Good Morning, Killer

It wasn’t a new leopard. Its spots were yellowed from much handling. She handed the thing to Juliana, who clung to it greedily.

“Let’s talk a little about your general health,” Nancy began again casually. “When was the last time you saw a doctor? Are you taking any medications? How old were you when you got your period?”

She was able to get Juliana to occasionally respond with one-word answers, each time in a voice so injured I found myself staring at the plaid cloth around her neck, telepathically communicating to Nurse Nancy, It hurts!

Still she pressed gently on, asking if Juliana had consensual intercourse in the last seventy-two hours.

Juliana answered, “No.”

From her wide-eyed reaction to the question, I knew she’d never had consensual intercourse, even once. Right then, I thought I would lose it.

She had been a virgin.

My concern had been to protect her life, I hadn’t worried about the fine-tuning, but now there was another reality that hit me like a body blow, and everything came unloose inside. In one smoldering moment I saw her innocence ignite with a whoosh! like a huge gas flame; and inside that flame there had been such bright wholeness.

This would be Juliana Meyer-Murphy’s first oh-my-God experience with a man. Whatever happened during those absent days to strangle the voice out of her would now become the core image of sex this young woman would take with her through life, where the rest of us fondly, or even ambivalently, carry the saga of the first boyfriend, the parents’ bed — or the beer party, the mosquitoes and the riverbank.

Whoosh.

Nancy had seen it, too, and was assuring Juliana that her first sexual experience with someone she loves would still be special, would still be her choice. The girl was nodding, but I wondered how much she was able to take in.

“Can I have one of those guys?” I indicated the stuffed animals.

“A puppy, or a loon?”

“I’ll take the loon.”

A loon is a striped bird like a duck with a fat round body that, if soft and stuffed, fits just comfortably under the arm. I recommend holding on to one.

“Did he have sexual intercourse with you?” Nancy waited. “Did he penetrate you with something else? Each act is a different crime, okay? I’m going to ask more questions than your doctor usually asks, not only because I want to account for every crime that happened, but to help during the medical exam.” “I can’t say. After I first got in.”

“You mean, first got into the van?” I said eagerly. “When he first made contact with you?”

She was shaking her head no. I was desperate. No, what?

“Do you want to take a break?” Nancy offered with an easy smile.

“I really don’t.”

“Don’t what, Juliana? Don’t remember? That’s all right.”

“I’m not in the mood,” whispered the girl.

Nancy put the clipboard down. “We can continue this later.”

“Wait!” I cried without thinking.

Nancy turned to me with the same compassion she had shown the victim. Obviously we were both in need of guidance.

“It’s up to Juliana,” she said.

“I know, but — Juliana, honey — we really need your help in remembering everything you can—”

“I’m sorry,” Nancy said more sharply. “Juliana can decide if she’s comfortable or not or if she wants to go on.”

I had to sit there, gears spinning, waiting as Juliana continued to gnaw on the leopard’s ear like a three- year-old until it turned dark and wet. She was making speaking noises that were buried in the fur.

“What is it?” Nancy asked, leaning forward. She seemed to listen, but it was more than listening. “Tell me.”

Juliana shook her head.

“What’s your very worst fear? Your biggest concern?”

She didn’t answer.

“Juliana,” I said, and she looked at me. “I’m an FBI agent, and I carry a gun, but things still scare me — I’m not even talking about on the street but things that are inside. I still wake up, sometimes, and I’m all by myself. Man, it would be a relief to have someone to talk to.” Finally, tentatively, Juliana lowered the animal.

“I’m scared … because … I might not ever … be able to … have a baby.”

Her words, barely audible, dwindled to a mewing wisp of nothing.

We were on our way to the examination room to collect the physical evidence. Nancy said she could have a support person present, and Juliana had silently pointed to me, a gesture that flooded me with gratitude.

Just outside the doorway I touched Nancy’s arm.

I understood the enormous vulnerability of the sexual assault victim, the need for sensitivity and emotional support. But also I had a team of agents and policemen with technical backup ready to roll. If I could get hard information from Juliana about the offender or offenders — method of approach, control, display of weapons, threats, what kind of physical force — we could mobilize right now. Otherwise, Rick could rightly argue we’d recovered the victim and it would all go away.

“I need a narrative account of what happened to her,” I told the nurse quietly.

“There’s a period of time she can’t remember. It’s possible she was drugged.”

“Drugged?” Fear snagged me.

“Roofies. We see a lot of it.”

Rohypnol and GHB are two “rape drugs” you can buy on the street. Put into a drink, they will render the victim unconscious, then he or she wakes up, mauled, in another part of town with no memory of how it happened. Because these drugs can metabolize quickly without a trace, they are currently the preferred weapons in sexual assaults.

“No,” I moaned and trotted after her. “You understand why I have to ask questions.”

“She has the right to decline to answer.”

“I know all about her rights. I’m not suggesting we traumatize her further in any way. But in order for the investigation to move forward—”

“Nothing is going to happen to her that she doesn’t want to have happen,” reiterated the nurse in the same calm tone.

“I see that, but, with respect, I think we can press just a little harder, given the fact this guy is out there and likely to do it again.”

“You’re impatient, and I don’t blame you.”

The door to the exam room was open and Juliana was just inside. I could tell from Nancy’s preoccupied look she was not about to leave her alone for more than another few seconds.

“I’m asking for your cooperation,” I said urgently. “You’re the expert, you know how to get her to disclose.”

“I’m impatient, too,” Nancy said. “I want to proceed with the evidentiary exam so she can go home and be with her family. But she has the right to withdraw her consent at any point in the examination, and if she does, I will stop. She needs to feel comfortable in her medical care.” “I need to move. I’ve got a task force ready to go —”

“I don’t give a shit what you need to do,” Nancy said, still serene.