Crash Into Me_ A Survivor's Search for Justice - Liz Seccuro [35]
I was then directed to a local Charlottesville weekly, the Hook, which had run an explosive cover story, “How UVA Turns Its Back on Rape.” I sat mouth agape as I read about the case of Annie Hylton, another female student who was raped at UVA. She had been unable to criminally prosecute her rapist, but had finally prevailed in civil court. It outraged me that so many women had faced the same problems in dealing with the university administration, and that these cases continued to be mishandled. How big was the problem? I e-mailed the journalist who had penned the story, Courteney Stuart, explained my situation with Beebe, and commended her on her reporting. She e-mailed back, saying that she had received many powerful responses to the story, and asking if she could delve into my story further as a follow-up. Why not? Off the record, we began a correspondence. I told further details of my story and shared some of the e-mails between myself and Beebe. I was finding my voice again, a voice lost so many years ago when I burned my clothing in that trash can.
In the years since my rape, I had become marginally involved with sexual assault advocacy groups, working with other victims. But I felt removed from my own experience, and telling my story to these other victims was not about self-examination or reflection; it was more about helping and feeling as though I could do some good. The fact of the matter was that I was a bit detached from my own trauma and not doing the work I should have been doing on myself. Speaking and e-mailing now with Courteney during this time of the correspondence with Beebe hit much closer to home.
Next, I started e-mailing with Susan Russell, whose account of her daughter’s struggle had first made me realize the scope of this issue. Her daughter’s story was particularly painful in that the perpetrator was allowed back on campus and went on to rape another coed. Susan’s Web site seemed like a safe space to share ideas with someone of a like mind. We corresponded for a bit and I explained to her that I was denied any sort of resolution because Phi Kappa Psi was not under the Charlottesville police jurisdiction and that I had been advised just to seek a university Judiciary proceeding, a move that was pointless once William Beebe had left the university. Susan e-mailed back that what I said was incorrect. The Phi Kappa Psi house on Madison Lane was indeed part of Charlottesville police jurisdiction.
My brain froze. Could that be true?
Had they lied to me? I was stunned. I looked up the number for the Charlottesville Police Department and found the name of the chief of police, Timothy Longo. That seemed like a great place to start. I wanted to confirm Susan’s claim that I had been given incorrect information, but also, now that I was telling my story again, and now that there were new developments, I thought it might be worthwhile finally to tell the actual authorities under whose jurisdiction, as it now seemed, this crime had been committed. From my correspondence, William Beebe seemed erratic, perhaps antisocial. I still feared he might come to try to apologize personally. I wanted to let them know that this person had been e-mailing me and knew my home address.
On December 3, 2005, I picked up the phone, hesitated, then punched in the number to the Charlottesville Police Department. I asked for