I've long been someone who prefers to be informed. About anything. While there is some wiseness to weighing the benefits of knowing versus remaining ignorant of details based on the situation, more often than not I am not of the ignorance-is-bliss sort.
Have there been times when I wish I had remained ignorant of the details? Hell yes. At the end of the day, though, I find it easier to sort through the myriad of emotions surrounding a situation if I'm privy to information, no matter how uncomfortable.
In the aftermath of being raped, even at 19, I always assumed my participation was a foregone conclusion in whatever aspect was required if the perpetrators were ever caught. I didn't expect it to be 13 years after the fact, and I had no way of preparing for three separate trials over the course of four years. While I was relieved that the case surrounding my case was solved, that outcome impacted my life in ways I couldn't have ever really prepared for.
The truth of it is that I didn't have to participate in the trials. I didn't have to agree to receive ongoing notifications regarding the men convicted of raping me. I didn't have to choose to write victim input statements when either of those convicted rapists was considered for parole. But I did. And along the way, given my role as a witness, I chose to be as informed about the case and the men who raped me as I could.
For me, ignorance in any of this is just as bad as having to dredge up all the bullshit every time this nightmare bubbles to the surface of my life. Not knowing if these two horrible human beings had inflicted harm on anyone else, or if there were more survivors of their degrading and violent crimes, has never been something with which I was comfortable. The nagging questions, the uncertainty, and the overwhelming fear that someday, one or both of them might find me far outweighed being in the know for me. No, being informed and involved took the what-ifs and the maddening questions that had plagued me for over 13 years and somehow gave me back a little of my power.
That said, it is no less jarring to get those phone calls from the Commonwealth of Virginia. I'm fortunate to still be in contact with both of the women who served as victim advocates in those trials. It makes it far less stressful to hear that one of these men is up for parole or has gotten out of prison. The familiar, friendly voice of someone I trust relaying stress-inducing updates helps me keep my cool and stay balanced emotionally.
As I have from the beginning, I chose to be involved in any way possible for the parole hearing of one of the men who raped me. I spoke with a parole board member, voiced my objections about this man being granted parole, and invoked my request to place a 3-year stay before he would be up for parole again. That means that every 3 years I will need to restate my objection in order to play a part in keeping this rapist where he belongs. Difficult though it may be, it's better than the alternative of this man walking around free, potentially raping again.
I got word today - again because I chose to be informed - that the decision was to not grant parole at this time. I wouldn't say I'm happy with the outcome, but I do feel justice was served. This man, who shares the responsibility with another man in the causality of my life sentence - always knowing what it was like to be raped - should remain in prison until his death. And if it takes me pleading my case to a parole board every 3 years, then so be it. The worst has already been done, at least this gives me some semblance of control or say in life moving forward.
No comments:
Post a Comment