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Dear Brock Turner



I’ve been hearing your name a lot lately. I can’t scroll through my feeds without seeing all the outrage directed toward you. You’re everywhere. It’s like you’re famous, but for all the wrong reasons.

I heard what you did to that woman behind the dumpster as she laid unconscious. I heard the judge presiding over your case thought a longer sentence would’ve had too severe an impact on your future. I heard your dad wrote a letter about how exhausted, anxious, overwhelmed and depressed you are from this firestorm you created. He says you aren’t even eating your favorite steak anymore. Must be a really tough time for you, huh? I even heard it was like pulling teeth to get the “authorities” and Stanford to release your mugshot.

I have to say Brock, it must be so reassuring to know someone has your back. It must be comforting to know you have a few advocates in high places. The elitist force field of privilege and entitlement that surrounds and buffers you must seem impenetrable. But Brock, know this. No matter how many shortened sentences you get or how much public relations damage control is done on your behalf, there’s one thing your daddy’s money will never be able to buy and that’s a clear conscience. You see Brock, you didn’t just make a mistake that night. You made an unconscionable mistake. You didn’t just make an error in judgment. You made an incomprehensible error in judgment.

To be honest Brock, I don’t care about your sleepless nights. I don’t care about how you’re not eating like you used to. I don’t care about whether or not you finish your degree. And I care very little about the reputation you will seek to repair as a result of your egregious and abhorrent behavior. Brock, you’re cowardly. And now you’re a rapist. It appears you have no moral compass and lack any spine to step up to the plate and begin the long and arduous road of healing and forgiveness. You simply are unwilling to do the heavy lifting. You’ve yet to even apologize or show any kind of remorse. You blame everything and everyone but yourself. Your blindness and inability to see any wrongdoing in this situation is nauseating and gives me zero confidence that you won’t do this again.

What’s so sad is you feel as if you’re the victim in all this – you’re not. You are the victimizer. You are the assailant. You are the damager. She’s the real victim in this nightmare. Her courageous letter is the primary reason why I’m writing this. Her strength overshadows your weakness. Having a young daughter myself, I can’t even begin to imagine how I would handle something like this.

How can you not own up, take responsibility, and be accountable for the choices you made that night?

Here’s a crash course for you on how to treat women. No Stanford degree required. Ready? Women are meant to be honored, valued, respected, elevated, and fought for. Not objectified, taken advantage, minimized, or violated. Read and re-read those last two sentences over and over and over again until it sinks in.

Now, I want to be very clear. I don’t write these words mindlessly pointing my finger at you. Typically, I’m not a judgmental, accusatory person. I write this letter because there was a time in my life when my head was so far up my ass that I needed words like these. And I got them. My marriage was on the rocks. I was risking everything and choosing myself over my family. But a friend reached out to me with a letter, kind of like this, and it changed the trajectory of my life.

As angry as I am at you Brock for what you did, I wholeheartedly believe you can be restored. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in unconditional love. I believe in second chances. But you’ve got to put in the work. You’ve got to face the most brutal facts of this situation and own them. You’ve got to acknowledge the irreversible damage you’ve caused and commit to making things right in any way you can. You’ve got to be honest with yourself. You’ve got to pay your debt to society and find a redemptive path to walk down. It’s not too late.

I think of Ray Rice, former Baltimore Raven who punched his wife in the face in an elevator, who now speaks to Ravens rookies about domestic violence. I think about Eric Smallridge who was drunk driving when he killed Megan Napier. Today, because of Eric’s remorse, brokenness and the forgiveness of Megan’s mom, Eric travels the country speaking to high schoolers about the dangers of drunk driving.

You are not a lost cause Brock.

You can right this ship, but there’s a heavy cost to pay.

My prayer is that you’ll eventually be willing to make that payment.


06/10/2016 / Author: admin / Comments: 0 / Blog Categories:

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