Crash Into Me_ A Survivor's Search for Justice - Liz Seccuro [43]
An air date in May 2006 was decided upon. The day before the piece was scheduled to air, they asked if I would have a brief conversation, live, with Katie Couric on the Today show. Frankly, Katie scared me. A fellow Virginia alum, she had been a Tri-Delta and a Lawn resident—an honor bestowed on only fifty-four UVA students a year, who are chosen to live in the university’s original dorm rooms—and I knew she was a big proponent of her alma mater. Still, after some hesitation, I agreed, and the next morning, I found myself in the Today show green room, awaiting my segment. John and Edie came down to watch the interview, and seeing familiar faces calmed me immediately. During the commercial break in the top half hour, I was hustled out and miked up, and over walked Katie Couric. She shook my hand warmly and managed to put me at ease. A producer ran up and gave the backward count.
Katie did a brief preview of my story, with bits and pieces from the Dateline segment, before welcoming me to the show. She was the biggest surprise I could have imagined. The interview lasted about eight minutes, which is an eon in morning television, but I got through it without stumbling. After they yelled “Cut,” Katie leaned forward, gave me a hug, and started chatting with me about our alma mater and the case. Our rapport was easy and warm, and I sheepishly told her how much I had dreaded talking to her, and how wrong I had been. On the way out to the street, Mike and I ran into Al Roker, who remarked what a powerful piece it was. “I have daughters, you know. So, thank you. Really.”
That was a good day.
The following evening, Mike, my mother-in-law, and I gathered to watch Dateline. I was glad it was late enough that Ava was already in bed. We sat and patiently watched Ann Curry lead in with the story and then it began. We were transfixed. They had pieced together a fascinating story, which unfolded like a mystery. I had the sense I would have really enjoyed it if it had been someone else’s story. But it was my own, and it felt totally bizarre watching it on national television. Of course, though I had worked closely with John, Edie, and the crew, I had little power over how the final piece came out. Beebe had been dubbed the “12-Step rapist,” though to me, the AA angle was irrelevant. Someone who apologizes for committing rape in step 9 of an AA program, making amends, still committed that rape. Still, I understood on some level that the 12-Step angle made for good television, and I couldn’t control how Beebe was portrayed. I certainly couldn’t control how audiences would react. Mike went to the MSNBC Web site, where there was a voting mechanism set up and the question: “Did Liz Seccuro do the right thing by calling the police?” At the end of the day, 81 percent voted yes.
I read a lot of comments—and later, blog posts and e-mails—offering support and comfort. I heard from hundreds of survivors of sexual assault, both male and female, whose stories often overwhelmed me with grief. I heard from women of all ages, men with daughters, people who belonged to AA and felt Beebe had misused step 9. I also got messages from childhood friends, my high school teachers, and former classmates from UVA. It was wonderful to reconnect, and their words touched me deeply.
But not all the responses were positive. Some were thoughtless, others unbelievably cruel. There were those who wrote in to say, “I wouldn’t want to be her friend,” or “No one deserves to be raped BUT why was she at that party?” There were others who accused me of just wanting attention. Christians who thought I should burn in hell for not turning the other cheek suggested