Liberty and Justice for All!

This is a letter from a friend of mine. Some of the details are graphic so you are warned.

To all listed recipients and other readers:

To preface this letter, let me begin by insisting on the anonymity of the victims and their loved ones.  We are not interested in publicity or in having our personal lives exposed by this report.  We also ask for the anonymity of the accused.  Law enforcement and the justice system will have their ability to prosecute this individual compromised if his name is released.  Additionally, we do not want any “street justice” carried out in our proxy.  A dummy email address follows this report for those interested in contacting us with any questions about the report.  Should law enforcement want details about the identities of the parties involved, we will be very willing to cooperate and assist them in any way we can.

The purpose of this letter is to expose the gross negligence and irresponsibility of the health care and law enforcement systems as they relate to my fiancée’s recent run-in with a date rape drug and a sexual predator.  The entire ordeal will be detailed chronologically.  At the end you will see that working-class women without access to health insurance are prone to being dismissed as liars, sluts and drug addicts by the very people who are supposed to be taking the tragedy of sexual abuse with mortal gravity and rendering assistance to victimized women when they most need resolution.

In the interest of anonymity, we are going to refer to the victim, my fiancée, as “Mary.”  The alleged perpetrator is “Dick.”  Mary’s protective friend will be “Joe” for the purposes of the report.

Mary is currently employed as a server at a popular French Quarter restaurant.  She is, like so many others, the hardworking backbone of our city’s service industry.  And like those others, she has no access to health insurance.  She is a single mom trying to raise a little girl with the help of her fiancée.  We are looking to get married this summer.

Late Thursday night, November 20^th, Mary decided to go out for a few drinks with her co-workers after they all cut out for the evening.  It was her first night out in nearly a year and having bumped into her old friend Joe she was looking forward to revisiting better times.  During the course of the night, the group made their way to a live music club where they ran into fellow co-worker Dick.  Even though Mary had refrained from drinking heavily and had not had a drink for some two hours, Dick insisted on a shot of Jägermeister.  He handed Mary the drink and she took it down in two swigs.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Mary became woozy, disoriented and extremely lethargic.  She told her co-workers and friend that something was wrong.  She needed to get out of there.  Dick, pretending to be the Good Samaritan, offered Mary to crash at his place if she needed to sleep it off.  Joe protested as he didn’t get a good vibe from Dick, but she insisted that he was a co-worker and worthy of trust.  Her only priority was to lie down and try to allow this inexplicable malaise to pass.  Joe, being a vigilant and protective friend, abandoned his group to follow Dick and Mary to be sure no harm would come to her.

Friday morning around 10am, Mary awoke to find herself in Dick’s home, in his bed with him.  Joe was asleep on the couch in the other room.  Her head was in excruciating pain and blood filled her ears.  She knew she needed to get up and get going but the terrible weight of the pain made it difficult.  She searched for her keys, but they were missing.  Assuming she was stuck for the moment and amongst friends she succumbed to sleep again, as did Dick and Joe.

She awoke a second time later in the afternoon.  She called me to apologize and to say she was coming home right away, and that she’d explain everything when she got home.  To her knowledge, she had simply been out with friends and gotten strangely hit hard by a shot of Jäger, then crashed at a co-worker’s house and slept it off.  However, over the course of Friday evening as she related the details of the experience, she realized she was missing a good bit of her memory during the time, especially when she was resting at Dick’s house.

As she talked through it more and more, memories began to resurface slowly.  She remembered being kissed on the lips against her will.  She remembered his lips on her neck and telling him to stop.  She remembered the sensation of his erect penis on her back.  Her bra being taken off.  Her breasts being fondled and kissed.  His hand sliding down the front of her pants several times, her vagina being touched.  Being humped and masturbated through her pants.  His foul, hot breath in her ear, moaning in sick pleasure.  Him getting out of bed, clothes removed.  And worst of all, she remembered saying NO again and again, but being unable to physically resist him in her sedation.  All this happened while she slipped in and out of consciousness, tranquilized at least from the alcohol and perhaps from something more.

Upon recounting her sudden incapacitation after taking the shot at the music club, my first question was, “Who handed you the drink?”  She replied that it was Dick.  My immediate response was, “You were drugged.  He dropped you a roofie.”  As the memories gradually returned and her mental state declined, I came to realize what had happened.  By this time it was late, her daughter was fast asleep and we both needed to rest.  The recollection of that morning’s horrifying abuse at the hands of someone she thought she could trust was taxing for the both of us and we needed to start fresh in the morning.

Saturday morning, Mary’s parents came to pick up her daughter for the day so Mary could have some time alone.  At first she wanted to stay quiet about the incident.  Like so many others, she was confused about what had happened.  She doubted herself, wondering if it was somehow her fault.  Luckily, I am not so introspective.  I am a pragmatist and I knew we had to go to the police.  She wanted to try to arrange a urinalysis first, so that she might have something else to go to the police with besides a spotty memory from a night out drinking.

She began by calling her OB/GYN.  The answering service took the call and informed the physician.  He was concerned enough to immediately call Mary back and advise her on what to do.  Sadly, it being a Saturday, his clinic was closed and he was unable to perform any kind of testing for her.  He recommended she go to an ER.  I staunchly refused this.  Sloughing people off to the ER is a wrench in the gears of our state’s health care system.  There’s a big enough problem with the mass of uninsured in our city and state clogging up critical emergency services.  I was determined to find an alternative.

Mary tried calling the Tulane University Hospital’s ER for advice.  They gave her the number to a related clinic that was open and able to perform the test.  She called that clinic right away.  At first, they jumped to help her out and placed her on hold shortly while they retrieved the necessary paperwork.  On return from hold, Mary was asked what kind of insurance she had.  “None,” she answered.  The person taking the call changed her tone to something more condescending and put Mary on hold again.  This time, when the clinical staff returned from hold, Mary was told they can’t help her.  They “didn’t have the resources” to perform a urinalysis.  Mary offered to pay in cash.  They responded by telling her to go to the ER.

For some time I gnashed my teeth at the discrimination faced by the uninsured in our community.  I tried to think of some way to avoid the ER but it seemed there was no other option.  I tried to convince her to go to the police now that the clinics were closing their shutters on her, but she remained adamant about getting tested first.  We ultimately compromised on going to Tulane University’s ER since they usually have police officers at the front desk.

Fortunately the wait in the ER wasn’t long.  She was seen by a triage nurse within minutes and information was recorded.  Again the question about insurance was raised.  Again, she replied that she had none.  The nurse informed her that she can be fast tracked to a physician who can perform a rape kit and take a urine sample for later analysis, but the hospital did not have the equipment to test for common date rape drugs.  It would have to be sent out.  Both the rape kit and the urine testing would have to come out of pocket, and because of the send-out nature of the urinalysis we wouldn’t have any answers about whether or not she was drugged.  Another nurse (and former police officer) suggested that we go to the police instead of waiting in the ER, since the police will cover the cost of any testing as part of their evidence collection process.

Around 4pm on Saturday afternoon we arrived at 8^th District’s police station on Royal St.  To our frustration, the officer at the front desk insisted that we go to the ER first.  We explained that we did and were advised to come to the police station.  The officer refused several times to believe that the ER sent us to the police instead, but after much brow-beating she relented and took an unofficial statement about what happened.  The officer was skeptical of any wrong-doing and badgered Mary somewhat, but Mary insisted on giving a statement.  The officer put in call for a detective, who replied and reported he’d be in the station between 45 minutes and an hour from the time the call was put in.

More than two hours later the detective finally arrived.  He did not introduce himself.  He only asked if Mary was the person complaining about a sexual assault, which she confirmed.  He then sent me off to a different part of the building so he could interview her in private.

An hour later, she emerged and I escorted her from the building.  She relayed to me that the detective said there was nothing he could do.  She covered what they had spoken about at great length, describing the detective’s cynicism regarding her story.  He had repeatedly tried to insist that she was fully cognizant upon awakening at 10am Friday morning, despite her fervent insistence that she was still disoriented and lethargic.  Repeatedly he suggested that she was giving Dick mixed signals and suggesting that she invited his perverse affections.  He even had the gall to ask her if she enjoyed the abuse.  At that point, Mary’s anger had risen to a boil and she demanded a urinalysis.  Her testimony be damned; if they could find traces of a date rape drug, she’d have something concrete to point to.  The detective and the officer at the desk (who had joined the “interrogation” during its latter half) brushed aside her concerns about tranquilization.  She persisted.  So they asked, “Were you penetrated by his penis?”  She replied, “I don’t remember.  I think I was drugged.  If you let me take a pee test, we can settle this.” “We won’t do a urinalysis unless he penetrated you.” “But I don’t remember!!  I think I was drugged!  Can we please do a pee test!?” “Did he penetrate you?” “I DON’T REMEMBER!” It’s like a witch trial.  If you sank, you were declared innocent. 

Ultimately the detective said that he couldn’t pursue the accusation because they “cuddled.”  He got in the bed with her after she crashed.  He called this cuddling and to him, that indicated consent.  His determination was that she had given him the wrong signals and that she brought it upon herself.  Let me repeat that for emphasis: He said she brought it upon herself. Pardon my forward thinking, but I thought we had abandoned the Stone Age mentality of suggesting that women are “asking for it” when they get sexually abused.  I might expect this kind of dismissal from a misogynistic chauvinist, but from the police?  Is this the Twilight Zone?  What happened to No Means No?

After having to swallow this jagged horse pill, I called an old friend of mine who is an officer with the JPSO.  His advice was to get the incident number from the report, call the detective’s supervisor and ask that the complaint be revisited by a different detective.  So I asked her if she had a report.  She stared blankly.  No, he had not even filed a report.  He just showed her the door and washed his hands of the whole thing.  According to my friend at JPSO, as I understand it this is potentially a felony complaint which requires a report to be filed.  If this detective dismissed this known case of sexual battery and potentially a premeditated rape, who knows how many other victims are out there left standing in the cold with nothing but a head full of broken, terrifying memories?  To make matters worse, he didn’t give Mary his name or a business card to contact him with at a later time.  We can’t even complain to his supervisor because we have no idea who he is.

Saturday was a disgrace.  We spent the entire day hopping from one part of the health care system to another, eventually making our way to the police only to try to get sent back to the health care system.  The only genuinely concerned person we contacted was Mary’s OB/GYN.  Not a single soul along this path wanted to help.  No one wanted to take responsibility.  No one would take Mary seriously.  That became the impetus for the composition you’re reading now.  My sense of justice will not allow her to be tricked, abused, maybe raped and be kicked to the curb by the systems that were built to protect women like her.  Is this how we treat victims in our city?  If that’s the case, it’s no wonder witnesses won’t come forward.  Who would trust a detective who doesn’t take you on your word and throws away your honest testimony without the courtesy of a report?

Sunday evening, Mary spent some time researching the various drugs that can be used to facilitate a sexual assault.  She hoped that in the absence of a urinalysis she could at least match her symptoms with the common effects and side effects of common date rape drugs.  She found a phone number for a pharmacology program that answers questions like this on a 24-hour hotline.  She called it and was told they were “busy” (at 12:30am Monday?) and gave her another number to call.  That number rang without being answered.  At the verge of submission to not getting any help, she suddenly thought to call the Louisiana Poison Control Center.  When the operator answered, she asked what the common effects of GHB were.  He asked why.  Not wanting to involve a stranger in this very compromising situation, she only repeated her request for the common effects.  The operator then got gruff with her.  He asked if she did GHB recreationally.  “God, no,” she replied.  She asked how much she ingested.  “I don’t know, I think I was drugged.” Flustered, the man asked for her symptoms.  She described what she experienced.  “Sounds like you got drunk and had a hangover.” Understandably sick of having people dismiss her concerns all weekend, all she could do was scoff.  “You think this is funny!?” he yelled. “Maybe you should get a pregnancy test.”  How.  Insulting.  At this point I suggested that she hang up on the operator before having to withstand any more verbal abuse. 

There was still much to do on Monday.  Naturally she thought she’d be able to get more accomplished if she could do so undisturbed.  She called her child’s father and explained the situation, then asked if he could watch her for a few days while she tried to pick up the pieces.  “Why should I clean up your mess?” he sneered.  She screamed, threw her phone at the ground and fell to the chair weeping.  I picked up the phone and told him to f**k off.  If he didn’t care, we’d handle it ourselves.

And seemingly no one cares.  At every step of the process, she could not get resolution.  She could not get anyone to take her seriously.  She could not get anyone to help her.  A series of failures with health care workers, law enforcement officers and one very grumpy social worker has brought me to this point.  If the system will not speak for her, I will.

The most poignant tragedy of this is Mary’s loss of hope.  At the time of this authoring, she has admitted defeat and does not even wish to pursue justice in this case.  She’d rather just “forget about it” and repress the whole incident. I have tried my best to convince her to at least file the police report so that a record of the accusation exists, but the more I press the more she withdraws.  She’s more worried about losing her job due to her employer wanting to wash their hands of the incident than in righting this wrong.  That scratches the surface of another grave injustice of at-will employment.  By law, her employer cannot terminate her because of a sexual abuse accusation against a co-worker, but they could very easily claim to fire her for “no reason” without revealing the real reason.  That is sad.  But, it’s the topic of another letter altogether.

Honored members of Congress, government officials, police officers and the free press who are receiving this communication, I implore you: turn the spotlights on the systems of health care and law enforcement that allowed this awful crime to pass unanswered.  Ask why her health was not cared for when she may have had unwanted drugs in her system and was (and still is) carrying an impossible mental burden.  Ask why she was blamed for her assault instead of protected from a devious sexual predator.  Don’t do it for my Mary.  Do it for all the Marys who have suffered as the victims of depraved sex crimes.  Do it for all the Marys who will have their bodies and hearts violated by unscrupulous men and women if we don’t squarely face this problem.  There are tough questions to be asked and a lot of pain to endure, but we shouldn’t refuse this responsibility because it’s difficult.  It’s not just.  My fiancée and all the others like her who have been shoved aside by the system deserve better care and protection for their rights.

A digital copy of this letter is being sent to every recipient for whom I could find an email address for.  It is also being picked up by the political blogosphere, so expect this spark to catch.  While I again request anonymity for myself, my fiancée and our burgeoning family, I have set up a dummy email address to field questions that any of you may have.  You can contact me at sexually.battered.and.no.one.cares@gmail.com.  Also, if members of law enforcement and the justice system need to contact me for information about the victim and the accused, please email me there as well.  I will be happy to oblige.

Sincerely,

SJP

A law is being proposed that would allow for chemical castration for a first time sex offender. Physical castration is also an option if the offender wants it. This is one of those “feel good” laws that are meant to be used to show how much a politician supports victims and can be used against those who opposed the law for being weak on crime (or rape).

But let’s look at the facts here. Many people will tell you that rape is about power and not about “getting off”, and in many cases I am sure that is true. If one uses rape to exert power over someone, castration will not solve that problem. They can still use other means to exert power over a woman that would still be as traumatic.  

There are other questions that need to be asked as well. What sex offenders can be castrated? What if someone is falsely accused? What if there is no physical evidence?

I’m all for cutting it off as punishment for the worst of the worst. I also have no problem with the death penalty for child molesters and serial rapists. I just hope the new law will contain provisions that will only allow for extreme penalties in extreme circumstances.

Update: The text of the proposed legislation contains the violations that will allow someone to potentially be castrated.

Notwithstanding any other provision of law to the contrary, upon conviction, as a first offender, of one or more of the sexual offenses defined in R.S. 14:42, 43.1, 43.2, 43.3, 43.4, 45, 78, 81, 81.1, 81.2, 89.1, or 403; or any provision of Subpart C of Part II, Subpart B of Part IV, or Subpart A(1) or A(4) of Part V, of Chapter 1 of Title 14 of the Louisiana Revised Statutes of 1950, the court may sentence the offender to be treated with medroxyprogesterone acetate (MPA), according to a schedule of administration monitored by the Department of Public Safety and Corrections.

 R.S. 14:42 is aggravated rape.

Whoever commits the crime of aggravated rape shall be punished by life imprisonment at hard labor without benefit of parole, probation, or suspension of sentence.

So is castration needed here? If the offender is in jail for life, there is no way he will be out and about, free to commit crimes against innocent people. If the castration is for prevention of future crimes instead of punishment for past crimes, then castration makes no sense in this case.

In the other crimes, the law is clear that the treatment shall be started 1 week before the end of the sentence. It also seems that someone has to say that the treatment is appropriate and that if someone deems that the treatment is not appropriate, then you don’t have to give that treatment. Of course, this seems to contradict the “shall” that requires the treatment for repeat offenders.  

I guess I just don’t like the “shall” for a procedure so drastic as castration (chemical or otherwise). I prefer laws that allow for judgement to be used when giving harsh sentences. By all means, give the courts the ability to use this tool where appropriate. By all means, punish sex offenders to the fullest extend of the law. By all means, take actions to protect innocent people from sex criminals. But allow the courts the ability to determine whether that punishment is appropriate by eliminating the “shall”. I would then have absolutely no problem with this law.

Oh, and it doesn’t seem that prostitution falls under this law, so Vitter can breathe a sigh of relief.