by Kirsten Krick Donahoe
As the days begin to grow longer, I am reminded of a particular spring morning just a couple of years ago. My family and I were pet sitting our friends’ dog, and I left early before work to a small local park where the dog could romp for a bit. Usually there are a few people at the park with their dogs, or jogging just above the park on the canal trail, but I noticed that nobody else was there that morning. Like most women, I’m aware of my surroundings at all times and debated whether I should stop listening to my podcast, take out my earbuds, and pay even closer attention to what was going on around me. But since there weren’t many places for anyone to hide, and I could watch the dog’s response for anyone coming, and it’s generally a safe suburb- I simply turned the volume down and continued to pay attention to both the dog and for anyone who may be approaching.
I saw a small blue car driving up the street to the cul de sac next to the park. The car pulled over to the curb on the opposite side of the park for a few minutes, then drove around the cul de sac and parked alongside the sidewalk, close to the park’s gate. I was still the only person at the park, it was now 6:30, and I needed to get ready for work. I decided to leave so I called the dog over and prepared the leash.
That’s when I noticed the driver of the car had rolled the passenger side window down and seemed to be talking to me. I pulled my earbuds out and yelled “What’s that?”
While putting on the dog’s leash I heard him ask for directions to Heather Farm park.
Weird, I thought. That’s the big city park not even a half mile from this little neighborhood one. How could he not know? I now had the dog leashed and was walking toward the park’s gate (and also this man’s car) to answer him. As I was opening the gate to leave I told him to just head down to the end of the street, turn left, cross Ygnacio Avenue- can’t miss it. “Wait- where now?” he said. I had just closed the gate and was standing on the sidewalk. I pointed to the end of the street and repeated my directions.
Something near his lap caught my eye and when I looked down I saw his exposed and erect penis. Surprise must have registered on my face since it was at that moment that he took off down the road. I managed to get his license plate number and immediately called Walnut Creek police. I told the operator what happened.
In a nutshell: Walnut Creek police found him, he lives in Antioch and works in Dublin. Stayed overnight at a friend’s house in Walnut Creek. He confirmed with the detective on that day, at that time, he saw a woman with a dog at the park. Confirmed he spoke to me, but could not confirm or deny he had his penis exposed. Because, you know, sometimes you just don’t know if your penis is out. I guess.
The police officer working my case asked if I wanted to press charges. I honestly was not sure if I did. Never before having been asked this question (lucky me), I took a couple days to think it through. What would it mean to press charges? An extended family member who is a defense attorney explained a little about the process, but recommended I not press charges. This man would be labeled a sex offender if the DA took the case and won. I wouldn’t want to ruin a young man’s life over a “mistake.”
But then I researched the behavior and my findings were confirmed by the police officer when I eventually told him I wanted to press charges. Exposing oneself is considered “escalatory behavior”, meaning these men often go on to commit more egregious “mistakes” like sexual assault and rape. Better to press charges- since that was what the system afforded me- than not. Seems like the best thing would be to have forced this man into therapy, but that was not an option. Furthermore, friends reminded me that I need not worry about what happens to him. HE chose to do this to ME. And the system is set up to protect HIM and not ME. This is my only option at an attempt to prevent him from doing this to anyone else.
I chose to press charges. But because the incident was not a “slam dunk case,” as I was told the Contra Costa DA’s office prefers their cases to be, it was dropped. No witnesses, no evidence (what, like a photo?), no indisputable way to prove my word over his word. I suppose it can’t be proven that a middle-aged woman at 6:30 in the morning would not make up a story such as the one I immediately told to a police operator upon taking a license plate number, but sure, okay. This is the system.
Walnut Creek has him flagged in their database but unless another person catches him in the act, calls his/her police department, that police department then contacts other local departments including Walnut Creek, it’s likely nothing will ever come of this.
It may not be surprising to learn that early mornings at my local park are no longer the same. If you’re a woman I would guess that you have AT LEAST one similar story. If you’re a man I promise you know a woman who has a similar story.
And, sadly, it was not the first time it had happened to me. The very same thing happened to a friend and me when we were ten at the VERY SAME PARK. This was back in the eighties. My friend and I went home, told my mother who called the very same police department. I don’t remember much about what was said, but my mother recounts that she was told he was known around town, was mentally ill, and was considered harmless. And that was that.
I believe that the Walnut Creek police department handled this most recent incident as best they could. The detective expressed regret there was nothing more she could do. But I hope this story serves as a reminder that these things happen to so many people so often and even on the chance a perpetrator is caught, nothing comes of it. At least not without evidence. Which begs the question: aren’t these offenses purposely done when there is no evidence to be had? No witnesses around? Friends describe men exposing themselves at a subway stop, then quickly turning away into a crowd. The point is to make sure it has registered on a woman’s face, then disappear.
Of course I’m aware that far worse things happen to many women every day. Frankly, far worse things have happened to me over the course of my life. But I don’t walk by that park without being reminded of that man’s behavior and the fact that it’s one more story in my list of similar stories; just another story in the history of women’s similar stories.
And a story that, nearly two years later, I still feel compelled to recount.
Lady Words 