I Survived a Violent Crime, Then the Justice System Let Me Down
"I was made to feel like a second-class victim."
It was an April morning when my personal trainer came into my home in Irvine, California, to take a look at the treadmill I’d been planning to sell.
Then he gave me this pill, this little yellow “weight loss” pill, and a chocolate drink.
“What is this?” I asked. “There’s something blue in the drink.”
He was like, “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s probably something in the cup…”
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I don’t remember much of the next half hour, but do remember vividly what I felt next: I was undressed and in my son’s bed. I couldn’t get words out of my mouth. I felt like I was under anesthesia.
Before I knew it, my trainer had
