Crash Into Me

by Liz Seccuro

  DOWNING: Yes. It makes—it makes—it calls them suggestions. It has an outline.

  WORRELL: Is it up to you, then, to follow the suggestions to the best of your ability, or do you believe that it’s up to you to actually follow what the Book says and the suggestions literally?

  DOWNING: I believe what the Book says applies to me. I can’t speak for any other person other than myself when it comes to that. I’ve found that it has changed my life.

  WORRELL: You would also—and would you also say that the Book is, from what you can see at least, has done the same for Beebe—Mr. Beebe?

  DOWNING: Yes, sir.

  WORRELL: All right, and his adherence to the principles outlined in the book, would you say he’s a literalist?

  QUAGLIANA: Judge, I’m going to object. I think we’re getting into speculation by this witness.

  THE COURT: Well, I don’t know where—is this taking us somewhere? I don’t know where—

  WORRELL: Well, absolutely.

  THE COURT: Okay.

  WORRELL: Mr.—Mr. Downing has told us how great Mr. Beebe is and how great he did this thing and how wonderful he is about this and wonderful he is about that, and—okay, but is there also some other things that Mr. Downing might be able to tell us about with Mr. Beebe because as what we have as part of this case, as the Court is aware, that Mr. Beebe was in an AA group and made amends as required by one of the steps in that book, and the question is, is he a literalist about that? [A]nd that’s part of this case. Mr. Downing knows the book. He also knows Mr. Beebe and he can tell us the answer.

  DOWNING: I would not classify Will as a literalist. I would say that he looks probably similarly as I do as that this is the outline for living. A literalist to me, as the question is asked, means that there is no room for anything different than other than exactly what the word says on the page. I don’t try to put my own words in there at all. That’s a little bit dangerous, but you can get different opinions on the same sentence.

  WORRELL: What is step nine?

  DOWNING: Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

  WORRELL: Is that what the book actually says or is that something else that’s said in the book? Are those the exact words—what you just repeated?

  DOWNING: I believe that those are the exact words. When I say I believe, I—you—I may have missed an and or something, but I think that’s pretty close.

  WORRELL: It’s probably pretty fair to say that you know that book pretty well.

  DOWNING: I try to practice it. I would say that would be a fair statement.

  WORRELL: Does the book tell you anything about what to do if harm does come to another person?

  DOWNING: You—in what context, sir?

  WORRELL: Well, what does step nine say?

  DOWNING: Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

  WORRELL: Okay, and so what happens when you injure another person by acting on step nine? Does the book give you any guidance there?

  To me, this had developed into the core of the case. I had been criticized by many people for pressing charges when Beebe was “just trying to apologize.” But what happens when your amends cause further harm?

  DOWNING: Not explicitly. The only thing that—that I can—there’s a part earlier where it talks about nine times out of ten the unexpected happens, which is—means that things essentially go fairly well, and there’s another part right next to that that talks about that—the example they use is getting thrown out of someone’s office, and if we’ve attempted to make the amend and they’ve, sort of, rejected us, then that’s—we’ve done the best that we can with that. It doesn’t speak specifically, that I’m aware of, and you, by all means, might be able to correct me. I don’t have it all memorized, that, you know, if I injured someone trying to make amends to them, you know, it’s almost like I would just be running in a circle.

  WORRELL: Right, but whatever it is, you have to be able to stand ready to do whatever that person would like you to do.

  DOWNING: I would say that that’s mostly true. If I—if I treated someone shabbily that I had dated, for example, not anything in a illegal sense, but if I just, you know, belittled them in public or something and I went back to do that and they said, well, it will be okay with me if you pay me five thousand dollars ($5,000), that—I’m using an outrageous example just to make a point. It’s not here’s, you know, an open check no matter what. What if they ask me to break the law? I don’t—it’s kind of hard to totally answer that question.

  Downing stepped off the stand. Quagliana then asked another ten or so members of the gallery to stand, identify themselves, and tell the court how long they had known Mr. Beebe. All were members of his AA group. The judge decided not swear each one in and have more of the same testimony, but they stood to show their support. Next, Quagliana offered a sheaf of letters from Beebe’s AA friends in Las Vegas—more of the same. The judge accepted them, agreeing to review them at the recess along with my statement.

  While this outpouring of fellowship was impressive, it hit me that all of these witnesses were from the AA community. Their stories were identical. Beebe had clearly made AA his life, but there was no one here who knew Beebe at the time he raped me, nor even in the decade after. No fraternity brothers. No family members. Quagliana seemed desperate to convince us that this Beebe was a whole new person, that the criminal of the past had disappeared. This reminded me, in a way, of what I’d heard from the university, so many years ago. The person who did this to you is gone; why won’t you give this up?

  During the recess, Mike, Worrell, and I conferred in the back vestibule of the courtroom. Worrell had some devastating news. I would not be able to read my victim impact statement in open court. Mike was not allowed to make a statement on our behalf, either. I was gutted, gob-smacked. Victim impact was my one chance to say “I forgive you” or “You ruined my life” or simply “This was the fallout,” and to do so in court, in front of those attorneys, those character witnesses, my friends, the media, and, most important, Beebe. The core of sentencing is not only to hear the good things the defendant has done with his life, but to hear the impact the crime has had on the victim and his or her family. Hearing both sides is the heart and soul of the justice system. I could not understand why I was being silenced once again. All victims and secondary victims of crime are granted the right to read an impact statement in court at sentencing. Why was my situation any different? Worrell explained that because the case had become more complicated with the revelation of the multiple assailants, and because the investigation remained open, Quagliana would actually be allowed to cross-examine me or Mike on anything we said in our victim impact statements. It would have widened the scope of the proceedings and I would have effectively been put on trial myself. It is worth mentioning that not all jurisdictions would allow this cross-examination, but in the case of Commonwealth of Virginia v. Beebe, it would be allowed, as unorthodox as it seemed. Given the holes in my memory, this could be a liability for the prosecution—not to mention a huge challenge for me emotionally. It wasn’t a risk Worrell could take. I accepted this, but couldn’t hold back my frustration.

  We returned to the courtroom and the judge again took the bench. The next issue was the extent to which Beebe had cooperated with the ongoing investigation—a condition of the plea agreement. This was another source of frustration for me. We had cut the deal so that Beebe might open up and give us more information for the investigation. And while he had, in the strictest sense, cooperated, meeting with Worrell and Detective Rudman on two occasions, he hadn’t provided anything of actual value. It didn’t seem right to me that the deal was still on the table. But what was done was done. We moved to final summations.

  In Worrell’s summation, though he couldn’t make up for my own unread statement, he tried to make clear the impact of the crime on my life and that of my family. He recom
mended that the judge impose a full two-year sentence. He pointed out, too, the impact of the apology letter, which had caused a new round of pain. He insisted that if the letter had been sent in good faith, Beebe should have been prepared to face the consequences of his serious crime.

  Quagliana stood up for her rebuttal. Her last chance to minimize Beebe’s sentence. As expected, she had a different view of Beebe’s letter: “What he did in writing the letter was to leave the rest up to her. In turn, she chose to begin an e-mail conversation with Mr. Beebe.” She described how the correspondence revealed different “scripts” of the crime for me and Beebe:

  QUAGLIANA: Ms. Seccuro describes a violent attack. Mr. Beebe describes a nineteen year old, sort of, hapless guy who’s drunk himself, who sees a woman or a girl who he thinks he can have sex with and he acts on that impulse, and he knows it’s wrong because he knows that under other circumstances this young lady wouldn’t have stayed with him, wouldn’t have had sex with him and—and that’s wrong and he knows that and it bothers him for the next twenty-two years. Just like, you know, we’ve all done things in our life.

  She focused on his cooperation (such as it was) with the authorities. She asked for leniency.

  Worrell was allowed a rebuttal.

  WORRELL: There is one more thing I’d like to leave the Court with and I’d like you to consider this for a moment. When the defendant was—or Ms. Quagliana, for defendant, was summarizing, she said Mr. Beebe sent her a letter and the choice was up to her. The choice was up to her. What choice is that? The only thing that Elizabeth Seccuro has had choice about as it relates to Mr. Beebe is whether or not to call the Charlottesville Police Department after she received this letter in September of 2005 … But as it relates to Mr. Beebe, Elizabeth Seccuro has never had a choice, and that is certainly the point of every sexual assault case that we have, every sexual assault law that we have. It’s really about overbearing someone’s will and imposing your choices upon them, and there can’t really be any more significant way of doing that than the way in which Mr. Beebe did that when, at the time, Ms. Seccuro couldn’t say no because she was, in the eyes of the law, helpless, and it seems to the Commonwealth that when you take advantage of helpless people, we’re not talking about a sentence that is lenient or a term of months. I can tell you now that Elizabeth Seccuro would certainly be pleased with a two-year penitentiary sentence. That’s what she wants, that’s her choice, and isn’t it about time that the criminal justice system and we-all that are involved in it try to do something that approximates that for her?—because that is really the measure of what justice is here.

  At last, Beebe was allowed to speak on his own behalf. Yet another choice I didn’t have.

  THE COURT: All right. Mr. Beebe, is there anything you’d like to tell the Court before I impose sentence, sir?

  WILLIAM BEEBE: Yes, I do, Your Honor[.] My only purpose in contacting Ms. Seccuro was to make amends for my conduct twenty-two years ago. I am not trying to excuse my behavior, but I was a different person then. I was an immature nineteen year old with a drinking problem I did not yet fully understand. Even then, however, I understood that I didn’t treat Ms. Seccuro with respect. As a person who injured or harmed another seeks atonement for his transgression, when I wrote the letter, I recognized it would be up to Ms. Seccuro to a large extent when she thought that I had achieved enough atonement for my wrong. In contacting her a year-and-a-half ago, I was trying to do the best I could, both broadly and specifically to employ principles which have worked well in the past with others, regardless of the offense, and this idea as my lawyer pointed out was contained in the letter—the original letter that I wrote her in which I invited dialogue on her time and on her terms. I did my best to meet Ms. Seccuro on the emotional level. I did my best to set things right and to demonstrate a willingness to accept whatever thoughts and feelings she had been experiencing. In contacting her, I never intended to cause hurt or harm to her. I’ve never tried to contact her directly in person, to go to her home, or to otherwise invade her personal space. In our communication, I have respected her wishes and I will always continue to do that. Twenty-two years ago I was not mature enough to accept and live by effective guiding principles for making amends to those I had harmed in some fashion. Then, there was no solution that I could or would see. It was not until thirteen years ago when I became willing to address all my mistakes in accountability using these tenants [sic] that I could even stay sober, let alone find the inner freedom that I have today. Since that time, in adopting a new way of life, I have a purpose and that gives life meaning. I didn’t have that then. I believe that more lessons will be revealed from all of this, not just for me, but for the many because it’s garnered so much attention. I believe that I’ve done everything I can to this point to right the wrong twenty-two years ago. Thank you for hearing me.

  THE COURT: Any reason I shouldn’t impose sentence today?

  BEEBE: No, sir.

  It was time for the sentence.

  THE COURT: All right. Well, this case is unique in many ways; unfortunately, the circumstances of the case are not unique for those of us who live in and practice law for years in a college town. And I think it’s an interesting case from the point of view of, one, it’s clearly not a minor assault. It’s not a minor thing. It is a horrific thing that this woman has been through, and it’s, clearly, from her impact statement, it has had a profound effect on her life without question, so, there are deep emotional wounds here that only time and counseling and good friends can help ameliorate. On the other side is that we look at someone like Mr. Beebe, whose life starting, I think in the early mid-nineties[,] has been one who’s been a leader in the recovery community in ways that I, very frankly, have never seen before. I think there needs to be a felony sanction, and I’m going to tell you what I think the fair sanction is. I think there should be a ten-year penitentiary sentence, but with all but one year and six months suspended and I know it’s parole eligible, and I’m saying that because I really feel like he is no—there’s no indication he hasn’t cooperated, and I think there ought to be some good faith benefit to this. At the same time, I think the suspension ought to be conditioned on his performing substantial community service and no one has mentioned that, but I think Mr. Beebe is in a unique position to help address what is—I see as almost a rampant issue of alcohol abuse on our college campuses. What we know here is that it’s not consensual, and this was not something that a young woman has agreed to do and her life is terribly altered as a result of what’s happened, so I think there has to be a consequence for that, and so what I’m going to recommend is that there be community service—five hundred hours of community service devoted to addressing the issues of sexual assault and alcohol abuse on college campuses if we can do that. I would prefer it be directed at UVA just because that’s my alma mater. That’s my—that’s my homeland, but it can be anywhere. I think there should be ten years of good behavior, two years of general supervision, obviously, no alcohol, and I’d like to see the community service completed within the period of supervised probation and court costs will need to be paid during the first year of supervised probation. Any other issue that needs to be addressed that we haven’t covered?

  WORRELL: I just ask the defendant’s bond be revoked and he be taken into custody now.

  THE COURT: All right.

  WORRELL: Is he ready to go ahead and be remanded today?

  QUAGLIANA: Your Honor, I think our expectation was that if the Court imposed—

  THE COURT: An active sentence, he’d go ahead and be remanded today?

  QUAGLIANA: Thank you, Your Honor.

  WORRELL: One more thing I’d ask.

  THE COURT: Yes.

  WORRELL: No contact, please.

  THE COURT: No contact with the victim or her family, yeah, and I thought that would be a request and—all right. All right, folks, so we’ll—anything else? Does that do it?

  WORRELL: Yes.

  THE COURT: All rig
ht, we covered it all? All right, good luck to you, Mr. Beebe. Good luck to you, Ms. Seccuro. All right.

  The gavel slammed down and it was over. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw William Beebe steal a glimpse at me and I turned abruptly toward my husband for safety. My back to the defense table, I missed the moment, but I heard it. The click of the metal handcuffs around his wrists. No one can describe that lonely feeling—it’s not a happy day for rape victims to have their perpetrator go to prison. As victims, we are never really free. We understand what freedom is. To be partially responsible for someone else’s losing his freedom did not feel good. But I felt it was right, was just, was warranted. That cold click sent a shudder through me as I realized there was an end to this part of the story and a new dawn on the horizon.

  Mike and I stepped from our bench and walked up the aisle toward the front entrance. I avoided coming face-to-face with Beebe. I didn’t see him being loaded into the waiting van that was to whisk him to the local prison. As we stepped into the foyer, we were met by the media. I had hoped to make my statement in court, to the parties involved in the case. But I was left making a statement to the media. I removed my sunglasses, revealing eyes that were rimmed with red from crying. I started crying again as I read my statement. I thanked everyone who had worked on my behalf and supported me, and I talked about healing and hope. The whirr of the shutters clicking and the boom mikes just above my head were immensely disorienting. I stumbled through my statement, at one point handing it over to Mike so that he could read it in my place. There were a few questions. Then we got in our car. We were going home.

  The sentence felt light to me, but I understood it was the law. Two years was what I had expected after our discussions with Worrell. I could understand the judge’s sympathy toward Beebe, based on the testimony regarding his life in the past decade or so. It was clear that Hogshire did not believe Beebe to be a continued threat. I could not be sure; I really knew very little about Beebe’s life, either before or after the attack. But I knew for sure that he had committed a violent crime, and I felt that, for now, prison was where he should be. Furthermore, I felt uneasy at the notion of Beebe’s doing community service on college campuses and, specifically, the University of Virginia, the scene of the crime and the site of an investigation that was still ongoing. I understood the judge’s impulse: community service in general is not a bad idea, and I think the judge believed that Beebe’s sharing his story on campuses might prevent similar crimes. But there was a certain “fox in the hen house” feeling to sending him back to the University of Virginia. Besides, as I had begun to speak on campuses around the country myself, and seen how students responded to me, I felt that my story, my message, was the one they needed to hear. Not just “Rape could land you in jail,” but “Rape is a horrific crime, with a lifelong impact on the survivor.” My message was also about students’ protecting themselves and others—not something I felt Beebe was qualified to address. It didn’t feel right.