In 2009, after the release of Wanted and Desired, Polanski wrote me this note.
Dear Samantha,
I watched Marina Zenovich’s documentary for the second time and, I thought, I should write you this note.
I want you to know how sorry I am for having so affected your life. Watching you in the film, I was impressed by your integrity and your intelligence. And, you are right, they should give your mother a break! The fault was mine, not your mother’s. I hope the pressure of the media has alleviated and that your family brings you much happiness.
Best wishes,
Roman Polanski
This note was written when Polanski had children of his own. Maybe being the father to a young teenager put the events of the film in perspective for him. It didn’t change anything for me, but I could see the effect it had on my family, my mom in particular. It meant so much to them, and it was a relief to see them let go of some of that pain and anger.
In so many ways I’ve been a very lucky woman. For one thing, I was never taught that sex was bad—it was a natural thing you were meant to look forward to someday. Whether it was the permissive times I grew up in, the attitudes of my parents, or just my own nature—I never felt dirty or deeply ashamed because someone had sex with me against my will. I may have felt kind of stupid, but I never felt there was anything fundamentally wrong with me. This is not a small thing; for a rape victim, it may be a matter of life and death.
Recently I was reading about Elizabeth Smart, the girl who at fourteen was abducted from her Salt Lake City home, held captive in the mountains, and abused for nine months. When she spoke on a panel at Johns Hopkins University, she explained that one of the key factors in why she didn’t try to escape her attacker was that she had been taught, through abstinence-only education, that she was worthless after being raped—that she was not fit to return to society.
“I remember in school one time, I had a teacher who was talking about abstinence,” Smart told the panel. “And she said, ‘Imagine you’re a stick of gum. When you engage in sex, that’s like getting chewed. And if you do that lots of times, you’re going to become an old piece of gum, and who is going to want you after that?’ Well, that’s terrible. No one should ever say that. But for me, I thought, ‘I’m that chewed-up piece of gum.’ Nobody rechews a piece of gum. You throw it away. And that’s how easy it is to feel you no longer have worth. Your life no longer has value.”
I agree with Smart. As a society we’re constantly giving young girls tips on how to stay safe: don’t go out late at night, dress modestly, don’t go out alone, don’t drink, and don’t have premarital sex. While I certainly understand why we tell women these things, and even think we can make certain commonsense choices that keep us from having sexual experiences we’ll regret, we can’t send the message that when something as grotesque as a rape happens, you deserved it.
The lasting effect of my experience with Polanski has not been trauma, whether psychic or physical. It’s been a desire to maintain and nurture real connection—with friends, family, husband, even exes. (I’m friendly with everyone I’ve ever been involved with, I think—they’re all like characters in the book of one’s life, and you wouldn’t want to put down the book without knowing what happens at the end!) And perhaps my experience has also created in me an empathy, and sometimes even a desire to reach out to women who have been the victims in highly publicized criminal cases. It pains me to think what they’re going through, besides the actual experience of the crime. I remember, for example, hearing that the young woman who accused Kobe Bryant received death threats. She was the bad one for telling the police what happened?
This year I felt compelled to write to the sixteen-year-old girl raped by the two high school football players in Steubenville, Ohio. (I don’t know who she is, of course; I sent it to her via Mike DeWine, the attorney general of Ohio.)
March 26, 2013
Dear “Jane Doe”:
My name is Samantha Geimer, and in 1977, I was also Jane Doe. The massive media coverage surrounding you touched me and I wanted to reach out to you, understanding what is like to be at the center of a high profile rape case at a young age.
I was raped by Roman Polanski, just 2 weeks before my 14th birthday and ended up at the center of an intensely high profile case, that has followed me to this day, due to the nature of Roman’s celebrity.
I just wanted to tell you that it gets better, that you’ll be alright. Maybe not right away and maybe not all the time or all at once, but you’ll move past this and be stronger for it. I remember how angry it made me to see and hear all the lies reported about me, all the lies about what happened, and even lies about Roman. It’s hard to believe that so much of what you see and hear in the media can be untrue, but it is. I wondered why people with nothing at stake in it had such strong opinions and feelings about it. I felt used by the media, people making a living off of my misfortune.
It can be confusing, you know that it is not your fault, yet you may blame yourself for putting yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. You know that the punishment those boys got, they deserved, but somehow you still feel bad to know that they are in jail. I have tried to find a balance. Knowing that the blame is not on me, it is on my rapist in a way made me feel somehow powerless. So I also can look back and realize while I made some unwise decisions that day, I shouldn’t feel guilty or to blame. I feel less like a victim that way. That’s just me though; you will find a way to fit all this awfulness somewhere in your life and get past it.
In the end, you are not a victim, you are a survivor. You are one of many and you are in very good company. Shame and embarrassment keep people from talking about these things; they let this kind of abuse hide in the shadows. You should know that your story shined a light on something people needed to see and talk about. Someone has learned something and didn’t victimize someone else because of the publicity you have endured. And, for everything your family has been through, surely some good has come, to someone, somewhere, when another person perhaps hesitated and did not hurt someone else.
Mostly, I just wanted you to know that you are not alone. As this fades away to a memory of longer and longer ago, you are not alone. We survivors are many, and we are strong. Most important we are all around you and we all understand.
I hope that your future brings you many wonderful things; you don’t have to let this drag you down. It will get better, and you will be okay.
Sincerely,
Samantha Geimer
CHAPTER 16
This book almost never happened. I was never moved to tell my whole story; I just wanted the story to go away. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about it. There were regular inquiries and offers going back to 1977. And there were times I was tempted. It would have been nice to have the money, and it would have been nice to have a pulpit to set the record straight. The controversy that’s come in waves over the thirty-plus years of this story has caused enormous hurt and anxiety to me, and worse, to my family. To call more attention to us by writing a book about it was too painful to me and too abusive to the ones I love.
But then came Marina’s documentary Wanted and Desired. The way she laid it out so simply and perfectly gave us a way to understand it all. Finally we could say, “That is it, that is the way it really happened.” And after Polanski’s arrest and the ensuing nightmare, my sons started seeing it in a different way. As boys, they may have been embarrassed by the attention; now as men, they were angry. They pretty much joined the rest of my family in now saying, “Okay, go get ’em.” I was ready, too.
Every time I looked at an article or news feature or story about Samantha Geimer, I met a different person. There was Samantha the slut who used her charms to entice poor Roman Polanski into her web of perversion. There was the abused Samantha whose mother’s ambitions were advanced by serving up her nubile daughter to the powerful director. There was Samantha the self-hating victim who apologized for herself and couldn’t find anything
wrong with her assailant. And there was Samantha the weak victim. I was never in front of the story; I was always reacting to the portrayal of one of these Samanthas.
Most of what my family, dear, brilliant, essential Larry, and I worked for in and out of court all these years was geared toward having privacy. Unfortunately, all these false Samanthas still leaked out. I was ready now to come out. Come out as myself.
The discipline of reliving the years—sometimes frustrating, sometimes sad—brought new insights, new understanding, particularly in terms of a greater understanding of Roman Polanski himself. As different as our lives have been, we do share a common sense of battle fatigue when it comes to the court system and the media. We’ve both been punished. We both want to move on.
We both might be considered victims. I can’t speak for Roman; me . . . no thanks. The word victim comes from the Latin word meaning the person or animal sacrificed for some religious purpose. Over time it’s developed to mean a person who suffers from an accident or incident that leaves them injured and compromised in some way. I imagine it must be terrible to be a victim.
I tell you this for one reason. It reminds me of one of the guiding principles of my life—one I wish I could share with all those who have called me a “weak victim.” If you go through your life carrying hate in your heart, you really only hurt yourself. I didn’t forgive him for him; I did it for me. Forgiveness is not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength.
AFTERWORD
by Lawrence Silver
Thirty-Five Years
Being Samantha Geimer’s lawyer has been an interesting and rewarding challenge. When I started representing her, she was thirteen years old, and my mission was simple and clear: to keep her identity as a rape victim as confidential as possible. Samantha’s parents believed anonymity was essential to her mental health, and that she must be allowed to lead a life as unaffected as possible by Polanski’s criminal acts. That goal might have been realistic had the case ended in 1978. Even with Polanski’s celebrity, the intense interest in Samantha likely would have totally faded. But that goal was never truly achievable once Polanski, quite understandably, fled the country after Judge Rittenband yielded to media pressure and reneged on the sentencing agreement. That flight gave the case (so to speak) legs. It led to thirty-five years of focus on Samantha and thirty-five years of my trying to protect her. At the outset, Samantha’s family was not interested in pursuing Polanski in any civil litigation because, among other reasons, that would have meant revealing her identity. No amount of money from Polanski was worth that price.
But things changed. Polanski published a memoir in which he not only defended his illegal behavior, he sought to profit from it. Also, Samantha grew older and, although she still wanted to avoid attention, stronger. These factors contributed to the decision to proceed with the suit. While there were risks of disclosure, we could have the matter referred to a private judge and bring the action using an anonymous name, Jane Doe.
My role in this book has been quite limited. This is Samantha’s story, but from just after the rape until now, I have been along for the journey. I have provided Samantha with information about the legal events, and helped jog her memory, especially of the early years. Remember, Samantha’s recollection of those events, events still unsettling to contemplate, was that of a thirteen-or fourteen-year-old child.
Two items relating to the litigation were not discussed in Samantha’s book and would, I think, be particularly interesting to those who’ve followed the case.
First, the photographs taken by Polanski on the day of the crime; and second, the recent amendment to the California Constitution which provides a victim of criminal activity with certain rights.
Photographs
After Samantha’s mother made a police report, the police secured a warrant to search Polanski and his Beverly Wilshire Hotel room. Apparently after Polanski had taken some photographs of Samantha at Jacqueline Bisset’s and Jack Nicholson’s homes, he removed the used roll of film and put in a new one to take additional pictures. The police seized the camera with the unfinished roll still inside. The film in the camera was developed by the police department and printed. It’s almost comical to consider now, but the police department’s budget did not allow for the more expensive color processing. So you will see that two of the photographs in this book here and here are pretty awful black and whites. The negatives had considerable shading that gives the color its rich quality. In black and white, they just look murky. The police never recovered the first roll of film.
In the civil litigation, I demanded all photographs of Samantha. Polanski turned over the prints from that previously unseen first roll of film. But I believed there were more. What happened was this: In executing the search warrant, the police didn’t recognize the importance of a receipt/claim check from Sav-On Drugs’ photograph department. Years later, I was told that Polanski gave his lawyer the receipt, and they secured the printed roll of film and negatives from the drug store. During the civil suit, his lawyer had to turn those photos over to me. These photographs, important both legally and historically, would likely have never been discovered if not for the civil suit.
Victims’ Bill of Rights
In 2008 California voters adopted Marsy’s Law, which amended the California Constitution to add a provision known as the Victims’ Bill of Rights. As described on the the California Attorney General’s website:
Marsy’s Law gives victims of crimes in California certain rights including:
1. To be treated with fairness and respect for his or her privacy and dignity, and to be free from intimidation, harassment, and abuse, throughout the criminal or juvenile justice process.
2. To be reasonably protected from the defendant and persons acting on behalf of the defendant.
3. To have the safety of the victim and the victim’s family considered in fixing the amount of bail and release conditions for the defendant.
4. To prevent the disclosure of confidential information or records to the defendant, the defendant’s attorney, or any other person acting on behalf of the defendant, which could be used to locate or harass the victim or the victim’s family or which disclose confidential communications made in the course of medical or counseling treatment, or which are otherwise privileged or confidential by law.
5. To refuse an interview, deposition, or discovery request by the defendant, the defendant’s attorney, or any other person acting on behalf of the defendant, and to set reasonable conditions on the conduct of any such interview to which the victim consents.
6. To reasonable notice of and to reasonably confer with the prosecuting agency, upon request, regarding, the arrest of the defendant if known by the prosecutor, the charges filed, the determination whether to extradite the defendant, and, upon request, to be notified of and informed before any pretrial disposition of the case.
7. To reasonable notice of all public proceedings, including delinquency proceedings, upon request, at which the defendant and the prosecutor are entitled to be present and of all parole or other post-conviction release proceedings, and to be present at all such proceedings.
8. To be heard, upon request, at any proceeding, including any delinquency proceeding, involving a post-arrest release decision, plea, sentencing, post-conviction release decision, or any proceeding in which a right of the victim is at issue.
9. To a speedy trial and a prompt and final conclusion of the case and any related post-judgment proceedings.
These rights would have made an enormous difference in Samantha’s life, and in mine. They were in effect when Polanski was arrested in Switzerland in 2009—but just having these rights wasn’t enough. Steve Cooley, the Los Angeles District Attorney at the time of the arrest, was preparing to run for California State Attorney General (he won the Republican primary, then was narrowly defeated in the general election). He led the campaign to have Polanski extradited. He announced that his office was not going to abide by certain provisions of th
e Victims’ Bill of Rights. In addition, the courts, uncomfortable with the significant changes made by the Victims’ Bill of Rights, seemed, at the least, reluctant to enforce them and even unsure how to go about it. This was the first major legal event where the victim was asserting her rights. Samantha was expressing the view that enough is enough. She sought, with the defendant, a dismissal of the action.
I believe it is crucial to the administration of justice to give victims rights, but it’s not enough to just grant the rights; those rights must be enforced. It is important that the California courts acknowledge these new robust rights and enforce the Constitution consistent with the Court’s own oath.
Samantha Geimer is whole now. But it was a sad day for American justice when Roman Polanski felt compelled to flee because of the clear judicial malfeasance. And it’s been a series of sad days for Samantha because the judicial system has not fully, completely, and vigorously embraced and enforced the rights of victims.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The journey of sharing a story I never thought I’d want to tell has been a long one. And only made possible with the help of strangers who became friends, friends who became family, and family who are my heart. I must acknowledge the contributions of the following: Lawrence Silver is so much more than my attorney; he’s been my protector, my collaborator, and my friend of thirty-five years. He has been there every step of the way. I’ve depended on his memory to tell my story, which in many ways is his story too. We are both deeply indebted to his assistant Wendy Lovgren, who has been invaluable to us both and to Mark Field, at Silver & Field.
The Girl: A Life in the Shadow of Roman Polanski Page 19