Saturday, August 25, 2007

A Brutal Assault

A few weeks ago I was sitting at my desk and dreaming about taking a vacation for a week even though I did not really deserve one. My intentions were not all that serious when I went to and submitted a bid of $45 a night for a 3-star hotel in Miami. I opened another window on my browser and kept working as the Priceline system processed my request. Of course it seemed unlikely that any 3-star hotel would accept such a paltry bid for their accommodations, but I was prepared to pack my bags on the offchance that they did. A few minutes later I checked on the status of my request and was shocked to discover that a nice hotel was willing to give me a room. I made reservations with to use a free plane ticket and a few days later I flew to Florida.

It turned out that a group of law enforcement professionals was holding a convention at my hotel. One evening I fell into a poolside conversation with a detective from Toledo, Ohio who investigated sex crimes. I can't remember how he initially described his job, but a vision popped into my head of him rolling up to a strip club in a paddywagon to arrest a flock of dancers. I have worked at clubs where that has happened. The unbidden memories vanished as he went on to say that he mainly investigated reports of sexual assaults.

"About sixty percent of them turn out to be bogus." he informed me.

"Sixty percent?" I asked, thinking I had not heard him correctly.

He nodded seriously as he registered my surprise. I waited for him to elaborate and he did not do so.

"What do you mean by 'bogus'?" I prodded him. "You mean they have no validity? The supposed victims just make up stories of assaults that never happened?"

He nodded.

"Why would they do that?" I asked with genuine puzzlement.

"Different reasons." he said. "I'll give you an example."

I felt my eyebrows rise in anticipation.

"One woman came in to report a rape. She had a black eye so clearly she had been on the receiving end of some type of abuse. After she told me her whole story I took her back to the scene of the alleged crime. Her version of the events started to break down, many pertinent details were missing. To make the long story short she finally admitted that she had made up all the charges. It turned out that she had paid a male friend $1500 to beat her up and have sex with her. This woman was a nurse so she had known that the police would test her for bodily fluids secreted by the alleged rapist. She went to all this trouble because she and her ex-girlfriend had recently broken up and she wanted to make her ex-girlfriend feel sorry for her."

I sat there in stunned silence and looked at him.

"Are you serious?" I finally said.

He responded affirmatively and went on to tell me about another woman who claimed she had been gangraped by a group of men. She even supplied the address of her attackers. Her story had fallen apart when the detective had arrived at the suspects' house to question them. Later he pieced together the true story which had begun with the phony victim taking her boyfriend's truck to go buy crack. She had engaged in sex with one man at the site of the supposed attack in order to obtain the drugs and had then stayed there for a prolonged period of time. Upon arriving back home the morning after - long after she was due to arrive - she invented the rape story so her boyfriend would not find out about her true activities of the night before.

I was completely aghast yet fascinated. Throughout all my years of experience with drug addicts, drug dealers, golddiggers, pimps, porn shoots, strip clubs, flophouses, ex-convicts, prostitutes, backstabbers, desperate women, angry women, jealous women, homeless women, armed robbers, check forgers, drug mules, and thieves I didn't think I knew of any women who would walk into a police station and falsify an accusation of rape. Why does it seem so mind-blowing to me?

a) Most of the women I know, whether they are good citizens or not, don't want to involve the police in anything.

b) Rape is such a hideous act and you would have to repeatedly tell your false account of the assault and expend precious emotional energy behaving as if you had really felt and experienced it.

The detective and I finished our conversation, but his twisted tales stayed with me. I kept turning them over in my mind. The first shoot I did upon returning to Los Angeles was with Kayla Quinn. It happened that we were doing a scene in which she played a cop and I played a prison inmate. I immediately began thinking of the Toledo detectives's stories and I relayed them to Kayla....

How did my retelling of the noirish stories culminate in a brutal assault on the dressing room floor? Who ultimately became the victim in this disturbing turn of events? Join my site now to read the rest of the story and view the entire Tanya vs. Kayla #3 gallery!

- XXOO Tanya


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