never a piece of cake,” Rendi said. “Something always makes the cake crumble.”
The Ringel family and guests always seemed to gravitate to the kitchen, and tonight was no exception. And because they were
hooked on news, a miniature TV was permanently placed on the counter. Suddenly Campbell’s picture flashed across the small
screen. The voice was the familiar one of Cheryl Puccio, the sex prosecutor from Middlesex County. She was being interviewed
by Bob Maverick, the sports reporter. Puccio was holding forth:
“Rape by athletes is becoming an epidemic. It’s got to be stopped. We’re going to make an example of Joe Campbell. He was
invited to Boston to play basketball, not to attack women. Now he’s being invited back to Boston to stand trial, and I predict
that he’ll be spending a lot more time in Massachusetts, living at the taxpayers’ expense in a prison.”
Maverick asked Puccio whether she had a strong case, then reminded her that several other allegations against athletes had
been dropped.
“This one is much stronger than the Coleman and Webber cases,” she replied. “We’ve got a good witness. She’s a successful
businesswoman, not some fly-by-night groupie, and we have physical corroboration, which I can’t go into at this time. Nor
am I at liberty to disclose the victim’s name, since she does not want it in the press. You can certainly understand why.
I am confident that there will be a conviction and a long prison sentence.”
The sex prosecutor spoke some more, referring to other athlete sex scandals.
Abe was furious. The media and the other lawyers were always complaining when he “tried his cases in the press.” Didn’t they
understand? He had no choice. He had to defend against this kind of preemptive strike in the “court’’ of public opinion. Unchallenged,
an interview of this type could really hurt Campbell. The public often didn’t adequately analyze the news—they tended to believe
whichever talking head was talking at the time.
“You’ve got to respond to her,” Rendi insisted. “You can’t let that kind of stuff remain unrebutted.”
“Please don’t put the victim on trial, Daddy.”
“
She’s
not the victim,” Abe countered. “She’s the accuser, and I think she’s a false accuser.”
“It sure doesn’t sound that way, when her name is kept secret and Campbell’s name is all over the news,” Rendi said.
“You know, that really always bugs me,” Abe said, “the way they keep the names of rape accusers secret.”
“Rape
victims
, Daddy,
victims
.”
“We don’t know that until after the trial, Emma. As of now, Jennifer Dowling is an accuser, not a victim.”
“Daddy, if her name were to be published, she would become a victim.”
“Why? The names of all other accusers are made public.”
“Rape is different. It’s so personal, so private.”
“Not when she publicly accuses someone.”
“And anyway, Daddy, not all accusers’ names are made public. Remember when Rudy Warren, Janie’s younger brother, got mugged
in Harvard Square last year? They didn’t release
his
name.”
“That’s because he was a juvenile. Do you think adult women should be treated like juveniles?”
“When they’ve been raped? Maybe. Yes.”
“Not very egalitarian, Emma.”
“But practical, Daddy. If they start publishing the names of rape victims—”
“Accusers, Emma, accusers.”
“Okay, accusers—a lot of rape victims won’t become accusers. Already many rape victims don’t report the rape. If they knew
that their names would be all over the papers, even fewer would.”
“That’s the price we may have to pay for the presumption of innocence.”
“You know, Abe,” Rendi joined in, “it would certainly make my job as an investigator easier if Jennifer Dowling’s name were
out there. People who know her might call with leads.”
“That’s it!” Abe said assertively. “That convinces me. I’m
The Ringel family and guests always seemed to gravitate to the kitchen, and tonight was no exception. And because they were
hooked on news, a miniature TV was permanently placed on the counter. Suddenly Campbell’s picture flashed across the small
screen. The voice was the familiar one of Cheryl Puccio, the sex prosecutor from Middlesex County. She was being interviewed
by Bob Maverick, the sports reporter. Puccio was holding forth:
“Rape by athletes is becoming an epidemic. It’s got to be stopped. We’re going to make an example of Joe Campbell. He was
invited to Boston to play basketball, not to attack women. Now he’s being invited back to Boston to stand trial, and I predict
that he’ll be spending a lot more time in Massachusetts, living at the taxpayers’ expense in a prison.”
Maverick asked Puccio whether she had a strong case, then reminded her that several other allegations against athletes had
been dropped.
“This one is much stronger than the Coleman and Webber cases,” she replied. “We’ve got a good witness. She’s a successful
businesswoman, not some fly-by-night groupie, and we have physical corroboration, which I can’t go into at this time. Nor
am I at liberty to disclose the victim’s name, since she does not want it in the press. You can certainly understand why.
I am confident that there will be a conviction and a long prison sentence.”
The sex prosecutor spoke some more, referring to other athlete sex scandals.
Abe was furious. The media and the other lawyers were always complaining when he “tried his cases in the press.” Didn’t they
understand? He had no choice. He had to defend against this kind of preemptive strike in the “court’’ of public opinion. Unchallenged,
an interview of this type could really hurt Campbell. The public often didn’t adequately analyze the news—they tended to believe
whichever talking head was talking at the time.
“You’ve got to respond to her,” Rendi insisted. “You can’t let that kind of stuff remain unrebutted.”
“Please don’t put the victim on trial, Daddy.”
“
She’s
not the victim,” Abe countered. “She’s the accuser, and I think she’s a false accuser.”
“It sure doesn’t sound that way, when her name is kept secret and Campbell’s name is all over the news,” Rendi said.
“You know, that really always bugs me,” Abe said, “the way they keep the names of rape accusers secret.”
“Rape
victims
, Daddy,
victims
.”
“We don’t know that until after the trial, Emma. As of now, Jennifer Dowling is an accuser, not a victim.”
“Daddy, if her name were to be published, she would become a victim.”
“Why? The names of all other accusers are made public.”
“Rape is different. It’s so personal, so private.”
“Not when she publicly accuses someone.”
“And anyway, Daddy, not all accusers’ names are made public. Remember when Rudy Warren, Janie’s younger brother, got mugged
in Harvard Square last year? They didn’t release
his
name.”
“That’s because he was a juvenile. Do you think adult women should be treated like juveniles?”
“When they’ve been raped? Maybe. Yes.”
“Not very egalitarian, Emma.”
“But practical, Daddy. If they start publishing the names of rape victims—”
“Accusers, Emma, accusers.”
“Okay, accusers—a lot of rape victims won’t become accusers. Already many rape victims don’t report the rape. If they knew
that their names would be all over the papers, even fewer would.”
“That’s the price we may have to pay for the presumption of innocence.”
“You know, Abe,” Rendi joined in, “it would certainly make my job as an investigator easier if Jennifer Dowling’s name were
out there. People who know her might call with leads.”
“That’s it!” Abe said assertively. “That convinces me. I’m
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