#WhyIReported

I've mentioned in a previous post that I've been a victim of sexual assault, and recently on twitter a hashtag has been going around (#WhyIDidntReport) and it made me think back on everything I went through because I did report. But I want to make a point right off the bat, I am in no way saying every victim should report their attack to the police. Every situation is different, and not every victim is the same. If you are reading this and have been a victim of any form of assault or abuse, the choice to report is your own, this is my story and doesn't mean it'll be the same for you. If you need help deciding I suggest talking to a counselor or some other professional who will help you choose and stand behind whatever you choose.

Okay, so onto my own story...

When I was thirteen I had my first boyfriend (we'll call him MF), he was eighteen though. My friends told me he wasn't a good guy, but I thought they were jealous and so I ignored them. MF and I dated for two months, and at first it was really exciting. He was my first kiss, first lot of things. We would meet a park near by my middle school, and sneak around. If I had been completely honest with the police, MF would have been charged with a lot more, but the only thing I told them was the worst thing that happened, and the only thing I remember not wanting. That particular event happened about half way through the relationship. I remember feeling ashamed after, he had been mad after I had left, and I felt like I had done something wrong.

After MF and I had broken up, we had remained friends, and that's when I first felt my depression start. I had boughten a CareBears notebook and started writing poems about everything that had happened between MF and I, and I carried that notebook with me everywhere. It was six months after the break up when I showed someone the poem about the assault. It was a friend who was also eighteen, and who had met in the same place as MF, but he read the poem and just told me to stay away from the guy, left it at that. Later that same day another friend, this time the guy was twenty-seven and worked at the place I met MF, asked me if I knew where MF was. I said no, but that I was told to stay away from the guy. When asked why I showed the guy my poem, he read it and then pulled me into a privet area, sitting me down.

That's when reporting my assault became no longer my choice. My friend told me that what happened to me was rape, and that if I didn't tell my mom, he would. So I told my mom, who in turn made me tell my dad, and then I told the police, and then lastly I told my therapist, and while I had already reported, my therapist said that she would have to report it no matter what.

I'm going to take a time out here. If you are under eighteen and you tell a doctor or nurse or teacher that you are or have been assaulted in anyway it is the law that they report it to local authorities. No if ands or buts. But there are organizations out there who will provide you with the help you need without forcing you to deal with the cops. 

Okay, back to what I had to deal with...

Telling the cops was hard, I felt really ashamed, really scared. There had been no penetration during my attack, and I had said no and MF had stopped, and if I had been three years older. I'm pretty sure things would have been VERY different. The fact that I was under the age of consent is probably the only reason everyone agreed that I had a case.

It took exactly a year from my initial police report until sentencing, and that year was horrible. I reported in July, and it was November before MF was formally charged. And then there were pre-trail hearings in January and February, and in February they finally set a trail date. Now, most people who watch TV know that "the defendant had a right to a speedy trial", but the victim is not afforded that right. They were going to set a trial date in March, but then MF's lawyer piped up and said due to MF's college schedule that he couldn't do it until end of April.

Side note, during this entire time I had to live with the fact that MF was out in public with my home address (because he had to know where he couldn't go because of the protection order). I was suffering from PTSD and this didn't help a thing.

Now, there was one person that knew MF had had romantic interests in me, and knew that MF knew I was only thirteen. This was the second guy I had told (WA), the one who had made me tell my mom. At this point in time though he lived three hours away and the county attorney was paying to bus him down to testify against MF (MF's mad defense was that he thought that I was sixteen, which is MN's age of consent). But I got a call in March from a victim's advocate working for the county attorney, and she told me that because one of the cops who initially took my statement would be on maternity leave in April and that they might have to push my trial back to July. I was already in hell, and now they were talking about prolonging it.

Happily the US Navy came to me rescue. Well, kind of. WA was shipping out to boot camp in June and would unavailable to testify in July. So, after weighing his testimony against the cop's testimony, they decided to leave the trial date in April.

April came and I had to tell all my teachers why I wasn't going to be in class for three days, that was embarrassing. My mom and I drove the hour to the courthouse and when we got there we heard some good news, MF was thinking about taking a plea deal. Now, if the length of time that this all took didn't make you think Law and Order is complete bull, this will. I was never consulted on the plea deal, like victims are portrayed being. I sat in a room for three hours and waited to hear. He took the plea though. Then came more waiting to see a judge to accept the change of plea. I was sitting in a court room, being glared at by MF's mother for hours. He plead and then he left to talk to DoC, and I left. My mom and I were standing at one of three doors out of the court house, talking to the victim advocate when MF and his mom came down the stairs to leave. Yes, just because he plead guilty doesn't mean he went to jail right away. MF went to leave through the door furthest from me, when his mom grabbed him and marched him right towards me. The victim advocate got me out the door first, and then shoved me into another door so I got out of MF's way, but that was it for me for the day. I broke down bawling, my mom had to go get the car, and then a security guard had to walk me out of the building.

Now because I knew who my attacker was the police didn't initially investigate MF. But now they had too. It took two months until MF was formally sentenced. That's when I learned that even though MF had plead guilty, during a psychosexual evaluation he claimed to be innocent. This was enough to get the judge to throw out the plea deal.

To say I was devastated would be an understatement. It was the end of June. WA was well into basic and it was suddenly a strict he said she said case, and we all know how well those work out. I thought I was going to be sick. Then the judge said while he wanted to send the case back to trial, if another judge would accept the plea deal he'd hand the case over. Another judge did, and the plea deal stood. MF was sentenced to thirty days in jail, with daily work release (he only served twenty days though) and then ten years as a registered sex offender.

I kind of feel cheated by that sentence, and I know I have friends who are very anti-prison and might hate me for this, but I wish he would have gotten longer.

After all the hell, I feel like, I went through. I would still report. In my case it was the right choice. MF wanted to be a pediatrician and him being trusted with young children should never happen.

But like I said before, this is my personal story, and it is no one's but my own. In a few months I will start school to become a clinical and mental health counselor, and while I will report the cases of abuse that I legally have to, I would never force anyone to take it to court, but I would also never tell someone not to report. I would stand behind whatever that person chooses because it's there choice and their choice alone.