The Knowing: Awake in the Dark

by Nita Lapinski

  The Sweetheart Rapist Suspect Ordered To Stand Trial

  A municipal court judge ordered accused “lovers Lane Rapist” Aaron Goddard to stand trial on 55 felonies Thursday and praised the rape victims who testified for their strength of character and courage. After a closed preliminary hearing a municipal court judge ruled, “There is enough evidence to try Goddard on 10 counts of forcible rape, 21 counts of other forcible sex acts, nine counts of kidnapping, 14 counts of false imprisonment and one count of endangering a child.” The Superior Court Judge said “Each of the eight young women who have testified as a victim of these crimes has demonstrated the power and resilience of the human spirit and has done that in a way that has humbled and inspired the listeners.”

  After giving my testimony at the preliminary hearing, I began to receive death threats by phone. They were completely unexpected and I’d falsely assumed I was safe with Aaron in jail.

  “Hello.” I said

  “You want to die, bitch?” Came the shocking reply of a man’s voice.

  “Who is this?”

  “If you testify, you will die. Think about it, bitch.” And the line went dead.

  Other calls included bomb threats. “Bombs are easy to hide in a car. Kaboom! You’ll never even know it.” Each threat paralyzed me with fear.

  The calls were constant, they came day and night. The prosecutor’s office set up phone recording devices with tracers on my phones. I received calls while at work, threatening bombs in the wheel wells of my car, so that I had to notify police to check my vehicle each time before I left work. I’d stand in the parking lot after midnight, exhausted in disbelief as the police came with sniffer dogs and flashlights to check my vehicle. The people responsible for the terrorizing threats were never caught and I was suffocating in fear. I had bodyguards and escorts to and from work arranged by a close friend who was active military.

  Raine, just five years old, sat quietly beside me in the car while men with guns sat in the front seat. They entered our house while we waited in the car and Raine asked, “Mommy why does the man have a gun?”

  “Because they’re keeping us safe. It’s okay, baby, don’t worry.”

  When it was time for the trial, I testified despite my fear and the death threats. The victims and witnesses in the case weren’t allowed in the courtroom either before or after our testimony.

  The day of trial, we sat sequestered in an airless room waiting to be called to the stand. It was the first time I’d seen his victims and I was overcome with guilt and worry. I fretted that they would discover I’d loved him and borne his children, and they would despise me and blame me, as I blamed myself. I didn’t realize that they already knew who I was.

  No one spoke in a room filled with trepidation. Each woman sat engrossed in her own bubble of pain and anxiety. I kept my head down and eyes averted. The door opened and a bailiff called a name and a young woman stood up. I glanced up at the same moment and our eyes met. I recognized her from a pre-law class I’d attended at a local community college months prior to our ordeal. She’d sat just two rows in front of me. I’d noticed her because of her blonde hair and striking features. She was pretty.

  “I remember you from class,” she said. “I’m going to get that son-of-a-bitch for you and your kids.”

  Her statement and fierce determination floored me. I was astonished that she knew who I was and didn’t hate or blame me. Her words were unbelievable - emotion rushed up and welled in my eyes and throat.

  I couldn’t respond because I burned with guilt. Her defense of me was completely unexpected. Her grace and courage impressed me and I wanted to have it too. How can she defend me? She saved me that day from my crushing self-judgment. She opened a door that suggested I was his victim too. I’d never considered such a thing.

  Following my testimony that day, I left in a daze. After a three-week trial, Aaron was found guilty and two weeks after the trial, but prior to sentencing, I methodically packed our belongings. I’d decided to move very far away.

  The decision to move came following Aaron’s preliminary hearing, but before the actual trial. I knew we had to move away when the ordeal was finished but I didn’t know where to go and as it turned out, the answer was delivered to me.

  I’d joined Carmen and Cecily, girlfriends I’d known since middle school, on a vacation to Hawaii for a week. It felt like the perfect time to get away from the immense stress that Aaron’s arrest brought. My mother agreed to keep the children. The three of us lay together on the beach reading books and tanning when I heard bagpipes being played.

  “Hey,” I said sitting up searching the beach for the piper, “do you guys hear that?”

  “What?” Cecily asked.

  “Bagpipes. I know I heard them.”

  “Nope.” Came their reply in unison.

  Hours later, we met two young men, Ian and Keith from Scotland who were on a yearlong world tour together. I knew Scotland was where I needed to go. Through Ian, I contacted his family in Scotland and rented a flat that would become available a couple of months later.

  After the trial and sentencing, I sold all we owned, bought three one-way tickets and planned our move. Two weeks before left, I stood packing boxes, sorting what to take with us.

  It was a bright afternoon and Raine, seven years old now, played in the back yard with his friend Tommy from the neighborhood. Elizabeth, age four, had just joined the boys for snacks under the cool shade of the tree. Their voices floated through an open window.

  “I don’t like bologna,” Elizabeth whined.

  “Here,” Raine said. “Take the peanut butter.”

  “Ooh, can I have the grape juice?” Tommy asked.

  Our house was located on a busy corner, the front facing a residential street, its side adjacent a main thoroughfare. A small red car, its paint oxidized with noticeable dents, pulled to the curb in front of our house. I watched through the window next to my front door. The hair lifted along my arms. Dread began to coil in my stomach like a snake. Two men got out of the car and one reached into the back seat for something. The knowing told me they meant to deliver harm. Simultaneously, several things happened. My skin went tight, my mouth dry and panic pounded through my body. It felt like I was in a dream. I yelled into the backyard, “Raine, Raine!

  He turned toward my voice, his baby-fine hair lifting with the breeze.

  “What, Mom?”

  “Get Elizabeth and you and Tommy come in this instant!” My voice was urgent. “Hurry, Raine, right now!”

  “Okay, okay, Mommy, but what’s a matter?” He asked clearly frightened, scrambling from under the tree.

  “Go to your room,” I said holding the back screen door open. “Get down on your hands and knees! Crawl down the hall and get under the bed and hide! Don’t come out until I tell you to. Go!”

  He did as he was told crawling down the hall and pushing Elizabeth’s rear-end in front of him.

  I screamed, “Shut the door and don’t come out until I say!”

  I raced to the phone and dialed the police. I watched as the men split up, one headed to the side of the house towards the backyard gate clutching a handgun, the other held a rifle and came to the front door. My blood felt like syrup, I could feel my heartbeat in my lips.

  “Police emergency” a woman said.

  “I need help.” I gasped. “There are men here with guns and they’re going to kill us.” I sound crazy, I thought as I spoke. I testified against Aaron Goddard! I cried

  “Who?”

  “The Sweetheart rapist. I testified and they’re going to kill me. Please, my children are here.” I croaked as I began to cry.

  “Stay calm, ma’am. We’re on the way. I’m going to stay on the phone with you, ok?”

&n
bsp; I told the operator my address. The next moments were a blur. My head pounded and my entire body shook. Everything moved in slow motion and at high speed at once.

  The man with the rifle was on the porch. He cupped his hand on the glass and looked inside. Our eyes met. His were dark and glassy. Dark unwashed hair lay in waves around his face. A scar ran across his cheek. He held my gaze and raised his weapon taking aim. I could not think. I was completely immobile. I lost the feeling in my legs. I clutched the phone’s receiver to my ear. I was aware that the dispatcher was talking and I heard myself grunt in response.

  I heard the wail of sirens in the distance. I waited to be shot. Seconds ticked by and then the man put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The men ran to their car. Tires screeched as they pulled away onto the busy street. Seconds later, several police cars came from the opposite direction, sirens blaring and lights ablaze.

  When the men were gone, I dropped the phone and ran on rubber legs to the bedroom. Police and barking dogs surrounded our house. Dropping to my knees, I peered under the bed, where three very frightened children lay just as instructed.

  In the distance, I heard the front door open. “We’re safe!” I shouted. “We’re back here!”

  “You are such a trooper, Raine, such a good boy. You did good.” I cooed.

  In a voice of a terrified little boy, he asked, “What’s wrong, Mommy? Is everything alright?”

  Tears welled up in his eyes and mine too and I said, “Yes, Raine, everything is fine. Mommy was having a fire drill and you were so brave. You are such a good listener. Come on out now.”

  I wiped tears from my face and reached under the bed pulling a wide-eyed, Elizabeth by her arms across the hardwood floor into my lap with Raine only seconds behind. I held them both in a tight embrace. Poor Tommy had not uttered a word.

  Raine rode his bike down the street to Tommy’s and I held Elizabeth on my hip as I talked with police officers.

  “It’s not safe for you here, ma’am. Do you have somewhere to go?”

  “Yes, I do. My friends are on the way here now. I will go somewhere no one can find us.”

  “Will you need an escort? We’d be happy to follow you.”

  “No, thank you. God, I just can’t believe this. How could he know I was leaving when he’s in jail? Is this about my leaving the country or is he still trying to kill me?”

  “I wish I could help, ma’am. There will be an investigation and D.A. Short will be notified.”

  Several weeks passed between Aaron’s conviction and his sentencing hearing. He had been convicted of 49 felonies including oral copulation, rape, sodomy, kidnapping and child endangering. Six of the counts were subject to mistrial. The news headlines read:

  Sweetheart Rapist gets 142 years.

  The “The Sweetheart Rapist” of East County was sentenced yesterday to 142 years and four months in prison. The sentence, imposed during a dramatic hearing by a judge who said the evidence was the most devastating he had seen in years on the bench, ended what the prosecutor called “probably the most serious sexual assault case in the history of the county.” As outlined by prosecutors, the assaults followed a pattern; they involved women parked in remote areas, usually with male companions. A man, often wearing a ski mask and carrying a gun and flashlight, would force the man into the trunk of the car, then drive the women to another location and sexually assault her. The victims ranged in age from 15 to 33 years. Six of the victims were teenagers.

  I’d given notice at work the week before the men came to my house. People exclaimed, “Are you crazy? You can’t move to a foreign country where you don’t know a soul and have no job and no one to help you.”

  “Yes I can,” I’d replied. “I know it’s what I’m supposed to do next. It will all work out” and I knew it would. I wasn’t afraid. I began saving money immediately for our tickets, but in truth, I didn’t have a lot of cushion. I knew I had to find work right away. I knew I would.

  In the weeks between our departures from the US, I stayed with my children at a secret location to keep them safe. We were running for our lives.

  During and after the trial, I became paranoid and unable to sleep, afraid of the slightest noise or shadow. I could no longer sleep with the closet door closed, afraid someone was lurking inside. I was terrified to enter a darkened room afraid of who might be hiding there. I obsessively checked the rearview mirrors while driving, afraid I was being followed. I had recurring nightmares where Aaron was after me and I couldn’t find a place to hide. I woke up panting or screaming. I was unable to get into a car without getting on my hands and knees first and checking beneath it for bombs. I trusted no one.

  Chapter 11

  The cold splintered my bones as it burrowed into my body through the stone bench where I sat shivering in the sun. I was on the Isle of Skye, touring Dunvegan Castle in Scotland. I was feeling significantly altered as I gazed at the massive gardens from my perch. Being at the castle spurred a memory of a past life, which I’d never had before. The pictures started immediately and revealed pieces of an incarnation I hadn’t known existed before that day.

  In them was a man with bright blue eyes and a wild beard whose kindness and love for his daughter could not be hidden. I knew I had been his daughter in that life, and the visions were a memory of my soul’s experience. I knew too, that they had visited this castle and had been going there since the girl’s childhood - my childhood.

  In the first vision, the bearded man was outside on the castle grounds enjoying a warm day. He laughed and I felt his gentleness and the pain he still carried from the loss of his wife, who had died when the girl was a young child. He was intelligent with a quick mind and a volatile temper, but he was devoted to his daughter in a manner that was unusual for a man of his time.

  In the next picture, the girl, of about fifteen years of age, stood at the back gate of Dunvegan, squinting against the sun, she watched and prayed for a ship to enter the loch behind the castle that would deliver the man she loved. She’d met him the summer before at Dunvegan and they’d fallen in love. I believe he was a Spaniard.

  Dampness weighted her skirts and bitter cold burned in her feet, which she seemed unaware of. But the ship would not arrive and the girl would never see the man again. Next, I saw a fierce battle taking place outside of the castle, where the girl’s father had been caught unaware, forced to fight in a war of clans who were not his.

  That day in a violent conflict, the girl lost her beloved father and was taken to a dark and cold windowless chamber, where she, along with other inhabitants of the castle, waited for days until the danger passed.

  In the pictures, I watched as her father died at the end of another man’s sword. The stench of human filth, rage and bloody soil, left a reek of death in the air. In that life, I knew the girl wouldn’t recover from the loss of her father and a lost love who never returned. Death would find her before she bore children or felt the arms of a man she longed for – she died in youth of a broken and lonely heart.

  The knowing was so powerful and the pictures so clear, no matter how foolish they sounded to another, I knew the truth and strangely, through the experience, I became more accepting and grounded in my gifts.

  As I walked through the impressive castle that day, I knew what lay behind the walls in rooms I couldn’t see. In my mind’s eye, was a narrow staircase, off a room that was now painted dark blue, which was not visible to our group and when I asked the tour guide about it he said, “Oh, are you a friend of the family then?”

  “No,” I’d replied, “but I’ve seen it before.” And he eyed me suspiciously.

  I’d have dozens of similar experiences with the visions and the knowing, though only one past-life memory. The others were my ability to link with energies that most couldn’t see. Like the old wo
man I’d seen in my friend’s house as a child, she wasn’t actually there but her energetic imprint was. I drew an inner strength from each episode and grew more confident and secure. That was the gift that Scotland gave me.

  The knowledge my abilities delivered opened up a way of understanding that helped me piece together the events of my life. Understanding released the need for judgment and letting go of the judgment made room for forgiveness, and that, gave birth to self-awareness. I began to trust in my intuition and moved forward taking responsibility for my life, without the need to place blame or label choices or myself as “bad.”

  When I’d fled from the United States, I hadn’t known what to expect in Scotland. I arrived at a bustling Heathrow airport in London with two exhausted children and a mountain of luggage. After going through customs, we boarded another flight to Edinburgh where we were greeted by the brother of the man I’d met in Hawaii, whose furnished flat I’d rented before leaving the states.

  The brother’s name was Regan and he recognized us immediately although he’d never seen us. His face lit up with happiness, as though we were old friends and he waved and shouted, “Nita, Nita! This wey.”

  As we moved toward him, he gathered me in a firm embrace. “Oh, it’s good ti see ye. How wes your trip?” He asked in a thick Scottish brogue.

  “It was long, but the children are great travelers,” I said looking at Raine who gripped Elizabeth’s hand tightly. “We are tired, though.”

  “I cen well imagine. Let me get you to the flat then. I have some fruit and other bits and pieces there fur yi if you’re hungry.”