Brock Turner

Background -

Brock Turner was born August 1, 1995, in Dayton, Ohio. He graduated from Oakwood High School in 2014, where he was a three time All-American swimmer. At the time of his arrest, he was a 19-year old freshman at Stanford University, enrolled on a swimming scholarship.

Before sentencing, the prosecution filed a memo with the court describing Turner’s drug and alcohol history at Stanford and in high school. It recounted that police found photos and messages on Turner’s cell phone that indicated extensive drug use, including LSD, ecstasy, marijuana extracts, and excessive alcohol. Turner had a run in with police in 2014, for possession of alcohol while under the age of 21.

By the conventions of the U.S. court and media, the woman Turner assaulted was referred to as “VO1” in the redacted police report, “Jane Doe” in the indictment and “Emily Doe” or “Jane Doe 1” by the media. At the time of the assault, Emily Doe was a 22-year old Alumna of the University of California, Santa Barbara. Her younger sister, referred to as “Tiffany Doe” or “Jane Doe 2”, was a student at a distant California University.

Incident Details -

Two Swedish graduate students, Peter Lars Jonsson and Carl-Fredrick Arndt, were cycling by the Kappa Alpha fraternity on the Stanford University campus at about 1am, on January 18, 2015, when they spotted the assault taking place. According to Arndt and Jonsson, they surprised Turner behind the dumpster as he was on top of the unconscious woman. Jonsson later testified that he confronted Turner, asking, “What the fuck are you doing? She’s unconscious!” According to Jonsson, Turner quickly rose and fled the scene. As Arndt went to make sure the woman was breathing, Jonsson chased Turner, tripped him and held him down, 75 feet away from the dumpster, asking “ What are you smiling for?” In response to Turner laughing. Later, Turner testified that he was laughing because he found the situation ridiculous. Arndt rapidly joined Jonsson, helping to pin Turner down. A bystander called 911 as the two other bystander helped keep Turner on the ground. Campus police arrived moments later, questioned Turner and arrested him.

According to the deputy sheriff who described Doe as unconscious at the scene, when she arrived at the hospital, Doe didn’t respond to shouting, being shaken by the shoulders or smelling salts. Emily Doe regained consciousness at 4:15am. She later testified that when she regained consciousness, she had pine needles in her hair, and dried blood and the backs of her hands and elbow. In an interview with police, she said she didn’t recall being alone with a man during the night and didn’t consent to any sexual activity.

At the hospital, Emily Doe was found to have abrasions and reddening on her skin. On nurse determined the she had experienced significant physical trauma including cuts and bruises, as well as penetrating trauma which including piercing and cutting injuries.

Turner and Emily Doe attended the same party at Kappa Alpha earlier that night. Emily’s younger sister, Tiffany Doe, testified in the trial that Turner, a man previously unknown to her, had approached her at the party twice and attempted to kiss her, but that she pulled away. She also testified that she had not seen Turner and Emily Doe interact at the party. According to the police report compiled in the morning after the assault, Turner had told police he met Emily outside the fraternity and left with her. He also stated that he didn’t know her name and wouldn’t be able to recognize her if he saw her again.

After his arrest, Turner told police he had met Emily at the party, they drank beer together, walked away from the house together, and that he took off her clothes and fondled her while she rubbed his back. Turner said he then got nauseous and told her that he needed to vomit. Turner said he got up and began to walk away to vomit, and heard another person say something to him which he couldn’t understand, then heard that person taking to another person in a foreign language. He also denied running from the graduate students. However, during his trial testimony, Turner stated that he and Emily drank beer together, danced and kissed at the party and mutually agreed to go back to his dorm room. Emily then tripped behind the dumpster, he then got down and began kissing her. Turner stated that he then asked if she wanted him to finger her, to which she replied yes. He stated that he fingered her for a moment as they were kissing and then they started dry humping. Turner testified that he stumbled down an incline where he was confronted by the Swedes, saying things like “You’re sick” and “Do you think that’s okay?” Turner testified that he didn’t know what they were talking about. Turner said he ran in fear of what the swedes would do to him, but was quickly tackled.

Both prosecuting Attorney Alaleh Kianerci and Emily Doe stated that Turner’s narrative during the trial was fabricated. Kianerci argued to the jury that, “He’s able to write the script because she has no memory. But just because he wrote the script doesn’t mean that knowledgeable jurors have to believe it.” Emily Doe described Turner’s testimony as presenting “a strange new story, that almost sounded like a poorly written young adult novel.”

Alcohol -

Tested some time after his arrest, Turner’s blood alcohol content was estimated to have been 0.171% at 1am. Doctors estimated that Emily Doe’s BAC at 1am was around 0.242%-0.249%. She told police that she couldn’t remember the events from some point after her arrival at the party to when she woke up in the hospital. Shortly before 1am, Doe called her boyfriend and left a voicemail, which would later be entered as evidence by the prosecution. The Palo Alto weekly described it as “almost entirely incomprehensible.”

The blood alcohol estimates for Turner and Emily at 1am, were made by a supervising criminalist for Santa Clara county using nominally hypothetical situations.

Turner admitted to limited prior alcohol experience, even though his cellphone showed otherwise.

Consciousness -

Doe reported that her last memory was around midnight, and that she didn’t remember the telephone calls to her sister or her sister’s friend, that were made shortly after midnight. A responding paramedic said she didn’t respond to a “shake and shout” test, but responded when he pinched her nail bed. In a January 19th report, the paramedic rated Emily at 11 out of 15 of the Glasgow Coma scale, 3 points above “In a coma” level.

DNA -

Santa Clara County criminalist Craig Lee testified that the woman’s DNA was found under the fingernails of Turner’s left hand and on a portion of a finger on his right hand. Lee’s test didn’t show when the DNA was deposited and couldn’t tell if it was blood, but Lee did state that it closely resembled blood.

Official Response -

Turner withdrew from Stanford shortly after the incident rather than face disciplinary proceedings. On January 20, two days after his arrest, Stanford announced Turner had been banned from campus for life.

Turner had aspirations to swim for the U.S. National team in the 2016 Olympic Games, but USA Olympics stated on June 6, that he would never be eligible for membership, due to its zero-tolerance for sexual assault.

Indictment Charges -

On January 28, 2015, Turner was indicted on five charges. Rape of an intoxicated person, Rape of an unconscious person, Sexual penetration by a foreign object of an unconscious person, Sexual penetration by foreign object of an intoxicated person and assault with intent to commit rape.

The two formal charges of rape under California state law were dropped on October 7, 2015, due to there being no genital-to-genital contact.

Trial began on March 14, 2016.

Sentencing -

On March 30, 2016, Turner was found guilty of three felonies; Assault with intent to commit rape, sexually penetrating an intoxicated person with a foreign object and sexually penetrating an unconscious person with a foreign object.

Prosecutors recommended that Turner be given a six year prison sentence based on the purposefulness of the action, the effort to hide the activity and Emily’s intoxicated state.

On June 2, 2016, Judge Aaron Persky sentenced Brock Turner to six months in jail followed by three years of probation. After three months in jail, Turner was released on September 2, 2016, believed to have been because of good behavior and California’s realignment in prisons. Turner was required to permanently register as a sex offender and was obligated to participate in a sex offender rehabilitation program.

At the time of sentencing, Judge Persky said that any lengthier of a sentence would have a “Sever impact” on Brock Turner.

Sentence Controversy -

Nancy Brewer, a retired Santa Clara county assistant public defender, described Persky as being respected in his profession, stating that he was seen as a fair judge who is not soft on crime and who wouldn’t give lenient sentences. She also stated that Persky had carefully evaluated all the evidence and did what he thought was fair.

Deputy Public Defender Sajid Khan did not consider the sentence lenient as he stated “Turner will register as a sex offender for life, and if his probation is violated he could go to prison for 14 years.” Khan further states that “Persky’s reputation among public defenders is that of a fair minded jurist”, saying, “ no one has been able to cite an example so far of him where a similarly situated minority client has been treated harshly by him. We appreciate the judge’s understanding of Brock Turner’s humanity and we would want any judge to do the same of our clients.”

Turner’s father protested the sentence request of six years, saying that sentence “Is a steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action out of his 20 plus years of life.”

Santa Clara DA Jeffrey Rosen criticized the father’s statement, saying it reduced a brutal sexual assault to “20 minutes of action.”

Repercussions To The Judge -

Although Persky didn’t face and opposition in the election held five days after Turner’s sentencing, there was a campaign to recall him.

Online petitions to force a November 2017 recall vote attracted over a million signatures by June 10, 2016. Persky paid $30,000 to the firm of Brian Seitchik, the manager of Donald Trump’s election campaign, to lead the opposition to the recall. A retired judge living in Santa Crux heard Persku’s request for injunction to prevent a recall vote, and approved it.

70 public defenders petitioned in support of Persky, fearing that the backlash against Persky could hurt their clients by compelling judges to give out harsh sentences.

In June 2016, atleast ten prospective jurors refused to serve in a misdemeanor trial for possession of stolen property where Perksy was the presiding judge, citing Brock Turner’s sentence as a reason. As a result, Persky was asked not to hear any more criminal cases and was reassigned to California’s civil court division.

Perksy stood by his decision, saying he’s been unfairly targeted as the “face of rape” by recall advocates. In a May 2018 press conference, Persky compared his sentencing of Turner to that of Brown v. Board of Education. Persky also stated that he had no regrets, and would rule exactly the same.

In a June 5, 2018 primary election, nearly 200,000 Santa Clara voters turned out, voting to remove Persky by 61% to 38%, making him the first judge in California to be recalled in 86 years, and the first in the U.S. since 1977. Perksy was ordered to pay $161,000 in restitution for lawsuits he filed against the recall. He sought over $135,000 in donations from the public to cover his attorney fees after the $840,000 previously raised had been exhausted.

On September 10, 2019, it was announced that Persky had been hired as South Bay High School’s girls tennis coach. The following day, Fremont Union School District announced that he’d been fired.

Defendant’s Statement -

After the guilty verdict, Turner gave an 11-page statement tot he judge, which can be read in full below.

The night of January 17th changed my life and the lives of everyone involved forever. I can never go back to being the person I was before that day. I am no longer a swimmer, a student, a resident of California or the product of the work that I put in to accomplish the goals that I set out in the first nineteen years of my life. Not only have I altered my life, but I’ve also changed (redacted) and her family’s life. I am the sole proprietor or what happened on the night that these people’s lives were changed forever. I would give anything to change what happened that night. I can never forgive myself for imposing trauma and pain on (redacted). It debilitates me to think that my actions have caused her emotional and physical stress that is completely unwarranted and unfair. The thought of this is in my head every second of every day since this event has occurred. These ideas never leave my mind. During the day, I shake uncontrollably from the amount I torment myself by thinking about what has happened. I wish I had the ability to go back in time and never pick up a drink that night, let alone interact with (redacted). I can barley hold a conversation with someone without having my mind drift into thinking these thoughts. They torture me. I go to sleep every night having been crippled by these thoughts to the point of exhaustion. I wake up having dreamt of these horrific events that I have caused. I am completely consumed by my poor judgement and ill thought actions. There isn’t a second that has gone by where I haven’t regretted the course of events I took on January 17th/18th. My shell and core of who I am as a person is forever broken from this. I am a changed person. At this point in my life, I never want to have a drop of alcohol again. I never want to attend a social gathering that involves alcohol or any situation where people make decisions based on the substances they have consumed. I never want to experience being in a position where it will have a negative impact of my life or someone else’s ever again. I’ve lost two jobs solely based on the reporting of my case. I wish I was never good at swimming or had the opportunity to attend Stanford, so maybe the newspapers wouldn’t want to write stories about me.

All I can do from these events moving forward is by proving to everyone who I really am as a person. I know that if I were to be placed on probation, I would be able to be a benefit to society for the rest of my life. I want to earn a college degree in any capacity that I am able to do so. And in accomplishing this task, I can make the people around me and society better through the example I will set. I’ve been a goal oriented person since my start as a swimmer. I want to take what I can from who I was before this situation happened and use it to the best of my abilities moving forward. I know I can show people who were like me the dangers of assuming what college life can be like without thinking about the consequences one would potentially have to make if one were to make the same decisions that I made. I want to show that people’s lives can be destroyed by drinking and making poor decisions while doing so. One needs to recognize the influence that peer pressure and the attitude of having to fit in can have on someone. One decision has the potential to change your entire life. I know I can impact and change people’s attitudes towards the culture surrounded by binge drinking and sexual promiscuity that protrudes through what people think is at the core of being a college student. I want to demolish the assumption that drinking and partying are what make up a college lifestyle. I made a mistake, I drank too much and my decisions hurt someone. But I never meant to intentionally hurt (redacted). My poor decision making and excessive drinking hurt someone that night and I wish I could just take it all back.

If I were to be placed on probation, I can positively say, without a single shred of doubt in my mind, that I would never have any problem with law enforcement. Before this happened, I never had any trouble with all enforcement and I plan on maintaining that. I’ve been shattered by the part culture and risk taking behavior that I briefly experienced in my four months at school. I’ve lost my chance to swim in the olympics. I’ve lost my chance to obtain a Stanford degree. I’ve lost employment opportunities, my reputation and most of all, my life. These things force to never want to put myself in a position where I have to sacrifice everything. I would make it my life’s mission to show everyone that I can contribute and be a positive influence on society from these events that have transpired. I will never put myself through an event were it will give someone the ability to question whether I really can be a betterment to society. I want no one, Male or female, to have to experience the destructive consequences of making decisions while under the influence of alcohol. I want to be a voice of reason in a time where people’s attitudes and preconceived notions about partying and drinking have already been established. I want to let young people know, as I did not, that things can go from fun to ruined in just one night.

Victim Impact Statement -

On June 2, 2016, Emily Doe read a 7,138-word victim impact statement aloud during the sentencing phase of the trial. On June 3, Palo Alto Online and Buzzfeed published the full statement. Buzzfeed’s publication quickly went viral, achieving over 8 million views in three days.

On June 15, a bipartisan group of eighteen members of the house of representatives took turns reading the statement on the house floor. Emily’s statement even got the attention of Vice President Joe Biden, who wrote an open letter titled, “An open letter to a courageous young woman.” Emily’s impact statement can be read in full below.

Your Honor, if it’s all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly.

You don’t know me, but you’ve been inside me, and that’s why we’re here today.

On January 17th, 2015, it was a quiet Saturday night at home. My dad made some dinner and I sat at the table with my younger sister who was visiting for the weekend. I was working full time and it was approaching my bedtime. I planned to stay at home by myself, watch some tv and read, while she went to a party with her friends. Then, I decided it was my only night with her, I had nothing better to do, so why not, there’s a dumb party ten minutes from my house, I would go, dance like a fool, and embarrass my younger sister. On the way there, I joked that undergrad guys would have braces. My sister teased me for wearing a beige cardigan to a frat party like a librarian. I called myself “Big Mama”, because I knew I’d be the oldest one there. I made silly faces, let my guard down, and drank liquor too fast not factoring in that my tolerance had significantly lowered since college.

The next thing I remember, I was in a gurney in the hallway. I had dried blood and bandages on the backs of my hands and elbow. I thought maybe I had fallen and was in a admin office on campus. I was very calm and wondering where my sister was. A deputy explained I had been assaulted. I still remained calm, assured he was speaking to the wrong person. I knew no one at this party. When I was finally allowed to use the restroom, I pulled down the hospital pants they had given me, went to pull down my underwear, and felt nothing. I still remember the feeling of my hands touching my skin and grabbing nothing. I looked down and there was nothing. The thin piece of fabric, the only thing between my vagina and anything else, was missing and everything inside me was silenced. I still don’t have words for that feeling. In order to keep breathing, I thought maybe the policemen used scissors to cut them off for evidence.

Then, I felt pine needles scratching the back of my neck and started pulling them out of my hair. I thought maybe, the pine needles had fallen from a tree onto my head. My brain was talking my gut into not collapsing. Because my gut was saying, help me, help me.

I shuffled from room to room with a blanket wrapped around me, pine needles trailing behind me, I left a pile in every room I sat in. I was asked to sign papers that said “Rape Victim” and I thought something has really happened. My clothes were confiscated and I stood naked while the nurses held a ruler to various abrasions on my body and photographed them. The three of us worked to comb the pine needles out of my hair, six hands to fill one paper bag. To calm me down, they said it’s just the flora and fauna, flora and fauna. I had multiple swabs inserted into my vagina and anus, needles for shots, pills, had a Nikon pointed right into my spread legs. I had long, pointed beaks inside me, and had my vagine smeared with cold, blue paint to check for abrasions.

After a few hours of this, they let me shower. I stood there examining my body beneath the stream of water and decided, I don’t want my body anymore. I was terrified of it, I didn’t know what had been in it, if it had been contaminated, who had touched it. I wanted to take off my body like a jacket and leave it at the hospital with everything else.

On that morning, all that I was told was that I had been found behind a dumpster, potentially penetrated by a stranger, and that I should get retested for HIV because results don’t always show up immediately. But for now, I should go hame and get back to normal life. Imagine stepping back into the world with only that information. They gave me huge hugs and I walked out of the hospital into the parking lot wearing the new sweatshirt and sweatpants they provided me, as they had only allowed me to keep my necklace and shoes.

My sister picked meep, face wet from tears and contorted in aguish. Instinctively and immediately, I wanted to take away her pain. I smiled at her, I told her to look at me, I’m right here, I’m okay, everything’s okay, I’m right here. My hair is washed and clean, they gave me the strangest shampoo, calm down, and look at me. Look at these funny new sweatpants and sweatshirt, I look like a P.E. teacher, let’s go home, let’s eat something. She did not know that beneath my sweatsuit, I had scratches and bandages on my skin, my vagina was sore and became a strange, dark color from all the prodding, my underwear was missing, and I felt too empty to continue to speak. That I was also afraid, that I was also devastated. That day we drove home and for hours in silence my younger sister held me.

My boyfriend did not know what happened, but called that day and said, “I was really worried about you last night, you scared me, did you make it home okay?” I was horrified. That’s when I learned I had called him that night in my blackout, left an incomprehensible voicemail, that we had spoken on the phone, but I was slurring so heavily he was scared for me, that he repeatedly told me to go find my sister. Again, he asked me, “What happened last night? Did you make it home okay?” I said yes, and hung up to cry.

I was not ready to tell my boyfriend or parents that actually, I may have been raped behind a dumpster, but I don’t know by who or when or how. If I told them, I would see the fear on their faces, and mine would multiply by tenfold, so instead I pretended the whole thing wasn’t real.

I tried to push it out of my mind, but it was so heavy I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone. After work, I would drive to a secluded place to scream. I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone, but I became isolated from the ones I loved most. For over a week after the incident, I didn’t get any calls or updates about that night or what happened to me. The only symbol that proved that it hadn’t just been a bad dream, was the sweatshirt form the hospital in my drawer.

One day, I was at work, scrolling through the news on my phone, and came across an article. In it, I read and learned for the first time about how I was found unconscious, with my hair disheveled, long necklace wrapped around my neck, bra pulled out of my dress, dress pulled off over my shoulders and pulled above my waist, that I was butt naked all the way down to my boots, legs spread apart, and had been penetrated by a foreign object by someone I did not recognize. This is how I learned what happened to me, sitting at my desk reading the news at work. I learned what happened to me the same time everyone else in the world learned what happened to me. That’s when the pine needles in my hair made sense, they didn’t fall from a tree. He had taken off my underwear, his fingers had been inside me. I don’t even know this person. I still don’t know this person. When I read about me like this, I said, this can’t be me/ I could not digest or accept any of this information. I could not imagine my family having to read about this online. I kept reading. In the next paragraph, I read something that I will never forgive; I read that according to him, I liked it. I liked it. Again, I do not have words for these feelings.

It’s like if you were to read an article where a car was hit, and found dented, in a ditch. But maybe the car enjoyed being hit. Maybe the other car didn’t mean to hit it, just bump it up a little bit. Cars get into accidents all the time, people aren’t always paying attention, can we really say who’s at fault.

And then, at the bottom of the article, after I learned about the graphic details of my own sexual assault, the article listed his swimming times. She was found breathing, unresponsive with her underwear six inches away from her bare stomach curled in the fetal position. By the way, he’s really good at swimming. Throw in my mile time if that’s what we’re doing. I’m good at cooking, put that in there, I think the end if where you list your extracurriculars to cancel out all the sickening things that’ve happened.

The night the news came out I sat my parents down and told them that I had been assaulted, to not look at the news because it’s upsetting, just know that I’m okay, I’m right here, and I’m okay. But halfway through telling them, my mom had to hold me because I could no longer stand up.

The night after it happened, he said he didn’t know my name, said he wouldn’t be able to identify my face in a lineup, didn’t mention any dialogue between us, no words, only dancing and kissing. Dancing is a cute term; was it snapping fingers and twirling dancing, or just bodies grinding against each other in a crowded room? I wonder if kissing was just faces sloppily pressed up against each other? When the detectives asked if he had planned on taking me back to his dorm, he said no. When the detectives asked how we ended up behind the dumpster, he said he didn’t know. He admitted to kissing other girls at the party, one of whom was my own sister who pushed him away. He admitted to wanting to hook up with someone. I was the wounded antelope of the herd, completely alone and vulnerable, physically unable to fend for myself, and he chose me. Sometimes I think, if I hand’t gone, then this never would’ve happened. But then I realized, it would have happened, just to somebody else. You were about to enter four years of access to drunk girls and parties, and if this is the foot you started off on, then it is right you did not continue. The night after it happened, he said he thought I liked it because I rubbed his back. A back rub.

Never mentioned me voicing consent, never mentioned us even speaking, a back rub. One more time, in public news, I learned that my ass and vagina were completely exposed outside, my breasts had been groped, fingers had been jabbed inside me along with pine needles and debris, my bare skin and head had been rubbing against the ground behind a dumpster, while an erect freshman was humping my half naked, unconscious body. But I don’t remember, so how do I prove I didn’t like it.

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 her 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.

I was not only told that I was assaulted, I was told that because I couldn’t remember, I technically could not prove it was unwanted. And that distorted me, damaged me, almost broke me. It is the saddest type of confusion to be told I was assaulted and nearly raped, blatantly out in the open, but we don’t know if it counts as assault yet. I had to fight for an entire year to make it clear that there was something wrong with this situation.

When I was told to be prepared in case we didn’t win, I said, I can’t prepare for that. He was guilty the minute I woke up. No one can talk me out of the hurt he caused me. Worst of all, I was warned, because he now knows you don’t remember, he is going to get to write the script. He can say whatever he wants and no one can contest it. I had no power, I had no voice, I was defenseless. My memory loss would be used against me. My testimony was weak, was incomplete, and I was made to believe that perhaps, I am not enough to win this. His attorney constantly reminded the jury, the only one we can believe is Brock, because she doesn’t remember. That helplessness was traumatizing.

Instead of taking time to heal, I was taking time to recall the night in excruciating detail, in order to prepare for the attorney’s questions that would be invasive, aggressive, and designed to steer me off course, to contradict myself, my sister, phrased in ways to manipulate my answers. Instead of his attorney saying, Did you notice any abrasions? He said, you didn’t notice any abrasions, right? This was a game of strategy, as if I could be tricked out of my own worth. The sexual assault had been so clear, but instead, here I was at the trial, answering questions like:

How old are you? How much do you weigh? What did you eat that day? Well what did you have for dinner? Who made dinner? Did you drink with dinner? No, not even water? When did you drink? How much did you drink? What container did you drink out of? Who gave you the drink? How much do you usually drink? Who dropped you off at this party? At what time? But where exactly? What were you wearing? Why were you going to this party? What’d you do when you got there? Are you sure you did that? But what time did you do that? What does this text mean? Who were you texting? When did you urinate? Where did you urinate? With whom did you urinate outside? Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I’d like to point out that you said it was set to ring. Did you drink in college? You said you were a party animal? How many times did you black out? Did you party at frats? Are you serious with your boyfriend? Are you sexually active with him? When did you start dating? Would you ever cheat? Do you have a history of cheating? What do you mean when you said you wanted to reward him? Do you remember what time you woke up? Were you wearing your cardigan? What color was your cardigan? Do you remember any more from that night? No? Okay, well, we’ll let Brock fill it in.

I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who had me half naked before even bothering to ask for my name. After a physical assault, I was assaulted with questions designed to attack me, to say see, her facts don’t line up, she’s out of her mind, she’s practically an alcoholic, she probably wanted to hook up, he’s like an athlete right, they were both drunk, whatever, the hospital stuff she remembers is after the fact, why take it into account, Brock has a lot at stake so he’s having a really hard time right now.

And then it came time for him to testify and I learned what it meant to be revictimized. I want to remind you, the night after it happened he said he never planned to take me back to his dorm. He said he didn’t know why we were behind a dumpster. He got up to leave because he wasn’t feeling well when he was suddenly chased and attacked. Then he learned I could not remember.

So one year later, as predicted, a new dialogue emerged. Brock had a strange new story, almost sounded like a poorly written young adult novel with kissing and dancing and hand holding and lovingly tumbling on the ground, and most importantly in this new story, there was suddenly consent. One year after the incident, he remembered oh yeah, by the way she actually said yes, to everything, so.

He said he had asked if I wanted to dance. Apparently, I said yes. He’d asked if I wanted to go to his dorm, I said yes. Then he asked if he could finger me and I said yes. Most guys don’t ask, can I finger you? Usually there’s a natural progression of things, unfolding consensually, not a Q and A. But apparently I granted full permission. He’s in the clear. Even in his story, I only said a total of three words, yes yes yes, before he had me half naked on the ground. Future reference, if you are confused about whether a girl can consent, see if she can speak an entire sentence. You couldn’t even do that. Just one coherent string of words. Where was the confusion? This is common sense, human decency.

According to him. The only reason we were on the ground was because I fell down. Note; if a girl falls down help her get back up. If she is too drunk to even walk and falls down, do not mount her, hump her, take off her underwear, and insert your hand inside her vagina. If a girl falls down help her up. If she is wearing a cardigan over her dress don’t take it off so that you can touch her breasts. Maybe she is cold, maybe that’s why she wore the cardigan.

Next in the story, two swedes on bicycles approached you and you ran. When they tackled you why didn’t you 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 to hard he couldn’t speak because of what he’d seen.

Your attorney has repeatedly pointed out, well we don’t know exactly when she became unconscious. And you’re right, maybe I was still fluttering my eyes and wasn’t completely limp yet. That was never the point. I was too drunk to speak English, too drunk to consent way before I was on the ground. I should have never been touched in the first place. Brock stated, “At no time did I see that she was not responding. If at any time I thought she was not responding, I would have stopped immediately.” Here’s the thing; if your plan was to stop only when I became unresponsive, then you still don’t understand. You didn’t even stop when I was unconscious anyway! Someone else stopped you. Two guys on bikes noticed I wasn’t moving in the dark and had to tackle you. How did you not notice while on top of me?

You said, you would have stopped and gotten help. You say that, but I want you to explain how you would’ve helped me, step by step, walk me through this. I want to know, if those evil swedes had not found me, how that night would have played out. I am asking you; would you have pulled my underwear back over my boots? Untangled the necklace wrapped around my neck? Closed my legs, covered me? Pick the pine needles out of my hair? Asked if the abrasions on my neck and bottom hurt? Would you then go find a friend and say, Will you help me get her somewhere warm and soft? I don’t sleep when I think about the way it could have gone if the two guys had never come. What would have happened to me? That’s what you’ll never have a good answer for, that’s what you can’t explain even after a year.

On top of all this, he claimed that I orgasmed after one minute of digital penetration. The nurse said there had been abrasions, lacerations and dirt in my genitalia. Was that before or after I came?

To sit under oath and inform all of us, that yes I wanted it, yes I permitted it, and that you are the true victim attacked by swedes for reasons unknown to you is appalling, is demented, is selfish, is damaging. It is enough to be suffering. It is another thing to have someone ruthlessly working to diminish the gravity of validity of this suffering.

My family had to see pictures of my head strapped to a gurney full of pine needles, of my body in the dirt with my eyes closed, hair messed up, limbs bent, and dress hiked up. And even after that, my family had to listen to your attorney say the pictures were after the fact, we can dismiss them. To say, yes her nurse confirmed there was redness and abrasions inside her, significant trauma to her genitalia, but that’s what happens when you finger someone, and he’s already admitted to that. To listen to your attorney attempt to paint a picture of me, the face of girls gone wild, as if somehow that would make it so that I had this coming for me. To listen to him say I sounded drunk on the phone because I’m silly and that’s my goofy way of speaking. To point out that in the voicemail, I said I would reward my boyfriend and we all know what I was thinking. I assure you my rewards program is non transferable, especially to any nameless man that approaches me.

He has done irreversible damage to me and my family during the trial and we have sat silently, listening to him shape that evening. But in the end, his unsupported statements and his attorney’s twisted logic fooled no one. The truth won, the truth spoke for itself.

You are guilty. Twelve jurors convicted you guilty of three felony counts beyond reasonable doubt, that’s twelve votes per count, thirty six yeses confirming guilt, that’s one hundred percent, unanimous guilt. And I thought finally it is over, finally he will own up to what he did, truly apologize, we will both move on and get better. Then I read your statement.

If you are hoping that one of my organs will implode form anger and I will die, I’m almost there. You are very close. This is not a story of another dumb college hookup with poor decision making. Assault is not an accident. Somehow, you still don’t get it. Somehow, you still sound confused. I will now read portions of the defendant’s statement and respond to them.

You said, Being drunk I just couldn’t make the best decisions and neither could she.

Alcohol is not an excuse. Is it a factor? Yes. But alcohol was not the one who stripped me, fingered me, had my head dragging against the ground, with me almost fully naked. Having too much to drink was an amateur mistake that I admit to, but it is not criminal. Everyone is this room has had a night where they regretted drinking too much, or knows someone close to them who has had a night where they regretted drinking too much. Regretting drinking is not the same as regretting sexual assault. We were both drunk, the difference is I did not take off your pants and underwear, touch you inappropriately, and run away. That’s the difference.

You said, If I wanted to get to know her, I should have asked for her number, rather than asking her to go back to my room.

I’m not mad because you didn’t ask for my number. Even if you did know me, I would not want to be in this situation. My own boyfriend knows me, but if he asked to finger me hind a dumpster, I would slap him. No girl want to be in this situation. Nobody. I don’t care if you know their phone number of not.

You said, I stupidly thought it was okay for me to do what everyone around me was doing, which was drinking. I was wrong.

Again, you were not wrong for drinking. Everyone around you was not sexually assaulting me. You were wrong for doing what nobody else was doing, which was pushing your erect dick in your pants against my naked, defenseless body concealed in a dark area, where partygoers could no longer see or protect me, and my own sister could not find me. Sipping fireball is not your crime. Peeling off and discarding my underwear like a candy wrapper to insert your finger into my body, is where you went wrong. Why am I still explaining this.

You said, during the trial I didn’t want to victimize her at all. That was just my attorney and his way of approaching the case.

Your attorney is not your scapegoat, he represents you. Did your attorney say some incredulously infuriating, degrading things? Absolutely. He said you had an erection, because it was cold.

You said, you are in the process of establishing a program for high school and college students in which you speak about your experience to “Speak out against the college campus drinking culture and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that.”

Campus drinking culture. That’s what we’re speaking out against? You think that’s what I’ve spent the past year fighting for? Not awareness about campus sexual assault, or rape, or learning to recognize consent. Campus drinking culture. Down with Jack Daniels. Down with Skyy Vodka. If you want to talk to people about drinking go to an AA meeting. You realize, having a drinking problem is different than drinking and then forcefully trying to have sex with someone. Show men how to respect women, not drink less.

Drinking culture and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Goes along with that, like a side effect, like fries on the side of your order. Where does promiscuity even come into play? I don’t see headlines that read, Brock Turner, guilty of drinking too much and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Campus sexual assault. There’s your first powerpoint slide. Rest assured, if you fail to fix the topic of your talk, I will follow you to every school you go to and give a follow up presentation.

Lastly, you said, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin a life.

A life, one life, yours, you forgot about mine. Let me rephrase for you, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin two lives. You and me. You are the cause, I am the effect. You have dragged me through this hell with you, dipped me back into that night again and again. You knocked down both our towers, I collapsed at the same time you did. If you think I was spared, came out unscathed, that day I ride off into the sunset, while you suffer the greatest blow, you are mistaken. Nobody wins. We have all been devastated, we have all been trying to find some meaning in all of this suffering. Your damage was concrete; stripped of titles, degrees, enrollment. My damage was internal, unseen, I carry it with me. You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until today.

See one thing we have in common is that we were both unable to get up this morning. I am no stranger to suffering. You made me a victim. In newspapers my name was “ unconscious intoxicated woman”, ten syllables, and nothing more than that. For a while, I believed that that was all I was. I had to force myself to relearn my own name, my identity. To relearn that this is not all that I am. That I am not just a drunk victim at a frat party found behind a dumpster, while you are the All-American swimmer at a top university, innocent until proven guilty, with so much at stake. I am a human being who has been irreversibly hurt, my life was put on hold for over a year, waiting to figure out if I was worth something.

My independence, natural joy, gentleness, and steady lifestyle Had been enjoying became distorted beyond recognition. I became closed off, angry, self deprecating, tired, irritable, empty. The isolation at times was unbearable. You cannot give me back the life I had before that night. While you worry about your shattered reputation, I refrigerated spoons every night so when I wake up, and my eyes were puffy from crying, I would hold the spoons to my eyes to lessen the swelling so that I could see. I showed up an hour late to work every morning, excused myself to cry in the stairwells, I can tell you all the best places in that building to cry where no one can hear you. The pain became so bad that I had to explain the private details to my boss to let her know why I was leaving. I needed time because continuing day to day was not possible. I used my savings to go as far away as I could possibly be. I did not return to work full time so I knew I’d have to take weeks off in the future for the hearing and trial, that were constantly getting rescheduled. My life was put on hold for over a year, my structure had collapsed.

I can’t sleep alone at night without having a light on, like a five year old, because I have nightmares of being touched where I cannot wake up, I did this thing where I waited until the sun came up and I felt safe enough to sleep. For three months, I went to bed at six o’clock in the morning.

I used to pride myself on my independence, now I am afraid to go on walks in the evening, to attend social events with drinking among friends where I should be comfortable being. I have become a little barnacle always needing to be at someone’s side, to have my boyfriend standing next to me, sleeping beside me, protecting me. It is embarrassing how feeble I feel, how timidly I move through life, always guarded, ready to defend myself, ready to be angry.

You have no idea how hard I have worked to rebuild parts of me that are still weak. It took me eight months to even talk about what happened. I could no longer connect with friends, with everyone around me. I would scream at my boyfriend, my own family whenever they brought this up. You never let me forget what happened to me. At the end of the hearing, the trial, I was too tired to speak. I would leave drained, silent. I would go home, turn off my phone and for days I would not speak. You bought me a ticket to a planet where I lived by myself. Every time a new article came out, I lived with the paranoia that my entire hometown would find out and know me as the girl who got assaulted. I didn’t want anyone’s pity and am still learning to accept victim as part of my identity. You made my own hometown an uncomfortable place to be.

You cannot give me back my sleepless nights. The way I have broken down sobbing uncontrollable if I’m watching a movie and a woman is harmed, to say it lightly, this experience has expanded my empathy for other victims. I have lost weight from stress, when people would comment I told them I’ve been running a lot lately.There are times I did not want to be touched. I have to relearn that I am not fragile, I am capable, I am wholesome, not just livid and weak.

When I see my younger sister hurting, when she is unable to keep up in school, when she is deprived of joy, when she is not sleeping, when she is crying so hard on the phone she is barely breathing, telling me over and over again she is sorry for leaving me alone that night, sorry sorry sorry, when she feels more guilt than you, then I do not forgive you. That night I had called her to try and find her, but you found me first. Your attorney’s closing statement began, “(her sister) said she was fine and who knows her better than her sister.” You tried to use my own sister against me? Your points of attack were so weak, so low, it was almost embarrassing. You do not touch her.

You should her never done this to me. Secondly, you should have never made me fight so long to tell you, you should have never done this to me. But here we are. The damage is done, no one can undo it. And now we both have a choice. We can let this destroy us, I can remain angry and hurt and you can be in denial, or we can face it head on, I accept the pain, you accept the punishment, and we move on.

Your life is not over, you have decades of years ahead to rewrite your story. The world is huge, it is so much bigger than Palo Alto and Stanford, and you will make a space for yourself in it where you can be useful and happy. But right now, you do not get to shrug your shoulders and be confused anymore. You do not get to pretend that there were no red flags. You have been convicted of violating me, intentionally, forcibly, sexually, with malicious intent, and all you can admit to is consuming alcohol. Do not talk about the sad way your life was upturned because alcohol made you do bad things. Figure out how to take responsibility for your own conduct.

Now to address the sentencing. When I read the probation officer’s report, I was in disbelief, consumed by anger which eventually quieted down to profound sadness. My statements have been slimmed down to distortion and taken out of context. I fought hard during this trial and will not have the outcome minimized by a probation officer who attempted to evaluate my current state and my wishes in a fifteen minute conversation, the majority of which was spent answering questions I had about the legal system. The context is also important. Brock had yet to issue a statement, and I had not read his remarks.

My life has been put on hold for over a year, a year of anger, anguish and uncertainty, until a jury of my peers rendered a judgement that validated the injustices I had endured. Had Brock admitted guilt and remorse and offered to settle early on, I would have considered a lighter sentence, respecting his honesty, grateful to be able to move our lives forward. Instead he took the risk of going to trial, added insult to injury and forced me to relive the hurt as details about my person life and sexual assault were brutally dissected before the public. He pushed me and my family through a year of inexplicable, unnecessary suffering, and should face the consequences of challenging his crime, of putting my pain into question, of making us wait so long for justice.

I told the probation officer I do not want Brock to rot away in prison. I did not say he does not deserve to be behind bars. The probation officer’s recommendation for a year or less in county jail is a soft timeout, a mockery of the seriousness of his assaults, an insult to me and all women. It gives the message that a stranger can be inside you without proper consent and he will receive less than what has been defined as the minimum sentence. Probation should be denied. I also told that probation officer that what I truly wanted was for Brock to get it, to understand and admit to his wrongdoing.

Unfortunately, after reading the defendant’s report, I am severely disappointed and feel that he has failed to exhibit sincere remorse or responsibility for his conduct. I fully respected his right to a trial, but even after twelve jurors unanimously convicted him guilty of three felonies, all he has admitted to doing is ingesting alcohol. Someone who cannot take full accountability for his actions does not deserve a mitigating sentence. It is deeply offensive that he would try and dilute rape with a suggestion of “promiscuity.” By definition rape is the absence of promiscuity, rape is the absence of consent, and it perturbs me deeply that he can’t even see that distinction.

The probation officer factored in that the defendant is youthful and he no prior convictions. In my opinion, he is old enough to know what he did was wrong. When you are eighteen in this country you can go to war. When you are nineteen, you are old enough to pay the consequences for attempting to rape someone. He is young, but he is old enough to know better.

As this is a first offense I can see where leniency would beckon. On the other hand, as a society, we cannot forgive everyone’s first sexual assault or digital rape. It doesn’t make sense. The seriousness of rape has to be communicated clearly, we should not create a culture that suggests we learn that rape is wrong through trial and error. The consequences of sexual assault needs to be severe enough that people feel enough fear to exercise good judgement even if they are drunk, severe enough to be preventative.

The probation officer weighed the fact that he has surrendered a hard earned swimming scholarship. How fast Brock swims does not lessen the severity of what happened to me, and should not lessen the severity of his punishment. If a first time offender from an unprivileged background was accused of three felonies and displayed no accountability for his actions other than drinking, what would his sentence be? The fact that Brock was an athlete at a private university should not be seen as an entitlement to leniency, but as an opportunity to send a message that sexual assault is against the law regardless of social class.

The probation officer has stated that this case, when compared to other crimes of similar nature, may be considered less serious due to the defendant’s level of intoxication. It felt serious. That’s all I’m going to say.

What has he done to demonstrate that he deserves a break? He has only apologized for drinking and has yet to define what he did to me as sexual assault, he has revictimized me continually, relentlessly. He has been found guilty of three serious felonies and it is time for him to accept the consequences of his actions. He will not be quietly excused.

He is a lifetime sex registrant. That doesn’t expire. Just like what he did to me doesn’t expire, doesn’t just go away after a set number of years. It stays with me, it’s part of my identity, it has forever changed the way I carry myself, the way I live the rest of my life.

To conclude, I want to say thank you. To everyone from the intern who make me oatmeal when I woke up at the hospital that morning, to the deputy who waited beside me, to the nurses who calmed me, to the detective who listened to me and never judged me, to me advocates who stood unwaiveringly beside me, to my therapist who taught me to find courage in vulnerability, to my boss for being king and understanding, to my incredible parents who teach me how to turn pain into strength, to my grandma who snuck chocolate into the courthouse throughout this to give to me, my friends who remind me how to be happy, to my boyfriend who is patient and loving, to my unconquerable sister who is the other half of my heart, to Alaleh, my idol, who fought it tirelessly and never doubted me. Thank you to everyone involved in the trial for their time and attention. Thank you to girls across the nation that wrote cards to my DA to give to me, as many strangers who cared for me.

Most importantly, thank you to the two men who saved me, who I have yet to meet. I sleep with two bicycles that I drew taped above my bed to remind myself there are heroes in this story. That we are looking out for one another. To have know all these people, to have felt their protection and love, is something I will never forget.

And finally, to girls everywhere, I am with you. On nights when you feel alone, I am with you. When people doubt you or dismiss you, I am with you. I fought everyday for you. So never stop fighting, I believe you. As the author Anne Lamott once wrote, “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shinning.” Although I can’t save every boat, I hope that by speaking today, you absorbed a small amount of light, a small knowing that you can’t be silenced, a small satisfaction that justice was served, a small assurance that we are getting somewhere, and a big, big knowing that you are important, unquestionably, you are untouchable, you are beautiful, you are to be valued, respected, undeniably, every minute of every day, you are powerful and nobody can take that away from you. To girls everywhere, I am with you. Thank You.

Prosecutor’s Statements -

Santa Clara County DA Jeffrey Rosen stated that “The punishment does not fit the crime.” Rosen described Turner as a “predatory offender” and stated he “has failed to take responsibility, failed to show remorse and failed to tell the truth.”

Juror’s Statements -

A juror calling himself “A concerned juror” wrote a letter to the judge expressing dissatisfaction with the sentence.

The juror said that “the fact that Turner ran away after two graduate students noticed him ontop of an unmoving woman” was compelling evidence, along with the incoherence of the message that Doe left her boyfriend.

Statements from Turner’s family -

Brock’s character was defended by at least 39 people, including an ex-girlfriend who said whenever pressured hr and that he was kind, loving and respectful.

Doe’s family Statements -

Emily’s sister wrote a letter to the judge saying “An entire part of my heart has been permanently broken” by the assault, the lengthy prosecution and Turner’s failure to take responsibility for is actions.

Jail and Aftermath -

Brock Turner was released from Santa Clara County Jail on September 2, 2016, having served three months of his six month sentence. Turner was handed a package of hate mail, which had built up during his stay, as he exited the jail.

Under the terms of his release, Turner was mandated to live with his parents in Sugarcreek Township, Ohio, where he was to register as a tier 3 sex offender. He was placed on a three year probation with reciprocal supervision.

The day after his release, protesters gathered on the sidewalk outside his family’s home in Ohio. One protestor, while brandishing a gun in an open carry state, held a sign urging attendees to “shoot your local rapist.”

Appeal Upheld Conviction -

In December 2017, Turner requested that his conviction be overturned, that his lifetime requirement to register as a sex offender be canceled, and that he be given a new trial.

On August 8, 2018, Turner lost his appeal. He reportedly tried to argue that he’d intended to engage in outercourse with Emily Doe, not intercourse.

California Legislation -

The case’s public outrage prompted the California State Legislature to pass two bills that would change California State Law on sexual assault.

Assembly bill 701 would broaden California’s definition of rape to include digital penetration.

Assembly bill 2888 would provide a mandatory minimum three year sentence for sexual assault of a unconscious of intoxicated person.

The bills were signed into law on September 30, 2016.

Emily Doe’s Identity -

In September 2019, Chanel Miller revealed herself as being Emily Doe, and released a book titled, “Know my name: A memoir”, on September 24, 2019.

Chanel discusses her experience of the assault and the trial, as well as how she has coped since then. She also talks about her view on recent events such as Donal Trump’s election, Philando Castile’s muder, Bill Cosby, Harvy Weinstein, Larry Nassar, Brett Kavanaugh and the “Me Too” movement.

Photos -