Don’t call or I’ll shoot you,” he told her. He wore a black mask that seemed more like a scarf fastened tight around his face. At around 8 a.m., she was jolted awake by a man who had jumped on her back, pinning her to the bed. After cooking green mung beans for dinner, she curled up in bed for a marathon of “Desperate Housewives” and “The Big Bang Theory” until drifting off. She had been alone in her apartment the previous evening. The woman told Galbraith she was 26 years old, an engineering student on winter break from a nearby college. Galbraith suggested that she and the victim escape the icy gusts in a nearby unmarked patrol car.
Police technicians were swarming the apartment. She clutched a bag of her belongings in one hand. She was young, dressed in a brown, full-length coat. Galbraith spotted the victim standing in the thin sunlight outside her ground floor apartment. She was there to investigate a report of rape. on a wintry day in January 2011, Detective Stacy Galbraith approached a long, anonymous row of apartment buildings that spilled up a low hill in a Denver suburb. And she would have to pay $500 to cover the court’s costs.Ī little after 1 p.m. She would need to keep straight, breaking no more laws. She would need to go on supervised probation. She would need to get mental health counseling for her lying. The prosecution’s offer was this: If she met certain conditions for the next year, the charge would be dropped. They don’t appreciate having their time wasted. Her story hadn’t hurt anyone - no suspects arrested, or even questioned. Her lawyer was surprised she had been charged.
One TV newscast announced, “A Western Washington woman has confessed that she cried wolf when it came to her rape she reported earlier this week.” She had been charged with filing a false report, which is why she was here today, to accept or turn down a plea deal.
Then, confronted by police with inconsistencies in her story, she had conceded it might have been a dream. She had reported being raped in her apartment by a man who had bound and gagged her. This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. Sign up to get ProPublica’s investigations delivered to your inbox. She doubted herself, wondering if there was something in her that needed to be fixed. A friend from 10th grade called to ask: How could you lie about something like that? Marie - that’s her middle name, Marie - didn’t say anything.
Each ring of the phone seemed to announce another friendship, lost.
It had cost her the newfound independence she was savoring after a life in foster homes. Her case was one of 4,859 filed in 2008 in Lynnwood Municipal Court, a place where the judge says the goal is “to correct behavior - to make Lynnwood a better, safer, healthier place to live, work, shop and visit.”īut her misdemeanor had made the news, and made her an object of curiosity or, worse, scorn. She was 18 years old, charged with a gross misdemeanor, punishable by up to a year in jail. No one came to court with her that day, except her public defender. Sign up for ProPublica’s Big Story newsletter to receive stories like this one in your inbox as soon as they are published. ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power.