I was considered a tech expert in a court of law at age 17
(This is part two in a series. Click here to read part one.)
I feel like this is common sense, but just incase it’s not … it’s not only REALLY hard to prove something in a criminal case, but to set LEGAL PRECEDENT?! This was the first case able to prove same sex stalking and harassment in BOTH courts in 213 years.
In a criminal court case you have to prove what happened “beyond reasonable doubt.” In civil court, it’s proving something to be “more likely than not.”
We proved both.
The girls showed up at my place of business -that constitutes as second degree stalking.
Amber was considered the “ringleader,” hence that additional charge (although Sarah was also behind it).
Stalking in the second degree is when a person…”knowingly engages in a course of conduct directed at a specific person or interfers with that person’s property. Also if the person intentionally and for no legitimate purpose engages in a course of conduct directed at a specific person that would cause a reasonable person to fear that his/her employment, business or career was threatened.”
Second degree harassment is intentionally terrorizing or alarming someone by telegraph or mail, electronically transmitting a facsimile through connection with a telephone network, electronic mail or text message or any other electronically sent message, whether by digital media account, messaging program or application, or otherwise by computer, computer service or computer network.
THIS IS THE PART OF THE LAW THAT I HELPED WRITE!!!!!
Wow, I’ve never seen this written out before.
I sat in a court of law at age 17 and was considered a “tech expert” by the judge.
I knew I knew my shit - but it never occurred to me until I was diagnosed as being on the spectrum just how exceptional this actually WAS.
Trauma goes hand in hand with undiagnosed autism in females; I alchemized the SHIT out of this trauma.
That night, our phone rang.
::ring ring::
Mandy's parents ...
::ring ring::
Amber's parents ...
::ring ring::
Valerie's parents ...
::ring ring::
Sarah's parents ...
My father said the same thing to each and everyone of them, “just keep your fucking kid under control and away from my fucking kid, and none of this will have to go any further,” he slammed the phone down.
Which there isn’t a feeling now like there was back in 2001 when you ACTUALLY SLAMMED a phone down on someone.
Parents who aren’t lawyers are scared of lawyers who ALSO happen to be … parents.
Their wallet was the fastest way to get their attention enough to call their own kids to “attention.”
Mandy had the strictest parents so her signature came the quickest on the injunction and the harassment from her stopped completely.
Valerie, Amber, and Sarah let’s just say … didn’t have strict parents.
A couple days went by, and things got surprisingly calm.
My parents already had a trip out of the country planned, and considering my brother was home from college - they viewed it as time for them to get away as well.
They went on their trip, as I stayed in our home with 98 WINDOWS - MOST FROM FLOOR TO CEILING.
Out of fear, I chose to reside in one small corner of my room hidden between my desk and my bed.
A couple of days into their trip, I picked myself up and talked myself into going back to work (as I had requested a few days off from both jobs).
I wasn’t living and needed to get back to my life.
I drove that night over to the modeling agency ... and yet again, I was followed home by Amber's car.
Listening to Officer Schwab, I immediately called the police and told them that she was violating my injunction.
I directly quoted the injunction over the phone, as I was instructed by the operator that there was no way they could send out an officer for “a cat fight.”
INJUNCTION LITERALLY IN HAND I said, “a judge SIGNED this order, and you’re not going to enforce it?!”
My father’s prediction was coming true.
They said the best they could do was a warning, but no arrest could or would be made.
I came home crying so hard in my brothers arms - I knew I needed out, I needed a break, this has got to stop.
(The stalking had been going on at this point for an endlessly long three weeks.)
The injunction was turning out to be just that … a piece of paper. I couldn’t “get” a 911 operator to listen or enforce it.
Not knowing what to do, I decided my sanity was priceless, and getting the fuck out of dodge felt like my only option.
Even if I was in a Chevy Cavalier Convertible.
My parents had a condo in Wells, Maine which was 3.5 hours from where we lived.
I needed to be gone, far away from these girls, from this situation.
DO YOU KNOW WHAT 3.5 HOURS WITH UNDIAGNOSED ADHD EQUALS?!?! SHEER WILL DROVE ME TO THE CONDO.
I collapsed on my parent’s bed.
I stared out at the ocean and questioned everything my life had become.
I was so afraid to leave the house, afraid to even BE in the house - much like the nights before, I cried myself to sleep.
I woke up the next morning to the surprise sound of banging.
Not like banging like someone knocking things around, like the kind of banging you'd hear from someone doing construction.
It was nearly “off season” for most of the condo owners, I was one of the only people in the complex - so it didn't seem terribly unusual that someone would be doing some sort of construction during that time.
I fell back asleep.
15 minutes or so later, I am awoken again - more banging.
Angry from not having slept in almost a month, I figured I could at least take a look around and see where this person is, and reason with them at doing construction during such an early hour.
I looked out the window and saw an empty parking lot - UGGHHHHHHHH where are you commmiinnggggg frommmmm, I proclaimed still groggy.
No construction cars, no construction materials ... nothing.
The banging continues.
Wait, is that in our hallway?
The condo had little hallways that were segmented off. So in any given “area” there were only six or so people who had access to the same hallway.
It was pretty rare during peak season to bump into someone, even more rare during off season.
I walk over to the door and peered out the peep hole - I see on the ground two people kneeling AT OUR FRONT DOOR... it wasn't construction, they were trying to break into the condo by busting open our lock using a pick of some kind.
Right then, inspired by exhaustion and unbridled rage, I grabbed the biggest knife from the knife block - as the door popped open.
Fortunately, I had put the chain on the night before, so the door didn't open very far, it was just enough for THEM to see someone standing there.
INSTINCTIVELY, i got big like a bear … RAISING MY ARMS … Knife in hand… STANDING on my tip toes screaming “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!!?!?!?!”
The guys were stunned since they were anticipating an empty condo … they too SCREAMED, about faced, running down the stairs … and out the front door.
I placed my left hand on the door to close it, as I fell to the ground.
I had no idea what came over me.
What logical person in that scenario does something like that. I WAS SIXTEEN!?!? WHO GOES AND GRABS THE KITCHEN KNIFE!!! It was like my reptilian brain took over, and instinctively knew how to defend myself.
I ran over to the phone.
It never occurred to me that it would be connected to the stalking (again the girls’ never went up to our condo).
Call police. I thought, I have to call the police.
I stood there for a second, I was so shocked at what I had just done that I forgot the number for 911.
I instead speed dialed my brother and told him what just happened.
“WHAT?!” He said. “Only you ... hang up the phone, and call the police.”
“I would, but I don't know the number.”
“It's 9-1-1.”
This coming from someone who had dialed 911 more times in that last month than I ever had in my entire life.
I was in fight or flight for so long, my brain and body were shot.
I called the police, and moments later they arrived.
They indicated that there had been a series of thefts in the complex over the last few days. He said that I'm sure they were looking for my parents car, not mine - and were surprised to see someone in the condo. He was shocked I had confronted them, but I explained to him that I wasn't thinking - it all happened so fast, I merely reacted.
He took a look at the lock and saw the damage, but fortunately I guess because of the way that they hit it, it didn't fully break it.
Bottom line: I didn't have to replace the lock right now, I could just leave.
I was grateful; I didn't want to wait around for a locksmith - I just didn't want to be anywhere near any of this continued bullshit.
He told me that he would be contacting me if they caught the guys since I was the only witness they knew of.
I drove home the 3.5 hours sobbing.
I couldn't believe I had just pulled a knife on two dudes. And WHAT. ARE. THE. ODDS. I was there?!
Now that I know I have synesthesia, I’m not unconvinced subconsciously I knew something … but still.
I learned in that moment, that I had no idea what “I” was capable of … i was proud that i stood my ground and prouder that i didn’t end up using the knife.
A few weeks later, the Wells Police Department called and had indicated they caught the kids who they thought were responsible for the break in. They asked if I could identify them.
Sometime later, I was then given a sheet of paper with 10 boys perfectly posed in their Lifetouch school portraits.
I have facial blindness - so I don’t recognize people by their faces.
I, of course, didn’t know this at the time - so I pointed to the two that I thought it was and was told that I was wrong.
The officers said they were confident in their case (outside of me not being able to correctly identify them).
I have no idea what happened to them, but I do know I got a solid case of “WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!” from my parents. I was then told to never … EVVERRR grab a kitchen knife … unless you’re prepared to use it.
Despite the judge’s signature, and the seriousness of the injunction, day, after day ... night after night ... the stalking and harassment continued.
All in all, it took a total 27 days, including hundreds of emails, IMs, and countless police reports taken across three towns before they were even found in violation of the injunction.
On November 4, 2001 all three girls were hauled into the back of a police car and taken to some form of jail.
Officer Schwab personally made the arrest, as he had become so emotionally invested in the case.
He couldn’t understand the blatant disregard the girls had for the law.
He commented on how unusual my case was.
This is also part of being autistic (unfortunately); bullies tend to prey on us autistic folks because of our response to situations.
I wasn’t just “kind of upset” by the betrayal - I was gutted. This gives bullies the “high” that they wanted in the first place. It’s technically a form of control - which would make sense that the girls’ felt so “out of control” in their own home lives. Considering their parents were now forced to pay attention to them based on this situation meant the more they “stirred the pot” the more attention they would get from all parties.
The next few months were a total blur.
I don't remember my 17th birthday, I dont remember new years 2002, I don't remember much of anything except in January of that year my family started dropping like flies (four relatives died unexpectedly).
Everything I thought I was, everything I thought I knew … was changing.
I was jolted from this picturesque life and reality that a kid from Connecticut grows up with, into the sobering reality that my age of innocence was gone.
Amber and Sarah’s families had money, which meant they had access to things most kids their age wouldn't - which meant they were capable of THAT much more. Had that element not been present, I don’t think the stalking and harassment would have been enough to set legal precedent. That’s NOT an understatement to the LEVEL these girls went to, but the fact that at any given moment they could ACTUALLY follow through on their threats made it that much worse.
It didn't take them long after the arrest before they were back to their old tricks.
My dad and Owen Eagan decided that because the girls were stalking me during school hours, and I was technically still a student at my high school - I could talk to the school principal and see if we could have him talk to them and give them some sort of discipline.
They decided that it would appear to be too formal if they came with me, so it was a solo mission I begrudgingly had to accept.
I was told to speak from the heart.
I’m an undiagnosed Audhd female.
::deep breath::
Speaking from the heart AND keeping my eyes LASER FOCUSED on the prize?!?!?
I remember sitting in reception - terrified. There I was on the same school grounds the girls were currently on (everyone minus Valerie who went to a different school).
Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me.
His assistant comes out, “Jennifer Friel” …
“YES!!!” I screamed, clearly a bit nervous and only mildly jumpy.
I went into his office and sat down … something I had never done in my high school career.
I sat in front of the ass(istant) princiPAL and pleaded my case. (The position of Principal was in transition in 2001.)
I placed the injunction, all the police reports, and all of the documented harassment down on his desk.
Tears streamed down my face.
“Please, help me. Please. They're disobeying the judge's orders - and I don't know who else to turn to. They've stalked me across three towns and even left classes to come after me.”
“They are going to kill me - there is no doubt in my mind about that, I just ... (I took a deep breath), don't know who else to turn to. Their parents aren't doing anything, they think they're above the law - please, tell me there is something that you can do.”
He handed me a tissue.
“What would YOU like me to do?”
“I don't know! This has to be in violation of something here at this school, I'm still a student here.”
“Yes, but you're not attending any classes - you're not on school property.”
“Yes, I know that fact, but these girls are LEAVING school property TO stalk me. THEY are enrolled in your classes and they are LEAVING said classes to stalk me.”
“This is your side of the story. I would need to hear theirs.”
“Wait, my SIDE of the story?”
I slapped my hand down on his desk hitting the injunction.
“My SIDE of the story? Oh no, this is FACT.”
“I can see you are upset.”
“Let me have a talk with the girls, and I can see if there is maybe something we can do.”
“Something you can … do? SOMETHING?!”
“These girls are going to kill me. They are leaving YOUR school to do this. The school I am legally still a STUDENT. These are YOUR students, and you are trying to pass this off as if this is NOT YOUR PROBLEM?”
I sat his office completely flabbergasted.
I had been taught that teachers and principals were supposed to protect students, and do whatever it took to keep them safe - this man stared me dead in my tear filled eyes and failed to show an ounce of compassion.
I stood up and left his office.
“You'll be hearing from my attorneys.”
I want to say I flipped him off in this big dramatic fashion, and threw all of the papers off the desk - but again, I was still in shock.
The meeting did not go as planned.
This was the jovial assistant principal that presented himself consistently through my scholastic years as not just the “assistant princiPAL” but your actual PAL.
I know he knew me, and he knew he knew me.
Not being SEEN in this moment from someone who could take action was just as gutting as the stalking that was now on the record for occurring to me.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. I screamed at the top of my lungs from inside my car.
WHY DOES NO ONE BELIEVE THIS IS A BIG DEAL?!?!?!?! WHAT IS IT GOING TO TAKE?!?!?!!?! I WILL NOT BE A FUCKING STATISTIC!!!!!!!!!!!
Pre-Mean Girls there was no “girl on girl harassment” so prevalent in mainstream culture that it was enough for people to grasp.
Sure, you had the movie Heathers, but that was different.
Mean Girls allowed me, as someone who lived through same-sex, non-sexual harassment and stalking, the framework to describe my experience.
Girl on girl “action/crime” at that point ended with a pillow fight, and a kiss to makeup session. Hence the EXTREME hurdles that were in front of us to have this taken seriously. EVEN WITH a judge’s order and support from Officer Schwab … it still didn’t “click” with people. It was outside of the realm of their own possibilities of what teenage girls could be capable of.
The next couple of months were spent in and out of court.
Every few weeks either Amber or Sarah violated the injunction.
The judge was so blown away that he put on the record that he was the only one allowed to be assigned to this case.
He got so mad at them disobeying his orders REPEATEDLY that he slapped them with community service thinking a dose of garbage pickup on a month’s worth of Saturdays would do them good.
Then, came graduation time.
See, even though I finished in 2001, I hadn't officially graduated since I wanted to walk with my class for reunion purposes.
A new crop of emails and IMs began ... these were threatening me on attending the senior prom and graduation.
We know where it is, and we're going to get you.
Yeah no shit sherlock - the entire grade knows where the prom and graduation is.
I could handle not going to the prom, but my grades?! My GRADES!?! Oh hell no, I worked sooo hard for everything in school, and I wasn’t going to let ANYTHING stand in my way.
The threats came in stronger as the senior activities grew closer and closer - in fact they they got so specific it required additional police presence.
We're going to shoot you as you walk across the stage and get your diploma. HAHAHAAHAHAHA
I had let these girls take hostage of my life for almost eight months at that point, to HELL if I was going to let them take away 12 years of very. very. very. hard work.
I had to go to my high school graduation. Whatever it took - even if it meant my life, it was something I was willing to sacrifice; I wasn't going to be afraid.
Owen and my dad contacted the school and informed them of the threats (not as a concerned parent but as my legal counsel).
The ass(istant) princiPAL acted surprised that it had become so elevated but assured them both that I would be protected at graduation at all costs.
My father politely informed him that his services wouldn’t be needed.
Officer Schwab and the chief of police were in charge of the police presence … as I was kept away from the logistics.
Between the injunction, lack of accountability on the school’s part … should anything have happened to me ON SCHOOL PROPERTY(where graduation took place)… the school could now no longer admit “they had no idea what was happening.”
All “appropriate” parties knew … and the response to said school would be swift.
Technically “them.”
I was in my own little world at that point.
I had to sit with the weight of my decision to go to my own graduation.
Was I really going to go through with this? The threats were coming in more and more, and they sounded more and more certain that they were in fact going to kill me - was I really ready to die just to get a piece of paper?
My answer was always the same - yes.
It was MY piece of paper, plus honors.
Because of all the court dates, neither Amber nor Sarah finished high school.
I remember the morning of graduation shaking as I put on my makeup.
I posed for a few pictures with my parents and my grandparents, but I just wanted it to be over at this point.
If I was going to die, I was ready to do it for something I believed in - my grades.
I'd much rather have this all just be over than continuing to live in fear of wondering, what if.
At least, I will know.
The car ride was silent as my family and I drove over to my high school graduation.
My parents hugged me, kissing me on the cheek telling me how proud they were of me, and how much they both loved me.
I love you both so much, and thank you dad.
I didn't see the undercover police (as the majority of them were doing a really really great job), but I was physically grabbed and pulled aside before joining my classmates.
“Here, said undercover officer said- as he pointed to an empty chair at the end of the "F" row. “This is where I need you to sit.”
They had to make sure I was protected, so I wasn't allowed to sit in direct alphabetical order in my class.
There was an interesting parallel mentally to being stalked and also being monitored by so many undercover police officers.
Thanks to being gifted with synesthesia- I very much “felt” what was happening, but the “good” nor “bad” never registered. I can just “feel” when attention is on me as it creates a very physical sensation on my body.
The attention confused my classmates most of whom I hadn’t seen in over a year.
I made small talk with a few people, but mostly sat there and prayed.
I AM READY TO DIE, I AM READY TO DO THIS - LET'S GO. NO ONE CAN TAKE TODAY FROM ME.
I remember a few of the speeches, but they all went by pretty fast.
Moments later, they started calling the As.
Bs ...
Cs ...
Ds ...
Es ...
and now F.
The F row stands.
Mrs. Birdsall, who was apparently like the oversee-er of the kids then confronts me.
"I don't understand WHY you are all the way over here. You are messing up the order from everyone, I want you to know that."
If ever there was a more appropriate moment TO punch someone, it would have been then. You have NO idea what I have been through, I thought showing restraint.
I said nothing choosing to remain in the zone and prepare myself for walking on stage, which may or may not be one of my final acts in life.
I walked towards the stage now in line with my row.
I heard my name being called ... Jennifer Friel.
I walked up on stage - I hear my family SCCRREAAAMMMM in cheers - I smiled and waved as I grab my diploma.
I took it in my hands, and thought “this is it, I'm here ... and I'm not dead.”
I took a deep breath, and started cheering (for myself).
I did it.
I did it.
I did it.
Graduating high school - that part was easy, but I stood up to them.
I didn't let them control me, I won! I won! I won!!!
HOLY SHIT, I'M ALIVE!!!!!!!!
I sat back down in my isolated seat turning around multiple times to wave to my parents.
My moms eyes are filled with tears, I see her mouth "I love you baby."
Less than a week after graduation, I moved to NYC. I can’t begin to tell you how UNBELIEVABLY relieved I was to be out of Connecticut in terms of residency … and for the first time proud to not know a single officer in the town I was residing in.
I remember that weekend, my brother helped me move into my studio apartment in Manhattan, and that Sunday when he left to go back home I sat on my bed for a solid hour and just cried.
I was so grateful to be out of West Hartford, and far away from those girls - but I was also scared.
I go from a situation like THAT to moving to NYC at SEVENTEEN?!?!! I couldn’t sign a lease, open a bank account, or get my own gym membership. Aspects of it felt INCREDIBLY overwhelming, but I knew I couldn’t focus on that.
I wanted out.
I got out.
So now … it’s time to live again.
A week later I started classes at the Lee Strasberg Theater Institute. I was the youngest person they had ever accepted into the adult program. Which is hilarious btw, when my teacher Robert Castle would say “now feel the tension in your right leg …” at 17 there was no tension in my right leg.
The classes at Strasberg were intense, but also something that I desperately needed in my life at that point; Strasberg teaches the world famous "method." You become the character, you live the character and you use life experience and sense memory to get you into the character.
Life experience? OOHHH that I got!!!
Acting was my therapy.
I wasn't too long into my classes before I had to go back to Connecticut - this time, for the trial.
I had weeks of prep prior to taking the stand to testify in both courts.
I had to sit with my father and his childhood best friend as they asked me extremely personal questions about my experiences up until that point.
Teenage brains are hardwired to be vaults. If I didn’t reveal something to them, and it got revealed on the stand, I ran the risk of losing our case. Fortunately, I was actually a really “good kid.” I had smoked pot a few times, had sex once, but was otherwise very much still considered “inexperienced” in the world of “adulting.”
Stalking was bad enough, having to disclose these facts to my father was mortifying.
Keeping my eyes on the prize, I also met with the juvenile advocate numerous times.
Over and over he said “speak from the heart … all you have to do is speak from the heart.”
I asked how I could do that considering the people who stalked me would also be in the same room?
He reiterated how safe I was, and that I had gotten this far - “think of this as a formality. People will actually listen to you now and your statement will be testimony. You will be heard, but it’s still your job to speak.”
I remember walking into court but quickly realizing this is NOTHING like it looks like on TV.
I sat down next to my mom, dad, and brother - still shaking … knowing what I was going to say next was going to be the difference between being “guilty” and “not guilty.” Two words that had little to no meaning to me (outside of mock trial junior year).
I heard Amber and Sarah enter the court room, but I purposefully avoided eye contact.
I don't know why we didn't prosecute Valerie. She might have signed a permanent restraining order at that point, I'm not sure.
“All rise.”
The judge walked in and said “please be seated.”
I stared at the judge, the same judge that has seen these girls in and out of court for MONTHS at that point.
He says something, then I heard - “Jennifer Friel, please come to the stand.”
I stand up, walk past Amber and Sarah and without looking think, you are going DOWNNNN!!!!!!!!!
I placed my hand on the bible as I was sworn in (this was exactly like you see on TV).
I had done the most praying in my life up until that point based on this life experience so now KNOWING I was going to be heard HOPEFULLY meant that my prayers would be answered.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?”
“Please be seated.”
I was questioned by my own team first.
“So Ms. Friel, tell me about your relationship with Amber and Sarah.”
I told him everything you all just read (but in graphic detail).
Coincidentally, THE ATTORNEY FOR THE Girls’ LOOKED LIKE LINDSAY LOHAN’S DAD.
Ewe.
“And are you still friends with them now?”
I start to tear up and said “no.”
“Tell us, why?”
“I don't know why to be honest. We got into a fight and it kept escalating. I never. ever. meant for anything like this to happen. I loved them, deeply.”
He then asked about the documentation of the harassment. I had already submitted in discovery all the emails, IMs, screenshots of profiles, and additional documents required to prove our case.
The judge allowed the emails, IMs, and screenshots SOLELY on the fact that I could explain how I captured it.
See, in 2002 emails, AOL, and “screenshots” weren’t a mainstream “thing” yet. To get copies of what they wrote, we would have had to subpoena the tech companies and HOPE that they would have provided it.
I have no idea how long that might have taken, but because I was an eight year tech veteran, I was able to speak AS AN EXPERT on my own behalf for how I was able to capture the documented harassment.
In meticulous detail, I explained what an AOL screen name was, how that is tied to an @aol email address, and how that is also tied to a profile (where the majority of the harassment was documented).
He asked if I could alter what an email said after it was sent (meaning alter it in like Word or something).
“No, I said, look at how I captured this” - I showed him both my email address with attached AOL screen name showing the defendant’s information.
“This message was sent from this email address and then sent to mine. All of this is connected on the AOL platform.”
I then showed him Amber’s profile (she used AIM but the judge finally got the jist of it).
He may have been a tech luddite, but he was also my target audience.
I had been teaching adults how to use programs like Juno, Wordperfect, and Prodigy. I was really. really. really. good at explaining things to adults without making them feel stupid.
We then transitioned back over to each instance of stalking and harassment. I spoke from the heart like the advocate recommended.
I remember sitting on that stand looking directly out at my mother, seeing her horrified and hysterical. She couldn't believe the words that were coming out of my mouth - which made it all that much harder.
I remember glancing over at Amber and Sarah with their shit eating grins ... Amber in particular I remember. They kept calling her and Sarah the ringleaders in this ... I kept getting so lightheaded, but I reminded myself to stay focused on each question being asked and not the emotion attached to the words.
You can do this Jen I thought to myself... keep it up. Think of this as a part for acting - this is all just a stage, and this is just a character you are playing.
I barely made it through my own team's questions, but somehow I managed to pull through.
Then came the cross examination.
The girls’ Lohan-like attorney’s lines of questioning began.
They first attacked my character asking about boys I had dated.
I laughed, staying composed - “wait, all two of them?” I had sex with one of them, I thought but didn’t say. Not proud that my father also knows this information, but proud that I truly and fully disclosed anything they could “use” against me.
Part of their strategy was to concoct this story for the judge that I was secretly a manipulative bitch pretending to be a goody goody while on the side I was hoe-ing myself out to half the town. This was an attempt to discredit me as a witness.
I had nothing to hide.
Every time he asked me about certain boys or certain situations, my answer was always the same - No.
I gave very curt, emotionless answers.
Yes.
No.
Yes.
No.
Yes.
Yes.
I had nothing to hide in regards to these girls; I did NOTHING wrong. The hardest part about the trial though was that they were right there ... hearing every bit of torture that they did to me. That angered me so so much, but I couldn’t focus on it.
Today was literally the day I was waiting for … I finally have my day in court.
I remember when it was all over sitting back down in my seat. I don't remember anyone else taking the stand (although they did), I just remember leaving my body. I was under so much stress at that point, I couldn't handle any more.
I SAT IN THE COURTROOM WITH A VACANCY SIGN ON MY FOREHEAD.
I can't tell you all the outcome of the case on the criminal side, or the civil side as per the agreement that I signed not disclosing that information.
I can say that my dad and Owen successfully attained LIFETIME restraining orders (COMPLETELY unheard of btw) from all four girls keeping them all at least 350 yards away from me, for the REST of their lives, with no contact direct or indirect.
I remember at the close of the second trial saying to my dad, “we ‘got’ justice, but why doesn’t ‘justice’ actually feel like ‘justice?’”
“We won, but none of this felt like winning.”
“Now you’re understanding the truth behind the legal system. I’m so very sorry you had to learn this at such a young age.”
I couldn’t find the emails, but a few years back I did find Officer Schwab and reached out to thank him for believing me. I won’t share what he is doing now, but I did freak him out.
“How did you find me?” he asked.
I was considered a tech expert in a court of law (I thought but didn’t say) … finding people’s email addresses is a superpower.
While he didn’t remember the case specifically … he was impressed I gave a TedX talk.
The hilarious part about that?
Said Tedx talk includes the part where I told the CEO of AOL (technically his team pre-working for him) that I would admit that HE AND his platform WERE irrelevant.
EIGHT YEARS PRIOR I TESTIFIED IN A COURT OF LAW AS AN EXPERT ON BEHALF OF HIS PLATFORM.
Not only did I proudly not get the job, but most importantly, the legal precedent set has helped countless other women in similar situations get the help that they needed.
Mean Girls may be a movie, but this movie gave me a voice to speak my own truth.
PS. Remember the sexist bias I mentioned earlier?
In looking for the emails from Officer Schwab, I found a series of Facebook messages from another officer who took a report of vandalism in our kitchen.
Part of me is glad I found these after I finished the post.
Officers like him are the reason I wasn’t believed. They expected a kiss and make up and a front row ticket to it happening.
This is the sexiest biased I was referring to:
Why do parents have to tell their teenage daughters 16 will get them 20?!
The way he spoke reminds me of a Yahoo Chat circa 1998.
It takes a TREMENDOUS amount of courage to come forward with a stalking experience. If someone ever tells you about their experience, please listen … and if you are in an authoritative position please take action (or at the very least show compassion).
These are the comments from the original post in 2012:
