The #MeToo movement was on television, the papers and throughout social media. Every week, it seemed, several famous men found their careers decimated by lurid tales from their victims. A man at the dawning of his career lived in constant fear of public exposure, a term laden with irony, since he had privately exposed himself as an adult to his nanny.
A year and a half later, he was in court. The prosecutor was a woman, tall and trim, professional from her Chandlers to her Anne Taylor outfit to her neat coif. He was dressed in his best plain black suit. A Tongan woman in a colorful patterned dress, sat behind a table. He smiled.
By pure chance, he had seen a lurid TV crime show depicting an au pair sexually abusing a boy. After some planning and research, he filed a claim of sex abuse against his former nanny, Vina, that began when he was eight. Drew—his pseudonym—went on the circuit, detailing his victimhood for a half hour special on television, arranging photo ops and statements of support from politicians and sex-crimes activists, and a host of newspaper interviews. He managed to get himself on the right side of the courtroom.
Vina is our former employee and now a family friend. Our children loved her then and still do. When we read in the paper that she was charged with well over one hundred counts of forcible sex abuse of a minor, we were stunned. That was simply impossible, we all agreed. We asked hard questions of the kids, now adults. Absolutely not, all three independently agreed.
Vina had immigrated to the US to marry an American Lutheran missionary. She had education to teach in Tonga but not in public schools in the states. She taught preschool and raised a family of three children. Late in career and shortly after her years with us, she found work as a nanny with a family new to Utah. Drew was the oldest child, a precocious eight-year-old boy. Vina spent years helping this family of seven in their home right before she retired and moved out of state to help with her grandchildren. Years later, after mentioning she was moving back, she found a message on her Facebook page. Drew wanted to talk to her. Vina was pleased and excited that he had reached out. She replied with her cell number without an inkling that he had filed a complaint against her.
Drew reported the crimes late, he claimed, because he never realized he had been abused until he saw the fictional TV episode. The last act occurred when he was eighteen, barely inside the statute of limitations for sex crimes against children but past the statute for adult sex crimes. Good enough, the prosecutor concluded. Police suggested he get her to admit to at least one sex act on a recorded phone as corroboration and they file charges.
She received his call on her cell phone in a child-noisy house. She gushed questions about Drew’s siblings and his new career. She had trouble understanding him as he quickly changed topics. Ever the teacher, she was initially pleased he felt he could ask her questions, but she quickly grew confused at the odd interchange, seemingly having something to do with intimacy problems with his young wife. Her answers led to a formal interview by a sex crimes detective a few days later.
The investigator did not go to the expense and long delay of having a certified translator present. He used obscene slang terms that Vina, a church lady right out of an old Saturday Night Live skit, didn’t understand. In his sex-crimes world, everyone understood the smutty lingo he used. Indeed, he later testified at trial that he was certain she was lying about not understanding. We have numerous and sometimes humorous anecdotes that showed, between her English and hearing loss, she had trouble understanding.
The trial lasted four days, including jury selection and bickering over motions. The investigator didn’t interview the siblings present in the house during all of the alleged acts. He failed to follow the law or protocol to get a translator. At some point while the gaggle of attorneys argued about some technicality with the judge at a sidebar, Vina’s daughter-in-law told me she watched as Drew got Vina’s attention and then make an obscene sexual gesture while licking his lips and laughing silently. No one else reported seeing this. Vina thought little of it; he had been inappropriate with her as a teen, something she failed to address or report to his parents out of fear of losing her position.
The defense, other than the opening and closing statements, lasted less than an hour, time enough for one witness, my wife, to take the stand and testify to Vina’s character. They declined to call another witness that would have testified to Drew’s malicious attack on her disabled son. The woman was still livid and had potty mouth. They didn’t want to offend the jurors, they explained They provided no defense against the specific assertions. She was quickly found guilty late on a Friday afternoon. She is now on her second year of a twenty-five-year sentence. She will soon “celebrate” her fifty-year anniversary alone in a cell. She will die in prison.
My research yielded an array of studies of convictions of innocent people, showing a frequency that ranged between 0.04 percent to twenty-seven percent. When governments conduct the research, the percentage is low. When academics or defense networks conduct the studies, the error rate averages around eight percent. Truth and fact on this topic are elusive. Studies also showed that the majority of wrongful convictions are of minorities, the poor, and those who speak English as a second language. Vina hit the jackpot. She is all three.
If we assume that two percent of convictions are in error and we consider that 2.2 million convicts are in prison, we could calculate that forty-four thousand Americans are deprived of freedom and rights through wrongful conviction at any given time. The number of those abused by the system gets bigger if we expand to include those convicted but now out of jail.
Humans err. We witness mistakes by highly qualified leaders in the monumental historical events such as war, pandemics and recessions. In medicine, an industry run by brilliant physicians, publications report tens or hundreds of thousands of Americans are killed by medical error every year. That statistic might make the rate of inappropriate incarceration look minor.
How do innocent people get wrongly convicted? It typically begins when an investigator forms an opinion and ceases to consider other possibilities. Language difficulties contribute to this. Innocent people frequently assume their innocence is apparent to the police. Many believe lawmen are walking, talking lie detectors. The reality is that, when they are studied, they are not much better than flipping a coin, detecting deception 50-60% of the time. Failure to get an attorney early is another common mistake and often a consequence of economic deficiency or penury.
An accusation of any sex crime against a minor carries with it a great deal of momentum as the crime is heinous and we trust the police would not pursue this unless they were certain it happened. In the book, Guilt by Accusation, Harvard law professor Alan Dershowitz relates his experience of being accused of such a crime. He explains that creating reasonable doubt is inadequate, that a strong affirmative defense is required. It took hundreds of thousands of dollars to establish his innocence. Other prominent defense attorneys agree that it takes evidence and experts to prevail. These things cost money that Vina didn’t have.
The absence of experts left Vina’s jury deprived of the following information:
- Female child sex offenders (FCSOs) are typically arrested at an average age of twenty-seven. Older women are rarely offenders and arrests over age sixty virtually never happen. Vina was well into her fifties when the alleged behaviors took place and almost seventy when arrested.
2. Eighty percent of FCSO’s use an accomplice, typically male. No accomplice was mentioned.
3. Eighty percent are single, and the remainder have unstable relationships. Vina has had a stable marriage for almost fifty years.
4. Risk factors for being a FCSO including mental health disorders, substance abuse, personality disorders, abusive relationships or absent intimate relationships. Vina had none of these risk factors.
5. FCSOs who abuse male children usually stick to one of two categories, prepubescent or pubescent and overlap is infrequent. The alleged abuse lasted until Drew was a fully adult male, something extremely rare if not unprecedented.
6. In the small minority of cases involving serial sex abuse, the median number of assaults is eight and these are almost always by men. Where higher numbers of serial abuse are found, the setting is typically in captivity. Well over a hundred episodes without captivity is, again, unprecedented.
7. The longest reported duration of non-captive sex abuse of a minor I could find was eighteen months. A ten-year period of non-captive abuse? Unprecedented again.
8. Victims of repeated abuse invariably have psychological sequelae such as substance abuse, self-injury, poor performance in school or work. Drew reported none of these.
9. Male victims of abuse often have risk factors such as parental absence, disability, low socioeconomic status, rural living and others. Drew hits none of the above.
The jury didn’t even hear a common sense look at the allegations. Looking at the one event that both people agree happened, who is more likely to be the sexual aggressor, an eighteen-year-old boy from a highly repressive sexual culture—her story—or a sixty-something grandmother—his claim—in a stable, long marriage? Who is more believable to law enforcement, an unsure, nervous old woman or a man trained in persuasion and dressed in ecclesiastical garb? Finally, would one guilty of repeated, criminal abuse want to speak to the person abused when contacted out of the blue?
Depriving the jury of this exculpatory information and alternative views means this was not justice. The trial was a sham and a pretense but served successfully to promote Drew’s career.
Aldous Huxley said, “There are things known and things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.” To be honest, I must explain something. The first paragraphs reflect my opinion of the events that brought my friend into prison. The police heard a different version first, one in which a lecherous Islander—an evil mastermind, he said—led an innocent boy into sexual experimentation by trickery and deception. She mesmerized him into having sexual urges and manipulated him into hiding their secret alliances from his parents, under whose noses this all occurred. The man is a rabbi, the son of a rabbi, prominent people about whom nothing ill can be said without risking charges of antisemitism.
The first version of a story is the one that sticks in our minds, the later retraction or correction less so. Opinions often do not change when the truth or an alternate view is revealed.
My charitable wife sees yet a third version. Science tells us memories change with time. She believes that Drew may not remember the past accurately, that his chosen status as firstborn coupled with the repressive nature of orthodox Judaism made him create an alternate reality, one in which he is not to blame for his urges and actions, but that the devil—er, Vina with her German surname and all that historically goes with it—made him do it. She became his excuse.
The past recedes. We see it through our lenses of bias under the dust of subsequent events. The truth this long afterward is not knowable.
“There is no truth. There is only perception.” —Gustave Flaubert