CHAPTER 17
So I had to take a leap into the deep end of the pool for awhile. I'll park my brain next to the diving board and come back for it later. I think what I really need in response to everything going on isn't therapy, it's some good old fashioned rock bottom at the bottom of a pint glass.
I have a couple of therapists call me back in my search for long term help. "Why don't you tell me a little of what is going on?" "Well, I was drugged and raped, then had two detectives sand bag my case, then I tried to kill myself from the bullying, and now I have a new detective, but I'm still involved in the investigation of the two bad ones and my rape case will probably never go to trial". How's about that for drama. God knows I don't want this. I want my fucking life back. Even with victims fund, these psychologists don't want to take this shit on. I can't walk away now. I have four douche bags hurting other people, and me being me, I can't walk away without doing something to these four guys so they never hurt anyone else. This fucking sucks. I just want my life back. I'll look for it next to my brain by the diving board.
I finally found a psychologist to work with. I had a few tell me directly they were not comfortable working with me because of police involvement. I was talking to yet another shrink on the phone and told her about that after the long crazy reiteration of everything I'm going thru. "Oh sweetie, I'm not scared of the cops". I haven't even met her and I already like her. One thing I can finally cross off of my crazy to do list.
Today was the day I gave my statement/interview/ deposition for the investigation into the conduct of the two detectives. My brain feels like it was shoved in a high powered juicer. I had a therapy visit at the center this morning to help me prepare for it, and then the actual interview. It was recorded and done by Det. C. Det. C used to be Det. S who I like a lot, but recently got married so I have to remember to call her Det. C from now on. Sorry for the confusion. I still like Det. C a lot. She was fair and thorough. There were times she would apologize at having to ask me something over because she didn't want me to feel like she wasn't listening, or that she was treating me harshly. I told her compared to the other detectives calling me a liar, she was doing just fine. She would make me take brakes when I got too upset and drink water even though I wanted to push thru the tears and keep going. I felt that she was thorough in asking me how something the detectives did or said made me feel. It made me feel like they wanted me to drop the charges and just walk away so they wouldn't have to do an investigation. That by making me think an investigation wouldn't happen anyway, best to get out now kinda thing. How Det. T asked me how he was supposed to do a background check on Naylor, with only a first name and a photograph after the pre text phone call. I remembered thinking, did the photograph make the call asshole? You have his phone number. How Det. M told me in the state of California, if a man and woman are both drunk then it can't be a rape. How Det. M told me Naylors background would do nothing to help my case. "Even if he is out on parole for raping and drugging women?" I asked. He nodded his head yes. How over and over I was told how I wasn't drugged, how I wasn't raped, how I was just mistaken.
At the end of the hour long and a half interview she asked me if there was anything I wanted to add. There was. I wanted to make sure it was recorded for any other higher ups to hear. It wasn't the rape that made me want to kill myself, it was the bullying. Thru the stream of tears I swore to them that I didn't want to be in a world where victims of rape were bullied like this. Please take these two detectives off the force so no other woman will ever have to deal with them.
I also brought a letter and photo with me. It wasn't in an envelope, because I figured the police wouldn't feel comfortable passing it on with out knowing the contents anyway. I wrote it out for the detective at the Hollywood station. I told Det. C that this is the LAPDs investigation, and they will do as they see fit, but please show some mercy to the Hollywood detective.
I know you're probably thinking, what the fuck? Why mercy? For what he put you thru?
Yes, show him mercy.
He started to do the right thing in helping me with the restraining order, but only changed his mind and bullied me after he talked to Det. T on the phone. If he had never talked to Det. T, then he would not have said what he said to me. I am angry about a lot of things, but I can't let that anger make stupid decisions. What we need are good SCU detectives, and if this guy gets dragged thru this investigation, it can only make him a better detective if it makes him realize he screwed up. But he shouldn't get off completely. So I wrote the letter and included the picture.
The picture is of Naylor giving me the finger with a smirk on his face. I know he intended for me to find it latter, but I figured I could share the wealth. I asked the SCU detective to please hang this photo on his office wall as a reminder of what rapists like him think of detectives like you. That you are stupid and lazy and he will get away with it. Please don't make them right anymore. That I'm sure he would be grateful to know the added humiliation you put me thru and would probably thank you for it. You bullied a rape victim, when you should have followed your gut instead.
That is something he will have to live with the rest of his life, and of he is a detective who has even half a heart, then that is punishment enough for me. He will have to look at that smirking face for the rest of his career.
It's Tuesday, the day after LA won the Stanley cup, and the day I walked back into the Hollywood station. It was last minute, so I couldn't get anyone to go with me. I can't expect anyone to drop their life to help me with mine. I was waiting in line to ask the front desk officer if the auto theft and vandalism detective is in. He had called me earlier in the day and simply said there was nothing he could do as there were no suspects or fingerprints or witnesses to a rock being thrown thru my window. I was shaking and trying to not cry. I called him back and left a message about the rape, but that wasn't enough. I would have to walk in there and talk to him in person. A guy in line in front of me was there for a report of being punched in the face at work. It was a misdemeanor assault. "It's not classified the same as homicide or rape" says the front desk cop to the guy making the report. I have to stand there for 15 minutes waiting for this guy to finish his report. I'm so scared I'm going to see the other detective. The one who humiliated me in that back office. The detectives offices. I finally make my way up to the front desk. I ask for Det. M from auto. The front officer says to go thru the door and check in with the detectives. I can't go thru that door, I explain to him. He asks me if there is someone back there I am in fear of. I'm fighting back the tears when I tell him I am. I'm tired of sounding crazy. Det. M comes out. I am so relieved he is there and I don't have to come back or keep calling to get a hold of him. He hadn't been made aware my car window being broken was connected to my rape. The watered down version of the report that ended up on his desk didn't mention it, just a detective in Mid Wilshire. He assures me finger printing will be done, and this will be taken care of. I can tell he is concerned he wasn't informed of everything. The word bitch being written into the dust on the back of my car along with the smashed glass. He assures me that this report will be attached to my rape case number. Det. H with auto calls me just after I get home. They are so nice about everything. I am given the option of going to get the prints done, or having printing done in front of my place. I opt for downtown. I'm not about to have finger printing done on my street for Ed to see and do something else to get back at me. Everything is set up for me to go to the fingerprinting place at 7 pm. I'm scared. Not because of dealing with police or detectives, because of the fear of this too being taken away from me. The last time a detective was this nice to me, it turned into hell. I'm scared I will receive a phone call. "Ms. Hunter, you weren't drugged, you weren't raped, your mistaken". God, please don't let this phone call happen. Please let me get the finger printing done.
My new detective says the only way I can get a restraining order is to go back downtown to the courtroom where the first one was dissolved. That I will have to ask the judge to reinstate it based on the broken window and the drawing on my magna doodle on my door. I guess I didn't tell you that part. Sunday morning, there was a middle finger drawn on the magna doodle I keep on the front door of my apartment. It's a secure building. The only people that have access are people with a key that live here. I know to most people, it's a joke. To me, it takes a lot of fear building up in someone to stand in front of my door, take a magna doodle down, erase it, draw a middle finger, and set it back on my door while I'm on the other side sleeping. I don't like that he is getting closer to me with this much fear building up in him. He is getting scared and the next step is he will hurt me. Harassing me with text messages didn't work, vandalizing my car didn't make me drop the charges, leaving a mark so I know he was hovering outside of my door when I was sleeping didn't cause me to run away. He only has one option left as a coward. He is trying to pressure me to drop the charges and I won't. He has a lot to fear. When he physically attacks me, I still won't back down. Monday, I will go back to the courtroom and ask the judge to put the restraining order back in place. I'm not stupid, I know a piece of paper won't stop him from hurting me, but it's all I have to make law enforcement aware that he will. It's only a matter of time.
In the few days after the deposition, I keep waking up crying. I have had bad nightmares. Ed attacking me when I'm getting out of the shower. An aborted baby that I'm trying to piece back together. Horrific nightmares I can't remember. I get ready for work thru tears. My therapist at the center warned me about the sadness. I just have to let it happen. That by doing the investigation, I got to unblock a lot of stuff I had to hang onto. I didn't want to forget anything. Not one detail. Now that a day finally happened that I never thought would, I can let go of about 20 emotional pounds. There was a lot of stuff that blockage was stopping up. A broken heart was the main part of it.
My crazy to do list:
Have two bad detectives removed from the LAPD so they never hurt another rape victim again.
Put a douche bag rapist away
Put away someone who used to be a friend who completely betrayed me in the worst possible way
Get restraining order put back in place
X Get a new detective
Get advocate for victims of crime for any new bills coming in
X Get car fingerprinted
X Get a long term psychologist
X Write gut wrenching letter to Hollywood detective and include picture of Naylor
Get $50 back from service processor
I guess that’s everything I have to do on my crazy to do list. Am I forgetting anything? I hope not. It’s not in any particular order. There is so little I have control over in all of this, so I guess in some ways it’s more like a wish list than an actual to do list. I seriously doubt I will get the $50 back, but since I’m making a list I figure I could throw it on there.
Oh yeah, maybe I should make a check box for take a vacation. It’s not something I feel I can leave to do until all of this is completely over with. But I hope that at the end of all of this is a white sandy beach, with a fruity rum based drink and a pink umbrella in it. Of course, I will probably end up buying a couple of bags of sand and dumping them in a kiddy pool, and just make my own drinks, and pretend to hear the waves, but it will be close enough for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.