Forum

Early one morning, I encountered a creep on the street who tried to rape me. He didn't succeed; somehow, I managed to break free and run away. Naturally, I immediately called the police, tears streaming down my face.

I have to say, the police surprised me. They arrived very quickly, within about five minutes, and caught the creep about forty minutes later. It turned out he was a twenty-year-old guy with two prior convictions. Apparently, his interaction with the police officers had a depressing effect on him, and he confessed.

The detective I spoke with was very polite. He explained some of the intricacies of our legal system, listened to me attentively, without getting annoyed when I started crying again from the fear I had experienced, and helped me write a proper statement.

Then, things started to get strange. The detective received a phone call, stepped out of the office for a moment, returned looking even gloomier, and said, "The creep's mother called and is offering money." I said I wouldn't take any money, even if it were a million.

About three hours later, an investigator arrived. He began the conversation by saying, "You shouldn't be out at five in the morning!" If I had been in my right mind, I probably would have replied that there was no curfew in our city, and I could go out whenever I wanted. But at that moment, I wasn't in a state to argue.

Then, the investigator said that the guy was only twenty years old, and I would ruin his life if I put him in jail. He didn't actually do anything to me. And the case was a guaranteed loser – there were no witnesses, and the guy would soon come to his senses, say, "It wasn't me, it wasn't my horse," and claim that he confessed under psychological pressure from the police officers. He also said that the investigation and trial were a very unpleasant process and asked if it was worth me wasting my nerves on it when there was no chance of success. He almost convinced me, and I said I needed to think about it. The poor twenty-year-old was released.

I thought about it. And I realized that I had to put this creep in jail. I wouldn't ruin his life – it was already ruined. If his first two convictions didn't teach him a lesson, there was nothing left to break.

I received a call from the investigative committee, and they asked me to come in. I went, and in a much firmer voice, I told another investigator about what had happened. He started with the same song: there were no witnesses, no evidence, and no identification had been conducted. "How can that be?" I asked, surprised. "We went to the scene of the crime with another investigator, and he saw that the bushes were broken, my clothes were stained, and my hairpin and headphones were lying in the corner..." "Oh, really?" the investigator said, surprised. "But why isn't that in the crime scene report?" How would I know why it wasn't there? Apparently, because your colleague didn't want to work! He felt sorry for the twice-convicted criminal.

Then, the investigator gave my address and phone number to the creep. And the creep decided to talk to me. First, he called – I didn't answer. Then, he came to my door – I didn't open it. I live on the first floor, and I'm scared. Now, I don't go out of the house without protection – my boyfriend, father, brother, or some friends are always with me. I'm very afraid. Then, this jerk retracted his confession, saying that he had simply mistaken me for a friend and decided to scare me, that is, he just approached and grabbed my collar. And the rest, I made up.

I was denied the initiation of a criminal case. I went to a law firm, and they drafted a complaint to the court. The court hearing was postponed twice because the investigator was on vacation and couldn't transfer the case to the judge. Is he the only one in the entire investigative committee? Are there no others? Before the hearing, the first investigator called me: "Why did you sue us, Marya Batkovna? We agreed that you had no claims." We? Agreed? I didn't agree with anyone about anything!

My lawyer explained quite clearly in court who was the idiot – me or the investigators. The case was sent for further investigation. I had to talk to the deputy head of this investigative department, who persistently asked me if I was sure I didn't want to drop the charges. I'm sure I don't. Yes, I'm certain.

By the court's decision, they must review my case within ten days. Today is the eighth day, and I haven't received a call or a message from the investigative committee. Fortunately, they are not far from my work, so I'll go visit them. I wonder what excuses they will come up with this time.