Erick Rehkopf, the man who crashed his car, drunk, and caused my injury, pled guilty to aggravated vehicular assault, a Class D Felony, in October 2006. The offense carried a three-year sentence which, at the Judge’s discretion, could be served through a variety of methods, from simple probation to a full term of jail time.
For the sentencing hearing, I was allowed to write and read a victim impact statement. I composed a passionate 30 minute performance (because the world is my stage, even in court). It outlined the extent and implications of my injuries, examining the vast disparities between equity and justice in our respective situations, and pleading strongly for the maximum penalty allowed by law.
This is the gist of what I wanted to say to Rehkopf:
“I lost everything I’m going to lose on March 29, 2005. But you haven’t lost anything…yet. You could be violently raped on every day of your prison sentence – and I hope you are – and it won’t even come close to what I have been through, and what my family has been through. So, pay very close attention to these words: Thanks to you, I have a lot of time on my hands now. I’m very smart. I’m feeling incredibly vengeful. I’m not religious. I have loose ethics. I never give up. And I’m getting stronger every day. By the time you get out of jail, I will be ready for you. And you better run, motherfucker…”
But I did not say that.
I wanted so badly to just unleash on this guy with every weapon in my verbal arsenal. But I also know how to win friends and influence people, and I needed to speak directly to the Judge for this one. So I used a rational connect-the-dots approach, laced with more emotional language, intended to convince the man in charge that anything less than a full sentence of jail time would be unjust. It felt good to say out loud, it was a speech I could walk away from with my integrity intact, and it had its intended effect.
After the hearing, a young woman I had never met approached me. She handed me a folded piece of paper and said, “Don’t open this until you leave. I just want you to know that you touched my life today, and changed something inside me. Please don’t feel your words were wasted.”
When I got to the parking garage, I opened the paper. It was written on the back of a Criminal Court Docket sheet for a defendant charged with Aggravated Burglary, Sale of 0.5 grams of Cocaine, and Evading Arrest. She had attempted to scratch out the defendant’s and victim’s names, but they were still legible. The young woman was either there to support a loved one in trouble or, like me, was a victim herself hoping for justice. Either way, she was obviously dealing with a difficult, trying time of her own.
The paper read, in left-handed, flowery, blue ink:
“I just wanted to tell you that your strength & courage touched my heart tremendously. I may be somewhat ‘unprofessional’ for saying this, however, at this point I’m not concerned with that issue. I heard you mention God*… There’s a passage in the New Testament where Jesus told his disciples to go to ‘the other side.’ He said it was needful. When the boat got to shore, it was a man possessed waiting for them. Jesus rebuked & cast out the demonic influence. I say all this to say – God’s plan for your life was known by Him before you were even born. I don’t know why, but I do know God doesn’t make mistakes. When you get to heaven, you’ll know, but for now – be encouraged to know that because you went to ‘the other side’ lives will never be the same as a result of knowing or being acquainted with you. I was in a car accident on Jan 7th of this year and I should have been dead. I’m not & neither are you – only God knows why He spared our lives – and right now, it may not be important for us to know, but know that today, and probably many more days to come – you have impacted my life with & by your strength & courage. Thank you! God be with you always.” (sic)
To be honest, I’m not sure what some of that means. This woman was a stranger to me. I can’t fully comprehend the heart of her intention in writing, and I don’t share her spiritual foundation. But at least for that moment, a huge part of me, the wounded part that was wildly sadistic and infuriated at the sentencing hearing, felt vindicated…and calmed.
