Jameis Winston, Florida State QB and Heisman candidate, was exonerated yesterday of charges that he'd raped a co-ed:
The alleged victim first went to Florida State Police on December 7, 2012, saying that she had been raped early that morning, but did not know the identity of her alleged attacker. Initially, according to the case file, she described the suspect as a black male with a "'short afro' that looked like it needed to be cut." Then, on January 10, 2013, she left a voicemail for the investigating detective saying that she believed her alleged attacker was Jameis Winston, and that he was in one of her classes.
As it turned out, DNA proved that Jameis Winston was indeed the rapist. (Other DNA -- aka "semen" -- found on the victim was from her boyfriend.)
I found myself in similar circumstances in May of 2000. I'd gone out by myself to one gay club, looking for my ex-girlfriend. Didn't find her, but did run into a couple of her gay guy friends (guys that I also knew from clubbing). They said they were headed to another club, and I should meet them there. I drove on over... Didn't immediately see the two guys, but, being a warm night, just sat on the hood of my car waiting for them, soaking up the ambience of people coming and going from the club. A male stranger approached me and said "hi" and how/what was I doing... ME: "Just hangin' out." He said he was a "dick dancer" at the club we were sitting outside of --- meaning a gay stripper. I told him that I was gay, and was waiting for some guy friends to show up. We sat on the hood of my car and chatted in a friendly way for nearly a half-hour. As it became clear that my gay-guy acquaintances weren't showing up, the "dick dancer" mentioned that he had some cocaine and did I want to do some with him? I did. What the hell. But I didn't want to do it right there on the street, being afraid of cops and all (!). So I asked the guy to come on over to my apartment.
I drove him to my home, 10 minutes away. As soon as he entered, he asked, "Do you have a dog?" No. And he asked if my neighbors were nosy. And then he asked that I close my balcony shades, which I always kept open. We then sat on my futon, at least 3 feet between us, and watched MTV for a bit --- I remember Christina Aguilera was one of the videos, and that he said he liked her. I served us beers and we snorted some coke while we watched TV. What we talked about mainly, I don't remember, other than the now-significant question that he asked me straight out: "Do you think you would ever date me?" I told him, no, I was gay, I liked women. (I'd said the same while sitting on the hood of the car outside the gay club; and, since he was a "dick dancer" from said club, I assumed that he wasn't that interested in women himself.)
After maybe an hour of chatting and drinking and doing 2 lines of coke, I had to go to the bathroom. While I was sitting on the toilet seat peeing, he pushed open the closed bathroom door and dragged me off the toilet and into the bedroom right outside. That's when the rape began. I was raped first on my bed. I remember being coherent and asking stupid questions like, "Why are you doing this?" And saying stupid things like, "No, I don't want this." As if those "affirmations" would make any difference. He stuck his dick into me multiple times, then, when finished coming, said to me: "Go clean yourself up." He watched while I washed out my vagina in the bathroom.
Post-vagina-cleaning, he and I sat in my living room while we both got our clothes back on. He actually said at this point, "I don't know what happened." And then, "I need a ride home."
I was a bit relieved that he wasn't a psychopathic rapist/murderer and that I wouldn't be dying this evening, but also shocked at his audacity: This guy had just raped me, and now he was asking me to take him home??? Which is exactly what I said to him. Which is when his eyes (literally) turned black and he lunged at me again.
(Another dumb thing: As he was on top of me, I was worried about my burning cigarette and told him so. He grabbed it out of my hand and snuffed it out on my nearby "Webster's New World College Dictionary." Still have that dictionary and that cigarette burn.)
As he raped me the second time, he said, "We're going to do this 10 times tonight." When I heard that, something inside of me turned utterly cold --- I'd been relatively passive up 'til this point: not physically violent toward him (because I didn't want to get killed), just saying "no," etc. After he watched me wash up the second time, I told him I needed to let my cat out for the evening... I was naked, with just a towel around me... As I opened the front door of my apartment to let my cat out, I also ran out to my nearest neighbor, banging on their door to help me...
That evening/early morning I called the police and told them I'd been raped. I spent the next 6 hours sitting in the lobby of a local hospital waiting for the local "rape specialist" to become available and administer the "rape kit" testing.
The very next day, I pressed charges, and the case went to a Grand Jury. (Which, I found out, consisted primarily of retired people.) Weeks later, after my testimony, the Grand Jury verdict came back: The guy that raped me would not be prosecuted, would not even be brought to trial.
The worst parts about this for me are many and not all involving the rapist himself:
One, that I was raped at about 1am and had to sit in a hospital awaiting rape-kit testing until 7am.
Two, that the Grand Jury didn't even see fit to bring the case to trial.
Three, that, when I told my mother months later that I'd been raped, her first reaction was, "Had you been drinking?"
Four, my own real-life father would probably say, "You deserved it." (My father's actual take on the OJ Simpson trial: Nicole Simpson was "bought and paid for.")
Five: People I've told about this have been ridiculous. The ex-girlfriend I initially set out to meet that night: I did turn to her for comfort after that night. She came to the hospital, for which I was grateful, but then thought we should spend the next night "doing each other's makeup and hair." (Really, YOU FUCKING IDIOT? I was just RAPED.) Later, another woman I was in love with ignored my mention of the rape altogether. (Seriously -- how can one ignore it when someone mentions that they were raped?)
Where was/is my protector? Anyone?