The Coffee Shop And The Detective

A few years ago I met with a detective from the sexual assault unit to discuss my legal options in reporting my sexual assault. Below is what I wrote a few days after that meeting.

6:30am. The alarm went off indicating it was time to get up, although she hadn’t slept more than 15 minutes that whole night. She stared at the clock for a few minutes contemplating if it is even worth getting up and trying, but eventually she sighed real deep and swung her feet around to hit the floor. It took every ounce of energy she had in her to stand up. She slowly lifted her head to see her reflection in the mirror. The bloodshot eyes from crying, the dark circle under her eyes and the splotchy red face. “How did I get to this point” she thought, “there is no way you are going to get through this. You are just wasting everyone’s time by trying”. And then a fresh set of tears ran down her face.

She proceeded to her usual morning routine regardless. She made herself some oatmeal to try to choke down and fight the knot in her stomach that was trying to make her throw it back up. She washed her face and brushed her teeth then put on make-up to cover how defeated she actually looked. She then slowly put on the clothes that she had laid out the night before. She folded out the wrinkles in her shirt and then it was time to go. She picked up her bag and began to proceed to the door; she didn’t quite make it though, before she felt her belly start to flop and that acid start to rise up to her mouth. She ran to the bathroom and expelled the little bit of oatmeal she had eaten. Hot tears running down her face, ruining her make-up. “This is so useless” she repeated out loud as she looked at herself in the mirror. She picked up her toothbrush realizing she’d have to brush again to get the sour smell of vomit off her breath. When she was done, she put her toothbrush and some toothpaste in her purse knowing she’d more than likely need it again before the day was done.

She finally made it to the car where she blasted the music so loud to drown out the horrible thoughts running through her mind. That thirty minutes drive felt like it took hours, minutes dragging out like life was going in slow motion. She finally reached her destination, a Second Cup coffee shop downtown. She walked real slow to the front door as the war raged in her mind, “just turn around and RUN, it’s not too late”, and as much as she wanted to turn around, her feet kept moving forward like she was no longer in control of her own limbs. She made it to the front door, took a big deep breath, pushed the door open and walked in. The overpowering smell of coffee and pastries surrounded her and with the already major unease of her stomach, she gagged and tried to not let anyone notice. She walked straight to the back of the shop where the bathrooms were located. She got to the small bathroom, locked herself into a stall and expleded the last bit of oatmeal she had in her stomach. When she was finished, she sat on the toilet seat with her head between her legs trying to keep herself from hyperventilating. Once she was able to get control of her breathing again she checked her phone. Still no message from her friend, but then she noticed she was an hour early. She couldn’t sit in a coffee shop by herself for an hour without ordering anything, so she left the bathroom and got in the lineup. She ordered the first thing that came to her mind, medium vanilla latte, knowing full well she would never even take a sip in fear she would throw up again. She handed them her Law & Order: Special Victim Unit travel mug to fill with her sugary hot drink. “Oh my goodness, this is an awesome cup! I love the show so much! Stabler is so hot and the way Olivia helps the victims, it’s just awesome!” said the young women working at the till. All she could do was look up, give the women half a smile and say, “yeah, I know”. Once she got her order she looked around to find a place to sit. In the corner by the fireplace she noticed a few black leather chairs around a wood table. “That looks like the most relaxing place to sit” she thought and then laughed out loud at the ridiculous thought of relaxation. Relaxation was surely not something she would feel that day, that word is foreign to her now. She sank into the chair, put her drink on the table and pulled out her laptop. As the laptop was starting up, she gazed at her travel mug and thought of all those words of wisdom and encouragement Det. Olivia Benson would tell to the victims like, “look at everything you have overcome, don’t give up now” or “by keeping quiet, you’re giving him power over you”. She wondered would the detective she would be meeting with that day say anything like that, would she be like Olivia at all?

Her phone dinged and took her out of her trance, she looked down to see who had messaged her and saw that one of her friends sent her word of encouragement and reassuring her she was not alone and that she would make it through this meeting. She turned the phone away because she felt the tears start to form in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, not in public and for sure not while she was sitting there by herself. She willed her tears that were in her eyes to disappear and picked up her phone to try again. She worked on a reply to say thank you and as she hit send, another message came through from another friend. She felt so loved and so supported, but at that moment, it just wasn’t enough to make her feel like she would be okay. As she finally articulated an answer for each one, she put her phone down and picked up her laptop. Within 5 minutes she heard her phone go off again, she picked it up, but this time it was no friend offering her words of encouragement, it was the detective she was about to meet. The message simply read “Hi, are you there?”. She looked at the clocked and a rush of panic overwhelmed her, how could an hour have already gone by? She then suddenly realized her friend that was suppose to be there for support had not arrived yet. Her mind raced a million miles a minute, “What if she is late? What if the detective arrives before she does? What if she forgot about the meeting?” and then her friend walked through the door of the shop and she started to breathe again. She jumped up to greet her friend and to find comfort in her warm hug. It was the only thing in the world that could make her feel safe in that moment. Once she was able to let go of her friend, her friend got in the lineup to get herself a tea. “Alright, you are going to be fine, you can get through this” she thought to herself while forcing back that bubbling feeling in her stomach. Her friend came back and got settled into the seat right next to her. Her friend looked at her with sympathetic eyes and quietly asked “Are you okay?” and the best response she could give was “not exactly”. Then the moment she was dreading, the detective walked through the door, took off her sunglasses and peered around the shop looking for her. Their eyes met and she walked over and introduced herself with a smile that was meant to put the victims at ease. “Hi, I’m the Detective", and the three of them looked at each other and weakly said Hi. The detective put her bag down and informed them that she was just going to get herself a drink and would be right back. The detective turned to join the lineup and she stared at her friend like a deer in headlights. All she could do was silently mouth “Oh my god, oh my god” over and over again. The detective came back with her steaming cup of tea, got settled in her chair and then brought her eyes up to the girl. She slowly brought her own eyes up to meet the detectives gaze. “How are you doing?” said the detective. There was that question again she thought, should she lie or should she tell the truth?. “Honestly, I am just trying to not vomit right now” she managed to get out. The detective gave a sad face and said “It’s okay, we are just a few girls chatting”. With a few moments of silence and no response from the girl, the detective added, “You know, you are the one in control here. Nothing happens without your consent. If you want to talk and find out you don’t want to go through with anything, I won’t push you to. If you decide you file a report and come in for the interview, but then decide half way through the interview that you want to stop, you can. We can’t go ahead with a case if we don’t have a complainant”. These words were suppose to make her feel better, make her feel in control like she had read about in her text books, but it didn’t make her feel any differently than she had a few minutes ago. Then the detective pushed a little more, trying to get the girl to say something, “So, is there anything you’d like to ask me?”. The girl pondered this for a few moments and then finally opened her mouth to speak. “Uhh, well, umm, if I do make a report, can you break down the steps of what will happen?”. She already knew the answer to this question, but was trying to buy some more time, she just wasn’t ready to talk about herself yet. As the detective filled up 10 minutes talking about the process of the justice system, she knew her time was almost up and she’d have to start digging down in those disgusting, dark, unfathomable places that she had locked up so long ago. She thought about her friend sitting next to her, holding her hand. Thoughts raced through her mind, “She’s going to hate me, think I am disgusting, be so repulsed by me once she finds out all the dirty details. Oh great, the only friend I have around here and soon she would leave me too”. She refocused back to her surroundings and noticed the detective peering at her waiting for her to do something. “So, uhh, I guess I want to know if it would even be worth it to make a report. I mean I really don’t think I have a case, but wanted to talk to you to see if there is any more insight you would be able to give me to help me better understand the situation and the choices I have”. She was feeling pretty proud of herself then for articulating a sentence, helping her to seem a little more put together than she really was, she’d wonder if the detective saw right through that persona she was trying to put on. “Well to help you with that, I am going to need to know what happened” the detective tried to gently tell the girl. And there it was, her time was up, the focus was on her and it felt like every eye in the coffee shop was suddenly on her.

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again realized she had no idea what to say. “I don’t know where to begin” she says. “Where ever you feel comfortable starting” says the detective. The sweat breaks out on her forehead; she wipes it off with her sleeve and starts. She spent the next hour stumbling over words she had never said before, admitting to things she’d never told a soul till that very minute. With each revolting sentance she told out loud, the more her stomach flopped and gurgled. She could not meet the eyes of the detective or the eyes of her friend as she recounted and relived the trauma, but she could feel her face burning red hot and she felt their eyes unwavering on her. She kept pretending it was Olivia Benson sitting next to her, it was the only thing that was keeping her from throwing up stomach acid. The words did not come out in a flowing manner like normal conversations, instead each word was forced, like she had to reach down and pull them out of the pit of her stomach. She eventually runs out of energy and can’t tell any more of the story, even though there so so much she hadn’t yet said. There was silence for a few minutes, and she thought for sure the detective and her friend would now think she’s the most awful and disgusting human being on the planet. She finally looks up to meet the detectives eyes, expected her to have a repulsed look on her face. She didn’t, instead she had a look of sympathy with a hint of sadness. They all let a few moments of silence to go by to give honor to the story that was just told. Then the detective started, first offering words of support and comfort, then onto the technicalities and what could actually be done if a report was filed. The detective didn’t try to hide the broken or rough parts of the system, she told it like it was but then reassured, “I won’t ask you to go through with anything that I know would bring more harm to you than good. This is about you, not him”.

And that was the moment she got her control back.

They wrapped up by making small talk and then the detective got up, shook the girls hand and said, “If you need anything at all, if you want to meet again, just give me a call”. Then she walked out of the shop and her and her friend just looked at each other and said “wow” at the same time. They sat there in silence for a few moments trying to process all that had just happened, but all that was going through her mind was,

"Sending him to prison isn’t going to heal you, healing begins when someone bears witness. I saw you, I believe you." - Olivia Benson; SVU

Olivia Benson was right.

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