At
the time of the assault, I was 30 years old, and a fit, confident
athlete. I was strong, and skilled, with great reflexes, agility and
speed. When I graduated from high school in Toronto, I was one of the
top three female high school basketball players in Canada. Dozens of
American colleges lined up to offer me basketball scholarships, and I
chose the University of Arizona.
For
four years, I was a shooting guard on the women's basketball team,
scoring up to 30 points a game. It was an amazing time in my life, and I
learned a lot, developed a circle of really good friends, many of them
teammates, and traveled around the US to compete.
The
only down side was that I missed my family, and developed severe
homesickness. When it started to affect my studies and my training, my
Dad came up with the idea to move his own father and mother to Tucson.
My
grandparents were in their late 60s when they gamely agreed to move
more than 2,000 miles to help me adjust to life away from home. They
were retired after selling their Toronto restaurant business, and
figured the warm, dry climate would suit them anyway. I had always
enjoyed a special relationship with my grandparents. Not only had I
grown up in their home, but I spoke Greek before I spoke English. They
got an apartment close to mine, and I was there most days, talking and
laughing over my favourite home-cooked meals. The homesickness quickly
evaporated.
After I
graduated from the University of Arizona with a degree in
Communications, I signed a two-year contract to play professional
basketball for Italy. Going pro took my athletic training to a whole new
level. Once again, I thrived in the team atmosphere, and enjoyed
traveling Europe although we rarely saw more than the basketball venues
and the hotel rooms where we slept.
When
my contract ended, my former coach from the University of Arizona
encouraged me to apply for a job as Director of Operations for the
women's basketball team at Temple University in Philadelphia. It was a
busy, challenging position that required me to manage a lot of
logistical details so that others could focus on training the team for
competition. I also made all the travel arrangements and went to
tournaments with the team and support staff.
It
was a great job but after a few years, I knew I wanted to pursue a
career in the healing arts, my other passion. I also wanted to work
closer to home, where I would be reunited with my large, extended
family, and many friends.
I
knew who I was and I liked who I was. I was at the top of my game,
certain that the groundwork provided by my education and athletic
training would stand me in good stead whatever challenges lay ahead.
How
wrong I was. In fact, nothing could have prepared me for an evening of
January, 2004, when life as I knew it came to an abrupt halt.
***************
I
had just given my two-month notice at Temple when the man I had come to
know as a mentor and friend drugged and sexually assaulted me. Instead
of being able to run, and pretty much do anything I wanted physically,
during the assault I was paralyzed and completely helpless. I could not
move my arms or legs. I couldn't speak or even remain conscious. I was
completely vulnerable, and powerless to protect myself.
After
the assault, I wasn't sure what had actually happened but the pain
spoke volumes. The shame was overwhelming. Self-doubt and confusion kept
me from turning to my family or friends as I normally did. I felt
completely alone, unable to trust anyone, including myself.
I
made it through the next few weeks by focusing on work. The women's
basketball team was in the middle of the Atlantic 10 tournament, and was
traveling a lot. It was an extremely busy time for me, and the
distraction helped take my mind off what had happened.
When
the team wasn't on the road, however, I was in the basketball office at
Temple, and was required to interact with Mr. Cosby, who was on the
Board of Trustees. The sound of his voice over the phone felt like a
knife going through my guts. The sight of the man who drugged and
sexually assaulted me coming into the basketball office filled me with
dread. I did everything my job required of me but kept my head down,
counting the days until I could return to Canada. I trusted that once I
left, things would get back to normal.
Instead,
the pain and anguish came with me. At my parents' house, where I was
staying until I got settled, couldn't talk, eat, sleep or socialize.
Instead of feeling less alone because I was back home with my family, I
felt more isolated than ever.
Instead
of my legendary big appetite and "hollow leg" — a running joke in my
family — I picked at my food, looking more like a scarecrow with each
passing week. I was always a sound sleeper but now I couldn't sleep for
more than two or three hours. I felt exhausted all the time.
I
used the demands of my new courses to opt out of family gatherings and
events, and to avoid going out with friends. As far as anyone could
tell, I was preoccupied with my studies. But the terrible truth about
what had happened to me — at the hands of a man my family and friends
admired and respected — was swirling around inside me.
Then
the nightmares started. I dreamed that another woman was being
assaulted right in front of me and it was all my fault. In the dream, I
was consumed with guilt, and pretty soon that agonizing feeling spilled
over into my waking hours too. I became more and more anxious that what
had happened to me was going to happen to someone else. I grew
terrified that it might already be too late, that the sexual assaults
were continuing because I didn't speak out.
Then
one morning I called my mother on the telephone to tell her what had
happened to me. She had heard me cry out in my sleep. She wouldn't let
me put her off, and insisted that I tell her what was wrong. She
wouldn't settle for anything less than a complete and truthful
explanation.
****************
Reporting
the assault to the Durham Regional police in Toronto only intensified
the fear and pain, making me feel more vulnerable and ashamed than ever.
When the Montgomery County District Attorney outside Philadelphia
decided not to prosecute for lack of evidence, we were left with no
sense of validation or justice. After we launched civil claims, the
response from Mr. Cosby's legal team was swift and furious. It was meant
to frighten and intimidate and it worked.
The
psychological, emotional and financial bullying included a slander
campaign in the media that left my entire family reeling in shock and
disbelief. Instead of being praised as a straight shooter, I was called a
gold digger, a con artist, and a pathological liar. My hard-working,
middle-class parents were accused of trying to get money from a rich and
famous man.
At the
deposition during the civil trial, I had to relive every moment of the
sexual assault in horrifying detail in front of Mr. Cosby and his
lawyers. I felt traumatized all over again and was often in tears. I had
to watch Cosby make jokes and attempt to degrade and diminish me, while
his lawyers belittled and sneered at me. It deepened my sense of shame
and helplessness, and at the end of each day, I left emotionally drained
and exhausted.
When the
case closed with a settlement, sealed testimony and a non-disclosure
agreement, I thought that finally — finally — I could get on with my
life, that this awful chapter in my life was over at last. These exact
same feelings followed me throughout both criminal trials. The attacks
on my character continued, spilling over outside the courtroom steps,
attempting to discredit me and cast me in false light. These character
assassinations have caused me to suffer insurmountable stress and
anxiety. which I still experience today.
I still didn't know that my sexual assault was just the tip of the iceberg.
Now,
more than 60 other women have self-identified as sexual assault victims
of Bill Cosby. We may never know the full extent of his double life as a
sexual predator but his decades-long reign of terror as a serial rapist
is over.
I have often
asked myself why the burden of being the sole witness in two criminal
trials had to fall to me. The pressure was enormous. I knew that how my
testimony was perceived, that how I was perceived, would have an impact
on every member of the jury and on the future mental and emotional
well-being of every sexual assault victim who came before me. But I had
to testify. It was the right thing to do, and I wanted to do the right
thing, even if it was the most difficult thing I've ever done.
When the first trial ended in a mistrial, I didn't hesitate to step up again.
*************
I
know now that I am one of the lucky ones. But still, when the sexual
assault happened, I was a young woman brimming with confidence and
looking forward to a future bright with possibilities. Now, almost 15
years later, I'm a middle-aged woman who's been stuck in a holding
pattern for most of her adult life, unable to heal fully or to move
forward.
Bill Cosby took
my beautiful, healthy young spirit and crushed it. He robbed me of my
health and vitality, my open nature, and my trust in myself and others.
I've
never married and I have no partner. I live alone. My dogs are my
constant companions, and the members of my immediate family are my
closest friends.
My life
revolves around my work as a therapeutic massage practitioner. Many of
my clients need help reducing the effects of accumulated stress. But
I've also trained in medical massage at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer
Center in New York, and often help cancer patients manage the side
effects of chemotherapy and radiation. I help many others too — people
with Parkinson's, arthritis, diabetes, and so on. Some of my clients are
in their 90s. I help them cope with the ravages of old age, reducing
stiffness, aches and pains.
I
like my work. I like knowing that I can help relieve pain and suffering
in others. I know that it helps heal me, too. I no longer play
basketball but I try to stay fit. Mostly, I practice yoga and
meditation, and when the weather is warm, I like to pedal my bike up
long steep hills.
It all
feels like a step in the right direction: away from a very dark and
lonely place, toward the person I was before all this happened.
Instead
of looking back, I am looking forward. I want to get to the place where
the person I was meant to be gets a second chance.
I know that I still have room to grow.
**************
I
would like to acknowledge some of the people who have helped me get
here today. I will always be grateful for their counsel, friendship and
support.
First of all, my
lawyers, Dolores Troiani and Bebe Kivitz. These two smart, courageous
women have been there for me since the beginning. Without them, I would
never have been able to navigate this legal and emotional minefield.
I
will also be eternally grateful to Kevin Steele, the District Attorney
of Montgomery County, who had the guts to believe in me, in the truth,
and for trusting that the justice system could get things right — even
if the process had to be repeated. I also want to thank Mr. Steele's
incredible team of professionals, including assistant district attorneys
Kristen Feder and Stewart Ryan, detectives Richard Shchaffer, Mike
Shade, Harry Hall, Jim Reape, Erin Slight, Kiersten McDonald, victims
services, and many others, for their passion for justice, their skill,
and their hard work and perseverance despite the odds.
Thank you to the jurors for their civic duty and great sacrifices.
Thank
you to all of the friends, old and new, who have stood by me. You know
who you are, and each and every one of you has made a huge difference.
Please know that.
Last
but not least, I want to thank my incredible family: my mother, Gianna,
and my father, Andrew, my sister Diana, her husband Stuart, and their
beautiful daughters — my nieces Andrea and Melanie. Thank you for
proving over and over again that if there's one thing in life you can
always count on, it's family.
