|Karma, son. Karma.|
Everything about it makes me sick.
Turner, himself, the perpetrator. Drunk and 20 years of age, he sees a woman passed out from overindulgence and, sick of mind, he rapes her. Dress that term up in all the euphemisms you can find, but it's a dastardly act to force yourself and your body on the body of another person, let alone a person unconscious. He found the woman behind a dumpster, and did the unspeakable deeds. He was convicted of sexually penetrating an intoxicated and unconscious person with a foreign object. Prosecutors recommended six years in California prison. Probation officials, never noted for using real-life common sense, told the judge they felt six months in the plushier county jail would suit Turner just fine.
As foul as Turner's actions were, the judge's were even more damnable. Judge Aaron Persky, who is not qualified to judge which vanilla pudding to serve at a senior center, gave Turner 6 months, to avoid being unnecessarily harsh on the boy. Turner will be free in just a few weeks, in time to go rape someone else.
As for Persky, who deserves all the vilification we can cosmically ship to California, he took pity on Turner because, "A prison sentence would have a severe impact on him … I think he will not be a danger to others."
Except any women around, based on his history.
Aaron Persky, a blight upon mankind, has the nerve to show up and warm a bench in the Palo Alto Courthouse of the Santa Clara Superior Court. And ironically, he is as inferior of character as a "man" can be.
While the judge, a public disgrace, and the father and son sit around crying over the young man's lost happiness, read these words from the victim, written under the pseudonym "Emily Doe":
I thought there’s no way this is going to trial; there were witnesses, there was dirt in my body, he ran but was caught. He’s going to settle, formally apologize, and we will both move on. Instead, I was told he hired a powerful attorney, expert witnesses, private investigators who were going to try and find details about my personal life to use against me, find loopholes in my story to invalidate me and my sister, in order to show that this sexual assault was in fact a misunderstanding. That he was going to go to any length to convince the world he had simply been confused. ...
You ran because you said you felt scared. I argue that you were scared because you’d be caught, not because you were scared of two terrifying Swedish grad students. The idea that you thought you were being attacked out of the blue was ludicrous. That it had nothing to do with you being on top my unconscious body. You were caught red handed, with no explanation. When they tackled you why didn’t say, “Stop! Everything’s okay, go ask her, she’s right over there, she’ll tell you.” I mean you had just asked for my consent, right? I was awake, right? When the policeman arrived and interviewed the evil Swede who tackled you, he was crying so hard he couldn’t speak because of what he’d seen.
"I don't want my body anymore," Ms Doe said. "I wanted to take off my body like a jacket and leave it at the hospital with everything else."
And the man who did this to her, and his father, and the judge, see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. And I am one man who's not afraid to say that this situation makes me sick and angry.