Crash Into Me_ A Survivor's Search for Justice - Liz Seccuro [68]
Back outside the courthouse, Mike and I made brief statements to the media about the plea and what that meant in terms of justice. We tried to be upbeat. We said we were pleased with the arrangement, and looked forward to getting back to our daughter and our lives. Furthermore, the outcome gave survivors a real story to believe in. There can be vindication; there can be some sense of justice. Because I spoke out in 1984, and because years later I didn’t just accept an apology, this was a victory for all survivors, not just for me. We thanked everyone who had helped us on the long road. Beebe also made a statement on the steps of the courthouse, talking about how he hoped his pleading to a lesser offense would bring some sense of closure to me and my family. It was the first time he spoke publicly about the case.
Mike and I returned home, spent. But there was more to come—the larger investigation was gaining steam. There was some hope that another grand jury would be called. Although it was doubtful that either of the other two suspects would ever come forward and confess, the police did have new information provided by Beebe’s investigator, and they were re-interviewing all of the witnesses.
When I had first heard of Messner’s comment about the possible loss of his home, I had jumped up and down. Wasn’t that sort of an admission of guilt? Or was it merely a statement that he would have to spend enormous resources defending himself? Messner had refused to answer questions at the original grand jury. Now, he said nothing more. He kept the same Charlottesville-based attorney and stuck to his story that he had never met me; he had been a virgin until the day he married his wife. This latter part I find laughable—and yet, if taken as a half truth, it could actually explain how he might have gotten involved in the crime. Virgin second years were hard to find in fraternities, and it would not have surprised me if someone had challenged his manhood, spurring him to the deeds he allegedly committed against me that night. My thoughts and heart went out to his wife and children, something I did not have to consider with Beebe. They had done nothing and I could not bear the thought of these poor family members ostracized in the community because of something terrible their father and husband would not confess to or even testify about.
Meanwhile, Burgos was in an undisclosed location. His RV remained parked on the grounds of Tuck Hammett’s home in the Charlottesville area, and although we all felt that Hammett had more to say, he receded into the background of the investigation.
The web became more and more entangled as my anxiety level kept creeping up. As time passed, it became clear that another grand jury would not be convened. Beebe had not been as helpful as we had hoped, and we couldn’t get any more out of him. From a financial perspective, with my legal team limited by the city budget, it didn’t seem to make sense to convene a grand jury without the hard evidence that would guarantee further criminal indictments. We all knew there was much more to the story, but perhaps we would have to be satisfied with only one assailant being charged and eventually serving some time. The system is not perfect, but it is what we have, and I did not want to spend the rest of my life chasing down the broken pieces of the puzzle. Although I wanted and deserved the truth, and wanted justice served, in some ways perhaps I was better off not knowing everything that had transpired that night. In the end, I felt grateful that I didn’t remember every heartbreaking detail.
Celebrating the Christmas holiday that year, I was far more engaged in life. I found myself thinking less and less about the case and more about the fact that I should be proud to have opened my mouth and said something. With all of the sensationalism swirling about, it came down to one fact: I stood up for what was right.