Kill for Me

GBI Agent Talia Scott was walking across the stage, clasping the hand of each woman at the table. Agent Scott lingered over Susa

Gretchen cleared her throat. “Good afternoon. Thank you for coming.” Conversation died quickly and all eyes were on the stage. “We are six of sixteen women raped by the Dutton men you in the media have called the Richie Rich Rapists. Please understand that there is nothing comedic about this for the six of us sitting here before you, or the seven of us who for reasons of their own chose not to appear. Or for the three of us who did not survive. This is not fu

A few reporters actually looked ashamed. Gretchen’s good, Bobby thought.

“We were sixteen,” Gretchen went on, “and we were raped by a gang of young men who used our shame and fear to keep us silent. Not one of us knew that there were others. Had we known, we would have spoken then. We’re speaking now. We will take your questions, but be advised that we may choose not to answer them.”

It’ll be soon, Bobby thought, her pulse begi

She sca

So am I.

Susa

Maria

Luke was also out there, standing near the back of the room, on edge, on guard. She and the other five victims had been brought in through a back door to avoid the crush, but everyone else in the room had passed through a metal detector. The GBI was taking no chances with their safety. Still she knew Luke measured each face, each demeanor. It was comforting, knowing he was watching over her.

Talia had come by with encouraging words for each of the women on the stage, pausing to ask Susa

When Gretchen began speaking everyone went still. Gretchen had shared her prepared statement with the five of them beforehand, and her eloquent but passionate words had brought tears to the eyes of more than one of the women. But now their eyes were dry as they prepared for questions.

The first came from a woman reporter. “How did you find out about one another?”

Talia had provided Gretchen with a scripted response to this question. “In the course of a multiple murder investigation in another state, pictures of our assaults were recovered. Over the past week, the GBI determined our identities from those photos.”

Cameras flashed and Susa

A man stood up. “How have your lives been impacted by the assault?”

The women looked at each other and on the other side of Gretchen, Carla Solomon pulled the microphone closer. “The impact has been felt differently by each one of us, but overall, it’s been consistent with the aftereffects suffered by most assault victims. We’ve had trouble establishing and maintaining relationships. A few of us have battled substance abuse. One of us committed suicide. It was a defining, devastating moment in our lives, one that has left permanent scars.”

Then a man in the third row stood and Susa

“Troy Tomlinson with the Journal,” he said. “This is for Susa

The microphone was passed down the table. From the corner of her eye Susa

“You all were victims thirteen years ago,” Tomlinson began, “and I think I speak for us all in saying we have sympathy for what happened to you and understand why you failed to report your assaults then. You were all sixteen years old and far too young to deal with the enormity of your experience.” His voice oozed a false sincerity that set Susa

Susa

No. Stay calm. Tell the truth.

“Mr. Tomlinson, your insinuation that any rape victim who does not report her assault is somehow negligent or immature is both egregiously insensitive and cruel.” She leaned forward, no smile on her face. “Rape is more than a physical assault, and victims, including myself, must deal with the resulting feelings of loss of personal safety, control, and confidence each in her own way. This is true whether they’re sixteen or sixty.

“When my friend was murdered six years ago, I cooperated with the authorities the best way I knew how. I made sure the facts were known even as I struggled to survive a second assault. My friend’s murderer was subsequently caught and is paying for his crime.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I’m not finished, Mr. Tomlinson. You asked two questions. Mr. Davis ca

Tomlinson smiled. “I interviewed Mayor Davis. He doesn’t deny all the assaults, Susa

You’re a son of a fucking bitch, too. But she kept her cool. “Mr. Davis must answer to God and to the people of the state of Georgia for his crimes. I know what happened to me. What Mr. Davis says is immaterial. As I said, the evidence is irrefutable. Now please sit down, Mr. Tomlinson. You’re finished.”