Muffle the Scream: Part II

Reviving Victims Rights in Richmond

By Dana Logan

them open my chest completely. Luckily, how-ever, They say he was trying to rape me. And if I'd seen the knife, maybe he would have succeeded. Maybe I would have lain there, frozen with fear. But I didn't see it. At least, not until after I'd kicked him off of me. By the time I noticed his weapon, it was sunk deep into my chest. So instead of becoming a victim of rape that night, I became the victim of stabbing.

It's hard not to play if the knife had penetrated a mere quarter of an inch to the left? What if I hadn't been able to fight? What if I'd bled to death in my own bed? But sometimes I wonder: if the attack had resulted in my death, would I have been treated with more respect in the aftermath?

Respect. Kindness. Compassion. Common courtesies we expect of one another in day-to-day life. And yet, at a time when these considerations are perhaps most needed, they seem far from the minds of those in a position to grant them in the most meaningful ways. While there were those willing to help however possible, many of the police offic-ers involved in my case showed little in the way of sympathy.

Only minutes after my roommate was awakened, still shocked and puzzled as to what had taken place, the responding police officers had her helping them search my blood-stained bedroom for the handle of the knife, which had come apart when it dropped from my hand.

Hours later, as I lay in the hospital recov-ering from surgery, groggy from a combina-tion of anesthesia and morphine, one detec-tive implied that I used recreational drugs, and, despite the presence of my parents, what if. What began asking probing questions about my dating history.

Back at the crime scene (my apartment), officers were able to secure DNA evidence from my attacker. The detective's assurance that it would be processed in a few weeks missed the mark by four months. Repeated attempts to inquire about my case were met with coldness, excuses, and most often, unreturned calls. One officer ac-tually said that if I were famous – "like Shandra Levi" – I wouldn't have to wait so long.

And all that time the would-be rapist ran free while I continued to feel imprisoned in my own apartment, my own city, my own head.

While I do understand that these officers have very difficult jobs, I believe that it is pos-sible— and necessary—to do them while keep-ing in mind the trauma that a victim has so recently endured, and showing due respect. Thanks to victim advocacy groups, every state now guarantees certain victim rights, including:

• The right to be treated with dignity and compassion.
• The right to protection from intimidation and further harm.
• The right to be informed about the case's progress through the criminal justice system, including notice of a plea bargain.
• The right to receive compensa-tion for damages.
• The right to equal treatment in court.

Even with these changes, every day victims are left to deal, not only with trauma as a result of crime, but also with a feeling of helplessness within a system that is supposed to work on their behalf. I recognize the hurdles Richmond's police officers face in their struggle to curb crime, but I speak out as a reminder that one of their responsibilities is to treat victims of crime with respect and decency in their hour of direst need.

Dana Logan graduated from VCU with degrees in Religious Studies and Psychology. She is the managing editor of City Edition.