What should have been a 16 year jail sentence for the heinous crime of malevolently raping an inebriated and unconscious coed adjacent to a dumpster behind a Stanford University fraternity house was reduced to a 6 month prison term that could, with good behavior, be shortened to 3 months. So ordered Judge Aoron Persky, himself a former Stanford U. athlete.
Even though testimonies demonstrated that the rape victim became aware of the assault only when she was led into the hospital examining room, the rape, as per defense attorneys, was consensual.
Some things never change. She was dressed provocatively; she was a willing partner; she did not object forcefully; she invited the assault; and ad infinitum have been the standard defense arguments. The victim is always at fault.
Poor Brock Turner! He’s having to spend six months in jail for “twenty minutes of action.”
According to a letter read to the court (prior to sentencing) by Dan Turner, Poor Brock Turner’s Dad, since January 17th and 18th 2015 he’s had “many one-on-one conversations [in which Poor Brock expressed sorrow] for what occurred and for all the pain and suffering it has caused for all those involved and impacted.”
Dad stated that Poor Brock possesses an “easy going personality that endears him to almost everyone he meets,” especially inebriated unconscious coeds. Brock, claimed Dad, “has always been a person that people like to be around whether they are male or female,” and espcially vulnerable and defenseless females. Further, Brock “never raises his voice to anyone, and he doesn’t pre-judge anyone,” except defenseless females he knows he can overpower. Brock “has a very gentle and quiet nature and smile that is truly welcoming to those around him,” except when he dons the devil’s mask and turns into a fiendish beast. Dad claims that he “never heard [Brock] brag or boast about accomplishments that he has achieved,” except when he is ghoulishly raping a limp body. Dad further asserts the Poor Brock “is simply a very humble person who would rather hear about someone else’s accomplishments rather than talk about his own,” except when his humility turns into a ghastly act. Furthermore, “Brock [according to Dad] has an inner strength and fortitude that is beyond anything I have ever seen,” except when that primordial urge morphs into a beastly temptation to brutally violate a helpless and lifeless coed.
As for Judge Aoron Persky, he peskily demonstrated a lack of personal, moral and professional fortitude; Poor Brock, he was mercilessly feather-slapped on the hand for committing a violent crime of passion.
Dad’s fondest memories of his son dates back to childhood when he was helping Poor Brock prepare “for his weekly spelling test.” Apparently dad forgot to include the word RAPE “the day before [by not] memorizing the [word] and making sure [Poor Brock] had everything together in his mind, especially on Friday mornings as [they] drove to school.”
Dad “can assure [us] that Brock always did well on these exams,” except that Dad and Mom never taught him that rape is not merely a four-letter word; rather, it is a violent crime comitted by cowardly characters.
Dad wants us to have empathy for poor Brock because he’d noticed that “living under the same roof with [him] since this incident, [he] can tell [us] firsthand the devastating impact that it has had on [his] son.” Poor, poor, Brock!
According to Dad, Poor Brock excelled “in athlectics … baseball, basketball, and swimming.” Dad further states that he “was his baseball and basketball coach and his Cub Scout den leader for many years … I was so proud to participate and serve as his coach and leader as it meant that I got to spend more time with him. … I was also a parent chaperone for many school outings and often times the only dad along on these field trips. For me I loved every minute of it because Brock was a pleasure to be around and he always treated other kids, parents, and teachers with respect.” So, Dad, what happened to Poor Brock? What happened to the values and self-discipline acquired through participation in Cub Scouts and sports?
Dad tells us that Brock’s senior high school year was spent in anticipation, for after all, getting a swimming scholarship at Stanford U. was a major accomplishment. Poor Brock, as Dad tells it, “was characteristically humble about being admitted to Stanford.”
Poor Brock, the Bay Area culture shock for a Midwest country boy was too much because, as Dad asserts, he and his wife “didn’t realize the extent to which Brock was struggling being so far from home.” Dad tells us that during Poor Brock’s Christmas vacation he exhibited signs that “he was struggling to fit in socially and the fact that he did not like being so far from home… Brock was nearly-distraught (sic.) knowing he had to return early from Christmas break for swimming training camp.” Dad and Mom were worried about “the culture of alcohol consumption and partying. This culture … played a role in the events of January 17th and 18th 2015.” Really?
Yea, Dad, blame it on the culture of alcohol. Do you mean that the inebriated young woman was fair game in this culture of alcohol? Better yet, are you blaming alcohol for Poor Brock’s hauling a limp and unconscious female to a secluded area behind a dumpster to prove his athletic prowess? It was so lame of you, Dad, to state that Brock “was simply too far from home for someone who was born and raised in the Midwest.” Adding insult to injury, you failed to recognize your own shortcomings when you stated that Poor Brock “needed the support and structure of being closer to family and friends.” So what have you and his mother done to build character and give structure during Poor Brock’s first 19+ years of his life.
And gall comes in the last paragraph. Dad tells Judge Persky that, “As it stands now, Brock’s life has been deeply altered forever,“ and Poor Brock “will never be his happy go lucky self with that easy going personality and welcoming smile.” And Poor Brock’s “every waking minute is consumed with worry, anxiety, fear, and depression. You can see this in his face, the way he walks, his weakened voice.”
If the aforementioned has not by now moved one to tears, then maybe the following will. Poor Brock has lost his appetite. Assuming the role of home chef, Dad tells Judge Persky that Poor Brock “always enjoyed certain types of food and is a very good cook himself. I was always excited to buy him a big ribeye steak to grill or to get his favorite snack for him.” And Dad tells the judge how he lovingly “had to make sure to hide some of my favorite pretzels or chips because I knew they would be around long after he walked in from long swim practice.” Poor Brock Turner, “Now he barely consumes any food and eats only to exist. These verdicts have broken and shattered him and our family in so many ways.” For a pre-final-sentencing argument, Dad states that Poor Brock’s “life will never be the one that he dreamed about and worked so hard to achieve.”
And the final coups de gras, an utterly disgusting theater of the absurd surrealistic denouement, a revolting statement that exposes this clout of a father for what he is, an insentitive, heartless, and disgusting bastard, is expressed thusly: Poor Brock’s life will never be the same because the verdict “is a deep price to pay FOR 20 MINUTES OF ACTION [caps mine] out of his twenty plus years.”
Thus the defenseless victim is victimized thrice; she is first violated in a beastly manner, the violation is reduced to a sordid “20 minutes of action,” and the judge delivers a disgustingly 6 month jail sentence that is likely to be reduced to 3.
So much for a Persky pesky verdict. Poor Brock is the victim. And the coed? She will have to carry and work through this repulsive crime for the rest of her life.
Two heroes stand tall in this sordid drama. The two male students who saw the ongoing rape took immediate action, and, had it not been for them, Poor Brock might very well have lived to commit another heinous crime.
One hopes and prays earnestly for the healing of the victim’s inner soul and the souls of millions of female and male rape victims around the world whose minds, bodies, hearts, and souls are seared with similar horrific experiences.
