I frown. “Imaginative albeit pathetic.”
“Beyond pathetic. These men—sorry, I don’t want to sound sexist, but they are almost always men—are insecure losers of biblical proportions.”
“Does Sharyn go to the police?”
“Yes.”
“But that doesn’t prove helpful, does it?”
Her eyes light up. Sadie is in her element now. “This is why we exist, Win. The law as it is now can’t really help the Sharyns of the world. It hasn’t yet caught up to technology, for one thing. Teddy hides himself using VPNs and burner phones and fake email addresses. It’s impossible for anyone to prove who is stalking her. That’s why the work we do, it’s so important.”
I nod for her to continue.
“So now that he’s been dumped again, Teddy doesn’t let up. He sends a naked picture of Sharyn to her ninety-one-year-old grandmother. He makes up a video filled with lies about Sharyn—that she hates Jews, that she’s into all kinds of weird sex, that she’s a white nationalist, you can’t imagine. And get this. When Teddy is confronted with what he’s done, he claims that Sharyn is setting him up. That he dumped her and she can’t move on and this is her way of getting back at him.”
I shake my head.
“Anyway, that’s when Sharyn finally learned about us.”
“How long ago?”
“February.”
I wait.
Sadie swallows. “Yes. I know, I know, it’s a long time.”
“And?”
“And we were trying, Win. We dug in deep and found out Teddy has done this before to at least three other women—it’s one reason why he keeps moving from college to college.”
“The colleges know?”
“Institutions protect their own. So he agrees to resign quietly and they agree not to say anything. On at least one occasion, money exchanged hands, and the victim signed a nondisclosure agreement.”
I frown some more.
“So anyway, we do what we can for Sharyn. We get her a temporary order of protection against Teddy. I told her to write down everything she remembers—everything Teddy did—and to keep a diary of everything he does from here on out. This is key—to keep a record from the get-go if you can. We go to law enforcement, just so we are on record, but like I said, this is why our work is so important. Police aren’t really trained in digital forensics.”
I lean back and cross my legs. “So far, this sounds like a classic case for your firm.”
“You’re right.” She smiles sadly. “Teddy is textbook. He sounds like my ex.”
Sadie’s stalker had taken it to the next level too, but this is not the time to bring that up. I sit back and wait. I already know the bare bones of this story, but she is filling in the details. I am also not sure where she is going with it.
“Sharyn ends up dropping out before she gets her degree because Teddy keeps harassing her. She moves up north, starts at another school. But Teddy finds her again. Like I said, we dig up other victims, but no one wants to come forward. They’re scared of him. And then Teddy turns up the harassing by proxy.”
She stops and looks at me. I figure she is waiting for my prompt, so I repeat: “Harassing by proxy?”
“You know what that is?”
I do, but I shake my head no.
“In his case, Teddy sets up profiles on Tinder and Whiplr and rougher sex apps, ones that deal with BDSM and whatever, as Sharyn. He posts her photos. He carries on conversations as Sharyn, sets up hookup rendezvous. Strange men start showing up at Sharyn’s apartment at all hours expecting sex or role play or whatever. Some get mad when she turns them away. Call her a cocktease and worse. Teddy works it hard. And then…”
Sadie stops. I wait.
“Then Teddy begins a flirtation with one guy on an underground site. As Sharyn. It lasts for six weeks. Six weeks, Win. I mean, that’s devotion, right? ‘Sharyn’”—again with the finger quotes—“tells the guy all about her violent rape fantasies. ‘Sharyn’ tells the guy she wants to be attacked and handcuffed and gagged—Teddy even gives the guy the place to purchase this stuff—and then Teddy sets up a time for the guy to role-play raping her.”
I sit perfectly still.
“This guy, he thinks he’s talking to Sharyn. He’s been told for weeks to be violent, to hit Sharyn and punch her and tie her up, to use a knife. He’s even been given a safe word. ‘Purple.’ Don’t stop, he says as Sharyn, unless you hear me say ‘purple.’”
Sadie looks away and blinks. My hands tighten into fists of rage.
“Anyway, that’s how Sharyn ended up in the hospital. Her condition…it’s not good.”
Again: I already know all this. I wonder how to proceed because I still don’t understand the panic. So I make my voice tentative. “I assume Teddy still hid his identity?”
Sadie nods.
“Ergo the police couldn’t touch him,” I continue.
“That’s correct.”
“He got away with it?”
“So it seemed.”
“Seemed?”
“Teddy’s full name is Teddy Lyons. Do you know the name?”
I tap my chin with my index finger. “The name rings a bell.”
“He’s an assistant basketball coach for South State.”
“Really?” I say, trying not to oversell it.
“We just got word. Last night, after the big game, Teddy was attacked. They beat the hell out of him, did some serious damage.”
They. She said “they.” Conclusion: I am still in the clear.
“Broken bones,” she continues. “Internal bleeding. Some kind of serious liver damage. They say he’ll never be the same.”
I try very hard not to smile. I am not completely successful. “Ah, that’s a shame,” I say.
“Yeah, I can see you’re all broken up about it.”
“Should I be?”
“We had him, Win.” Her gaze through her glasses is an inferno. I see the passion that drew me to her and her cause in the first place. Sadie is a doer, not a talker. We are similar in that way.
“What do you mean, ‘had him’? You just said he was getting away with it.”
“After what happened to Sharyn, I reached out to Teddy’s other victims again.
