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“The men you didn’t choose.”
“Well… they don’t look like my rapist,” she said. I could see she was trying hard not to get angry.
“Exactly. They don’t fit your description. They don’t even come close.”
And they didn’t. Three looked to be what you’d called dishwater blonds, nearly brunette. And two were actually brunette. In the copy five of them seemed like clumps of toner, while Peter Linder almost glowed.
“Did you remember meeting Peter Linder?”
“No. I don’t think I ever did, actually.”
“You were answering personal ads during this period?”
“No. I placed an ad.LA Weekly. I paid for a mailbox. Men would send me letters. I got dozens. I think I answered less than ten.”
She was back to being defiant, this time for herself. I hadn’t read the trial transcript yet, but I imagine the defense tried to make something of her using the personals. A rape trial could be an awful process for the victim. If she appeared to like sex at all it made it seem like she’d asked for what happened to her.
“I’m not here to judge you.”
“Why are you here?”
“Peter Linder didn’t rape you. You do want to see him released, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course.Ifthat’s true.”
“Do you remember anything about Tony Albom?”
“Yes, he’s one of the men who answered my ad. His letter was funny and clever. He looked kind in the photo he sent with the letter.”
“He was Peter Linder’s roommate.”
“Yes. But I didn’t know that then. When we had our date we met at the restaurant, so I wouldn’t have met his roommate.”
“How was it? The date?”
“Um, we had dinner at an Italian place on Vermont. He wasn’t quite as charming as he had been in his letter. In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure he’d written the letter himself. He tried to get me to go home with him, but I had a rule about first dates. The fact that he tried it… well, that alone took him off my list.”
“Did Detective Wellesley aid you in your identification in any way?” Beside the fact that only one of the men fit the description she’d given.
“She was supportive. But I don’t think she influenced my identification. That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?”
“It is, yes.”
“Then the answer is a definite no. She didn’t influence me, or coach me, or tip me off or in any way suggest which of the men I should identify.”
“Except only one of the men fit your description.”
“I don’t think you’d act this way if we were talking about a male detective.”
I wanted to snap back at her, to make it clear how wrong I thought she was. But then I remembered everything she’d been through. I took a long draft of my iced tea and then stood up. “I’ll let you get on with your day.”
As she walked me to the front door, I said, “It’s nice to see you’ve done well for yourself.” Immediately, I regretted it. Was I minimizing her rape? Was I insulting other rape victims who hadn’t done so well for themselves?
She took it at face value though, saying, “Thank you. I’ve had a lot of therapy, and my husband is wonderful. About a year after I was attacked, my therapist thought I should date again, so I thought if I’m getting back on the horse I should really get back on. My husband had sent a letter in response to my ad. I hadn’t answered it, but I’d kept it. Despite its being a year later he wanted to meet me. I spent half of the date sobbing in the restroom. Dennis, my husband, was exceptionally kind. I laughed out loud when he asked me for a second date, I thought it had gone terribly. He told me he couldn’t imagine anything better than making me laugh.”
Thanking her for her time, I stepped through the front door she was holding open. I was only a few feet away when she said, “Mr. Reilly. I’m sorry if I got angry about Brenda. It’s just that she made me feel like I mattered. And that’s not how most women feel after a rape.”
****
