No Sexy Body Language For 10 Year Old Girls!

by Dr. Lillian Glass

Just when we have had enough of the Casey Anthony case and the manipulation and games surrounding her, there is something else which now outrages us: a 10-year-old all sexed up as a new French Vogue model.

This 10-year-old child is particularly upsetting, especially on the heels of the self-proclaimed prophet Warren Jeffs, who essentially raped and molested young girls two years older than this model, all under the guise of spirituality.

There is something perverted about seeing a little girl with a provocative look, especially when she is not developed sexually. What is a child doing selling sex who has no sex hormones and no sexuality? The body language in the first photo is especially disturbing to me as it showcases her long legs via some high-heels. This is not a little girl dressing up in mommy’s big heels and an cocktail outfit. Instead, she is a professional model who is only 10 and wearing the most expensive clothing on the pages of an elite magazine.

The reason they chose a 10-year-old is to develop her until she is 18 and then get rid of her for a younger model. Gone are the days when a model’s career began after she finished high school or college. Fifteen- and 16-year-olds are now the norm. Why? Because they can work longer and save the magazine money by not having to spend it on photo retouches of a wrinkled or party-ridden face. They can now have a fresh, young look on their covers because their models are 10 years young.

The body language in the second photo is even worse with her snarl. Ten-year-olds need to smile, not snarl. Snarling indicates a certain type of sexual aloofness that a 10-year-old should never know about.

Then there is body language where she is on her tummy with her bottom showcased with cut-out patterns at the hip in a contrasting color. This is a sensual pose, as her leg is up. She’s got the snarl and is laden with jewelry that is way too old and expensive for anyone, let alone a 10-year-old.

And don’t tell me Brooke Shields starred in Pretty Baby when she was in a bordello scene at this girl’s age and turned out fine. Brooke is the exception to the rule. She is bright, Princeton educated, and had to grow up very fast as she became the parent to her alcoholic manager mother. Her mother played havoc on her nerves and in her life. It was her luck that she had an agent who believed in her, that got her the job with Suddenly Susan that put her back on top.

Even though the little model has famous parents, it means zero unless she has the ability to make something of herself on her own. Brooke knows firsthand the horrible side of being a working child actress and model. That is why you don't see her kids following in her footsteps.

I don’t like what I am seeing. Vogue definitely is getting eyeballs to pay attention to them at a time when magazines are barely surviving and are going under. As I see it, the only ones motivated to buy the magazine with the 10-year-old in provocative poses are child predators.

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We Should All Be "Violently Enraged"

by Lisa R. Cohen

On Wednesday, pediatrician Earl Bradley shuffled into a Delaware courtroom, shackles and handcuffs accessorizing a gray prison jumpsuit above white sneakers. It was the first time he'd been seen publicly since the last time I wrote about his case here, almost a month ago, when he was indicted on 471 counts of child molestation.

Some in the audience, parents of his victims, cried openly. Others tried to get a closer look as Bradley moved to the lectern and pled not guilty to all 471 counts. These were all brutal acts that took place during thousands of visits to BayBees Pediatrics (below right), the private practice where countless parents in the sleepy fishing village of Lewes, population 3,000, trustingly took their children. From the outside, the office looked more like Disney Land, with a miniature Ferris wheel and colorful merry-go-round beckoning children. But inside, authorities say, it was a true house of horrors.

From as far back as 1998 until his arrest in December of 2009, prosecutors charge, Bradley forced at least 102 children as young as three months old to engage in sexual acts, including vaginal intercourse and oral sex with him. Often he took the kids to a basement room after the exam, without their parents. "Come down to my toy chest and pick out a prize," he'd tell toddlers and older kids alike. They'd be gone just a few minutes -- but long enough for him to do unspeakable things and damage them forever. The children would return to their parents, toys in hand.

Sometimes Bradley assaulted his victims right on the exam table, with prolonged internal exams, as when, for instance, one 12-year-old came in complaining of a sore throat and pink eye. According to police reports, Bradley penetrated her for two minutes, then gave her a toy meant for a toddler. Another mother complained that Bradley conducted a four-minute internal exam on a child brought in for ADD.

Yet another mother reported her three-year-old leaving the exam to ask her, "Why did Dr. Bradley kiss my tongue?" The mother went to the police with the same question.

But the complaints and outrage went on for years before Bradley was finally arrested this past December. And perhaps the toughest, most important question that bears answering is: Why did it take so long? Especially since police had fielded enough complaints by December 2008 to ask a judge for a search warrant to raid Bradley's office.

The warrant was denied. The judge said there wasn't enough probable cause. The name of the judge isn't being made public. That's probably good for him, because a lot of the folks in Delaware would jump all over him.

During the ensuing twelve months, Bradley continued to sexually assault dozens more of his patients -- 47 of them, the indictment says. Now the finger-pointing has gone beyond the shortsightedness of an unnamed judge. Delaware press and residents want to know why the prosecutor's office didn't persist in getting into that examining room to do their own examination. An excellent article by the Wilmington (Delaware) News-Journal's Cris Barrish, who's been covering the case, raises a lot more questions.

Why didn't police go to another judge? Or ask the judge to do something else -- sign an arrest warrant, for example, which would have allowed the cops to get in there and possibly catch Bradley incriminating himself? Or ask for federal help? Or report Bradley to the state medical board for misconduct?

Prosecutors have responded that they feared notifying the medical board would have tipped off Bradley, since he'd have been informed of their action. But it might have stopped him from molesting all those little girls in 2009 (only one of his victims so far was male). We know that girls ran from him screaming and crying, that he yelled and raged at them, demanding they obey. We know that his face at such times was terrifying -- "violently enraged," according to the arrest affidavit. And we know that at least five of his victims appeared to lose consciousness or stop breathing during the attacks.

We know all this because now, 47 victims later, there's more than probable cause. There's video. When Bradley was finally arrested, video files seized from his computer replay all the scenes described in the affidavit, and more. When the Feds were finally called in, it was to help access the files.

The video came from a camera Bradley himself set up, probably to enjoy his conquests over and over again, after the fact. But here's the really stunning part: police knew that Bradley had installed a camera in his office as early as December 2008, around the time they were asking for the search warrant, and that the doctor could view the video remotely from his home.

And yet they didn't push the case further until new victims came forward in the months ahead.

Hindsight is 20/20, as they say. And it didn't help that the police investigator in the case retired in early 2009, when it was taken over by a new detective. But in this case, foresight and good old common sense should have provided a pretty clear picture.

Wednesday, the judge upped Bradley's bail from $2.9 million to $4.9 million -- cash. That's $10,000 for each count. A case review is now scheduled for May 19th, but Bradley's public defender said he doubts it will take place, since it would be based on the prosecutor preparing to offer a plea deal. That's not going to happen. Bradley's lawyer is talking insanity plea.

One of the mothers who cried at Wednesday's hearing said,"I just want to see him rot in hell."

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Season of Mystery

By Lisa R. Cohen


In recognition of the holiday season, the following was adapted from AFTER ETAN: The Missing Child Case That Held America Captive (Grand Central Publishing/Hachette May 09). This section takes place three and a half years after six-year-old Etan Patz disappeared from the streets of New York City's SoHo area, as he walked two blocks to the school bus stop on his own for the very first time.

In this section, the case, which had slowed to a dead halt after several years, suddenly lurched forward when the holiday season brought fresh, if confusing, clues to the forefront. Clues which led investigators in circles before inadvertently moving the case further along:

On the last day of school before Christmas vacation of 1982, Etan Patz's mother Julie did the usual volunteer stint at her younger son Ari's school in the morning, then hurried home to prepare for the holidays before picking up Ari at his bus stop in the afternoon. After a weekend of packing, gathering presents and doling out plant watering duties to the neighbors, the Patzes would make their annual holiday trek to Massachusetts, for a long-awaited week with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.

Twice a year, as the New York City skyline receded and they were finally on their way "home" – which is what Julie still called it – she could always feel the tension leave her body. The house Julie had grown up in, then escaped from, was now a refuge; there the Patzes would be surrounded by family. But by mid-afternoon Saturday, in a perverse twist of fate, news from Massachusetts would delay the family from traveling there. A Missing Persons detective was once again sitting in their front room with yet another photo to show them.

The cops typically didn’t tell them where these photos came from. If Stan and Julie made a positive ID, there’d be plenty of time to fill in the details; if not, why bother. But the detectives had received a report that two weeks earlier Massachusetts police had raided a summer cottage in the beach town of Wareham. Three missing area teenagers, one from the Bronx and two from New Jersey, had been found there amidst a cache of pornographic photographs, some depicting children in sex acts with adult men.

Among the photos was a headshot of a handsome blond boy, his arm stretched to the side, elbow bent, his hand propping up his head. He was wearing clothes and alone in the picture. He stared straight into the camera and wore a look that might be interpreted as sophisticated coy, with an ambiguous Mona Lisa curve to his lips. He had straight bangs that matched the ones in several pictures Stan had taken of Etan, and he bore a striking resemblance to the missing child.

Julie looked at the photo closely, and thought how hard it would be to recognize their son from a two-dimensional piece of paper with no life and no animation and to make a judgment without all the things you use to really know people. Etan was full of life and animation. This couldn’t be Etan, they said, this boy had a cleft chin and Etan didn’t. Julie and Stan looked at each other. Or did he? Julie was suddenly panic-stricken. What if they said no to a picture of their own son?

As the detectives walked them through the boy’s face, feature by feature, Stan and Julie became convinced this wasn’t Etan. Yes, agreed the Patzes, some features were similar but some were not. Besides, Stan had his own extra assurances. The style of the photography dated it at least back to the ‘70’s. And then there was the paper. They were looking at an original 8”x10” photo and the paper stock and borders just weren’t contemporary. The detectives were less sure. The photo would be sent to an FBI lab in D.C. where analysts would compare it to Stan’s pictures of Etan, examining facial shape and bone structure. Sorry to bother you folks, the detectives said, as they always did. We’ll let you know if anything further comes of it. The Patzes knew it wouldn’t.

But the next day, a reporter from the Boston Herald American called to ask about the picture, which she explained had been found in a Wareham, Massachusetts, police bust of a group who advocated for “consensual love” between adult males and boys and called themselves the North American Man-Boy Love Association, or NAMBLA.The acronym would soon enter the lexicon, but this incident was the first most people - certainly Stan and Julie - had ever heard of it.

They were astounded an association existed that actually sought to legitimize child molestation. Stan considered himself as tolerant as the next New York liberal, but the idea made his skin crawl. Thank God the boy in the picture wasn’t Etan, so the thought of their son being in NAMBLA’s clutches wasn’t something they dwelled on.

The phone started to ring sometime after dawn on Monday, just after the Boston Herald American ran the photo beside a headline nearly filling its front page, “Did Sex Club Trap this Boy?” At 6:45 a.m. New York Post reporters were ringing the Patzes’ front buzzer, but the family had rules – no advance request, no interview.

Ten pages of press calls were recorded in the Patz logbook that day, as the family pushed back their vacation plans, waiting to hear from the cops if anything had come of the photo. Camera crews and reporters milled around in the street below, in front of the door that still bore the Etan’s missing poster, one of the few left hanging in the neighborhood. It was a full-on siege, for a story that until the NAMBLA connection hadn’t warranted more than a passing mention in months.

Late in the day, Stan finally ducked out the stairwell entrance to the building, eluding the crowd. As he reached the end of the block and slipped around the corner onto Greene Street, he heard the sound of high heels pounding the cement sidewalk behind him and realized he’d been spotted. He registered the strange sensation of being chased – by a woman no less.

He turned around finally and recognized her as an on-air personality at one of the local TV stations. As she drew nearer, he realized she was older than she looked on television, where the strong lights and heavy powder erased the fine lines he could see now starkly etched around her eyes and forehead.

He was embarrassed – to be sneaking out of his own home, and to be evading her, someone he’d almost certainly invited into his living room on an earlier occasion, eager then to get exposure for Etan. He was embarrassed for her, too. She was the one driven to loitering on street corners in the winter chill, chasing people up the street. He dispatched her quickly with a few succinct quotes – no there’s really nothing new here today – and went on his way. The next day, having heard nothing further from the cops, he and Julie set their answering machine, and fled for safe haven in Massachusetts.

As the Patz family were driving their rental car up the northern coastal route to the Boston area the next day, a 69-year-old retired cabbie named Chester Jones walked into the newsroom of the Daily News and told a reporter that the old photo of Etan they’d run in their paper next to the NAMBLA story had prompted him to come forward. He may have been, he said, one of the last people to see Etan Patz.

“I believe that I’m the cabdriver who picked up that boy in SoHo the morning he disappeared,” said Jones, pulling on a cigarette. "I have very little doubt in my mind that he was the boy I picked up.”

Daily News police reporter Jerry Schmetterer had covered the Patz case since the beginning, and he was skeptical to hear this lead coming in three years late, but he checked out the story through his sources. He was surprised to learn that there had been a very early report of a sighting that day, one of the hundreds that could never be substantiated, of a little boy and man getting into a cab. Why had Jones waited so long? He'd doubted his own memory, he said, and worried about getting involved. And he had didn’t think anyone would take him seriously anyway.

“Who’s going to believe an old black man like me?” he asked Schmetterer.

According to Jones, the two got into his cab and he overheard the man say something like, “I see you every morning from across the street. It’s a shame your mother lets you stand here on the street corner all alone.” The boy said, “My mother told me not to talk to strangers.”

They rode a few blocks north on West Broadway, and at Houston Street, Jones said, when the boy suddenly exclaimed, “This isn’t the way to go to school.” The man and the boy then got out of the car without paying and walked away.

Police questioned the cabbie for several hours. At the time they judged him a “credible witness,” although the conversation Jones had related between the man and boy didn’t match up with Etan's taking his first trip alone to the bus. This news, combined with the NAMBLA bombshell, brought Missing Person Case #8367 roaring back to life. The Missing Persons Unit recast the Patz task force, bringing in homicide detectives to start fresh, and adding back old hands. NYPD Detective Bill Butler was two days into a 16-day Christmas break when he got a call.

“Would you mind putting off your vacation to return to Missing Persons as part of the rejuvenated MPU task force?” the head of the force asked him.

“Of course not,” he said. Suddenly the new group was eight strong, up from one detective just a month before.

The Patzes passed a relatively oblivious holiday week in Massachusetts, hanging close to the house and watching the two kids reconnect with their cousins. Uncle George, the former Marine and now a Sudbury fireman, took Shira and Ari for a tour of the station, and they were delighted to sit up in the open cab of the lemon yellow firetruck and ring the bell. Julie might have converted to Judaism, but the Massachusetts family celebrated Christmas with all the trimmings. Her kids woke expectantly on Christmas morning to tear through stockings and gift-wrapped presents, welcoming neighboring cousins throughout the day, as each arrived with a new round of presents.

The family saw the newspaper accounts of Chester Jones’ story while still in Sudbury, and talked briefly to the police about it over the phone, but otherwise they worked hard to maintain a wait-and-see attitude so as not to spoil the holiday. But the Patzes arrived back in New York to a filled answering machine of media calls. Finally, an awkward press conference at One Police Plaza was convened, where Stan informed a room full of reporters that there was nothing to report.

There really was nothing to report. Ultimately, police concluded Chester Jones was one more dead end. After repeated sessions, they had begun to feel his story was changing -- including his description of the man -- enough to undermine his credibility. Jones couldn’t even give enough details about the man’s features to create a police sketch, and in one subsequent interview he told police the boy had actually given his name as Etan. Authorities considered hypnotizing Jones but anything he said under hypnosis might jeopardize his testimony in court.

The NAMBLA picture was discounted by police as well, but not before two outraged NAMBLA representatives held a press conference at a midtown Holiday Inn to indignantly assert that the police were on a witch hunt. They held up a 1968 "Boyhood Calendar" issued four years before Etan's birth, with the same photo of the boy who looked like Etan -- posing as January's model.

But both leads, fruitless as they were, served a critical purpose. As the New Year began, two homicide detectives on loan to the newly energized task force to provide fresh eyes sat in the Patz apartment one afternoon for a whole new round of debriefs. At their behest, Julie had compiled a fresh list of friends or colleagues for them to re-interview, although she was surprised to learn later some had never been questioned to begin with.

She particularly stressed the connection between Sandy Harmon* and Jose Ramos that had emerged the previous spring after an episode in a Bronx drainpipe. Ramos, an itinerant junk salesman, had been arrested living in the drainpipe after two young boys accused him of trying to entice them inside. Police had questioned the man after photos of blond boys were found among his belongings, and Ramos himself had volunteered that he'd dated a woman who'd taken care of Etan.

Yes, Julie said now, this woman had never been his babysitter, per se, but Julie explained the bus strike and Sandy’s temporary part-time hours walking Etan and his two friends home from school. That was the time frame directly preceding Etan’s disappearance, Julie pointed out, and if this woman was connected to Ramos as well as to Etan, then she was a direct link.

The cops were now eager to learn Ramos’s whereabouts and question him again. They looked for him in Brooklyn, at the address he’d given authorities back in March. They talked to acquaintances of Ramos in lower Manhattan who reported last seeing him at a New Year’s Eve party a few days earlier, looking fit, well-dressed and clean-shaven.

On January 12, 1983, Missing Persons detectives brought Sandy Harmon to police headquarters to ask about her relationship with both the Patzes and Jose Ramos. She later gave an angry account of this interrogation to authorities and described how police put her and her then-eight-year-old son Brendan into separate rooms and grilled them both for hours.

At one point, Sandy said, they led Brendan in and informed Sandy her son had just revealed years of sodomy at the hands of Jose Ramos. Sandy told the cops she was shocked to hear this, but they didn’t believe her. According to Sandy’s later account they then threatened to have her son taken from her. Seven hours after they’d brought her in, they told her they needed her back the next day, and she and Brendan were driven home to her East Village apartment at 2:30 a.m.

After less than five hours of sleep, Sandy was back at One Police Plaza, where she was questioned again. Still dissatisfied with her answers, police polygraphed her. Although she'd agreed to the test, she showed “signs of deception” as she denied any knowledge of Etan’s disappearance.

Polygraphs are not lie detectors, and Stan Patz hadn’t done so well on his either, but based on Sandy’s results, police certainly wanted to pursue her role in the case, as well as that of her ex-boyfriend Jose Ramos. She claimed to no longer see or know where Ramos was, although she did disclose they’d been together for a last sexual encounter less than two months earlier, over Thanksgiving. Again, police ended this round of questions by telling Sandy they had more to ask, but by this point, she’d had enough.

“I have a lawyer now,” she said when they came to get her the following day. “Any more questions – you go through him.” Sandy Harmon had little more to say about the case after that, but investigators couldn’t help seeing her as a nexus point leading to tantalizing clues beyond their reach. At the very least, authorities thought, she knew more than she was saying.


*Sandy Harmon's name has been changed, because her son turned out to be one of Ramos's victims.

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The Balloon Man

By Lisa R. Cohen

I received this email recently from a friend with small children. She knew I’d written AFTER ETAN: The Missing Child Case That Held America Captive, and that my interest in the iconic, mysterious case of six-year old Etan Patz had led me to immerse myself in the issue of child safety in general:

"Dear Neighbourhood Parents,

Some of you may be aware that a creepy guy (tall, Caucasian, brown hair, early/mid-thirties) has been hanging around the playground at 110 Street (& CPW) and handing out free balloons to children for the past month or so. He's often accompanied by an older guy who stays
outside the playground area. A few weeks ago one of the playground mothers asked him to leave since he was unaccompanied by a child and he became quite confrontational. She later reported him to the police and was told not to confront him but rather to call the police if he's seen again. The guy was back to the playground that same day and the police were called and escorted him off the playground.

I was at the 110 St playground this morning, and the guy was back again!!!- with a different older man this time. He is obviously very persistent and has some sort of personal motivation to be here. He's also getting craftier - this time he set up a balloon stand right outside the gate and was handing out free balloons and chatting with the kids.I called the police and several police cars arrived soon after and talked to him and he finally left. The problem now is that he's not on the premises of the playground, nor is he selling anything so he's not really doing anything legally wrong. However his and his companion's behavior is VERY suspicious since he's not selling or promoting anything and just wants to hand out fancy balloons to young children.

They clearly want to be in the proximity of small children and want to build up some sort of a trust or friendship with kids - quite possibly to harm them. It's only going to take one situation (a parent or caregiver's head turned for a moment) and something terrible could happen to a child in our community. There is absolutely no good reason this guy should be at our playgrounds.

We need to have ZERO TOLERANCE with this guy and let him know that he's not welcome at our playground or anywhere else.

PLEASE CALL 911 if you see this guy (or his companion).

DON'T accept his balloons. He needs to realize that he's not welcome.

AND PLEASE also pass this message on to friends or parents in the neighbourhood since many people don't read this yahoo group and many people come to the playground at different times of the day and may not know this has been going on. Let's keep our neighborhood safe! Feel free to email if you want further details…."

First of all, let me hasten to say that, of course, “balloon men” are not by definition pedophiles. The ones you hire to come to your supervised birthday party, etc, have a perfectly rational, explicable reason for doing so.

But the ones who hang around children’s playgrounds handing out their artwork for free, who are asked to leave the premises by the police and return time and again, now that’s a different story. And I’m not saying they definitely are a danger to children. But I was pleased to see the level of vigilance in this email, and reminded again of the positive power of the internet as a source of information in today’s global village.

The email also gave me a chill that harkened back to the research I did on AFTER ETAN. Thirty years ago, when Etan disappeared, a “bubble man” was a fixture on the scene of Washington Square Park, where Jose Ramos, Etan’s alleged abductor, also hung out. Ramos and the “bubble man” were reputed to compete for boys. They were both soft-spoken, sociable, and befriended the kids who played there after school and on weekends.

The “bubble man” blew bubbles endlessly for the children who gleefully chased them around the park. He himself was ultimately chased to Amsterdam where he was finally arrested on charges of child molestation and extradited to the U.S., serving his sentence in a Florida prison. Jose Ramos himself didn’t blow bubbles or twist balloons into animals – he handed out toys he’d collected in his travels as a “recycler” of people’s castoffs.

In 1982, three years after Etan’s disappearance, Ramos was arrested while unzipping his fly as he huddled with three young boys on a rooftop at midnight in the Times Square area. In his wallet at the time were photos of other youngsters, one of whom posed next to his mother with the Washington Square Park arch over his shoulder.

I tracked his mother down. At first she was reluctant to reveal she knew Ramos, given what he had turned out to be. Finally, she said yes, he’d often spent time there surrounded by children, befriending them and giving out these little toys. He’d seemed like a nice enough fellow, she said, and the kids had really liked him.

That’s what pedophiles do. The groom their young victims, sometimes for weeks or months. They don’t automatically snatch them from behind a bush and spirit them away. They often target the ones who seem less attended, with few friends. Perhaps they’re from broken homes and don’t have a man in their life. Or the adults who look after them are weakened in some way, by alcohol or poverty, or other distractions. The bubble man and Jose Ramos weren’t “strangers” to avoid after a while, but solicitous figures to embrace.

At times they befriended the parents too. Ramos met his “lady friend,” as he referred to her in a police interview, on the welfare line. He learned she was a single mother with a young son. And eventually he helped care for the boy, babysitting him, taking him to the Empire State Building and the movies, inviting him on sleepovers in his West 4th St. apartment. The boy would later tell authorities that there he’d take baths with Ramos, who would then molest him. The boy was four or five at the time.

Ramos's girlfriend briefly took care of six-year old Etan Patz in the weeks before his abduction, and she was the thread that connected Jose Ramos to Etan.

I recount all this because even though I don’t think people who position themselves in children’s playgrounds and hand out trinkets should be automatically treated like monsters, I do believe they should be suspect and watched. But when a warning, much like the email above, was posted in the online talk fest of that arbiter of parental public opinion, Urban Baby, it was met by a lengthy, animated thread – some horror, some gratitude for the warning, but also some derision, including this post:

"That's a whole bucket of paranoia right there. What if the guys just want to give out balloons because they make the children smile? Geez. People."

And this one:

"That guy is not breaking any laws and the cops or the parents cannot do anything about this. I am very sure he just loves making kids happy and does not let some over-paranoid parents spoil it."

In fact, many of these playgrounds are designated by NYC Parks regulations as exclusively for the use of children, and only for adults who are accompanied by children. That’s why cops can escort a “balloon man” from the playground, but there’s little they can do outside the playground gates, where the Urban Baby poster is right - no laws are being broken.

I asked the now-retired cop who himself arrested Jose Ramos on that rooftop back in 1982 what WOULD constitute a chargeable offense. Former detective Joe Gelfand, who went on to become the senior investigator on the NYPD pedophilia squad, concurred that simply associating with children, befriending and giving them gifts, is not illegal, but said that parents should listen to, as well as watch any such interaction. It doesn’t have to be physical contact that crosses the line – even a sexually explicit conversation such an adult has with a minor is grounds for a charge of endangering the welfare of a child. In New York that carries a sentence of up to a year in prison.

Again, I understand the delicacy of the issue, but I’ve always been fond of quoting that line, “Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.”

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A Teenager's Story - Part II

by Tivona, Age 14

Click here to read Part I of Tivona's story.

My uncle, who sexually abused me, has "explained away" most of his actions with excuses. When approached about his inappropriate behaviors, he responded by being insulted and became extremely defensive. Although never acknowledging the abuse, he never once denied it either. His response to the police, and I quote, “If that’s what she said happened, then it must have happened. . . . I just don’t remember.”

During my short time in therapy, I have learned that pedophiles are like any other predator. They stalk and hunt children as their prey. Many predators, like mine, will spend weeks, months, and even years grooming their victims. They are calculating, manipulative, and very, very patient when it comes to achieving their goal. Molesters are charming. They get along with everyone and are usually popular. They can be upstanding members of the community and tend to present a perfect image. Like my uncle, they are “great guys” and “everybody’s friend.” They are charming and intimidate other adults into believing they are above reproach. Their behavior is a controlled public image–for I know all too well about their private behaviors.

My counselor says she has never met a “child molester she didn’t like.” Today, I wonder if he is capable of feeling, let alone harbors a conscience. And did he, in all those years of wonderful memories, ever really love me? Is he sorry for the destruction he has caused in all of our lives, even though he refuses to admit it? I'd like to know WHY? Why did he chose to cross that line of trust? And HOW? How could he show up year and year, event after event, just pretending, never showing how he was hurting me and how he had hurt my aunt and his granddaughter before me (those who chose to harbor that pain internally for years until I told).

How could he torture us all like that with his "games"? Yes, I know I will never get the answers that I want or deserve but I continue to silently wonder. . . . Like any other addict, when asked, he creates excuses for all around him to explain his behavior and he has placed the blame for his behavior solely on me (just like he said he would). He has made me lose faith in myself, all in an attempt to control me.

There are mornings when I wake up that I don’t recognize the “girl in the mirror.” I feel as if my spirit has been surgically extracted. There are days I act like a wounded animal: crying, attacking, and retreating. I am working to understand this is not my fault.

I ask for reassurance that my perpetrator was a liar when he said that I had control and could stop it anytime. I agonize over the line of appropriate touch at the same time my hormones are throwing me into that “time of my life.” I am filled with confusion, anger, and premature sexualization at a time when I’m already battling those issues.

Talk about the “straw that could break the camel’s back.” I struggle with the fact that my uncle made me feel as an accomplice in this whole lie. The pain is similar to jumping out of an airplane without a parachute. I mourn the loss of my relationship with my aunt. I have bad dreams; break into tears for no reason and battle anger–at my perpetrator and my extended family for letting this happen to me.

I can say: I take it day by day. Sometimes minute by minute. Sometimes I have to remember to breathe.I want consequences for my uncle’s behavior. Today, the reports have been filed, the secrets are out. So how can he be free to just roam about? Don’t I have the right to be Safe, Strong and Free? (Don’t so many other victims have that same right?)

The Prosecuting Attorney refuses to file charges because there were no witnesses and they can’t see my broken heart and soul. It’s his word against mine. Without formal charges, his name will NEVER be on a sexual predator list. Many others aren't either because only 1 in 16 offenders are actually prosecuted if you can believe that! And only 6% of those people will ever spend time in jail! Are your kids safe?

There has been no justice. Even after justice is served, this case will be over for those of you reading and those who have worked on my case, but for me and my family, this is still just the beginning–a new beginning, I hope, but a part of our lives we will never forget.

My advice to you? Educate your children. Set “rules.” We like rules and it’s easier to tell when a rule has been broken. Teach your children age-appropriate information about their bodies. Tell them it is OK to say “NO.” And, that it’s OK to break a promise they might make about sexual abuse.

Teach your children that a person who sexually abuses a child can be anyone and that they need to tell even when the offender is someone they like, love or even live with. Finally, let your child know that if sexual abuse happens to them, they are still a good person, they are still lovable and that you believe them and will love them no matter what!

Instead of just responding to the aftermath of abuse, why not focus on prevention? This is a widespread illness that requires new attitudes and change. I know that first-hand from my own experiences.

Child sexual abuse is an adult problem–the responsibility shouldn’t all be placed on us as children. Sometimes, even if we know it’s “OK and right” to tell, it is still hard for us to do. Please watch out for us. . . . Look for the signs and report them. . . . Education is a powerful tool–let’s use it! I am hoping that the America I grow up in will be better for my children.

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A Teenager's Story - Part I

by Tivona, Guest Contributor

I’m not a famous author, model, or actor. I’m not Super Girl trying to save the world or Super Villain trying to destroy it. I’m not anyone special except to my family. I’m just an ordinary, fun loving, moody teenager. I’m just trying to grow up and live an average life like everyone else. I’m 14 and looking forward to high school.

Yet, there are days when I wake up and feel like I can’t relate to anyone else in the world. I want to be a ghost and disappear. . . . There are days I wish I weren’t here. During the day, I maintain A’s in school, I sing, draw in my journal, hang out online with my friends, and play the saxophone. I am an avid hunter and am a half back on my soccer team. Yet at night, when I crawl into my warm bed–surrounded by my soft blankets, my cats and more stuffed animals than you can count, I feel so alone. So isolated. Like no one else in the world knows how I’m feeling. It’s at this time that I have to deal with my own private monsters and demons.

In the dark, I feel like no one could understand me. I’m not worried about the typical teenage stuff because my life over the last four years hasn’t been really ordinary. It’s been conventional on the outside while pain and guilt raged on the inside. Quietly, I’ve suffered. How could I tell anyone that I was a victim of sexual assault? Who could I tell and who would believe me?

As the daughter of someone in law enforcement and the niece of an attorney, I have always been told, and led to believe, that if you do something wrong, you are punished. There are consequences for your behavior. Today, as I write you my story of sexual abuse at the hands of a loved one, my abuser is free to roam the streets of our town because the Prosecuting Attorney refuses to follow up on my claims of abuse.

I know it is hard to listen to these accusations. I know it is hard to comprehend that “this” person can do “these” things but there is a “silent epidemic” occurring in this country and it is harming those of us you have “sworn” to protect! Please take a minute to listen to our “cries for help.” They are not false or “made up.” They are very real. In some of our lives, there are truly monsters who hide “under our beds” and “in our closets” at night just waiting for the darkness so they can “attack.” We rely on you to help and we need you NOW more than ever!

I truly believe that society has the resources to put an end to this epidemic. At the very least, we can drastically reduce it. Why don’t we? Are we too afraid it can happen in our own homes and that’s scarier to acknowledge than believing it is the horrible monster we see on "Law and Order” that is causing this destruction? Perhaps you misread the statistics?

Talking about sexual abuse of children is crossing into frightening, unfamiliar territory for many people. We live in a very confusing society with hypocritical views on sex and sexuality. We are uncomfortable talking about sex, but we are willing to have it sold to us through songs, magazines, TV and advertisements.

I know that healing is a process, a journey. I know I will never forget the assaults and abuse but I hope to grow from this experience and I want to help others “escape” and grow too.

PLEASE JOIN ME AND USE YOUR VOICE TO HELP STOP THIS CYCLE OF VIOLENCE IN OUR COUNTRY.

Child sexual assault is the world’s deepest, darkest, best-kept secret. How many are out there, I guess we will truly never know. I am asking, pleading with you to take a stand. Remind all those who choose to seek out the children, that their behavior will not be tolerated no matter who they are. I believe I did the right thing by finally “telling.” I truly hope that my openness can save other children. I told the police. I was open and honest, even though it was extremely embarrassing to retell my story to one stranger after another. I believed in the process of the justice system.

All I am asking is that the justice system “believes in me too!”

Here’s my story, it began in 1994: People talk about “Princesses.” Royalty really isn’t my thing– I enjoy the “supernatural”–vampires, really. Nevertheless, for years, I was truly a “Princess” in my family. The “first born” for both sides of extended family, I entered this world in grand fashion (an emergency C-section because I had stopped breathing). For my loved ones, I truly was a miracle and a blessing. I grew and thrived from the attention and you can truly say I was "spoiled rotten.”

So many camera flashes have gone off in my face over the years it’s amazing I am not blind. As an avid hunter, my grandfather had me appreciating nature as soon as I could walk and follow in his footsteps. Even my name, Tivona, means a “love for the outdoors." This man was my “hero.”

When I was 10 years old, my perfect, innocent “happily-ever-after-fairytale-princess” life and childhood began to crumble. That was the year my grandfather died. That was the year that my whole world began to shatter into small pieces and fall apart around me. It was at that time my uncle would also begin to “groom” me for his own sexual pleasures and means of “control.”

It began with slow rubs and touches and progressed from there. During this time, my uncle gradually eroded our appropriate adult-child boundaries, built a wall of secrecy around us and finally established compliance through my fear. Over the next three years, I was repeatedly reminded that this was “our little secret” and I mustn’t say a thing. He told me that I would be to blame if anyone discovered our secret little game. He repeatedly told me: “This would really hurt your mom if she knew” and he emphasized that he would go to jail if I told. Each time he said that, a part of me died.

I betrayed what I knew was the “right thing to do” because I was afraid “no one would believe me” and because I didn’t want my close knit family to fall apart. It just seemed easier to close my eyes, retreat to the darkness in my head and “go along” than upset anyone. My life became a fraud and a fiction.

Do you know how much energy is consumed to keep a secret hidden from ourselves and our families? As a family member, he had seduced us all. He had our devotion and love. He was trustworthy and “above reproach.” His popularity within our family covered behaviors that should never have been tolerated. He was a trusted friend and relative; a pillar of the community. He would never do anything “shady” or inappropriate. That is what he hoped everyone would believe if I ever told our “secret.”

By creating an untarnished image, he has convinced my beloved aunt and his children that he is innocent and that I am lying and trying to destroy his pristine image in our lives and our community.

Click here to read Part II of Tivona's story.

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One-Way Invitation to "Hell"

by Susan Murphy Milano

Rarely does a day go by when we are not inundated with the horrifying details of what some sexual predators are capable of doing to children, graphically laid out on shows such as Nancy Grace, Geraldo at Large, CNN News and local stations where we all live.

Victims are not taken at gun point. Instead predators are luring their young victims with a simple click of the mouse. Most parents remain computer illiterate, far behind their technology savvy children. Parents are not prepared to recognize the dangers waiting for their child on a computer or cell phone screen, similar to a one way mirror, into Hell.

As the Florida mother of 3 children, Jaemi Levine preached to each child the dangers waiting outside the walls of her 4-bedroom ranch home. Jaemi was a stay at home Mom, active in the P.T.A., Girl Scouts, and just about everything else related to her family. Her daughter Nicole had just celebrated her twelfth birthday. Nicole was your average pre-teen, playing the tuba in the high school band and a straight “A” student.

Jaemi was a vigilant parent. Always knowing at every moment where Nicole was and what she was doing and with whom, including monitoring her daughter’s online activities.

One night, Nicole went to hang out at a friend’s house to work on a report for school. While Nicole and her friends were on the computer, they took a break and headed onto a “Safe Site” approved for teen chat. Suddenly, up on the computer screen in an instant message, “Hi, I’m, lonely will you be my friend?”

Over the course of 3 weeks Nicole confessed private details to this new on-line friend of her life, the area she and her family lived in Florida where she attended Junior high school, to her favorite flavor of ice cream.

After gaining Nicole’s trust, the skilled child sexual predator convinced her they should get together and meet face to face.

Over the weekend Nicole asked her mother if she could walk to the bookstore 2 blocks from their home. " No Nicole, your sister is sick in bed and you know the rules about going anyplace by yourself. "Please Mom, Nicole begged, I'll only be gone for hour. I need to get a book for my homework assignment. After 15 minutes of debate her mother caved in to her daughters request. "Make sure you take your cell phone. If you are not back in exactly one hour, I will ground you for one week." Happily, Nicole kissed her mother goodbye and headed out the front door.

The hour passed, no Nicole. Frantically every 2 minutes Jaemi was calling Nicole’s cell phone, but she was not answering. Jaemi got into her car and drove to the bookstore and searched for her daughter. Jaemi continued to call and look for Nicole. Finally Nicole answered. She sounded strange. “Where are you?” her mother demanded. “Oh I’m almost home,” Nichole replied. But she was not. Jaemi called the cell phone again. It was the longest two hours of Jaemi’s life. Nicole walked out of the bookstore parking lot and into the car. Nicole was panicked and badly shaken. “I circled everywhere looking for you, who were you talking too?” Nicole had stared at the dashboard unable to look at her mother and respond. “Oh it was um, a 29 year-old man from Pakistan he just asked for directions.” Jaemi looked at her daughter in shock, “what if he had grabbed or hurt you?” Nicole tearfully replied, “I learned never to talk to older men on the computer.” Jaemi said, "my heart sunk down to my feet, knowing my daughter had already been raped."

Once inside the house, Jaemi Levine placed one call to 911 and the other to a friend of the family who was a child psychologist.

The day, the hour, the moment would forever be etched in the mind of both mother and daughter. First, police arrived and made a report followed by a detective removing Nicole's computer and taking it to an expert in capturing all conversations on the hard drive.

Two days later a Detective returned to Jaemi Levine's home with disturbing information. The 29-year old man from Pakistan was a known sexual predator who was part of a large human trafficking operation. They lure young girls. In Nicole's case, the man held her at knife point. This particular group of sexual predators video tape their victims (like Nicole) to show they are still virgins. And get the victim to meet them again where they are abducted and shipped overseas to a foreign country and sold as sex slaves.

Most young children are not as fortunate to escape with their life. Five years later, Nicole now 17-years old, speaks at schools presenting information about on-line safety and sexual predators.

And Jaemi Levine has worked to become a tireless advocate for families across the country, educating anyone whom invites her to speak in hopes that we read about one less tragedy with our morning coffee.

On Tuesday, April 28, 2009 Jaemi Levine, Founder of Mothers Against Predators, Inc., will be a guest on Justice Interrupted.

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PREDATORS AND CHILD MOLESTERS DESCEND ON BOOKSTORES!

There is no other crime—not even murder—that worries and sickens parents more than child sexual abuse. Parents wonder how to protect their children when almost every day the news reports another incident of someone in authority arrested on suspicion of child abuse. Addressing offenders found in clergy and teachers to family members themselves, former Los Angeles Deputy District Attorney and WCI contributor Robin Sax answers those terrifying questions that parents are sometimes afraid to ask. Predators and Child Molesters: What Every Parent Needs to Know to Keep Kids Safe, A Sex Crimes DA Answers 100 of the Most Asked Questions is in bookstores now and is a must-have for parents everywhere.

With a foreword by Marc Klaas, founder and president of KlaasKids Foundation, this straightforward and clearly written guidebook answers one hundred of the most asked questions that Robin has encountered in her fifteen years of experience as a sex crimes prosecutor. From the definition of abuse to profiles of predators, to how to report an incident and to whom, Robin provides practical, reassuring, and appropriate information.

For ease of use, the book is organized into six major sections:

• Recognizing Predators: Molesters, Pedophiles, and Opportunists
• Talking to Kids About Risks and Identifying Potential Problems
• Recognizing Abuse
• Reporting Sexual Abuse
• Going to Court
• Healing and Moving On

Predators and Child Molesters is already debuting to rave reviews:

“Finally! A hard-hitting Q&A on predators and child molesters. Sax's book is a must read for anyone concerned about the safety and well being of America's children. As a former felony prosecutor of crimes on children, this is Crime & Prevention 101 . . .”
Nancy Grace, host of CNN Headline News' Nancy Grace

"Child Molesters and Predators" answers everything you wanted to ask and tells everything you need to know to prevent your worst nightmare and possible lifelong torment for your child. Sax writes in an easy to read format providing practical answers for keeping youngsters safe. This is a must read for every parent or anyone who cares for kids.
Mark Goulston, Huffington Post

Robin Sax makes it clear that prosecuting children against possible sexual assault begins with every parent in the home. Teaching preventative measures should be as important as teaching children to dial 911.

Predators and Child Molesters is available in bookstores now and online. Robin Sax can be seen frequently as a legal commentator on CNN’s Nancy Grace, Larry King Live, and Fox News covering criminal cases and trials. You can also hear her weekly on Justice Interrupted Blogtalk Radio where she covers the latest news in crime with WCI contributors Susan Murphy-Milano and Stacy Dittrich. Robin Sax resides in California with her husband and three children.

Also out this month: Reaching The Bar: Stories of Women at All Stages of Their Law Career. A comprehensive look into the lives of women lawyers, each chapter is introduced by Robin Sax, who also edited Reaching the Bar.

Congratulations, Robin!

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