I am Catherine Jane: The True Story of One Woman's Quest for Justice

By Catherine Jane Fisher

'I am Catherine Jane' is one woman’s brave, determined, and often-painful journey of healing and redemption.

Raped by a U.S. Navy sailor in Yokosuka, Jane Fisher, an Australian expatriate and mother of three, found herself fighting for justice in a society where the stigma of being a rape victim is seen as shameful and is often perceived as the victim’s fault.

Jane’s confronting story reveals the personal struggles behind her single-minded search for the rapist and her unwavering resolve to get a fair judgment through the courts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781925171648

Book preview

Mountain

PROLOGUE

RED WHITE AND BLUE BRUISES

I left my house as usual to pick up my boyfriend Jerry from Yokosuka Military Base. Nothing was out of the ordinary. No mystical sky forewarning me of the approaching evil that would alter my life forever. Come to think of it, I suppose no human being ever leaves their house thinking that disaster could unsuspectingly strike them at any moment. I just remember that I was so excited to be seeing Jerry, an engineer in the U.S. Military. Since the attacks of September 11th in 2001, he had frequently been deployed in support of Operation Enduring Freedom.

Jerry and I had been in a relationship for about two years and had often talked about moving to Australia with my three sons from my previous marriage. On April 5th, 2002, I arrived in Yokosuka after a one-and-a-half hour drive, and parked my van outside the military base. Seeing that I was early I decided to wait at the New Yokosuka Hotel, which was only a few seconds walking distance away. I sat in the hotel’s lobby bar and made small talk with the female bar attendant that Jerry and I both knew, as we had often been there before. She commented on how pretty I looked, and as I was showing her a photograph of Jerry and one of my sons, a stranger who was sitting next to me at the bar leaned over and said that he had some free drink coupons that he would not be using and offered them to me. I told him that it was a very nice gesture and accepted his offer. He left.

Jerry arrived shortly after and I told him about the free drinks, so we decided to stay. A short while later Jerry suggested that instead of going directly back to our house as we typically did, that we change our plans and go out for dinner or perhaps watch a movie on base. Jerry had just finished work and wanted to shower first, so he told me to wait for him at the bar while he went back to the base. He promised to be back within an hour or so, for which I was grateful, as I had missed eating lunch and was feeling a little hungry. I was comfortable with his suggestion and did not mind sitting alone at the bar, as the New Yokosuka Hotel was a reputable establishment. The only time I moved from my chair was to use the bathroom, and looking back, that was the only moment that my drink had been left unattended.

I have no idea what time Jerry actually did return, but the one thing that I clearly remember is that when he arrived and sat next to me at the bar, I put my head on his shoulder and said in a drowsy voice and with a slur in my speech, Jerry, I love you.

It wasn’t until later, that Jerry confessed that he had left me alone and in a condition where I was unable to care for myself. He later told my legal team that I was in such a state, that it looked as though I had consumed ten tequila shots, even though I obviously had not, because I never drink shots. Period. This led to the conclusion that someone had slipped a date-rape drug into my beverage.

Jerry and I are not together anymore, however in 2008, six years later, he telephoned me and said that he had felt extremely responsible that he had left me by myself and that it was partly his fault that I had been raped. He apologized for leaving me unaided and for not being a better man.

I had forgiven him for leaving me in a condition where I was unable to defend myself, but I’m not sure what role he may have played in all of it, as it became apparent to me later that he had a fetish as a voyeur.

It is imperative for me to say though, that the guilt lies in the hands of the rapist. The same shameful culpability also lies with the authorities that allowed the man who raped me to flee the courts of Japan during trial, and with the governments and the police that tried to cover up my story in the days and weeks that followed. Their odious lies allowed the rapist to receive impunity and diplomatic immunity with a get-out-of-jail-free pass while I was kicked to the gutter to live in a prison of hell. There is no honour in harbouring a rapist. Only cowards are coerced into doing something that they know is an immoral act. How can I erase the permanent memories of the American flag that has been stamped between my legs in red, white and blue bruises by a U.S. Military serviceman?

It takes courage to stand up for yourself. I stand in honour, and no longer in fear of speaking out. Here is my story.

JUST – ICE

The U.S. Military decided to call in the Japanese Police because the rape had occurred off base. ‘Thank God,’ I thought, ‘the heroes are being brought in to save me.’ I had faith that the Japanese Police would protect me and catch the rapist.

When the Japanese Police arrived, it was apparent that I was still trembling and gravely distressed. I told the policemen that I had been raped and that I was extremely cold. I said that as I had notified them of the incident I wanted to go to hospital. To my great shock, the policemen replied that I was not allowed to go.

Still feeling cold, I asked for permission to retrieve my blanket from my van and the policemen accompanied me to get it. I wanted it to wrap around myself, not only to stop my shaking, but also to give me some sort of protection, which I was in urgent need of. Surely one of the men standing around me could have been compassionate and sensitive enough to at least ask if I was okay. I desperately wanted my family to be with me. By this time I most definitely realised that I had put my trust into the wrong hands.

As I reached into the back of my van for my blanket I found my underwear on the floor and I notified the policemen. They did not reply. I had envisioned that my underwear would be a crucial piece of evidence. It was apparent that it meant nothing to them.

No underwear. No dignity. I was nobody to them. Not their wife. Not their sister. Not their daughter.

I knew that if my dad could have been there, he would take care of me. Nothing was making sense to me at all. All I wanted to do was curl up inside my blanket and hide from everyone. Not one policeman treated me with dignity or showed me any compassion. I did not want to look at or talk to any more men.

My blanket was my only shelter from this frightening nightmare. I could feel the stickiness on my inner thighs, but no one cared about the forensic evidence that was dripping down between my legs. I wanted to wash, to remove the rapist’s foul sperm that felt like millions of flesh-eating maggots savagely crawling over me. I was in shock and needed to be in a quiet and calm place.

I am in the back of my van on the floor.

I am naked from the waist down.

I have no recollection whatsoever of removing my own clothes.

I cannot move and a man, whom I do not know, has a firm hold of my ankles and my legs, which are high up in the air.

My bottom is off the ground and the position is awkward and as though I am being tipped upside down.

The stranger who is above me is completely naked.

I am wedged between the seats.

He seems so huge as he towers above me.

He is African American.

Bald.

The Japanese policemen took me back to the U.S. Military office at the front gate. There was a U.S. Military servicewoman present, which made me feel a little safer, and as she sat next to me she said, You are doing the right thing.

I did not know what to do anymore because all I had wanted was to report the incident and then receive medical care. I was petrified and did not want to move away from the only other female present in the room. I wished that Jerry would come and save me from all of these men that were constantly asking me insensitive questions, but with the curfew on base it was impossible.

It was my understanding that any victim of crime has the right to seek immediate medical assistance. I was even more than certain that it was protocol for a rape victim to deserve these same rights. Instead I had all of these policemen and U.S. Military servicemen swarming around me like flies on food left to rot.

I can’t move. I feel drugged.

The man has his face between my legs and is licking wildly at my vagina as though he is some deranged, rabid animal and that I am his last meal on earth.

I am petrified and it is extremely painful as I scream at him to stop. I am wondering to myself, why am I here and where is Jerry?

The only thought on my mind is that I want Jerry to save me and stop this man ravaging my body. I repeatedly beg the man to stop and then suddenly the man pauses and says, Come on Cat!

I think to myself, ‘Who is this man, and how does he know my name?’

As he sits back on one of the seats in my van, he holds his penis and starts masturbating, and then says again, Come on Cat!

Now it looks as though his entire body is covered in a dazzling light.

Is the light coming in from outside the window?

For some reason the man looks whiter than before.

Why is he so white, when he is black?

I have no idea where this light is coming from.

Bright lights.

I can’t move my own body.

He is now a giant figure towering above me again as I lie immobile on the floor of my own van.

Why can’t I move?

He is on top of me now, and I feel his heaviness.

As he tries to insert his penis inside me I am hysterically screaming at him to stop.

The Japanese policemen informed me, to my immense horror that I was to accompany them to search for the man who had just raped me. I was not asked politely, but I was being forced to do so against my own will. I did not want to get into a car with these policemen. I imagined myself in the back of a police car wrapped in my blanket, sobbing, not wanting to look out the window, searching for a man that had just raped me. It was all just so scandalously absurd. My fervent pleas for medical assistance at a hospital were out of the question. Futile. Why?

These policemen were now controlling me just like the man who had just raped me. I wished that I had not sought help from them in the first place.

Obeying their orders, I walked out of the military security office. To my astonishment and repulsion, the man who had just raped me was standing at the same front desk where I had previously stood when I first reported the crime. There had been a curfew on base that evening so I presumed that he probably needed permission to re-enter the base. I turned around and said to the policemen behind me, That’s him. I do not know what happened next because I was escorted back into the room behind the front desk again.

Unquestionably I assumed that the Japanese Police were placing the rapist under arrest and a sense of relief came over me, thinking that they would release me at last and I could go to hospital. I presumed wrong.

The Japanese Police told me that I had to accompany them back to the scene of the crime. Did these supposed professionals not even have the slightest idea that a rape victim’s body is a crucial part of the crime scene and that forensic evidence samples had to be collected? It was clear that they were incompetent. I begged and pleaded with them. I did not want to return to the scene of the crime, all I wanted was to go to hospital. Again my request was denied. I felt so exposed. Not one person knew that I was feeling suicidal. I had prayed that Jerry would save me from the rapist, and again I wished that he would save me from these insensitive, misogynistic policemen.

I was made to feel like a piece of trash and I knew that the police withholding medical treatment and keeping me captive was a grave infringement of my human rights.

I had honestly thought that I would be presumed innocent, until proven guilty, but I realised that as a victim, I was presumed guilty until proven innocent. There was no way on this earth that I wanted to return to the place where I had just been raped, but it was a straight-out order whether I liked it or not.

You must go back to the car park.

Who could save me now? I thought, as I was being escorted to where my van had been.

This is where my van was parked, I said, in submission to these policemen that I now hated as much as I hated the man who had raped me. I hung my head in shame and tried to find a safe place at least in my own heart and in my blanket, to hide and escape. I thought that it would soon be over.

Take off the blanket, one police officer bluntly said to me.

My blanket? What for? Why? I whimper.

I did not want them to take away the only protection that I had. Please don’t take it away from me, I sobbed.

Take it off. We need to take photographs of you. Do it now, he answered coldly.

What on earth for? Why do you need to take photographs of me here in the car park? I asked in utter bewilderment. What about letting me go to hospital? I want to go home. Can’t you take these photographs and a statement later? I can’t do this anymore.

No. Do it now. This is our procedure, the policeman sternly barked back at me.

Their procedure? What about me? What about what I felt?

The Japanese Police were now in control and I had to do as I was told. A policeman rudely took my blanket away from me. I shivered uncontrollably.

He is not saying anything, but is making these ugly grunting noises.

I try to reach down and grab his penis to stop him from entering me but to no avail and it is now too late as I feel him inside me.

Up and down.

Up and down his body goes.

Thrusting deeper and deeper inside me.

Thoughts of the advice given to our class by my high school teacher in Australia, comes back to me. It flashes through my mind how weird things come back to us at certain times in our life. I remembered her words, ‘If you are ever being attacked by a man, try and talk calmly to him.’

It would be better if you are not forcing me, I say to the man who is raping me.

This tactic does not work so I scream again.

You are raping me. Stop!

His ugly groaning noises continue.

Groaning like a crazy animal.

He reminds me of a wild pig as he ejaculates inside me.

As he pulls out his penis from my vagina he ejaculates over my inner thighs too.

Now point your finger! the same policeman ordered. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Point my finger? Point my finger at what?

Point your finger at the place where you were raped. We need these photographs for evidence, said the officer.

It was useless trying to make sense out of their procedures anymore. It was evident that the car park was more important to them than me, and not one police officer cared about how humiliated I felt standing there pointing my finger to where I had just been raped. As the tears rolled down my cheeks, I prayed that the earth below me would magically open and swallow me up so that no one would be able to force me to do anything anymore. I truly wished that I were dead. I was one woman, against all of these men who were treating me like a criminal. They made me feel as though I was a revolting, disgusting piece of trash. My head was spinning, and I wished that someone, anyone, would make them stop.

The shutter clicked on the camera. Dawn was approaching and I did not know how many hours had passed since the rape.

Yes, here. Here! Here! Here! He raped me here!

Are you happy now, you insensitive group of policemen?

I was probably in denial and did not want to admit that I had been a rape victim; nonetheless this was the last straw. The Japanese Police stamped my helpless body with their branding iron over and over again. Lowlife. Trash. Slut. Whore.

I knew that it was protocol to preserve all evidence from