Crash Into Me_ A Survivor's Search for Justice - Liz Seccuro [45]
“Let’s go ahead. Let’s do it with Dave,” I said.
“Okay then,” said Worrell. “I will make certain Dave is briefed.”
Mike and I traveled to Charlottesville two days before the hearing. We had arranged for his mother to stay with Ava, to keep her routine as intact as possible. When it was time to go, I hugged her about eighty times. I had packed framed photos of her in my suitcase, and I left her with my well-worn pashmina shawl, which comforted her because it carried my scent. Armed with bottles of water and about ten magazines, I tried to distract myself through the flight. I was cheered knowing that several of my sorority sisters were driving into Charlottesville from all around Virginia to support me.
Chapman and Worrell had both insisted to me that the preliminary hearing was really just a formality, but I was no fool. I knew that testifying and being cross-examined for the first time would be gut-wrenching. Also, since I had been a minor at the time the crime was committed, the hearing was being held in juvenile and domestic relations court, a tiny building where I would have to sit only eight feet from the defendant. I had been expecting to get a lot of preparation for my testimony, but Chapman explained that credible, well-spoken witnesses generally aren’t prepped—lawyers don’t want the testimony to seem rehearsed. He simply wanted me to come by midmorning the day before to listen to the statement I had made to Detectives Rudman and Godfrey on December 10 and refresh my memory. Mike decided to ride over there with me. He had never really heard the full story. I warned him that it might not be easy to hear.
A staffer led us to an empty office, popped an audio CD into a computer, and left us in private to listen to the recording. As my full account of the rape played, Mike looked forlorn, suddenly smaller in his clothes. Alone in that office, we just sat and listened.
The next day, at about five thirty A.M., I awoke in earnest after a mostly sleepless night. Mike snored peacefully beside me. The day was dawning cloudy and rainy as I made my way to our kitchenette to brew some coffee. On second thought, I decided to go over to the hotel lobby in the main building and grab some coffee there, so I could get a newspaper. On third thought, I slipped on running clothes and grabbed a bottle of water, thinking a run around the bucolic Grounds would help me feel relaxed and strong. I tied on my running shoes and grabbed my iPod on my way down the stairs and out the door. The smell of the oncoming Virginia spring is something I will never forget about that day. It was intense, green, and just gorgeous, despite the clouds. A smile crept across my face. Ambling across the street, I decided that I’d like a coffee before my run after all, and when I approached the front desk, I stopped dead in my tracks because there, on the front page of the paper was his face. I picked up first the Daily Progress and then the Richmond Times Dispatch, both of which blared headlines about the day’s hearing. That face was the same. The clerks looked at me with knowing eyes and one wished me luck. I skipped the run and headed back up to our suite, juggling coffee, water, and papers.
Mike was still sleeping, but I flipped on the television. “Today, William Nottingham Beebe and his accuser, Liz Seccuro, will meet for the first time in court as a judge will hear evidence in the rape case against Beebe at a preliminary hearing. Seccuro is expected to testify today. If the evidence is found to be sufficient, the case will go to a grand jury for indictment.”
Pan to Beebe’s mug shot, photos of his arraignment, and him in his striped jumpsuit. He looked just like the man who raped me. He was the man who raped me. My mouth was like a desert, my head pounded, and my