To all of those who seem to think I am a liar

I have had a lot of harassing comments lately accusing me of making up the story about my attack. Why would I do such a thing? What do I possibly have to gain from that? I’m not asking for money. As for attention — I already get plenty from my website. Attention I never asked for, incidentally. I never really tried to promote the site, I just put it out there and let people find it.

If I were going to make up a story about being raped, I would have made up one that didn’t make me look like a complete idiot (for going with him into the woods). Also, I would have made one a great deal less solveable sounding. Say, the rapist broke into Jeff’s apartment in the middle of the night and attacked me while I was sleeping, and he left no fingerprints or DNA, and I never saw his face and didn’t even know if he was white or black. Something like that. The way I was really raped is an extremely solveable case: I got a good look at the rapist, and his image was captured on several surveillance cameras. You guys aren’t the only ones who are surprised by the fact that there’s been no arrest yet. I can only hope the police are biding their time.

The police did not ask me to help them make a sketch of the rapist. I believe the reason is that they know perfectly well who he is and they don’t need the public’s help to identify him. I have not put everything I know about the investigation on this blog, and I don’t know much to begin with. But from what little I do know I would be very surprised if they did not have a strong suspect in mind.

As for why there is no mention of this in the police blotter on the Fairfax County website…I had wondered that myself, but looking at the site now, I noticed something. The June 19th incident report, here, says it has incidents reported “through June 17.” The June 12 incident report, here, says it has all incidents “through June 10.” Reports for the intervening five days are missing. Contrary to popular belief, I guess you CAN’T find everything on the internet.

I was raped on June 16, and I reported the rape that same day. That date is one of the days where they haven’t posted the reports.

The day I left Washington DC, I went to the police records office and obtained, for I think three dollars, two copies of the summary of my incident report. When I got home, I had gotten a packet of stuff from the victims services people. I will happily scan one of my incident report copies, and as a bonus, the letter from the victims services, and show it to anyone who wants to see them. Just email me. And if you think I forged the documents or something, the incident report has the case number on it. I’m pretty sure that with that, you can ask the records office for your own copy of the report, and they’ll mail it to you or something.

If you don’t want to look at those papers, and you still accuse me of lying, then you are a pinhead who only wants to bother me and doesn’t actually care what the truth is.

The detective investigating my case is named James Austin. He gave me his card with his number and email address, but I left it at home and I’m at my boyfriend’s house right now. But you can probably find his contact info on the police website. Last time I spoke to him I actually told him a little about how people are accusing me of lying, and he commiserated.

I know what happened to me, the police know what happened to me, and there is going to be a lot of crow-eating around here.

And as for news…there isn’t any.

I last called Detective Austin on Sunday, June 28, at 4:31 a.m. I didn’t expect him to actually answer, of course, I just left a message asking what was new. I dialed the last number he’d called me from, figuring he’d get the message when he went to work on Monday. It turned out I’d called his personal cell phone. Whoops. He texted me five or six hours later saying there was nothing new and don’t call his personal cell phone at 4:31 a.m. on a Sunday.

I called him again half an hour ago, at his work number. And again, there is nothing. Less than nothing, even. He told me they hadn’t got any fingerprints off the condom wrapper the Beast left behind. Damn and blast it. This animal has all the luck and I’ve got none at all. I expressed the fear that the Beast had decamped for parts unknown and Austin said he didn’t think so. He said he was waiting for people to call him back about some “technical things” and it might be months. (I’m not sure if he meant months till they call him back, or months before I can expect any resolution. I expect the latter, but I’ve heard it can take months to get crime lab results too. Anyway, I hope neither of those things are true.) Austin did seem reasonably confident still, but I don’t know if that’s an act he’s putting on for my benefit or what. I’m left feeling thoroughly nauseated.

I ought to get hold of the Victim’s Advocacy lady again and find out what she can do for me. I suppose she can help me apply to the crime victim’s compensation fund. The rest home was free but I haven’t been able to work in over a week, and the papers said “lost wages” was something I could get compensated for. Certainly I need the money. Got bills I got to pay. But it hardly seems to matter at the moment. In any case I left all her information and papers and stuff behind at the clinic and may not be able to get them back for over a week. Along with my private diary! I really wish I had my diary. I’m sure no one’s going to read it, I just want it back so I can write in it and say a lot of nasty words I can’t write on this blog.

And soon I need to go to the doctor and get tested for every disease known to man. *bangs head against the wall*

It’s only been three weeks. I can’t believe it — it feels like forever.

I’m baaaaack!

Hi all,

I have been away since Thursday. I kind of went a bit berserk at my therapist’s office and one thing led to another so I spent a few days at a rest home. I didn’t even know they still had those. Rest I did: slept sixteen hours a day, and lounged around reading and playing Sims 3 on my laptop for the other eight. (No internet access.) There was absolutely nothing else to do. Most of the people there were loads worse off than I was — some of them actually lived there, having come from the state hospital. It wasn’t a locked facility or anything. I wasn’t really allowed to leave, but there was nothing physically stopping me if I chose to.

Anyway, after several days I started feeling better and became quite bored. So my doctor let me go home today. I feel much better — calmer.

I have 67 emails in my inbox and other things. I will try to catch up in a timely manner.

I’ve got 38 new cases to write and 59 updates waiting to be posted…

…and that doesn’t count new runaways, new family abduction cases, and updates I still need to write up. And every day I don’t update I fall further behind. I look at this mound of stuff I’ve got to do and I get discouraged and some days don’t even bother to start.

Sometimes I try to remind myself that Charley is not a job but a hobby, and I don’t HAVE to update every day or whatever, and if I chose, I would be within my rights to resign altogether and close the website. (Not planning on doing that.) But people expect stuff of me, and I don’t want to disappoint them. And I like working on my website. I like helping people. So I continue this never-ending task.

My mental state has deteriorated alarmingly this past week. Yesterday I called my psychiatrist’s office and requested an earlier appointment with him. I wasn’t supposed to see him until August, but I can’t wait that long, I told the secretary. I desperately need an increase of crazymeds. She transferred me to their on-call crisis worker, who asked me what was going on.

“Ten days ago I was raped and beaten,” I said flatly.

There was a bit of an awkward pause and then she was like, “….Oh,” And: “Have you been to the police?”

“Yes.” And I added silently: and they haven’t caught this monster, and they haven’t called me in a week, and whenever I call them I get voice mail, curse it all.

They gave me two o’clock on either July 1 or July 2, I forget, and on Monday I’m going to have to call and find out which is which. I think it’s July 2, but I seem to have written down July 1. I’m a little afraid he might lock me up when he sees me. Of course the Commonwealth of Virginia would probably pay for it, but it’s an inconvenience I’d rather avoid.

I’m concerned that the bus driver tipped the Beast off that he was wanted. And that perhaps the Beast has packed up his cardboard box — assuming he really is that homeless guy they’re looking at — and hitchhiked to Tuscaloosa or somewhere and they’ll never find him and he’s free to rape other girls and perhaps kill them. Nothing I can do about that, however. Nothing I can do at all. Sigh. I sit and wait. I update my website. I must find a way to live.

Guess who’s not in jail yet?

A few days ago I finished Babi Yar: a Document in the Form of a Novel by Anatoly Kuznetzov. It’s a memoir about the author’s experiences growing up in the city of Kiev, Ukraine during the Nazi occupation from 1941 to 1943. Babi Yar was a ravine just outside the city. The Nazis shot and killed over 100,000 civilians there during the war, undesirables of all kinds, notably over 33,000 Jews over the course of two days, on September 29 and 30, 1941. This was the single largest mass murder they ever committed. Nobody even knows just how many people were murdered at Babi Yar, since none of this was documented, and before the Germans left the city they dug up all the bodies and did their best to destroy them by burning etc., to cover up their crimes. The ravine has now been filled in. In a macabre endnote, a mudslide there killed hundreds of people, perhaps even two thousand, in 1961.

Anyway, there’s a quote from the book that perfectly suits my black mood over the last few days:

That there is in this world neither brains, nor goodness, nor good sense, but only brute force. Bloodshed. Starvation. Death. That there was not the slightest hope, not even a glimmer of hope, of justice being done. It would never happen. No one would ever do it. The world was just one big Babi Yar. And there two great forces had come up against each other and were striking against each other like hammer and anvil, and the wretched people were in between, with no way out; each individual wanted only to live and not be maltreated, to have something to eat, and yet they howled and screamed and in their fear they were grabbing at each other’s throats, while I, little blob of watery jelly, was sitting in the midst of this dark world. Why? What for? Who had done it all? There was nothing, after all, to hope for! Winter. Night.

Sometimes I wonder why I live.

The Beast is still out there…

…and I am extremely frustrated. The cops didn’t even call me yesterday. They spoke to me every day before that, but they’ve been very uncommunicative as far as telling me what they’ve been doing. The other day they showed me a photo of a young woman and asked if I’d ever spoken to her. I had no idea who she was. I asked if she was a girl who had offered me some pizza and they said she was not. If it’s not the pizza girl I have no clue who she is. They also showed me a photo array of guys and asked if the Beast was in there, but the photos were black and white and not that great quality and I was unsure.

I thought they’d arrest him right after it happened. Then I thought they’d arrest him on Thursday after some more evidence came in. And yet, as far as I know, he’s still walking around loose, and it’s been almost a week.

The Beast has basically been identified now anyway, from what I understand, and I’m not really sure why he remains free. My best guess is that they are trying to build a strong case, maybe waiting for lab results or something, while keeping an eye on him. He’s not going anywhere. That would explain why they haven’t issued any kind of press release about the unsolved crime with a description of the suspect. If they already know who he is, and they’ve got him under surveillance, there’s no need to warn people about him and possibly let him know he’s wanted. But that’s just a guess. I really have no clue what the holdup is. I’m afraid to ask. I don’t want to make my detective angry with me, and he probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. I looked at the Washington Post and their sections for crime incidents in the metro area. They didn’t really have much of anything for Reston. But it looks like they only report arrests, not reported-but-not-solved-yet crimes. All their crime blurbs were “So and so was arrested and charged with such and such crime…”

I don’t really have much of a choice but to hope and trust that the police are doing their jobs. I have no reason to believe that they aren’t. But it’s just so frustrating to have to sit and wait. I don’t want to go home with this unfinished.

In the meantime, at least I got out yesterday. My friend drove me to Washington DC and we visited, appropriately enough, the Museum of Crime and Punishment. We spent like five hours there. It was really cool and I learned a lot, more than I thought I would. In the time-honored tourist tradition, I spent more than I can afford on overpriced junk at the gift shop. I got a book and a t-shirt for myself, and I bought a shot glass because I have a coworker who collects them and she said she’d pay me for it if I got her one in DC.

Today we are going to the zoo or maybe another museum or both. We were actually going to the zoo yesterday, but it rained all morning so we decided to stay indoors. And of course right after we made up our minds to go to the Museum of Crime and Punishment, it cleared up and became blazingly sunny and really nice.

Progress

I want to thank everyone for your messages of support. They mean a lot to me. There has been no arrest yet, but some really interesting things happened yesterday and the cops have some more leads and witnesses. I really hope they get him today, because the longer this guy is out there, the more uneasy I get. And also I am pretty much cooped up in my friend’s apartment until an arrest is made. The police made me promise not to use the public transit system, and my friend has to take his car to work, so I have no means of transport until this weekend when my friend doesn’t have to work and can drive me places.

I am holding up pretty well I think. I’m very anxious, but I have good support, both online and with my IRL family and friends.

It happened to me.

I realize most people wouldn’t post this on a public forum, but I’ve thought about it and decided I have nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve just joined a certain club no woman wants to belong to, but it could be a lot worse. I could be badly hurt. I could be dead.

I am visiting with a friend in the Washington DC area right now, in a suburban community that’s supposed to very safe: bucolic is the word for it. Two days ago I met a man on a bus. I was very tired and very upset at the time as I was having trouble with the public transit system, everything seemed to be going wrong. The man seemed sympathetic and friendly, and my defenses were not at their best. He saw an opportunity and took it. He talked me into leaving the bus with him, telling me a walk in the fresh air would do me good and we were only a few miles from my friend’s apartment complex. (He was correct, incidentally, about the proximity.) He lured me into an isolated area in the woods as darkness fell, then attacked me.

I quickly figured out that the man, although he punched me several times and knocked me on the ground and choked me, wasn’t interested in hurting me. He wanted something else and I decided I didn’t have much of a choice but to give it to him. I had no idea where we were or how close civilization was, it was dark, and running away from him would have involved going uphill through trees and roots and rocks and things which I was barely able to see. He said he had a knife, although I never saw it, and he said he could easily kill me and nobody would notice, nobody would hear me screaming. And he was right. He had chosen his spot very well. I wanted to come out of this alive so I did what I had to do.

He raped me and committed acts of sodomy several times on two different occasions as he lead me through the woods, always out of sight of the road and far enough away from houses and people that it wasn’t worth the risk to try to get away from him. I gambled and decided if I was very passive and cooperative and civil — the man was one of those types who wanted to think that I actually liked him — he might just let me go. He kept saying he would take me home, that he wouldn’t just leave me in the woods because “it wouldn’t be right.” And finally, after several hours, he did take me to a parking lot near my friend’s apartment complex and left me there.

I went back to my friend’s place, told him what happened and called the police. It was after ten-thirty by then and I spent the rest of the night talking to the cops and getting examined at the hospital. The police response was quite impressive. They launched an all-out manhunt, with like twenty squad cars and a helicopter even. The fact is that they haven’t found the rapist, which makes me very uneasy, both for myself and for other women he might prey on. But they are looking very hard and I had a good description of him and I can only hope he will be behind bars very soon. I am not really worried for my safety. I am well-protected and will be returning home early next week. But obviously this man should not be out in the community. I hope he gets a long sentence so he cannot harm other girls and women. But they have to catch him first.

I am actually feeling pretty okay. Physically, I’m not too badly hurt, and the rapist used condoms so I don’t have much chance of getting pregnant or catching anything, though of course they gave me drugs to prevent disease. I am very apprehensive, but I have decided I will come out of this intact, that I must. I can’t let this piece of scum ruin my life and I’m trying not to let him ruin my vacation. In a day or two, I’m resuming my vacation activities, arrest or no arrest.

The important thing is that I’m alive, and I used my head and remembered things from books and articles I read and talked him out of killing me or seriously hurting me. I could have ended up a missing person myself, but I’ve come out of it okay. I’m actually sort of trying to look at this as being like a scary root canal or something — very unpleasant, but no reflection on myself and just try not to think about it anymore. This was a bad thing that happened, but it’s over now.