![]() ![]() ![]() The woman who came to my kitchen told me my situation was exactly what former judge Mowat calls “one person’s word against another”. It was little wonder, then, that I dropped it. Still shaken and vulnerable, I was in no position to make such a decision on the spot, and frankly her description of the court process scared me. The woman insisted on me deciding whether or not to press charges immediately. I was given no opportunity to seek advice or regain composure no chance to sleep on the matter. The entire experience, being separated from my friend and then questioned harshly hours after my rape, was perhaps as disorientating as it could possibly have been. Furthermore, the Sexual Offences Act 1956 lists “evidence that by reason of drink… the complainant was unaware of what was occurring and/or incapable of giving valid consent” as a means by which to establish rape. Photos and videos my friends shot of me passed out both on the floor and on my bed proved I was incapable of consenting: unable to talk or stand up, I cannot have been capable of agreeing to sex. In fact, the Crown Prosecution Service states “ capacity to consent may evaporate well before a complainant becomes unconscious”. She didn’t fail to emphasise how traumatic I would find the process or her certainty my case would not stand up in court: I would be unable to prove I was unconscious at the time or that I didn’t drunkenly consent. I was not allowed to leave the kitchen until I had made my decision. The woman asked me to decide in that moment whether or not to press charges. In her opinion, as she made clear from the start, mine fell into the latter category. She said she got called to investigate a number of rape reports each day and her job involved deciding which of them it was worthwhile to pursue and which it wasn’t. She proceeded to question me rather forcefully, in a very short and matter-of-fact tone, and concluded that because I was drunk I couldn’t prove anything, informing me my evidence would not stand up in court. She came into the kitchen, where I had been with the two policemen and my friend, and sent him from the room insisting the conversation be private - even as I maintained I needed him for moral support and didn’t mind him being there. ![]() Once I explained what had happened and provided forensics, the policemen contacted a woman I was told was in charge of dealing with rape allegations around Oxfordshire. The only advice I received was to drink less in future. One described rape as “just something that happens”, especially at university. Two officers then came to my house, where I was questioned further. The receptionist, on learning I was reporting a sex offence, insisted on me giving details in front of everybody in the waiting room before taking me somewhere private. I told very few people at the time, but a friend came with me to the police station. ![]() I pulled away and heard him mutter “Oh no, it fell out” to himself, at which point I blacked out again. I remember waking up during the night and seeing him on top of me, my trousers around my ankles and my shirt still on. I have one very clear memory which still haunts me two years later. Then a guy I didn’t know had sex with me in my sleep. I have since learnt that I was put to bed, but I don’t remember anything. Poker rapidly descended into a drinking game and I, being a fatal combination of bad at poker and intolerant of alcohol, passed out. Yes, my unconsciousness was due to alcohol.ĭesperate to learn how to play poker, I had invited some friends over to teach me, one of whom brought two companions. In the first term of my second year at Oxford, I was raped while passed out in my bed. (“Rape conviction statistics will not improve until women stop getting so drunk”, she said this week.) To me however, they are also personal. This account was originally published, anonymously, here.įormer judge Mary Jane Mowat’s recent comments about rape convictions are outrageous. ![]()
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