Since Jack and I were older (he 34, me 29) when we got married, we decided to have children right away. After a miscarriage and several months, I became pregnant. On March 6, 1968 I was approximately 5 months pregnant with our first child and Jack was still in anesthesia residency, working at L.A. Children’s Hospital on Sunset Drive.
We shared one car and i often went to pick him up at the hospital when I finished work. I was sitting in our car, unlocked doors, and windows down in an almost deserted large parking lot. A youngish white male came up to the drivers side and told me in a menacing voice to move over. As I said in the previous blog I was not an assertive person and 1) was not aware I was in danger sitting in the parking lot alone with doors unlocked and 2) did not think fast enough to think this man might harm me and 3) did not try to get away. He drove out of the parking lot and headed to the Hollywood Hills above Sunset Drive where there were narrow roads and lots and lots of houses in deep jungle-like foliage.
While driving he related to me that he had just gotten out of prison in WA or OR and showed me his arm with needle tracks and scars. I was my usual pleasant, sharing self, telling him I was a nurse, waiting for my husband to get off work, not yet realizing what he was up to. I now don’t remember what he said that tipped me off to the fact that he intended to harm me. At some point he stopped the car and I jumped out and ran down a steep stone path leading to a house. I barged into the unlocked back door of the house, where there was a little old lady in her kitchen and I’m certain I scared her half to death. The perpetrator was right on my tail, grabbed me and pulled me out of the woman’s house, and back up into the road. I was now sure I couldn’t overpower him and decided to let him do whatever he was going to do without my objection, hoping that he would not kill me. I recall thinking, as i lay in the bushes where he had put me, that he possibly was going to kill me.
After he finished the rape, he allowed me to get up and go back up to the road and the car, where he told me to drive. I was so elated to see that he was not going to kill me or further hurt me that I didn’t notice he had gone through my purse and stolen my check book. I cooperatively and quietly drove back down to Sunset Blvd and over to Children’s Hospital where he got out of the car and walked away and i found the hospital entrance. Jack was beside himself, knowing something was terribly wrong and not knowing where to look for me. (No cell phones in 1968) He had called the police and we went immediately to the police station where they took my story, examined me and took samples for evidence of rape. I have to say here that in 1968, women who claimed they were raped were often not believed and treated badly in police stations. But since I came in accompanied by a man who was also my husband, I was treated in a responsible way—not particularly supportive—but when they saw how disheveled my clothes were and how distressed I was, they treated me okay. I was mildly unhinged, even having uterine cramping like I was going to spontaneously abort my pregnancy. I recall talking to my self and my unborn baby,”Hang in there, baby. Just calm down now. We’ll be okay. Just settle down….”
The following day I received a phone call from the Los Angeles police asking me if I had given this man money or my checkbook. The criminal had apparently written himself a check for $50.00 and signed my name. He had been stopped , questioned, and searched by the police, just on general principles because he was loitering in a suspicious location. When I related to the police what had taken place, they charge him and jailed him. My bank made good on the fake check and I returned to my life, distraught, waiting for my delivery date and staying home from work each time the court system notified me the perpetrator was scheduled for trial. Somehow we figured out the court system was not going to bring him to trial while I was obviously pregnant because my being pregnant would be too prejudicial and so the court appointed attorney scheduled “continuances.” In 4 months I delivered our baby boy and the jury trial was finally held 9 months after the crime. Jack and I managed to be credible witnesses since the accused guy made up an exceedingly stupid story about Jack and I dealing drugs to him. Of course the lunatic was found guilty. We were so relieved that the ordeal was finished that we never even asked what his sentenced was. To this day his name, which was indelibly imprinted on our minds at the time, has escaped us.
