by Maren Foster
I remembered an article I had read in an undergraduate intro to law class, that I had taken at Vi’s insistence. The article was about the legality and ethics of pre and post-conviction DNA testing. Nate’s DNA should be in the system from the rape kit I had done all those years ago. If Nate is arrested and forced to provide a DNA sample, it should come back as a match to my rape kit! I Googled and skimmed recent news related to DNA testing laws in Connecticut. It seemed that Connecticut had passed a law, which took effect in 2011, making it legal to collect DNA upon arrest for a serious felony, prior to conviction or even arraignment. It said that, once collected, the DNA would be entered into a state database and then run through a federal system to see if it matched any DNA from unsolved crimes. Yes! That’s it. That’s Plan B! If there’s no money, maybe there’s another way to finally make him face his demons! But he needs to be arrested first. How on Earth can I make sure he gets arrested so that he gets DNA tested? And what is a “serious” felony anyhow?
Reading further, a “serious felony” included murder, arson, kidnapping, robbery, assault, sexual assault, and home invasion. The law also said that a prior felony conviction was required. Hmmm, that’s not gonna work. There’s no way I can frame Nate for one of those things without a complicated effort and without showing my hand. Plus, this has to be believable. Whatever happens, he can’t know that I caused him to be arrested. He’ll lose it when he finds out it was me who turned him in…he needs to be safely in custody without possibility of release when he finds out. If I can turn him in without having to directly and publicly accuse him of something, then maybe there will be enough time to get justice after all.
I looked into New Jersey’s laws on DNA testing. New Jersey also allowed pre-conviction DNA testing, but also only for various violent offenses including murder, manslaughter, sexual offenses, etc. It has to be something more mundane. What about New York?
A quick search revealed that New York only collected DNA samples post-conviction, but it did say, “Since 2012, any defendant convicted of a misdemeanor or felony must give a DNA sample to be added to the New York State DNA Databank....The police use this database to look for matches to DNA collected from crimes.” So to make sure he gets DNA tested in New York, I just have to make sure he gets convicted of a misdemeanor. How difficult could that be?
I got up and poured myself a glass of Nate’s favorite whiskey on the rocks. I held the crystal glass in the palm of my hand, watching the ice begin to crack in the caramel colored liquor. Wait, maybe that’s it! Nate drinks and drives. If I call him in for drunk driving and he gets pulled over in New York state, that has to at least be a misdemeanor. I searched the web just to be sure…and sure enough, driving while intoxicated and aggravated driving while intoxicated were both misdemeanors for a first offense. That’s it! I can call the minute he leaves a bar in New York drunk and alert the cops. So I just have to be out somewhere with him where he is drinking and I need to outlast him and call when he leaves by himself. I just can’t use my own cell phone to make the call.
Julia’s birthday is coming up and her party is in Manhattan. But will he stay late hoping to hook up with her? He’ll definitely want to drive. He always does.
Nate had made Friday night dinner reservations at our favorite spot in the city: the little French bistro in Seaport that was off the beaten path. Presumably as a sign of good will after our fight over his infidelity. I hurried to get ready and was downstairs at ten to six, just in time to catch the six-fifteen train to Grand Central and get a taxi to Seaport.
Wall to wall mirrors ran the length of a long black wall, a long wooden bar filled the center of the room, and the tables were uncomfortably close together, but Nate was convinced that they had the best shellfish in the city.
Nate was waiting at the bar when I arrived, dressed unusually fancy in a designer business suit. He nodded to the hostess and she showed us to my favorite table in the house. We sat next to each other and split a bottle of red wine.
“How’s work?” I asked.
“Fine.”
“Must be really busy.”
“It is.”
“What’s going on?”
“We’re getting ready to launch another new product.”
“Oh yeah, what is it this time?” I asked.
“Hair loss prevention and regeneration.”
“Have you been making everyone else pull long hours too or just working like a dog by yourself?”
“There’ve been a couple of late nights for the whole team,” he said. “At least when I make ‘em stay late I buy pizza and beer.”
We split a buttery duck liver pate and a bucket of oysters, and I stole a profiterole off his plate. We tipped back the last drops of wine as the bar started to fill up.
After dinner he asked if I’d go for a walk with him. I thought it was a little unusual since it was a blustery winter evening and we had a bit of a drive to get home, but he insisted. He took my hand and led me through City Hall Park to the footpath onto the old Brooklyn Bridge. I walked next to him in my heels for as long as I could, but when the trail transitioned from poured concrete to wooden boardwalk I slowed my gait to avoid losing a stiletto in the cracks.
“Hey, I can’t go much further.” I said, looking down at my feet.
He turned, smiled, and scooped me up in his arms. He carried me to the first tower and put me down gently where the path bowed out around the massive stone structure. The view looking back toward Manhattan was spectacular. It was a clear night and the nearly full moon lit up the sky and the bridge cables that soared above our heads.
Nate turned and took my hand.
“Look, I’m sorry about what happened at that party. I’m glad you decided to stay.”
Good. This is exactly where I want you.
I turned and saw a small box in his hand. It was wrapped in beautiful gold paper and had a small bow on top.
He smiled and held the box out toward me.
“For putting up with me,” he said.
I unwrapped the box carefully, took the lid off, and peeled back the tissue paper. A delicate gold lock in the shape of a heart was engraved with:
NPE + WRL
07-01-2017
I held it in my hand, admiring the way the lights of the bridge illuminated the engraving on the face of the lock, against the glittering backdrop of the City in the distance.
“Oh, Nate!” Pretty impressive actually! He’s totally committed to this.
He kissed me on the mouth, took the lock from my hand, bent down and affixed it to the painted, weathered railing.
“They come by and cut them off all the time now, so we shouldn’t leave it here, but I thought you might want some photos,” he said.
“Yeah, of course.”
He asked the only other couple around to take a few pictures of us next to the lock. Then he took an artistic close up of the lock with the city lights glittering in the background.
“I thought it might make a nice locket,” he said as he unlocked it. “I can have the loop removed and a chain put on it if you want.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” I said.
He carried me almost all the way back to the car.
The next morning I laid in bed pretending to read the newspaper that Nate had left next to me, but instead I thought about my plan. I ran through scenario after scenario and the risks involved. What if he doesn’t get drunk at Julia’s party? What if he does get drunk but doesn’t get pulled over on his way home? What if he gets pulled over and they don’t arrest him? What if he tries to bribe the cops to let him off? Hadn’t I also read that the State of Connecticut collects a DNA sample upon arrest for sexual assault in spousal or cohabiting relationships, which is a felony? Should I just call the cops and accuse him of sexual assault instead? They’ll ask for proof and I’ll have none. It’ll be his word against mine, and worse still he’ll know that I’m up to something. No, the DUI is the best option. It’s not guaranteed, but I’m out of options. The
re’s no money and I can’t just call the cops in Illinois now and tell them that all of a sudden I know who raped me all those years ago, and guess what, I’m married to him. They’d wonder why I came forward when I did and why I didn’t tell them the truth when it happened. No, Nate has to be arrested for something unrelated to the rape and then DNA tested so that the discovery of his connection to my rape seems coincidental, there’s no obvious connection back to me, and he’s never let out of prison. That’s the best way.
The Breakdown
Friday, February 16, 2018
Old Greenwich
Julia’s birthday was on Friday and she’d planned a Carnival-themed costume party and rented an entire room at Velvet, the swankiest restaurant in Manhattan—for the moment at least. She also booked table service at Unbridled, a high-end dance club just a few blocks away. I went to a costume shop in a neighboring suburb and got stock costumes for both of us. Nate would be a masked swordsman and I would be his damsel-in-distress.
“I don’t want to wear this shit,” he said as we were getting ready. He held up a tight velvet pants-suit with a cape and mask.
“Why?”
“Because this shit is gay.”
“It’s the 21st century. Aren’t you man enough to wear velvet?”
He ignored me.
“You’re worried that if you wear a velvet onesie people will think you’re gay? I didn’t think you were that insecure.”
“Fuck you.”
“It’s a costume party. Please don’t be that douchebag that shows up to a costume party without a costume.”
He held the pants up in front of him. They were clearly the right size.
“God damn it,” he said as he took his pants off. “You couldn’t have gotten something more masculine?”
“I liked the dress that goes with it,” I said.
“Fine. Should we take an Uber?”
“You don’t want to drive? Won’t it be really expensive to get a nice car all the way to and from the City from here?” Come on! You always want to drive. You always complain about how crappy even the Uber Blacks are in the City.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll drive.”
Phew!
We arrived at Velvet around seven and Nate valeted his car.
He went straight to the bar and returned to hand me a glass of wine, clutching a double scotch on the rocks in his other hand.
“Come say hi with me.” He motioned to a few couples we knew across the room.
“I’ll catch up with you in a minute, just need to go to the bathroom,” I said, and disappeared to the back of the restaurant.
As I came out of the bathroom, I hung back and watched him work the room with complete control. He was truly artful and always impressive to watch. I hated that I admired his confidence, but I did. It was intoxicating to be in his orbit. He took control with ease and could captivate an entire room. Why does he have to be such a monster? I realized that this would probably be the last time I would be in public with him. It was strange and exhilarating to think that I had the power to end it all. His confidence, his swagger, his bravado. I alone could finally knock him down to where he belonged.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward a photo set-up, complete with an assortment of elegant, gold-colored props and a gorgeous hand-painted banner that read:
A Carn(iv)al Celebration!
Happy 27th Birthday Julia!
Nate and I posed in front of a black backdrop. Martina, Julia’s assistant, began to snap photos. I posed with my hands clasped in front of me and my head tilted back. Nate scooped me up in his arms and twirled me around. He kissed me playfully for the camera.
A few hours later, I watched as he finished his third double on the rocks and I went to the bar for a drink. I brought him another.
“Oh, thanks, but I think I need to slow down a little. Could you get me a water?” he said.
“Sorry, just trying to be polite,” I said. I handed him the scotch and headed back to the bar. He held onto the scotch for a little while, cupping it in his hand like a prop. Eventually he began to sip.
A little after eleven he sauntered over to me. “I think I’m done for the night. Need to get up early to get some work done,” he said.
“You look a bit tired,” I said. He tried to stifle a yawn in response.
He pushed his face toward mine trying to kiss me. The sweet smell of booze on his breath was overpowering. I turned to the side and he snuggled his face into my neck and pulled at my waist. “Come home with me?”
“It’s pretty early. I think I’ll hang out for a while.”
He looked up at me and I saw the disappointment on his face. I realized immediately that he knew that Julia would be out late tonight and wouldn’t be available, so he was relying on me instead.
“I really want to go to the club for a little bit,” I said. “All this hanging around the house is starting to make me restless. I think I need a night out to get my spirits up. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get a ride home.”
He grumbled but nodded. “Fine, I’ll stay.”
Yes, come have another drink!
Just as he said it Julia stood up and yelled, “Okay, it’s time to party.” She grabbed her purse, finished off the remainder of the glass of white wine that was in her hand, and headed for the door.
We walked to the club and were immediately waved past the line and into a VIP balcony on the mezzanine level. There was another group in the balcony, but there were enough bartenders that there wouldn’t be much of a wait for drinks.
“Want anything?” he asked.
“Rob Roy,” I yelled back.
He nodded.
I watched at the bar as the busty female bartender handed him a Rob Roy full to the brim. He tipped her and then took the first sip so that he’d be able to carry it without spilling.
He handed me the drink and took a sip of water from a glass in his other hand.
“Oooh, can I have some?” I asked, looking at his water.
He handed it to me and I handed him the Rob Roy. I took a big sip of water and just as I was about to hand it back to him I heard my name. Candace was yelling for me from across the room. Impeccable timing. I took off with the water before he could hand the Rob Roy back to me.
Candace was busy telling Julia about some trip to Nantucket that she wanted everyone to take together next summer. Her family had some nine bedroom house on the ocean, although she was careful to warn us that eight of the nine bedrooms were small but that we would all fit reasonably comfortably. She added that we wouldn’t want to spend too much time inside anyhow because the beach was fantastic, and so was the shopping in the historic downtown. I nodded and smiled. I watched Nate from across the room as Candace blabbered on. He tried to hide a big yawn. Come on! Go home!
Julia began to dance to the beat blasting from the massive speakers downstairs. “Let’s go dance!” she yelled.
She dragged us downstairs to mix in with the crowd. Warm, sweaty bodies bounced back and forth. I waited until the end of the song and then looked up into the balcony. Nate was leaning against the railing on his forearms. The Rob Roy was almost gone. He was watching us and made eye contact with me. I smiled and nodded. Nate yawned, finished the Rob Roy, and motioned sleep with his hands. I held my hands to my head like a pillow and nodded. He waved goodbye and I blew him a kiss. Yes! Finally!
I waited until he was out of the room and made my way down a long hallway at the side of the building toward the bathrooms. There was an emergency exit door propped open by a metal bucket and just outside a few smokers loitered. I stepped into the lingering cigarette smoke in time to see Nate get into his car and begin to pull away.
“Hey, can I borrow your cell?” I asked a young guy. “It’s important.” I smiled sweetly.
He furrowed his brow.
“I’ll buy you a drink,” I offered.
“Ugh. Yeah, fine, but don’t go anywhere.”
“Thank you.”
I took a
couple of steps toward the street and turned away from him. I dialed ‘911’ and hit “Call”.
A female dispatcher answered the phone, “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
“I was at a bar with a friend. He just left in his car after I warned him that he was too drunk to drive. I’m worried he’ll kill someone on his way home. He’s really drunk.”