Yesterday in Pets I wrote about the case of the Wooded Rapist and the dog that helped crack the case. After I posted it, I made sure all the doors were locked, turned off all the lights, and then headed up to bed.
Wayne was already in bed, so was my mom. Not unusual. Not out of the norm. It’s how the routine goes most nights. If I’m not staying up to bang out a few more articles at the keyboard, I have homecaring duties to tend to. Every so often it’s not work, but a chance to catch up on some one-on-one time with the remote that keeps me up. (And on the occasions I get to do that I usually end up dozing off on the couch.)
But last night as I headed up to bed I thought about how much I take it for granted that Wayne’s just right upstairs. Just in case I need him for whatever reason.
Except, he may not be. Even during those times when he’s not traveling, it might not be enough that he’s simply in the room on the floor above me.
See, even up to yesterday I wasn’t convinced that the man they arrested and suspected of being the serial rapist dubbed the Wooded Rapist, who’d hunted victims in Nashville for 14 years, was someone I knew. But today I found out that it most certainly was the Jason I’ve played volleyball with numerous times at the park and who I’ve seen around during league games.
He always seemed nice and gentlemanly. Others who have known him have also described him this way to reporters. He was charming.
But he viciously attacked at least 14 women, at least one of whom was at home, asleep on the couch, her husband just upstairs. The rapist forced her into the woods behind her house and raped her.
My heart goes out to all of the victims, but her story haunts me the most. I’m sure she believed she was safe. That no harm could possibly befall her with her husband in the house.
Yet it did.
I’m reeling from the fact that I was on a first name basis with a man who may have been more a monster, but Wayne’s completely flipping out.
“Do you know how lucky you are?” he asked me Friday night. “Do you realize your angels were really watching out for you?”
He was referring to this past summer when we were commuting it because he’d taken a job in Jacksonville and I was here trying to sell the house. Jason (the man arrested as being the Wooded Rapist) knew he was out of town. He knew I was alone. Every time he’d see me at volleyball, which was almost every Tuesday night, he’d ask how things were going.
At the time I thought he was just being nice, just making conversation. And maybe he was –but now there’s a chance he wasn’t.
It’s all spooky. It’s left me spooked and shaken for sure.
And it’s left me realizing how much I take for granted.
Related Articles
Talking About Tough Issues: Rape
Coping with Sexual Harassment and Assault (1)
Coping with Sexual Harassment and Assault (2)
Coping with Sexual Harassment and Assault (3)