The Night Swim Page 34

But instead of stopping at that one kiss, he kissed me again. This time deeper. More aggressive. He forced his tongue into my mouth. Put his hands on my breasts. I’d never done any of that before. I was trying to push his hands off me so he’d know he was going too fast when the whole weight of his body was suddenly right on top of me. He was crushing me and pawing me.

I had to fight him off. While I wriggled away, I accidentally turned on the windshield wipers. The wipers distracted him enough that I was able to get out of the car. He apologized profusely through the open window. I was in tears. He looked terrified. He promised he’d take me home. I refused to get back in the car. This went on for a while. Me crying. Him promising he wouldn’t lay a finger on me. Begging me to get back in the car. By then he was scared and worried about my mom finding out what he’d tried to pull.

Eventually, I agreed to sit in the back. That’s how I arrived home from the big date with the hottest guy in school—sitting in the back seat of his car. Him in front, driving me like a chauffeur.

Until recently, I never thought of it as a sexual assault. I chalked it up to a clumsy teenage date gone wrong. Now I know that, if things with that boy had gone further out of control, I might have been a rape victim. I might have been a K. And the more that I learn about what a rape victim goes through when her accuser is prosecuted, the more I admire the courage of these survivors. Because, believe me, they are put through the wringer.

I haven’t personally met K. She was in court to hear Mitch Alkins, the prosecutor, open his case. Her parents and a social worker supported her. She seemed fragile. Broken.

As you already know, I can’t tell you her name as I won’t reveal the name of a sexual assault victim on this podcast. What I can tell you is that she is—or rather was—a happy, well-adjusted sixteen-year-old girl before last October. She had friends, worked hard at school, and sure, she partied as well. Why does a girl have to apologize for having fun?

The more that I learn what being a victim in a rape case entails, the more I understand how much courage K has shown in choosing to take this torturous journey.

For one thing, she had to endure a rape kit. I went to the local hospital to find out what happens when a rape kit is done. It’s a process that can take hours. The victim is treated like a human crime scene. Except the evidence that needs to be collected is on, or in, the victim. It’s embarrassing, invasive, and humiliating. Some experts say it perpetuates the sense of trauma, the helplessness that rape victims feel. Some victims say that a rape kit examination can be as traumatic as the rape itself.

A nurse or doctor goes over every square inch of skin, photographs every abrasion and bruise. It involves having pubic hair combed through and taken for comparison purposes. It involves being photographed internally and externally. And those photos become evidence for a whole lot of other strangers to pore over.

The thing is, while rape kits are used to collect the evidence of an alleged sexual assault, such as the perpetrator’s semen and pubic hairs, they rarely provide incontrovertible proof of consent. In the case of stranger rape, it’s not really an issue during the trial. It’s kind of a given that a victim didn’t consent to sex with a violent stranger.

In a case like the one in Neapolis, where the alleged victim knew the alleged perpetrator—I guess for want of a better word you could call it a date-rape case—it usually doesn’t meet the “beyond a reasonable doubt” evidentiary threshold just to show there was sexual intercourse. The prosecution needs to prove that the victim did not consent. That’s tough when it’s “his” word against “her” word.

Over the past few days in court, two charismatic criminal lawyers have lined up in a sort of courtroom duel. For the prosecution, Mitchell Alkins. Intimidating, filled with wrath. For the defense, Dale Quinn. Boyishly handsome. Charming. Born with a silver tongue.

Scott Blair, the defendant, has been there, too, listening to the prosecution’s case against him. He is tense. Nervous. What happens in that courtroom over the coming days will determine the course of his life, and his liberty.

The jury solemnly files into court each day. Those twelve ordinary folk will decide whether Scott Blair goes free or goes to jail. That’s how the criminal justice system works. Guilty or not guilty. His word, against her word. You’ll decide at home. But it’s the jury’s decision that will count.

I’m Rachel Krall and this is Guilty or Not Guilty, the podcast that puts you in the jury box.


31


Rachel


Mitch Alkins looked downright annoyed when the jury stumbled into court yawning after the lunch recess. Their eyelids heavy, they slouched in their seats as if settling in for an afternoon nap. Alkins was bringing his forensic expert to the stand. He needed a jury that was alert, not dozing after a heavy meal.

“I hope you all had a good lunch?” Judge Shaw bantered with the jury.

“They gave us fried chicken and corn bread with slaw and all that good stuff,” said the jury foreman, smacking his lips. Laughter erupted.

“Good to hear my staff is pulling out all the stops,” said Judge Shaw, his blue eyes for once twinkling in amusement. Mitch Alkins was the only person in court who did not smile.

Dr. Wendy North was a petite woman in her early fifties. Rachel recognized her from the hotel. Just that morning she’d seen Dr. North eating breakfast at a window table at the hotel cafe.

Dr. North had a natural poise and melodic voice that Rachel thought would endear her to the jury. That is, if they managed to stay awake for her testimony.

Unfortunately for Alkins, Rachel noted, the fried chicken did its work as he moved through his preliminary questions about Dr. North’s experience and credentials. One of the jurors yawned. Another followed. Soon the yawning was like a virus spreading through the jury box. Their chairs creaked. They sighed restlessly. They yawned some more.

“Your Honor,” said Dale Quinn, during a pause while Dr. North took a sip of water, “to save time and reduce the burden on the jury, the defense is willing to acknowledge that Dr. North is a highly qualified forensic expert witness. We are further willing to acknowledge that the defendant had sexual intercourse with the complainant. We’ve already said as much.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Mr. Quinn.” Judge Shaw’s sarcasm stung. “That point could have been made half an hour ago. I suspect Mr. Alkins may have additional questions for his witness, since she went to the trouble of traveling across the country to get here.”

“As it happens, I do, Your Honor,” Alkins said, turning to the witness. “Dr. North, were you able to confirm that Miss Moore had sexual relations with the defendant, Mr. Blair?”

“Yes,” she said. “Semen traces collected during Kelly Moore’s rape kit matched Scott Blair’s DNA, taken from a swab of his cheek. It was a one in a hundred million match. We also found pubic hairs belonging to the defendant and traces of his saliva on her body. They all matched the defendant’s DNA.”

“So we know that the defendant had sexual intercourse with Kelly Moore,” Alkins stated. “In your expert opinion, does the evidence show whether Kelly Moore consented to the sexual intercourse?”

Dr. North leaned into the microphone to answer. “It’s my opinion after a close study of the forensic evidence that she did not consent,” she responded. “That she was sexually assaulted. Raped.”

She rose from her seat and approached an easel brought out by Alkins’s staff. The jury perked up when they saw the visual exhibit. Anything to break the monotony. On the easel was a chart with a black outline of a female body. Dr. North had placed red circles in various areas within the outline of the body.

“We found bruising, here, here, and here,” said Dr. North, pointing at each circle on the diagram to indicate the various locations. “We also found vaginal bruising in the external genitalia and intra-vaginal lacerations. They all indicate nonconsensual intercourse.”

“Just to clarify again, you’re saying that all these bruises and abrasions documented during Kelly Moore’s rape kit show that Scott Blair raped Kelly Moore?” Alkins asked.

“Miss Moore’s injuries are the types of injuries commonly sustained by rape victims. Let me show you another example.” Dr. North removed the diagram to reveal another board underneath that showed a blown-up photograph of an ugly bruise on Kelly Moore’s thigh.

“This bruise was most likely the result of the defendant pushing the victim’s legs apart with a level of force that would have hurt her. It suggests she was resisting him. In my opinion, this alone indicates she did not consent and was not a willing participant.”

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