked to Him lately.”I'm still religious, and I still don't know.  But I believe what methodological research and my own anecdotal experience suggests: There is evil in the world and we really don’t know where it comes from.  That doesn’t mean that efforts like Jasper's, though, are in vain.  If you view the ad as the MRA’s do (part of a continuing effort to demonize those of us with penises, even tiny innocent babies) then yes, Jasper is a misandrist.  But I don’t think that’s the case.  And there is great value in teaching boys gentleness, decency and even chivalry as long it’s understood that their female counterparts are not fragile, weak things to be protected and lorded over, but equals to be viewed on par in every way.  This is particularly important given how popular culture and Madison Avenue sell and objectify women and sex, and it can be done without eliminating gender roles and the life-affirming interplay of sexuality.  So were I Josh Jasper, I’d adjust fire (a reference I’ll bet he gets as a former Marine) but I wouldn’t back away from seeking to change how men view women.And I’d damn sure be careful to avoid assumptions that are tempting in their ability to explain the unfathomable, but potentially unfair to survivors of abuse or cynically exploited by abusers themselves.  With that said, I wish Josh the best as he continues his mission.  And I'll gladly share the target with him where the vitriol of the men's rights movement is concerned.  Semper Fi.

Start By Believing

A hard-drinking and genius Senator from New York (Daniel Patrick Moynihan) was fond of saying that everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but not their own facts. When it comes to non-stranger sexual assault (the great majority), Moynihan’s admonition is no less true.  So here are the facts:1. Most incidents of sexual assault are never reported to police.2. False reports of sexual assault hover around the rate of all other violent crimes (between 2% and 10%)3. Most rape is serial rape, meaning most men who commit rape commit more than one (the average is 6).These are research-based statements, and they have been confirmed in subsequent research efforts.  This is what non-stranger sexual assault looks like, and it’s a plague.  Interestingly, it’s a plague spread by relatively few offenders.  Most men won’t commit what we understand legally to be sexual assault.  They may be immoral, they may be disrespectful, but most are not rapists.  They’ll stop when they recognize signs of fear, revulsion or discomfort on the part of their potential sexual partners (signs, by the way, that really aren’t hard to discern).  If they come across an unconscious or semi-conscious woman (or man), they won’t shimmy the clothes and underwear off of the person and sexually penetrate her or him.Rapists, on the other hand, do what they do because it’s how they view sex and sexuality.  They usually aren’t “traditional” criminals, meaning they often aren’t tattoo-covered, grinning TV villains.  They don’t wear masks or jump out of bushes; they don’t have to.  Instead they rely on the myths that surround and permeate the notions we as a society have about sexual violence.  They employ remarkable cunning whatever their educational level in order to identify victims, and they usually use alcohol or other intoxicants to ready their playing field.  When they strike, it looks like exactly what they want it to look like- confusion, equivocation, and what some in the media have termed “gray rape.”  It’s almost never a clear-cut, “real” rape.  “Real” rape involves scary looking guys with darker complexions than ours who jump out of bushes and attack complete strangers.  Everything else is…well…a part of the dating ritual.  A rite of passage.  Just desserts for dressing slutty, drinking too much, staying out too late, and for leading on red-blooded American boys.  Because after all, boys will be boys.Believe that tripe if you will, but you might as well insist the earth is flat.  The reality-based among us understand that things like terror or incapacitation really aren’t that difficult to recognize for most men, and that most men take those cues and back off when they see them.  Nevertheless, the deniers will insist that sex is kind of a game, and testosterone is a funny thing, and ordinarily good guys might sometimes push things too far even though they’re really solid, respectable men at heart.  And of course, the assumption is that ordinarily good gals will sometimes naturally regret sexual liaisons that threaten their reputations and sense of self, and thus naturally “mistake” a consensual act for a nonconsensual one, thus resulting in a call to the police.  Ah, and don’t forget the legions of gold-digging, devil-women who haunt the bars and dance clubs of the world, looking to sting athletes, actors and other celebrities with false charges of sexual violence for the chance at a civil suit payoff or a reality show debut.  It happens all the time.  Right?No.  It really doesn’t.  No more than “gray” sexual situations involving force and incapacitation regularly produce reports to law enforcement and subsequent dramatic trial dramas.  In fact, the opposite is true.  Most women in clear-cut situations of sexual assault blame themselves and move on, let alone unclear situations where they really can't remember or fully grasp what transpired.  That being said, are people capable of lying about sexual assault?  Of course.  Do they?  Of course.  But is there any reason to believe that most people who allege sexual assault are 1) mistaken, or 2) lying?  No.  There is zero replicable, scientifically based evidence to suggest anything like that, and quite a bit of evidence to the contrary.That’s where Start By Believing comes from (a disclaimer- I sit on the Board of Directors of End Violence Against Women, International, the group behind the SBB campaign).  SBB is revolutionary, and it should be.  It represents a radical, new look at how we view cases of sexual violence.  The bottom line is that, in the vast majority of cases, there is no reason to doubt the victim making the allegation.  Further, even if one believes the victim, blaming her for “her part” in inviting her victimization is both wrong-headed and counter-productive.Victims don’t invite rape; they are chosen by rapists who seek them out and recognize them as attractive targets.A victim is never responsible for what “she did” to bring on a sexual attack.  I’m a lawyer.  I understand that the concept of “contributory negligence” (the idea that the injured person did something to contribute to his injury) is deeply embedded in the Anglo-American psyche.  But that’s not how sexual assault works.  Instead, sexual assault is a planned attack against an identified victim, chosen exactly because the offender figured she either 1) wouldn’t report and/or 2) wouldn’t be believed if she did.  Further, the initial reaction a victim of sexual violence experiences has everything to do with how easily she can relate her own experience to authorities, how effectively she can assist in the case against her attacker, and (most importantly) how quickly she can heal.SBB is about changing the attitudes of the rest of us- those who will be the person a victim turns to when the unthinkable happens.  If we simply start by believing- not judging, not questioning, not rationalizing- but simply believing, then we will be contributing remarkably to the healing process of the victim and (possibly) to the prevention of further attacks.  In fact, it's not that radical when we break it down.  We look at purse-snatchings this way.  We look at assaults and car theft this way.  When it comes to just about every other crime, we generally start by believing.  There is nothing- absolutely nothing- to lead us in any other direction where sexual violence is concerned.Take the next step.  For your daughters, your sons, your sisters, your partners, your spouses, your neighbors,  your friends.  The damage being done is incalculable, but so are the rewards when the tide is turned.  It's time.

Life, Sweetness, Hope

It is the motto of the University of Notre Dame Du Lac, taken from an 11^th century Marian hymn and a simple, lovely description of the woman we refer to as the Queen of Heaven.  And yet in the shadow of her statue there, a dutiful commitment to the safety and physical security of the women of her community seems dreadfully lacking.  So, apparently, is the pastoral compassion she would clearly have shown to a family suffering in the aftermath of a disaster.The focus of what happened when Notre Dame authorities were charged with investigating Lizzy Seeberg’s sex assault allegation against a football player last fall must not be lost.  District Attorney Dvorak's decision not to file charges was an inevitability without a living victim; it says nothing about the truth of her allegations.  What's worth focusing on instead is what the school has done or will do under its own disciplinary process, which has lower standards of proof than the DA and no need of her testimony.  What's worth questioning is the fully accredited police department and veteran detectives whose full response to what Elizabeth Seeberg alleged was pitiful, slow and feckless.But rather than doing the painful work of self-examination and sincere contrition, Rev. John Jenkins, ND’s president, continues to insist that the investigation was “thorough and careful,” signaling that “we followed the facts where they led” as if he knows something we don’t, and that this was all a misunderstanding or worse on Lizzy’s part.  He’ll go as far to admit that things could have been done faster, but in the same breath asserts that “care in the investigation is more important than speed.”  This is breathtaking.  How can this undoubtedly erudite man not understand that, in an investigation like that one, speed and thoroughness are inextricably linked?  NDSPD had a duty to react- quickly.  They had a compliant, cooperative victim.  They had detailed facts.  They had remarkably easy to find witnesses and suspects.  They had the reality of a threat communicated to Lizzy the next day.  They dragged their feet and then she died.  And when her parents sought answers the university stonewalled unnecessarily, incorrectly citing federal law to do so.Of course, as my detractors will quickly note, we can’t ever really know what happened.  This was a “he said, she said” case, and I don’t have a crystal ball.  No, I don’t.  And I don’t need one.  Are we to believe that Lizzy Seeberg, with no history of being remarkably vindictive or divorced from reality simply made up every detail of that night (the accused- whose attorney says was a “complete gentlemen” telling her she’d need to “pee in the sink” for instance)?  Does any serious person really believe she just fabricated this measured, reasonable account to her friends that night and the police the next day?  It’s been pointed out that she never accused him of rape.  Correct- she didn’t.  And if she were an attention seeking liar doesn’t it make sense that she would have concocted a bigger story?  Does it really resonate that a bright, hopeful young woman, new to a campus community, would choose to begin her first semester by taking on the most venerable football program in history for the sake of seeking attention?  Over a regretful incident of touching?  In order to “get back” at a student athlete she barely knew?   And all of this after finally getting the opportunity to try again at college in such a promising environment after a long and difficult struggle?   Are we to believe she made all of this up just because she wanted to risk the exposure, the backlash, the alienation of challenging the entire raison d’etre of her surroundings?   Even if she can be accused of merely misunderstanding his actions, are we to assume she reported them anyway just to be on the safe side?This is utter, vacuous nonsense and it would be laughed out of any other argument that didn’t involve a sex crime.  Indeed, the people divorced from reality are the ones drawing nonsensical parallels between this case and Duke Lacrosse and claiming some veneer of plausible deniability in this player’s name.  I’ll stake everything I’ve ever been or will be that the player she accused manhandled and scared the hell out of her exactly as she claimed.  And he got away with it, allowed to continue playing football despite her complete, immediate, comprehensive and compelling account to authorities.  Nothing- not even the snuffing out of a brilliant young life- was enough to convince Notre Dame’s football program to simply ask this young man to sit out a few games until it could gather facts and lend appropriate gravity to the situation. Her blood cried out for that, at very least.  But it wasn’t to be, anymore than tracking down this football player- whose whereabouts in season are as easily traceable as the President’s- was to be before 15 days passed.Lizzy’s father, Tom Seeberg, says what’s at stake here better than I could:   “We are parents fighting for our daughter. We're fighting for our sisters, our nieces and our granddaughters.  If not at Our Lady's university, then where? Where in the world would you fight for women? Where in the world would you fight for a cause like this?"The cause is a noble and crucial one indeed, and it’s about more than this lovely young woman and the heartbreaking truncation of her life.  It’s about more than Notre Dame, a school the Seebergs still love and admire.  It’s about how we view girls and women, and how we respond when they are sexually degraded, exploited and attacked.  What we're facing is a plague, on college campuses as much if not more than anywhere else.  And yet these environments, the very places where enlightenment should flourish and protection for young lives should be most prized, seem the most tone deaf to this problem no matter how much evidence is placed before them.  I hope ND’s response to Lizzy Seeberg wasn’t colored by the fact that her accused was a football player.  But that’s the perception many are left with.  And under it flows a bitter current of resignation: The women of the Notre Dame community, as in most communities, are worth less than the men.  Less than athletics.  Less than reputations.ND has a solid policy on paper to deal with sexual assault.  It needs to give life to that policy with investigations that don’t make a mockery out of serious allegations.  Father Jenkins and the leadership of his great university need to own, not duck, dodge and explain away what happened when his system encountered and then badly mishandled the plea of a young woman who approached it with an open heart and the desire to do the right thing.  But much more than that, they need to contemplate more deeply the commitment they are willing to make not just to the Blessed Woman they venerate but the mortal ones who cross their campus as young, imperfect, and sometimes vulnerable students in need of respect, protection and at least a vigorous, competent response to violent behavior against them.  Because on August 31, 2010, five months ago to the day, one of those women walked onto their campus and endured a jumbled, sick perversion of the Notre Dame motto.She lost sweetness.  Then hope.  Then life.

Precious

I recently consulted on a case of involuntary manslaughter.  The victim was a 19 month-old boy who had been inappropriately swaddled (by his stepfather) in a crib and placed face down on an adult sized pillow amid a flashlight and several other inappropriate and dangerous items. The child was dead when his mother finally went to check on him at 9:30 the morning after a particularly wild party where she and his father heard him crying in an unusual and distressed manner at some point over the din, but neglected to attend to him.  The official cause of death was mechanical asphyxiation.   The father had wrapped him so tightly in the blanket that he likely exhausted himself attempting to wiggle around, and then choked when he vomited later in the night (he’d been diagnosed with gastroenteritis and was vomiting regularly).Lividity (the bruise-like purple color a body turns on the side where the blood settles) and blanching (areas of paleness amid the purple because of skin pressed against a surface) made the crime scene photos chilling.  A 19 month-old isn’t supposed to look like some sickly, purple and white-striped, limp doll. For most of an afternoon, the prosecutor and my team discussed possibilities for charging either parent, particularly the stepfather who was the hands-on actor.  There were arguments for mercy toward both parties, particularly given the fact that both (especially the mother) were sentenced already to a lifetime of mourning this child and the dreadful judgment that led to his death.  But there was also evidence that the stepfather was both jealous and contemptuous of the child- and he had beaten him and left marks on at least one occasion previously.  Prosecuting him was appropriate.  The mother was a tougher call; she was guilty of horrendous judgment and some sick combination of laziness and stupidity, but didn’t seem to merit a charge.  And without a doubt, she was being punished already.  We also needed her cooperation.It’s a sticky balance sometimes.  Often the hardest part of being a child abuse prosecutor is working with (and withholding judgment of) the “non-offending” parent, that is, the one who didn’t actively harm the child, but who might have contributed to the environment that gave rise to his being harmed or killed.  Usually, although not always, that’s the mother.  She is often a victim herself, usually of the same perpetrator.  Understanding what’s known as the “Cycle of Violence” and other dynamics that play out in domestic violence situations helps to make sense of a person’s seemingly irrational or unwise choices. It’s not easy, for a hundred reasons, to leave a situation with a violent and abusive man.  Many ADA’s I’ve worked with though, particularly ones who are mothers themselves, draw a line at a mother’s failure to protect her own children.  Whether this is good public policy or mindless vengeance, whether it is justice or cruelty, is debatable and almost always case-specific.  The decision shouldn’t be an easy one either way.I was reminded of this dilemma watching Precious, the brilliantly acted but controversial film by Lee Daniels (and based on the novel by Sapphire)  released in 2009.  I found the movie riveting and recognized some of the dynamics experienced within the family Gabourey Sidibe’s character endured.  The pathology depicted in the film, from brutal incest and rape to the almost demonic assault on Precious’ spirit, verbal and physical, from her mother (played with genius by Mo’Nique), is not mythological.  It exists, and in nearly 15 years of doing this work I have seen it more often then I can shake on certain nights.  Some of the criticism of the movie was directed at its pure level of pain, anger, violence and despair.  It was likened to a porn flick in terms of its sheer scope of sickness, and discarded as simply over-the-top.  Perhaps, but the idea that what Precious experienced just couldn’t or wouldn’t happen in real life is naïve and frankly dangerous.   What’s more understandable was the reaction from detractors who found the movie to be a well-crafted but galling racial slur, designed to titillate white audiences with predictable and myth-cementing images of an inner-city black family.   “Black pathology,” to quote one reviewer, “sells.”   It’s a fair assessment, whatever the intentions of the filmmakers.It’s also grossly misleading.  The very same pathology, from the incest and sexual violence to the endless welfare dependence and cycle of poverty, has eaten entire areas of the US where non-white faces are rare or non-existent.   There is, I believe, an arguable connection between grinding poverty and physical abuse or neglect of children- whether in the city, the country, or anywhere in between.  There is no such link that I’ve ever experienced between poverty and sexual abuse, which plays out with equal malevolence in mansions and shacks.  There is absolutely no connection between any racial group and the pathology that destroys families and rips apart the children within them.  I personally believe Sapphire and Daniels were simply trying to tell a painful but powerful story.  But I can understand the revulsion that arises when it is only the African-American experience that is portrayed with such hopelessness.  The white majority, emerging Hispanic majority and every other group does its share of damage just as effectively.It is crucial to remember this when one is a prosecutor considering charging a neglectful or otherwise feckless mother in a case where a man did the most damage.  It’s simply one of the most difficult decisions we make, and if we’re colored by images of a racial, ethnic or socio-economic group as we do so, we’ve lost our sense of justice and we are deeply failed (and dangerous) professionals.  And, as offensive as the behavior of a failed mother can seem to us, we must remember the battle she has waged as well.  The genius of the character Mo’Nique plays in Precious is that, in the end, she earns a shred of compassion despite how miserably she’s reacted to the real demon in the story, the man we see so little of.The baby in the pictures I beheld was white, as were both of his parents, themselves uneducated and lower class.  Having been raised in a town where lower-class whites were the primary source of crime, abuse and bullying, I felt a quick urge to judge them with a lot more rigidity than I might hold for another demographic.   It wasn’t my case, but even as a consultant it was an urge that was best checked quickly. The landscape of a family destroyed by abuse and violence is as foggy, uncertain and unpredictable as any battlefield.  Understanding that as one walks into the midst of it in order to assign blame, issue subpoenas, and swing the hammer of the law is something we aren’t taught in law school.  But it’s a lesson we need to learn quickly.

Barbie and Rape Culture

A friend of mine has a seven year-old daughter.  She is bright, beautiful, cherubic, and kind.  Between the attributes she’s been blessed with and the fine guidance of her parents, she’s in a perfect position to capitalize on the hard-won victories of her female predecessors.  She truly can be whatever she wants to be, and that is a blessing.Kate loves animals- she’s interested in observing them, caring for them and discovering names for them.  What’s interesting, though, is that unlike many kids her age, her attention hasn’t shifted since she was a toddler.  Animals are her passion, and assuming that doesn’t change, a career in veterinary medicine might be the perfect path for her.  Of the things that could encourage her to think seriously about being a vet, I hope this isn't one of them:This is "Pet Vet" Barbie from Mattel's "I Can Be" series, apparently depicting the kinds of professionals little girls can be if they emulate Barbie.  I encountered this gift (the image reflects the exact same doll and packaging) when another friend of mine’s four year-old daughter asked me for help in opening it this Christmas.  Initially I didn't see what the doll was supposed to be dressed as.  Not just at first glance, but frankly after a few seconds, I concluded the doll was in a waitress outfit- and not a particularly conservative one.  How else to explain the perilously short pink skirt and hose with some flowery fringe, a name tag, that sash thing, and the equivalent of  four-inch platform shoes?   Josie handed me the plastic box and I saw the "I Can Be" logo on it someplace.  I remember thinking, "there's nothing wrong with being a waitress; it's an honest job.  I waited tables for years.  But it doesn't seem like the kind of thing they'd ask girls to aspire to for a career.""She's a waitress, right?" I asked out loud, mostly to myself although Josie was right there.  She is both adorable and precocious.  She wrinkled her nose and looked at me like I was an idiot."No," she said, "she a vet doctor and makes animals better."Oh.Barbie, in this box, doesn't look like a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine.  I dated one once in New York, actually a brilliant eye-surgeon for dogs who makes a fantastic living at a respected clinic.  She's very beautiful, but she doesn't wear hot-pink platform shoes and a mini-skirt to work.  She wears comfortable, rubber-soled shoes and loose-fitting scrubs to work, usually covered by a white lab coat depending on what she's doing.  In fact, I've never seen any medical professional dressed the way this doll was.  Are there vets who wear heels at work?  A guy I grew up with is a physician and farmer in rural Wisconsin- my guess is the female vets he encounters don't, but I could be wrong.  A short skirt and four inch heels could be a plus when walking from the truck to the barn to assist in the birth of a calf during a snowstorm.I'm hardly the first person to criticize the Barbie phenomenon, a uniquely American craze that's been in existence for 50 years.  Ever since high school and a disturbing but spot-on poem entitled "Barbie Doll" by Marge Piercy, I have been aware of the unrealistic and cruel standard that Barbie dolls set for the girls who love them.  That's an issue, and a legitimate one.  I suppose an argument could be made that focusing on what girls can grow to be, through a Barbie fantasy, can be healthy and encouraging despite her cartoonish dimensions and features that almost no girls can hope to "achieve."  Fine.  There is a place for pretty dolls, I guess, and if those dolls are also portrayed as smart, learned professionals, it can be a good thing.  But is it necessary to showcase the "I Can Be" Barbie in clothes that, while sexy and fashionable, are completely inappropriate for the practice of the career being described?  To be fair, there are other Barbie outfits for this and similar professional jobs that are much more appropriate.  So why is this one marketed at all?  Veterinarians don't wear this- they just don't.  If anyone pictures a veterinarian this way, he's probably a basement-dwelling weirdo with deeper issues.So what does Barbie have to do with rape or rape culture?  Rape culture is described more eloquently by others, including my friend and colleague Jaclyn Friedman here.  Basically, it's a societal acceptance and even encouragement of sexualized violence based on norms, attitudes and practices within a culture.  Our culture objectifies women sexually in so many ways it's silly to offer a single example.  That is what it is.  I'm not against sex appeal and I'm not about to categorize women generally as helpless victims, unable to control or use their own sexuality to whatever aims they choose.But in the hands of a child, something especially damaging occurs- something devaluing, objectifying and wrong- when the focus of a grown-up doll (otherwise portrayed as an educated, accomplished professional) remains her sexuality.  When the doll portrayed as the vet, pediatrician, engineer, lawyer, etc, is also shoe-horned into the trappings of rank sexuality, then it's really not the degree she holds or the skills she's developed that count.  It's what she has to offer for the physical gratification of men that counts.  That way, she's more of an object- an object with a degree, maybe, but an object nonetheless.  And objects are there to use, not interact with, negotiate with, get to know and value, the way fellow human beings are.  I use a screwdriver; I don't seek to get to know it and pursue an equitable, give-and-take relationship with it for mutual goals.  Teach me from childhood that a woman is a similar tool and at least I'll regard her as something for my amusement.  At worst I'll regard her as something I can push around and enjoy despite what she wants.  Teach girls, in clear and unsubtle ways, that what really matters (no matter what professional goal they achieve) is how they present in some impractical, fetishized version of the dress of that profession, and at least they'll value themselves less than they should.  At worst, they'll come to expect and accept being pushed around, used, and even raped.I know there are millions of women who played with Barbies as little girls and are healthy, happy adults despite her fictional standards.  That's fine.  But if Mattel is interested in maturing and professionalizing Barbie in certain circumstances, they'd do better to mark a clear line between dress-up Barbie and career Barbie.   The more the lines are blurred, the less the woman matters as a person.  That's rape culture.

Don't Mess With Maine

Honestly, it must be great to be Glenn Lang.Not because his life is particularly easy;  I had the pleasure of teaching with him at a training sponsored by my former unit, the National Center for Prosecution of Child Abuse, earlier this year.  He’s not a professional athlete, a recording star or an actor.  He doesn’t live in a Monaco hotel or a Malibu villa.  He’s actually a beefy, classic “Dad” looking, state police sergeant from the great but often punishingly frigid state of Maine.  He drives a normal car and deals with the normal stressors we all endure, if not more.  He and his wife share normal worries about paying the bills and getting the kids through school.But Sergeant Lang leads a team- the Maine State Police Computer Crimes Team- that in 2008 was largely responsible for saving the life of a nine year-old girl who had become the subject of an unspeakably hideous series of images and videos to child pornographers worldwide.  The name given to the child was “Tara” and the videos and images of her (the so-called "Tara Series") were uploaded to a shadowy and highly secretive group of child porn consumers around the globe.  She was molested, raped, and then ruthlessly exploited by a northwest Georgia man named Bart Huskey, a 38 year-old tennis instructor now thankfully serving 70 years in a US Federal penitentiary.The investigation started in Australia where local authorities busted the high-tech ring where “Tara” had become a commodity.  One of the arrested men provided law enforcement with video and images of her that had been taken over the three or so years she’d been a slave of Huskey’s.  Frighteningly, the recorded attacks on her were getting more dangerous.  In one of the later images Huskey was seen using weapons against the girl.  Investigators feared it was a matter of time before he maimed or killed her, particularly as it became clearer that an international effort to find her was underway.  Australian authorities reached out to the FBI, and that agency took a bold step: They reached out to every ICAC (Internet Crimes Against Children) team in the United States for help in narrowing down the whereabouts of the girl.ICAC teams are a phenomenal idea.  Sponsored by a program under the US Department of Justice, the teams have sprouted in almost all states and several large cities, and focus on computer-facilitated child sexual exploitation and abuse.  Sgt Lang's Maine is one of them.  His team heard the call for anything that might assist the FBI on the “Tara” case, and they went to work.  Dawn Ego, one of his computer investigators and a mother herself, must have felt something stir when this case came across her desk.  She latched onto the case, in Lang’s words, like a “pit bull,” relentlessly combing the images and video for anything that might lend a clue as to where “Tara” was and where the images were being generated from.  Swatches of bedclothes, a ribbon hung on a wall in a motel, and the interior of a car were the things Ms. Ego and the team honed in on.  It was painstaking, shoe-leather detective work, all of it done by necessity with the sickening backdrop of “Tara” being abused repeatedly.   But it paid off.  The Maine ICAC team asked the FBI for all of the usable videos and images.   Through a meticulous examination of the backgrounds and environments of where they were being made, Ego, Lang, and the rest the unit began to narrow things down.  Ego identified the ribbon and bow on the motel wall and eventually discerned its manufacturer.  The manufacturer had a distribution pattern that got them down to roughly the southeastern US.  The bedclothes took them to a hotel chain in the same region, and a redacted photo was sent eventually to the right hotel; the management confirmed that the room was one of theirs.  At the same time, the interior of a vehicle Huskey used in a video was narrowed to a particular make and model.  When investigators found the hotel, they were able to get a copy of Huskey’s driver’s license from the management after pin-pointing a date where he’d been there with “Tara.”  The burnt orange Pontiac Aztek that Lang’s team identified in one of the videos was discovered to be owned by Huskey’s wife.It was go-time.When investigators knocked on Huskey’s door, they hit pay dirt.  He confessed, and later pleaded guilty.  The child “Tara” was rescued and taken into protective custody.  Lang was able to call Dawn Ego late on the night of Huskey’s arrest and personally deliver the good news.The path to Bart Huskey was much more complicated than I can describe here, and there were a few dead ends.  But even some of the dead ends yielded some valuable child pornography arrests in other cases.  And in the end, because of the tenacity of Lang’s team and the entire investigatory force stretching back to Australia, the man was located among 300 million people sprawled across a continent.  From that universe, a glorious thumbtack was stuck between the eyes of James Bartholmew Huskey, plucking him from the obscurity of a quiet town to the judgment of a United States Federal District Court.It’s perhaps obvious but important to note that Huskey’s arrest doesn’t make things all better.  “Tara” was rescued, but she is deeply scarred and her road to recovery is just beginning. And thousands upon thousands of consumers of the material Mr. Huskey produced will still obtain it, view it, trade it and enjoy it for God knows how long to come. But “Tara” is alive, and Bart Huskey will likely never attack, use, exploit or rape another child again.  It’s far from perfect, but in the crapshoot, tumbling-dice reality of the globe we navigate, it’s a blessed seven.So still, the players who made it happen, including Glenn Lang, Dawn Ego and the rest of the MCCT, will find themselves underpaid, overworked, pelted by sleet, stuck in traffic, on interminable bank lines and 1000 other minor insults of daily life.  But my hope is that they’ll still smile in these moments from somewhere very deep down.  They’ll smile because at least once in their already noble careers, they faced down the darkest evil imaginable.  They meticulously stalked it, tracked it down and then cornered it within four walls.They triumphed.  And so did we.

Can You Picture This?

"Sweat of your body covers me.  Can you my darling, can you picture this?” –PrinceThe reference dates me, but the imagery evoked by the strange, boy genius from Minneapolis when he released “When Doves Cry” in 1984 made an impression on me in a semi-erotic, semi-frightening way long before I ever considered the idea of being a trial attorney.I am often asked how sexual violence cases- particularly involving children- can be proven when no corroborating physical evidence (DNA, injury, etc) exists.  This, after all, is the usual scenario.  For many reasons, perpetrators don’t leave tracks in a form that can be recognized, captured and documented by professionals in lab coats.  The so-called “CSI Effect” is one that prosecutors deal with constantly when seeking to prove sex cases.  In the wake of scientific advances and the dramas that showcase them, jurors expect forensic wizardry to prove cases and provide them with the satisfying, doubt-free means to convict.  Sometimes, science does help.  But most of the time it doesn’t.  Most of the time, giving a jury the wherewithal to raise their hands in unison and convict a person on a sex offense means bringing the facts- the second by second, anatomical facts of the act- home to them in a way they simply can’t deny.  It is scary, painful and exhausting, particularly for the victim in the case who must provide the details not in the privacy of a counseling session or a loved one’s arms, but from a cold witness chair in a court of law.  Infusing the victim with the strength and confidence to provide that detail is among the most difficult tasks a prosecutor can aspire to.  It is also flatly necessary almost all of the time.Can you picture this? That’s the question each and every one of the jurors must be able to answer ‘yes’ to when a SVU prosecutor is seeking the venerable standard of proof beyond a reasonable doubt.  The experience must be made penetratingly real for jurors, most of whom by design don’t have personal experience with sexual violence (those who do are often excused for potential bias).  Colleagues of mine refer to it as “recreating the reality of the crime.”  It means taking the jurors with you to experience what the victim experienced, and in as much detail as she can provide.  In short, sensory detail is everything.Dig if you will, dream if you can.Children, even more than adults, are masters of bringing forward imagery from salient events in their lives.  It might be the product of a relatively uncluttered mind and it’s probably related to a simple lack of guile, but children can tell you in plain terms, if you know how to talk to them, exactly what they felt before, during and after an act of abuse.  Most children who are victims of sexual abuse hear it coming; it is heartbreaking but very true.  A child I worked with in Alexandria was abused for years by her biological father and could discern the footfalls of everyone in her household in the hallway outside of her bedroom. When her father approached, with his particular rhythm and weight on the hardwood, her heart would race and she would ball up into a fetal position, hopeful that he’d see her deep in sleep and move on.  She could describe with artistic clarity the honey-yellow sliver of light that widened over her as the bedroom door opened, and then the shadow of the man obliterating it as he entered and shut it behind him.Smell, though, is the most compelling sensory detail of all.  I don’t know where in the long evolutionary path our sense of smell and our memories are connected, but that connection is fast and direct.  Think about it- what else brings you immediately back to a first kiss, a previous fall, an illness, a vacation, whatever- than the whiff of something you encountered then?  Smell is a hair-trigger on memory, and bringing it out in the direct examination of a victim of sexual abuse is one of the most powerful tools we can wield to make the event real for the men and women who must decide the case.  The smell of skin, sweat, beer breath, wet leaves, musty blankets; all are remarkably valuable in compelling belief from jurors.  When fantasy or malevolent fabrication are the defense, it is the concrete details of what the victim experienced that belie the claims of falsity and drive home the reality.In victim-centered prosecution, as all good prosecution is, this process is not an easy one to embark on.  That’s one of the reasons why prosecuting sex crimes is such a discrete skill within the profession.  Only when a survivor of sexual abuse is treated with dignity, close attention, respect and skill will the needed detail flow effectively.  This requires patience, listening skills, compassion, and ideally the help of victim advocates who help to bridge the gap with particularized insights we as ADA’s often miss.  To my victim/survivors, both child and adult, I would carefully explain why I was asking what I was asking, and what I knew the value of it would be.  “If I’m going to ask you to do this,” I’d say to them, referring to the process of testifying and enduring cross-examination, “then I’m going to ask you to go all the way with me, because that’s the best chance we have at making it worthwhile.  I’ll be there every step of the way.”The team approach is always best; I won no cases on my own.   Involved, compassionate detectives also established their own healing relationships with victims in most cases and helped me to reach them as we proceeded to trial.  In the best circumstances we worked as a close-knit team of professionals, usually anchored by the advocate who worked closest with the victim.   It was then that justice, though not ensured, was possible.  It was then I felt most alive as a prosecutor; then that I was most in tune with what I was put on earth to do.  This is what it sounds like.It’s a blessing, but one that is the product of a larger, darker curse.  And I struggle with that dichotomy to this day.

A Letter from a Prosecutor to a Young Woman

Dear Elizabeth:I don’t see what more you could have done.As you well know, reporting sexual assault is a remarkably difficult act.  It is deeply emotional, terrifying for many reasons, unpredictable and often thankless.  You may not have known while you were alive that the great majority of sexual violence is simply never reported to authorities.  But you did report it, quickly and comprehensively.  I’m in awe of your courage.I can only imagine how difficult it was for you in particular, Lizzy.  You were a 19 year-old college freshman who had struggled with depression; a lovely young woman who had just started studies again after a difficult first year.  But you made it to St. Mary’s, an excellent, close-knit school and one situated along with Notre Dame in the heartland of Catholic education.  Arriving in this environment from a strong Catholic background must have been an incredible and hard-won joy for you.But I’m sure it also made it infinitely more difficult to come forward and report what happened on the night of August 31.  Being sexually assaulted at a place like Notre Dame and by a member of its football team- the very beating heart of the school for many- is an act that would have silenced most.  Few things are more difficult to come to terms with than being attacked in a dorm room by a football player on one of the most venerated sports campuses in the world. The idea of telling anyone must have been horrific, especially as you were just settling into a new school, a new semester, a new season of hope.  I've spent a career learning how hopes like that can be destroyed in the space of moments, and it never gets easier to hear.Still, you faced down your fears and took action.  You told your friends and wrote down what happened that very night.  You went to campus police the next day.  Despite the fear of being portrayed as God-knows-what and the fury that might rain down on you for reporting against a football player, you reported anyway.  Despite the discomfort of an invasive physical examination, you endured one.  Despite the fear and exhaustion that comes with entering counseling in order to fully recover from such an attack, you did that, too.  You did everything that could possibly have been asked of you.That’s why I’m trying to understand why Notre Dame, the world-class, excellent institution where you were attacked, has reacted the way it has.  I don’t know why campus police didn’t turn over a case file to the St. Joseph’s County prosecutor’s office until just several days ago- after your case became national news and your hometown paper began demanding answers. Nor do I understand what’s behind the school’s refusal to release police records regarding what they know about what happened to you- even to your parents.Finally, and most disturbingly, I don’t know why the man you reported against has played an entire season of football.  While it’s true that he is and should be considered innocent until proven otherwise, his privilege to play football isn’t in any way related to his legal rights as a citizen.  The fact is, you reported swiftly and completely a serious crime to the proper authorities that control his ability to play, and you followed through with evidence collection, counseling and cooperation.  Yet still they have chosen to refuse to even acknowledge your complaint, let alone bar him from playing at least until the investigation is completed.  This despite your death.  Coach Kelly won’t state whether he’s even spoken to the player you identified.  He’s quick to remind us that he stresses respect for women in his program, is a father himself, and wants “the right kind of guys” on his team.  Well, the player hasn’t been benched in three months; from this we can fairly deduce that Coach Kelly supports him as someone who is “the right kind of guy” and worthy of wearing the uniform.  If that’s so, why won’t he give his reasons?The sad fact is there’s an ocean of ignorance out there regarding what happened to you, Lizzy.  Many who are watching the case unfold are repeating over and over again the meaningless mantra that that we must all “Remember Duke Lacrosse.”  It’s because many believe, with nothing to back it up, that women regularly accuse men falsely of sexual assault, and especially athletes.  They’re happy to extrapolate one example of a false accusation to every possible situation, despite the mountain of evidence suggesting that women just like you endure what you endured day in and day out, usually in numbed silence.Even worse, some just don’t think that sexual assault is nearly as important as college athletics, and they’ll sacrifice the vindication of a budding, brilliant life like yours in a flurry of nonsense that will trivialize your suffering and ruthlessly twist reality.  They’ll call it regret.  They’ll call it a misunderstanding.  They’ll call it anything but what it is, and they’ll ensconce and defend the man who did it so he can simply do it again.  So even the prompt, thorough complaint you made and the investigation you participated in until your death wasn’t enough to bench a football player for a few games until some evidence came to light, one way or another.But as you know, there are also wonderful people both at Notre Dame and at St. Mary’s.  Both are beloved, respected schools for a reason, and I know you felt and still feel that.  To the heroic staff from St. Mary's Belles Against Violence who worked with you and actually found you before you died, I hope you smile on them from where you are and bless their work.I believe in a loving God, Lizzy.  Although I’m a Catholic as you are I don’t believe He punishes those tortured enough to take their own lives, and I’m confident that you’ve reached a plane of existence that will give you not only blessed relief but also infinite understanding.  So I guess this letter is more for me than for you; you have the answers now.Still, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I didn’t know you in this life, and for what it’s worth l would have been honored to work with you to see the case against your attacker proven.  I would have had much to go on, given the dedication you showed to pursuing justice and the courage you summoned to do what most of us wouldn't have dared.  Thank you.Roger

The Power of Two

In child abuse prosecution, it is all but axiomatic that a two year-old victim simply cannot describe her victimization to any legally usable degree.  In most cases, toddlers that age can’t relate anything reliably.  Facts that can be gleaned are disjointed, conflated with the product of imagination, or just impossible to follow.  Most prosecutors, even if they’ve raised children themselves, won’t attempt to interview a two year-old.  If the child is three, and fairly precocious, maybe.  Two is just too young.But ADA Danielle Pascale is not most prosecutors.The Bronx District Attorneys Office, where I served for almost two years, is one of the most challenging in the country.  The Bronx, despite its generally dismal image, is an interesting, diverse, and in some areas beautiful place to live and work.  Its food, in neighborhood restaurants and corner delis, is fantastic.  It is framed by magnificent waterways and huge, shaded parks.  Its historical value and educational heritage are unmatched almost anywhere. Some Bronx neighborhoods are charming, tree-lined and friendly.  But grinding poverty and social pathology deeply haunt other areas and still produce crime, while less now than in the hellscape of the 70’s and 80’s, in daunting amounts.Danielle is a product of the Bronx and serves in the Child Abuse and Sex unit where she’s been for nearly nine tough years.  Her compassion for, love of, and raw skill with children are unmatched anywhere in my long experience in child protection.  But sometimes, Danielle surprises even me.A few months before I left the office, a particularly horrific case arose that fell to Danielle.  In a Bronx apartment, a toddler I'll call Jane stumbled out of her mother’s bedroom and into the living area she shared with her three older sisters.  Jane’s lip was split, her hair disheveled, and her face bloody.  Blood was later discovered in her underpants, reflecting a brutal injury to her vagina.  The suspect, Jane’s mother’s boyfriend (I'll call him John), had been in the bedroom alone with the child and walked out a few seconds later.  Jane’s sisters reacted quickly and called the police.  Jane was taken to Jacobi Medical Center, an excellent Bronx hospital where child abuse is often investigated and treated.  She was attended to by physicians and taken into protective custody.  As part of a multi-disciplinary effort in the Bronx to get ADA’s involved early in child abuse cases, Danielle responded to Jacobi after Jane had been treated to see what could be done with the case.When Danielle encountered Jane, she was armed with nothing but the contents of her purse and her cell phone.  She played with the girl for a couple of hours, interacting with her, building rapport, and (in the spirit of the team approach to child abuse) watching her and assessing her ability to describe what had been done to her.  Given Jane’s age, this step is one most prosecutors would have skipped, believing it hopeless.  Patient and tender interaction with an abused and traumatized child is its own absolute good, and the time Danielle spent with Jane wouldn’t have been wasted anyway.  But what emerged from that effort was remarkable.  Danielle was impressed with the cognitive level of development the child was showing, and eventually decided to use the video function on her cell phone to see how Jane would respond to seeing herself recorded.  She loved it, and recited her name, her ABC’s, and eventually her knowledge of basic body parts like her nose, mouth and eyes. Then Danielle put the phone away.  Careful to frame the question fairly and not suggest anything to the child one way or the other as she had been trained, Danielle asked Jane if she knew why she was at the hospital.  Jane nodded.“John hurt my cookie with his hand,” she said.  Danielle asked Jane if she knew where on her body her 'cookie' was.  Jane pointed to her genital area.  And who was John?  Mommy’s boyfriend, Jane knew.New York law allows something called unsworn testimony with children who are too young to be properly sworn as witnesses before tribunals like a Grand Jury or a court of law.  Their testimony can still be considered as long as it is corroborated with other admissible evidence.  Danielle’s first challenge once charges were brought against John would be a presentation to one of the Bronx’s sitting grand jury panels.  She knew that the physician and child abuse specialist on her team could testify compellingly to the injuries to Jane’s vagina and face.  There was no question that she had been hideously attacked; the only question was who did it.  The circumstantial evidence was very good to begin with- the suspect had been alone in the room with the child and had walked out almost immediately after her in view of Jane’s sisters.But Danielle got far more than that.  A child less than three years of age, whom she had known for less than an afternoon, told her in no uncertain terms who had harmed her and how.   Danielle would now make sure Jane told the grand jurors who would hear the case against her abuser.  The testimony would be unsworn, but with the other evidence it could be considered if it could be elicited.  Seeing how well Jane had reacted to being video recorded, she arranged for a camera crew the next day to come to Jacobi, and before the camera asked Jane the same simple questions.  The jurors saw this evidence in context with the rest and passed the case on to the next level of prosecution, where it remains pending.My friend accomplished the nearly impossible through patience, deftness, compassion, and an almost ethereal ability to reach and draw from a child far too young to speak on her own.  In so doing, she gave Jane something the child had likely never experienced and probably won’t again for some time to come: Power. Her power to express herself yielded a simple and profound truth that, communicated to players in a system of justice, went far to seal a criminal case against the man who brutalized her.  A two year-old shouldn’t need that kind of power, but in her case it was utterly crucial to ensure justice and protect herself, her family and other potential victims like her.  This empowerment was certainly lost on Jane in the moment.  But God willing, echoes of it will cascade throughout her life and shape the woman she’ll become.   For Danielle, it was all in a day’s work.

Colorado DA: Walking Away from Justice

Those of us in the ranks of American prosecution who are drawn to sexual assault cases aren’t there because the work is easy.  Non-stranger sexual assault is notoriously difficult to prosecute.  It’s also remarkably common, and therefore simply can’t be ignored.  If you’re in the business and you give a damn, you take tough cases.  Either that or you head back to Grand Theft Auto.Ken Buck, a DA in Colorado and recently defeated Senatorial candidate, refused to prosecute a case a few years ago that, by all appearances, was the type of case sex crimes prosecutors dream of in terms of evidentiary value.  Buck’s walking away from that case probably didn’t cost him the United States Senate; the race was razor close, and there were myriad other issues and missteps that kept his opponent in the seat Buck vied for.  But it didn’t help.What happened is simple enough to describe:  In 2005, a 21 year-old student of the University of Northern Colorado was sexually assaulted by a former boyfriend in her apartment.  The two had remained in contact, and late one night the victim invited him over, actually telling him how to jimmy a window in order to get in.  But when he got in and crawled into bed with her, he found her highly intoxicated and half-conscious.  In legal terms, she was unable to give consent to sexual contact.  Moreover, what she does remember about the incident was saying “no” to him more than once as he sexually penetrated her with his fingers and penis despite her obvious condition and unwillingness to engage.  After a brief delay, she reported all of this to police in Greeley, where the school is located.At that point, the right things were still happening.  There are plenty of places in this country where authorities would listen to an account like the one the victim gave and do little more than roll their eyes.  She invited him over.  She told him how to jimmy a window to get in.  So she was “too drunk” and said “no” a few times?  Whatever.  Greeley police, though, took the case seriously and set up and recorded what’s called a “pretext phone call” between the victim and the suspect.  The idea, legal in Colorado and many states, is for the victim to make a recorded call to the suspect (unbeknownst to him) and attempt to discuss the incident, hoping for statements that can be used in court.The call was a remarkable success; on it, he clearly admitted knowing that what he did to her was rape- she actually used the word and he agreed with it- and he apologized repeatedly, admitting that he knew she was barely conscious and unwilling to engage sexually.  Sometime later, he was interviewed by detectives and made further admissions: He admitted knowing she was barely conscious when he encountered her.  He admitted that he heard her say “no” to his actions no less than three times.  He acknowledged he had done something wrong, even going as far to as to admit that he attempted to wake her up so he could apologize.Bottom line: The completed detective’s case, when it made it’s way to the Weld County DA’s office, was a prosecutorial gold mine for a Colorado sexual assault charge of some degree.  And that’s where it died.As I’ve stated before in this space, judging another DA’s case from afar is something that shouldn’t be done without a serious disclaimer: I don’t know Buck’s resources, specific laws, legal culture or jury pool.  But again, through the sleepless engine of electronic media, I’ve learned quite a few intimate facts about the case, and most importantly, I’ve heard him speak.  What I heard wasn’t an official statement, though- it was a surreptitiously (but legally) recorded conversation made by the victim when she met with Buck to discuss why the case wasn’t being prosecuted.  Assuming the transcript is accurate, what Buck said to this young woman was legally inaccurate, needlessly defeatist, and suspiciously manipulative.Let’s start with Legally Inaccurate:  Buck, like so many prosecutors before him, hid behind the canard of “ethical responsibility” by telling the victim the case needed “an expectation of proof beyond a reasonable doubt to a jury.”  This is simply false, and was used in the same way by Georgia DA Fred Bright when he decided the Ben Roethlisberger case earlier this year.  As I stated while discussing that case, the National District Attorneys Association Standards for Prosecutorial Ethics require that a prosecutor bring “only those charges which he reasonably believes can be substantiated by admissible evidence at trial." Mr. Buck had more than enough.Then there’s Needlessly Defeatist:  Buck tells the victim twice that he had “never met a prosecutor who would” conceivably take the case to trial.  If so, he must run in a very small circle of prosecutors.  I have never practiced in Colorado but I’ve trained with several Colorado DA’s (including the out-going governor Bill Ritter) I'd bet would take this case without hesitation.  A phenomenal and nationally renowned advocate and sexual violence expert named Anne Munch also makes her home in Colorado.  If Buck wanted help proving this case, he had no shortage of resources.Finally there’s Suspiciously Manipulative:  The victim had been a rape crisis advocate, which was part of the reason she pushed harder for an explanation.  During their conversation, when she presses Buck on his decision, he goes from strangely obtuse to subtly threatening.  He suggests that her invitation to the suspect was clearly about sex, even though sex was never mentioned, as if no other reason could have existed for it.  He then crudely rebuffs her point that, regardless of what could be inferred from the invitation, she and he BOTH acknowledged that she said “no” and was in and out of consciousness.  To follow the argument is to see Buck clearly avoiding the case regardless of any reasonable analysis to the alternative.  Then, when the victim suggests she might bring a motion to compel prosecution (a court order that would require Buck to take the case), it gets uglier.  Buck says that, if she brings such a motion, all of the facts will become public, including ones that suggest she has a motive to lie, which Buck appears to have considered himself (the two became pregnant over a year before and had a miscarriage- how Buck believes this would inspire a woman to level a false rape charge against the father she still keeps in touch with over 18 months later is bizarre, but apparent).  He basically warns her that challenging his decision will result in embarrassment and exposure, somehow shedding light on things she obviously should feel ashamed of.In Buck’s defense, he apparently undertook efforts with the local rape crisis center after this case to learn how to better serve victims of sexual violence.  Whether they stuck or not is beyond the scope of this post, as is how the case reflects on Buck’s views on women generally (those views were speculated upon frequently during the campaign).   I’m not going there.  But what is clear is that Ken Buck refused to prosecute a sexual assault case that was orders of magnitude more promising than most encountered in this business, and that his reasons for not doing so were badly expressed at very least to a concerned victim of crime.  I hope he learned something from it.  I doubt seriously the perpetrator he failed to hold responsible learned anything.

Yale Daily News: Use Your Voice

The student writers at the editorial page of the Yale Daily News ( YDN ) are demonstrably talented.  They craft subtle, dispassionate arguments and plumb impressive vocabularies.  They attempt to see different sides of contentious issues.  This is not surprising.  They also appear thoroughly misinformed when it comes to how sexual violence plays out most commonly in exactly the environment their readers inhabit.  This ignorance, reflected clearly in an October 18th editorial addressing an offensive fraternity pledge chant shouted across campus, is also not surprising.A profound misunderstanding about sexual violence, particularly as it happens on college campuses, is neither inexcusable nor uncommon.  Few understand the dynamics as well as the experts, and the underpinning research is still new.  But the editorialists at the YDN have a considerable voice within one of the country’s most distinguished schools.  As such, they should be challenged on their analysis, as it is both negligent and presumptuous on two key issues:  One is that the misogynistic, violent chants they rightfully decried are still, at bottom, nothing more than boorish ‘boys will be boys’ behavior.  Second, and more dangerous, is their belief that there is a clear distinction between the boisterous, chanting young men or those like them, and some mythical group of rapists who should never be confused with these “members of the community.”YDN, take notice:  The threat to the women (and some men) of your campus does not lie with strangers, outliers and interlopers to campus life.  It lies squarely with, in relatively rare but prolific cases, the very men you’re ultimately defending as harmless.  In fact, the few but truly dangerous men in your midst who do rape look exactly like the ones who don’t.  They share the same classrooms, inhabit the same dorm rooms, and attend the same parties and rush events.  And yes- chants like the ones heard earlier this month do have the power to do more than offend.  They have the power to blunt the sensibilities of the unwitting accomplices these perfectly respectful looking rapists look to for assistance, and they diminish the value of the women these rapists target, making them easier to dismiss as objects for use.There was a belief for a while in some parts of the anti-sexual violence movement that testosterone was ultimately the culprit when it came to sexual violence.  Boys will, in fact, be boys, this thinking went, and unfortunately that included rape where the boys or young men were untrained to stop themselves, or to recognize terror or revulsion on the part of potential victims.  A lurking rapist existed inside of every red-blooded male, went this thinking.  It is not true.  In fact, most men are not capable of sexual violence, and most sexual violence is not the product of some “misunderstanding” or “one-time mistake” as is so often the anodyne offered up to explain rape.  Men may be womanizers, players, dogs, bastards, whatever label appropriately defines their unhealthy attitude toward women or sexuality, but most won’t use physical force against a partner while she struggles in terror, or shimmy off her clothes and sexually penetrate her while she is literally passed out.  Instead, what replicated, methodological research has revealed is that a relatively small number of men, while completely functional otherwise and normal in appearance, are deeply disordered and view sexual violence as normal sexuality.  Further, not only will they likely get away with sexually violent acts for a variety of reasons related to their environment and their place in it, they’ll do it over and over again.  They are “undetected rapists” as Dr. David Lisak has labeled them (Lisak is a groundbreaking researcher I’ve mentioned before in this space).  They commit most of the adult rape we experience, and they can be anywhere.So while the YDN might smugly dismiss as alarmist the contention of the Women's Center that these chants were a call for sexual violence, they should recognize that the undetected rapists who do exist among the chanters and listeners are emboldened by a public call to use women like appliances.  They also benefit from a general atmosphere of degradation and objectification of women.  While most of the men around the offenders are themselves not dangerous, they are far more likely to simply walk away from a situation where they could make a difference if they’ve been conditioned to view the woman in question like a commodity.  So if a non-offending male observes a friend or fraternity brother literally carrying a comatose young woman into a bedroom, or wanting to shoot cell phone video of her gagging on his penis while she’s going in and out of consciousness, that male is more likely to shrug and walk away, believing it’s all a part of college life.That’s the danger of those chants, and that’s the reason they have generated a strong response.  I’m not anti-fraternity and I readily acknowledge that the impressionable young men reciting the lines were not suddenly inspired to rape because of them.  But these chants were, if unwittingly, empowering a small but dangerous number of men either within their group or within earshot that will rape.  And they were dulling the protective judgment of the only men who might be able to stop them.To the Yale Daily News, I’d ultimately remind of you of this: Voices matter.  The voices of the young brothers that poisoned the air over what you call Old Campus, a place I can only imagine in terms of its grandeur and veneration, matters.  Yours does also.  Learn better the dynamics of the sexual violence that harm the honorable and invaluable learning environment you love so much and speak for so powerfully.  Acknowledge the voices- chanted, written or mumbled- that further that harm, wherever they emerge.  Then, use yours.

Vertigo

“I’m at a place called vertigo.  It’s everything I wish I didn’t know.” –U2It happens when we’ve drunk too much; in this culture we call it bed-spins.  We plant a foot on the floor and sometimes it subsides.  It happens on boats; we call it seasickness and we concentrate on the horizon, a fixed point that anchors us. It happens to pilots and it kills them; my childhood friend Pete flies jets for a living and explains in chilling detail how, in his world, it is a deadly perversion of the normally reliable signals our body’s navigation system sends to our brain.  So we believe we’re flying on a level course when in reality we are aimed at the ground like a bullet.  It is our senses, confused.  Lying.It’s vertigo. When it hits us, for whatever reason, we grab for something that is, or promises to be, steady, solid and unmoving.  Stability is the thing that delivers us from vertigo.  When the sensation is physical, we can sometimes exercise it or keep it at bay.But vertigo is more than physical.  In a broad sense it can be emotional, and it is one of the many demonic gifts that child sex victims receive as they attempt to navigate a world in which everything their natural development taught them to rely on is suddenly a lie.  A signal telling them that up is down.  That danger is comfort.  That anger is insight. That sadness, abuse and loneliness are what they deserve.  And so they grab for things that promise stability.  But in the dark ether of a damaged soul the columns and posts that present themselves are sometimes false and wavering.  Intoxicants, anger, isolation and self-blame are sweetly tempting as solid, steadying things.  But they are poison.So vertigo is masked, but not eliminated.  The course continues to veer with no warning as to what lies ahead. The key to stopping it for real is to find the true horizon to fix upon, a solid floor to stand on so that reality can be reckoned, ghosts banished and the lying whispers silenced.  It is a journey sometimes of years, and it requires insight, grueling work, and unparalleled courage.That courage is at the solid center of an hour-long documentary produced by Kathy Barbini and Simon Weinberg of Big Voice Pictures.  The film is called Boys and Men Healing, and it is a rare and nakedly honest view of the journey three men in particular have taken to address the horrors visited upon them by older offending males. Female child sex abuse, just as damaging and even more common, has been widely studied, resulting in needed insights.  Male child sex abuse, however, remains more shrouded in secrecy as boys tend to under-report more than girls.  Estimates of the prevalence of male child sexual abuse hover conservatively at about 1 in 6 boys, but even that is probably very conservative.  For this reason in particular, Boys and Men Healing is deeply valuable and eagerly welcomed.I spoke with Simon about the video and was struck instantly by his warmth and kindness (he exudes these like a balm even by phone), but also the fierce passion he shares with his wife and partner, Kathy, on this issue.  The three male survivors the documentary focuses on are diverse in their backgrounds but strikingly common in their struggles and their eventual triumph over the abuse they endured.  One of them, David Lisak, is among the foremost and prolific researchers in my business, a man I greatly admire personally and professionally.  To see him sharing his own story of struggle and recovery was profoundly touching.It’s everything I wish I didn’t know.  But I do understand the stability these decent and extraordinary men have searched for over the long years.  They have now, in some measure at least, achieved freedom from the dizzying fog of vertigo.  They have fought with the hearts of lions for the simple relief of being grounded.  They've striven heroically for something most of us happily take for granted- a sweet, unaltered sense of up and down, right and wrong, dark and light.  It shouldn’t be that difficult.  But it is.Given the numbers as they are, it is likely that within minutes of me posting this, another boy will be introduced to sexual exploitation at the hands of, most likely, a trusted older male.  At some point, maybe as the reality of what is happening sets in, or maybe months or years after, he’ll know the imbalance, the instability, the dark, deep wrongness of something spinning within him.  He’ll have 1000 different names for what it is he’s feeling; perhaps as specific as a fear of intimacy, perhaps as broad as quiet hopelessness or itching rage.  Those around him may simply shake their heads and call him a disappointment, a problem, a failure.  If it succeeds in killing him, it won’t be listed on any death certificate, although it will surely underlie the stated cause, be it suicide, alcoholic hepatitis, drug overdose, etc.Or, with mercy, he’ll come to know it for what it is, and then be able to expiate it through grace, effort and perhaps the angelic support of loved ones.For now, it’s vertigo.  Hold on.

God, Sex, Lies and Money

Jesus told him, "If you want to be perfect, go and sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."Matthew 19:21I’ve never begun a blog post with a Bible verse.  I’m highly hesitant to do, as the man I’m about to discuss (mega-church pastor Eddie Long), and any number of Christians could slap me down effortlessly in a Bible quoting contest if they had an opposing view to the one I’m about to express.But still I begin with this plainspoken response from the itinerant rabbi named Jesus to a young rich man who wanted to know what else, other than keeping the commandments, he needed to do for salvation.  I do it for this reason: I do not know if Eddie Long has failed as a Christian because he’s a predator of young men for sex (although the signs are troubling). But I’m confident he’s failed as a Christian by embracing remarkable personal wealth.  Long’s civil liability is in dispute, but his possession and enjoyment of great monetary wealth is not.  And if money is a common tool of the devil, well, Bishop Long is being used already.Did Long lead these four young men into sexual activity by identifying them as attractive and vulnerable targets from a spiritual flock that attracted some from difficult backgrounds?  Did he use his stature and the power of faith to create a “covenant” between them to ensure intimate access to their lives?  Did he “employ” them in his vast enterprise and take them to far away places with the added attraction of gifts and celebrity access?  Did he then engage in intimate, and then sexual contact with them while the gravy train rolled on, as well as the unending reminder of the power differential that existed between him, a world-renowned spiritual leader, and them as “spiritual sons?”I don’t know.  But the statements of facts within the legal pleadings are remarkably typical of predatory, “grooming” behavior, and ring very true.  And Long’s words since the allegations first broke are far from comforting.  As Jonathan L. Walton, a professor of African-American religion at Harvard Divinity writes, Long’s non-denial this past Sunday was odd at least.  Long, on Sunday and on Tuesday, seemed almost to be preparing his congregation for further damaging revelations.  He noted that, while he’s not a “perfect man,” he’s “not the man being portrayed on TV.”  He then conflated himself with his congregation and compared himself to David against Goliath.These are textbook diversionary tactics: Make the struggle about “us versus them,” and include your followers as victims under attack.   Portray yourself as a martyr under siege and call up Biblical images that bespeak your status as an anointed struggler against great odds.  Amplify your theatrical piety, but just in case something comes out that you can’t deflect, set them up for a bit of disappointment.The attractive but meaningless admission of being less than perfect is a rhetorical device that allows the subject to fall far below a standard most are expected to meet and still be equated with them because, of course, no one is perfect.  Former Congressman Gary Condit said exactly this in 2001 when attempting to explain his extra-marital affair with a murdered young woman whose missing-persons investigation he basically obstructed through lying about their relationship.  “I’m not a perfect man,” Condit reminded us.  What of it?  My father is imperfect.  But he is a deeply decent, humble and kind man.  The issue isn’t whether Condit or Bishop Long is perfect.  The issue is whether either fell below the standard of decency rationally and appropriately set for them.  In Long’s case, that standard is high indeed, frankly higher than Condit’s even if (and maybe because) Condit was a member of Congress.So why did I bring Long’s wealth to bear on the argument?  After all, there are many Christians and other religious who believe that God not only sanctions but provides earthly gifts to the faithful, including pastors.  Men like Joel Olsteen have made millions promoting a gospel of wealth and financial freedom, and far from apologizing for their riches, they celebrate their wealth and dare us to join them, somehow. These men can quote all the verses at me they wish.  I'm no Biblical scholar but in my mind this kind of thinking is about as compatible with Jesus’ teachings as whiskey is to driving.  I believe clergy should live in solid middle-class comfort; a good car and an air-conditioned house.  A ready means of providing health care, recreation, education and security for themselves and their loved ones- the kind of middle class life that’s quickly disappearing in the U.S.  Anything beyond that is spiritual theft.In Long’s case, there is a cultural power-aspect that should be considered.  Money is power, and Long, from a deeply oppressed minority, may believe his and his church’s wealth to be a marker of hard-won and well-deserved progress.  With regard to his church and its influence over and attraction to world leaders and the like, he’s right.  But the way he personally lives is despicable for a Christian minister of any stripe, and mocks the humility and simplicity of the rabbi who allegedly inspired all of it.So based on what I know, Long is- in my view- deeply flawed as it is.  And it's simply been my experience that once the devil gets his foot in the door, it's easier to kick it wide open. Based on what I am hearing, from the four plaintiffs and Long himself, I’d be saddened but not surprised if the allegations are true.  My sadness, alas, extends to the abused men and Long’s family, as well as the tens of thousands of truly decent people who view him as a spiritual leader.  It stops short of Long himself, who has gained richly in an ancient but filthy tradition of selling the greatest gift a loving Christ- the one that is supposed to be, above all, free.

Tough Job, Tougher Women

Sue Rotolo’s eyes are the first thing you’ll notice about her; they are almost impossibly blue, and glow lightly beneath red hair.  Her smile is easy and warm, and she has an enviable air of serenity, whether in the presence of an eight year-old rape victim about to be forensically examined or an aggressive attorney attempting to lock her down on cross examination.It’s a good thing.  That Zen-like calmness serves her well.  In the clinic, her job as a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner (with the odd acronym SANE) is to treat patients who are victims of sexual violence.  In the courtroom, she testifies as an expert to what she observed and what it might mean legally.  Ask her which job is more difficult and she’ll likely tell you the courtroom; it’s less predictable and more brutal.  It’s at times a tongue in cheek response, but it’s no less true even if a little bit funny.Rape, after all, doesn’t usually happen between 9 and 5 weekdays.  SANEs are torn from their beds, their loved ones and their lives to provide hands-on care to people suffering some of the worst trauma imaginable.  It happens in every combination of off hours, holidays, weather and traffic.  In the crush and tangle of Northern Virginia where I learned from Sue the business of forensic nursing, a trip to Inova Fairfax Hospital can take hours from two towns over in the wrong circumstances.  The patients are at times tragically young or old (Sue’s youngest was about three months). Some are combative, some intoxicated.  Some giggle.  Some beg for relief from any number of things that haunt them, real and imagined.  Sue, and the nurses who work for her, see them all.And nevertheless, it’s us, the lawyers, who create the ultimate crucible for a woman in Sue’s crew who wants to be a SANE.  It’s the contact sport of criminal litigation- often at its most bitter and belligerent in cases of sexual assault- that drives many hopeful forensic nurses out of the business.  Attorneys often treat them, because they’re “just nurses,” with far less than the respect they merit (most doctors, unless they specialize in forensics, are much less valuable on the stand in a rape case than an experienced SANE).  They’re attacked mercilessly for being everything from sorority-like “little sisters” of the police and prosecution to man-hating zealots or glorified candy-stripers.  Every cruel and gender-based stereotype that can be slung at them from the male dominated world of trial law is done so.  The successful ones realize early on that testifying is yet another skill- completely discrete from anything else one does as a nurse- that must be mastered in order to survive.  Sue has one iron rule- no crying on the witness stand.  I worked directly with her nurses for years and never saw it broken, even when I knew I’d have been reduced to sobs had I been where they were.The ones who do survive the process make healing differences in the lives of their patients few will ever match.  Rape has always been difficult to report, but prior to SANE programs (an adjunct of the woman's and victims movements of a generation ago) it was at times tantamount to a re-victimization.  Victims waited for hours, triaged behind whatever nightmares took precedence in the ER they found their way to.  Many physicians were unable or barely willing to conduct the examinations both for treatment and possible evidence collection, and they wanted no part of the legal process. Victims were judged, ignored or even threatened with arrest depending on how they presented.  It was more than wrong, more than something that worsened experiences and deepened the pain. It also killed cases and drove victims underground.  That allowed attackers to escape justice and rape again; most rapists don’t stop at one.The idea of SANE programs is to specially train nurses to treat and examine patients whose chief complaint is sexual assault, and to evaluate the body as a crime scene, collecting potential evidence for investigation and trial.  As an invaluable plus, the exams are conducted in a safe, private and dignified setting where the person at the center of the case can begin to heal, and regroup.  With the help of victim advocates who provide the emotional support and ties to other services they need, the process, when it’s done right, produces a better, stronger witness for us and a sex assault survivor with a fighting chance at looking at life at least similarly to how she did before.It’s still an evolving process, and I’ve been blessed to work with some of the finest women I’ve ever known in the building and sustaining of the programs and their interaction with the legal system.  From Jen Markowitz in Ohio, Eileen Allen in New Jersey, Tara Henry in Alaska, Pat Speck in Tennessee, Jen Pierce-Weeks in New Hampshire, Jacqui Calliari in Wisconsin, Diana Faugno in California, Elise Turner in Mississippi, Linda Ledray in Minnesota, Karen Carroll in New York and dozens of others, I’ve learned more about the relevant anatomy and reproductive health then I ever thought possible, and we’ve broken bread and self-medicated together in more places than I can remember.But it was Sue, with her bright eyes, warm smile and unflappable mien who taught me with plain speech how to drop my blushes, learn the anatomy, pronounce the terms, protect the truth through her testimony, and do my job.What Sue has done literally thousands of times is probably best exemplified by a story she sometimes relates in training regarding an eight year-old girl who had been sexually abused by a family member.  After being examined by Sue in an invasive but tender and careful manner, the child asked her how bad she looked inside now that she had been made bad by what had happened to her.“Honey,” Sue said, “you are perfect inside.  And you’re perfect outside.”That child may forget the lawyers, the judges, the police officers and the numbing, contentious process that played out above her.  She will never forget the abuse.  But God willing, she also won’t forget the blue-eyed lady with the stethoscope; the one who reminded her of the most important thing of all.

Prisoner Sex Abuse: Still Common, Still Wrong

“I said there is no justice as they led me out the door.  He said this isn’t a court of justice, son.  This is a court of law.”  -Billy Bragg, “Rotting on Remand”Alexandria, Virginia.  1998.  He was a pizza delivery guy, maybe 20 but built emotionally and physically like 16.  His victim was a six year-old Spanish girl who was excited about her pizza, and walked out of her apartment and into the building’s lobby to await it.  When he saw her, barefoot in a light cotton print dress, something disordered and dark in him stirred.  She asked if the pizza was for her family.  He nodded and smiled.  But then he set it down, took her by the hand, and led her down a short set of stairs to the laundry room.  There, against a washing machine, he penetrated her vagina with a finger until she screamed.  He let her go and fled.APD caught him very quickly.  A hulking, athletic, but kind-faced, easy-going sex crimes detective named Mark Purcell questioned him, and obtained a fair confession.  Mark used no unfair or bullying tactics- the suspect was sick and sad, and confessed without much prodding that he had stuck his finger in the little girl.  He just couldn’t help it.  Mark didn’t ask him why.  He had been around enough to know the answer wasn’t usually satisfying anyway.The case fell to me and he pleaded guilty.  His family, religiously Muslim and from overseas, was mortified at his behavior and terrified for his future.  Virginia employs sentencing guidelines, and when penetration occurs (as opposed to ‘just’ fondling or touching), they go up from months to years.  He had no criminal record, but his guidelines came out to around nine years.  Nine years in a correctional system that has attracted the attention of human rights groups over the years is no joke, and sex offenders go in at a high level of security.  That means they become part of a population of extremely violent and hardened people.  And then it’s prey or become prey.  In his case the outcome was obvious.I argued for what the guidelines called for; that was my job.  His attorney argued for less and got less, to the tune of about three years.  The defendant and his family were as quiet as stones as he was led through the rear door of the courtroom and off to a fate that neither me, the judge, nor even his own attorney really knew.  The sentence was lousy by prosecution standards.  Even for a first time offender (as far as we knew), a digital penetration offense against a helpless child barely six years-old was a heinous crime.  I closed my file and left the courtroom.  Another attorney I knew pulled me aside.“Don’t worry, Rog.  He’ll get his downstate.  Believe me, I’ve seen it.  That guy’ll be worth a pack of smokes before the month is out. I wouldn’t wanna be him.  And he deserves it.”I shrugged. I didn’t want to be rude.  The attorney was a decent guy who had young kids of his own.  Most people are a lot less charitable than he was to the fate of sex offenders in prison.But Billy Bragg's judge was right.For those who don’t know, Bragg is a British musician with a leftist bent who wasn’t singing about the fate of sex offenders when he wrote that song in the mid 80’s. But the sentiment is valid, even when twisted to my point.  We don’t practice in courts of justice.  We practice in courts of law.  The law is what separates us from the state of nature we’ve fought so hard to rise above as human beings.  The law isn’t God by a long shot, but it’s a gift He gave to a flawed, passionate, vengeful creation- man- whom He knew would need it in its noble blindness and gloriously bland and balanced predictability. The law is a temple to our better nature and a shelter from our coarser side.  It’s an ideal we’ll never reach, but to abrogate it for the sake of what some deem “poetic justice” is simply immoral, not to mention stupendously shortsighted.  Poetic justice is fine- oddly satisfying, actually- when it’s meted out by the weight of circumstances.  But legal justice is that itching sense of vengeance- not always a bad thing- tempered by due process and a set of rules all must obey, despite grief, despite rage, despite righteous indignation.I’ve surprised many with the stance I’ve taken on this issue over the years, particularly with the brutality I’ve seen defendants dish out to the very least culpable and most defenseless victims imaginable.  But I’ve fought tooth and nail for relatively helpless victims my entire professional life and I’ll do it until I keel over.  I also have no issue with relatively monastic conditions in corrections; I won’t be found fighting for cable and video game consoles for the convicted.  Get them up, get them working, get them wanting very much not to return.  But a clean, safe environment is what we owe those among us we have the audacity to cage after due process- probably the most profound thing we do as a society other than executing capital murderers.  I’ve served efforts under PREA (Prison Rape Elimination Act) for exactly this reason.  But despite the efforts of PREA since its passage in 2003, the stats regarding sexual abuse in custody, as noted in a new report released late last month, are still harrowing.A society can be judged in large part by how it treats its most despised and menacing members.  That’s what the law is for- to protect us all, not just the favored or the powerful.  It’s time we followed it beyond the courtroom and through the doors that slam locked behind those of us who violate it, but are no more subject to it than we who hold the keys.

Where Are the Good Guys?

Politically, for a variety of reasons, I’m a Democrat.  I’m to the right of them on some criminal justice issues in particular, but basically the middle-left is where I live.  What I've noticed from fellow Democrats over the years is more than just a sense that our policies better serve a greater number of Americans, particularly ones who are struggling, dispossessed, or outside the mainstream.  Rather, I've sensed a conviction that Democrats really are the “good guys,” the ones truly looking out for the weaker among us, the underdog and the excluded.  Our political excesses might be foolish or overprotective, but they aren’t cruel or callous as GOP excesses can be.  While I recognize the self-serving nature of this rhetoric and fully understand its limits, I do think there’s a point to the claim; hence my choice in American political affiliation.Interestingly, I don’t usually see the same kind of virtuous confidence- this sense of helping their fellow man in need- in Republicans, at least outside the religious context.  Politics is this town’s industry, and I trade views regularly with Republicans. They are smart, good-hearted people for the most part and very charitable personally.  I also find them not happy with but more tolerant of the suffering and inequality that freer economic dynamism brings about; they believe in equality of opportunity, not outcome.  They don’t like unfair prejudice, but they also distrust liberal fixes like “political correctness.”  They’re not the party of the dispossessed- they’re the party of prosperity, and those not afraid to chase after it with hard work and perseverance.  So be it.  My party is supposed to be the one that stands up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.  Call that patronizing or call it noble; it’s what I’ve heard for years and to an extent it’s what I believe.So why have so many Democrats and other liberals literally laughed off the accusations of sexual assault made against Al Gore by not one but three massage therapists, most notably the one in Oregon?I want to be clear: I have no idea if the allegations are true.  I’ve speculated more forcefully about the guilt of others in this space because I had more to go on.  I’m aware that the National Enquirer, a tabloid, broke the story.  I understand the lack of physical evidence and the decision not to pursue the Portland case.  I understand why her concomitant civil case has raised eyebrows.  I understand that some of what she alleged seems objectively bizarre.  I’m a prosecutor at heart, but not a zealot.  So I understand the concerns of those who doubt or seriously question Gore’s guilt.What I don’t understand are some of the remarkably cruel and foolish comments coming from people on this issue, and particularly from people normally associated with the left.  A blogger named Tom Scocca from Slate.com brought this up poignantly late in June when he listed a few choice comments about the Oregon masseuse from readers of TPM, or Talking Points Memo, the left-leaning blog on news and politics.   It goes way beyond TPM, though; hundreds of similar ones followed the first Huffington Post article on the subject.  Many insinuate that she’s a sleazebag out to shake down Gore for money.  Because, you know, that happens constantly to rich and powerful men.  Never mind that, as my friend Jaclyn Friedman noted in a great piece a couple of weeks ago, the vast majority of wealthy, playboy types never experience a sexual assault accusation; Tiger Woods and Eliot Spitzer, whatever else they’ve done and been accused of, haven’t been accused of anything non-consensual.But in furtherance of this paranoia (some have suggested the accusations are a conservative plot) and in apparent support of a liberal they greatly admire, too many on the left are furthering time honored rape myths: If the complaint were valid, she would have 1) run screaming from the room immediately upon escaping his advances, 2) swiftly summoned law enforcement and related facts clearly and chronologically, 3) never considered seeking to drop charges despite immense and complex pressure most of us couldn’t imagine, and 4) presented herself from the start as a self-possessed, well adjusted, near-perfect member of the middle class or better.  And of course (as Scocca highlights) there are those who insist, with a breathtaking combination of stupidity and viciousness, that a superstar like Al Gore would never have the need or desire to sexually assault some old hag massage therapist in the first place.These are the good guys?  These are who make up the party of tolerance, compassion and inclusivity?  Maybe that’s only true for some of them until someone in that category accuses a powerful liberal icon of a terrible act. To be fair I've seen blowback from liberals and feminists in particular against this nonsense.  But I'm seeing too much of it to begin with from people who claim to be better and more open-minded.Again, I don’t know if the allegations are true.  There isn’t a lot to go on from an evidentiary standpoint in the Oregon case, and the burden of proof is an unrelenting master for the prosecutor.  So be it.  But from a common sense standpoint, if there are three women from Tokyo to the US maintaining similar allegations, it’s at least fair to ask how often lightning strikes.  In any event, using this serious accusation as a font for jokes is deeply cruel.  Dismissing it with baseless assertions about "what real victims do" is foolish.And the sentiment of “it’s gotta be false because she’s too old and ugly and he’s too cool?”  Such verbal venom is exactly the reason a survivor friend of mine once told me that most women don’t report sexual assault because they’re too damn smart to do so.

Irreplaceable

I’ll call her Lucinda.  She was 13, a little undersized for her age, and pretty with small, neat features and olive skin.  Her English, like her Spanish, was flawless; she had grown up speaking both every day of her life.  She was from a part of the South Bronx I knew only by precinct.  I had been through her neighborhood, but generally at high speed and in a police car.  She wore jeans that she’d marked up with a ballpoint pen, “Spanglish” messages to and from friends that defined her life and announced the things she held dear and cared about.  They were things that I was a lifetime and more from understanding.Lucinda’s uncle had been molesting her for about three years.  She had vomited this simple, awful fact to her mother one night when the thought of spending hours alone with him loomed close and her ability to mask the panic at the thought of it faltered.  Thankfully, her mother had done the right thing.  She had called their precinct.  A thorough SVU detective had taken a report, and she had sworn out a complaint.  Through the labyrinth of Bronx due process the complaint had traveled, eventually landing on my desk.It was in this way that Lucinda and I were brought together.  I greeted her mother, a small, tough but kind looking woman, in Spanish as we stood in the waiting area of the Child Abuse and Sex Unit.  She was gracious despite my accent and occasional grammatical errors.  Then I led Lucinda alone back to my office. Her eyes were black, and moved restlessly around the room as I asked her to sit down.  When they met mine, they were oddly blank.   I was used to that.  I maintained eye contact with her, striking a careful balance I had struggled to achieve over the years.  You don’t want to bore with your eyes, especially when you’re my size.  On the other hand, you don’t want to seem unfocused or uncaring.“Lucinda,” I said.  “Thanks for being here.”  The blank eyes shifted to something more inquisitive.  It had never occurred to her that she had any choice in the matter.  They settled back to blank, and she shrugged.  She looked at the floor.  I waited a few seconds.  Sometimes they just start talking.  But Lucinda didn’t.  I thought for a long moment and fished out a line I’d used many times before.“Do you know why you’re here?”The change was instantaneous.  The look in her eyes melted- I know of no other way to describe it- from blank to two holes of pain her face.  It was more than the eyes, actually.  Her entire face seemed to shift and contort.  She was being crushed by fear, guilt, revulsion and pain.  She nodded.“Okay,” I said carefully, and at low volume.  I considered myself as I always do in professional situations with most women and children.  I am tall, white, and heavy.  My voice resonates naturally like a bass drum, a blessing in some courtrooms but a curse in other venues.  Why someone like Lucinda would give me the benefit of any doubt is beyond me, but sometimes childhood is the prosecutor’s best weapon in child abuse cases.  Sometimes they give us the testimony we ask for because they don’t yet have the wherewithal to refuse us.  Sometimes they’re just willing to take leaps with us because (thank God) they haven’t yet been taught by experience not to dare.“Do you think you can tell me about what’s been going on with your uncle?” I asked softly.  She shrugged, and seemed to cave in further.  It was as if I was asking if she’d consider slamming her hand in a car door for my amusement.  “Just wait a few minutes,” I said.  “It’s okay.  I’m going to look at the file. You can look at it too, if you want later.”There was a small, cheap radio on my desk, playing at low volume.  On that day in early 2007, it was playing “Irreplaceable” by Beyonce.  As I fell silent the music floated over between us.  Lucinda glanced at the radio.  Her head bobbed slowly as she recognized the song- the tune is catchy as hell.  In a few seconds, she began to mouth the words.  I let a minute or so pass.“You know when this comes on in the clubs,” I said, again at low volume, “the girls all go like this.”  I lifted my white-shirt covered arm over my head and pointed awkwardly to the left.  She looked at me quizzically for a long moment.  Then she smiled.  And then, later, she told me.

October, Again and Again

When I consider the people in my life who have been victimized by sexual abuse or exploitation - mostly women but some men, I’ve lost count.  Forget about my professional life, which by choice has been an odyssey of human horror.  The sheer amount of sexual abuse I continue to encounter among people I work with, date, get to know, or re-connect with, is staggering.  There is no other word for it.Through the magic of Facebook, I’ve re-connected with dozens of people I grew up with in Northern Virginia, suburban kids whose upbringing was similar to my own in terms of demographics and social status.  I relocated back to Washington, DC last year, so I’ve been able to make a couple of informal reunions.   They’ve been warm and gratifying; thankfully, most of the kids I came of age with have found happiness and success in various ways, many of them in or close to Sterling Park, the development we called home.  But the dark side of these reconnections has raised its head also.  Mostly because they know what I do for a living, several of them have revealed to me how they, their children or someone else precious in their life were sexually abused or exploited at some point over the long years.  Some of it dates back to the 1970’s and our childhood.  Some of it is as recent as this year.  I shouldn’t be amazed anymore.  But I am.For the sexual abuse they endured in childhood, most never told anyone.  This is remarkably typical.  We- those of us charged with doing something about it- find out about child sex abuse in various ways.  Mostly the disclosure is accidental, meaning the child will confide in a friend who then reveals the abuse to a teacher or a parent.  Some victims appear abnormally sexualized at very young ages, prompting the investigation.  Rarely, someone will actually walk in on the abuse while it’s happening.  But purposeful disclosure of child sex abuse, meaning a child with the wherewithal to speak up for herself and seek help, is rare. Most victims find creative ways of blaming themselves, placing the responsibility for both the abuse and ending it- on their own shoulders.  If they do tell, it is often met with disbelief, denial, and a sweeping of the issue under the rug.  Things are improving, but it’s still a terribly difficult thing for a non-offending parent, usually a mother, to digest the fact that a trusted man in her life is sexually abusing her children.  Particularly when the abuser is her husband and the biological father of the child (a surprisingly common scenario), accepting the reality and acting appropriately is just a bridge too far.Sexual victimization- and the accompanying self-blame- hardly ends in childhood.  At every stage and in every area of my life I’ve encountered women who have been raped- although many of them either don’t characterize it that way, or at very least don’t understand that they could.  This is because many of them were victimized after passing out from drinking while in the company of the person who committed the rape.  Unfortunately but typically, they don’t see themselves as rape victims.  They see themselves as blame-worthy participants, guilty for having drunk too much and engaging in risky behavior.  Even women I know who were sober victims of an acquaintance or a boyfriend blame themselves for “getting him too riled up,” or making bad choices about where to sleep. They will tell me in the same breath that they’ve never quite gotten over what happened, but that they have only themselves to blame for bad decisions or what they think was “miscommunication,” and so they have little to complain about.I try to be careful in these situations; it’s not my place to define another person’s experience or to insist that a woman is a victim when she doesn’t see herself as one.  But then I hear them talk about how they’re still suffering so many years later.  Or how they’re fine now, but college was never quite the same afterward.  Or simply that the first smell of chimney smoke in late October brings the memory rushing back, and it takes a day or two to feel themselves again.These experiences, and their aftermath, they believe almost uniformly is their fault.  It is not.  These crimes, they believe almost uniformly, were the work of an otherwise decent guy who just went too far.  Because he was also drunk, or because she “led him on.”  They are incorrect.  Most rape is serial rape, and most men who rape, either through the use of their body weight, alcohol or a combination of the two, will do so again and again.  They won’t hide in bushes, wear a mask or wield knives; there’s no need.  Instead they’ll orchestrate a scenario and set a trap.  Then they’ll play hard on the ancient myths and timeless guilt that wither the resolve of their victims to do anything but sit Sphinx-like until the misery passes.  For most, it does pass, at least in large measure.  And life goes on.But then October returns, the smoke drifts, and the haunting resumes.  Again.