A Broken Judicial System the Power of Unsubstantiated Accusation

By Victor Cuevas

In 2005, Victor Cuevas was falsely accused of raping a thirteen-year-old girl.

Even though he was acquitted of all charges three years later, his life has never been the same. In this book, he looks back at the fight he waged to clear his name.

Athough he did not know it at the time, the author’s nightmare began Aug. 23, 2005, when he visited a resort for a relaxing overnight getaway with his girlfriend. Five weeks later, he was arrested after a thirteen-year-old girl claimed he took her to the same resort during the same timeframe and sexually assaulted her.

The police marched into the middle school where he worked and escorted him out of the building in handcuffs—in front of students, peers, and the news media. They didn’t tell him what he had allegedly done wrong.

In this account, the author reveals how teenage angst between two people turned into a false accusation of rape. He also shares a stark account of what happens when you’ve been accused of a sex crime—even after a jury of peers declares you to be innocent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781663250896

Book preview

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

To the one who stood by me in my darkest times and never let me go.

We live in a world filled with imperfections—with a judicial system that often fails the average person, where we don’t always know who we can trust. In 2005, I was falsely accused of raping a thirteen-year-old girl. Three long years later, I was acquitted of all charges. This is my journey through those dark times, when I had only my family and faith to keep me going. Share with me everything that was done and, more importantly, what was not done as I battled our city and state judicial systems.

This is a true event that haunts me to this day. All named individuals in this book were part of the process, and their actual words can be found in the court transcripts of my trial. In a few instances, the names have been omitted or changed, as there is no one to verify the authenticity of a specific statement or two. Since 2005, some of the individuals have relocated to begin new lives, some have retired, and one or two have died. What is most important to remember is that these events happened to me. This is not fiction. All documented court proceedings are readily available as public information.

CHAPTER

ONE

MAN MAKES PLANS,

AND GOD LAUGHS

A Connecticut resort advertises itself as an experience like no other. On August 23, 2005, I visited the resort for a relaxing overnight getaway with my girlfriend, and that’s exactly what it turned out to be. Or, at the very least, a nightmare like no other.

Five weeks later, I was arrested based on charges stemming from a then thirteen-year-old female (who will only be identified as Jane), who claimed that I had taken her to the same resort during the same time frame and had sexually assaulted her.

On October 5, 2005, at 10:00 a.m., I was picked up by the Waterbury, Connecticut, police at the middle school where I worked and taken to the police precinct in town. My job as a prevention specialist entailed dealing with students and police officers regularly, sometimes as a prevention specialist, sometimes as a negotiator, sometimes as a consultant, and sometimes as a buffer, but at all times as a doorway or pathway between the students and what was happening in their lives, their families, and their communities.

That morning, I was in my office trying to de-escalate a potential fight. Seeing two officers walk in created no stress or alarm on my part, as the students often told me about any up-and-coming problems, and I collaborated with the police to offset potential issues. But the police weren’t there for any students at the school. They were there for me.

They offered no explanation as to what they wanted, other than I needed to come down to the station with them. I was handcuffed, escorted out of the building in front of students, peers, and the news media, and told I would be released if I complied.

Twelve hours later, I still had no idea why I was at the police station and no indication of what was going on. The only thing I kept being asked was if I knew Jane. At that time, I recognized a couple of young officers from the neighborhood and asked them what was happening. But no one would or could tell me anything, and I was not allowed to leave. I remained in custody, completely isolated in a small room. Repeatedly, I asked what was happening or what the charges were and was ignored.

Regardless of what the police drama shows portray on TV, real life is very different. Not even one phone call was allowed while I was there. Although the police officers involved attested under oath that I had only been held two to four hours, it actually was a ten- to twelve-hour span. I had no idea why I was being held and unable to communicate with everyone about my situation. No family. No friends. No lawyer.

A police station is a busy place, and I could hear bits and pieces of what was happening outside my four walls. One thing I’ll never be able to forget is a detective’s directive to Find me a witness. Make me a witness. If you can’t find one, make one because this m … f … is going to jail tonight!

A so-called witness was found that evening, and I was officially arrested a few hours later. I was later charged with two counts of sexual assault in the second degree, one count of sexual assault in the first degree, and one count of risk of injury or impairing the morals of a minor. I was held in jail for fourteen days before family and friends were able to help raise my $750,000 bond.

The following describes my living hell over the next three years—the lies, the losses, and the repercussions that followed, all because proven police techniques were not followed. Because standard DNA testing was not performed. Because no notes or recordings were taken or provided from the time I was brought in for questioning at the police station. Because key prosecution witnesses were allowed to change their testimony time and time again. Because defense testimony was never corroborated. Because timing issues were ignored. Because a state prosecutor cared more about closing cases than finding the truth. Because there was a teenage substory that the state chose to ignore.

To quote William Gaddis, Justice? You get justice in the next world. In this world you have the law. And on October 5, 2005, the law determined that I was guilty and was going to jail. Guilty until proven innocent.

Fortunately, the jury got it right. On April 5, 2008, three years later, a jury exonerated me on all charges. The media was still following my case, and the headlines read, Recreation Director Cleared. But that didn’t get me back the years I lost with my family, my home, my financial stability, my friends, and my career. People I knew and trusted turned against me. My family and I had lived under the threat of my imprisonment for three years. Although I was vindicated on all charges, I want to be very clear that you never fully recover from such accusations. The cost is too high. We all paid a price. It took a huge toll.

In 2005, I was a single father of three boys, then eighteen, fourteen, and thirteen, and they were removed from my care. I lost my home and my cars. People I considered friends turned away. It was hard to determine who believed in me and who did not.

I had worked hard to provide love, peace, and safety for my boys, but they were removed from my home by the Department of Children and Families (DCF). I had just gone through an expensive custody battle, and the state had named me the primary custodial parent. Losing them after a three-court battle was heartbreaking, leading to many years of mental health challenges for all of us.

Because of the pending charges, I was no longer able to work at the middle school, nor as a part-time adjunct professor at a nearby college, where I taught a variety of subjects, including marketing, entrepreneurship, business law, and end-user computer classes. My job as recreation center director for the city of Waterbury was changed to a desk job.

I lost everything in order to pay for my bond and legal defense for the trial. For three years, I lived in my mother’s home, sleeping on her couch. I locked myself in her house, basically leaving only once a day to attend Catholic mass at the Immaculate Conception Church in Waterbury. I rarely ventured out because I didn’t know who supported me. Once, I remember seeing a friendly face as I ran into a teacher from the middle school where I had been arrested. I attempted to say hello, and she put up her hand, indicating I should stop where I was, called me a monster, and walked away. Although technically I was free pending trial, I was not free. It was a terrible time.

My attorney, Martin Minnella, specialized in criminal defense and categorized my trial as a witch hunt. But not this time, he said, ultimately praising the jury for recognizing the inconsistencies in the prosecutor’s witnesses. This trial brought out all the things the Connecticut State Police did not do. It was a horror.

My entire life had been taken from me. I felt powerless that people (the police and the state) could have this type of power in playing God. The state has the power to ruin lives and then just move on. The police, in my case, had the ability to try to make everything look and sound believable and just lock me up. I was angry—angry about what I had always thought to be a fair and just system. That faith has been irrevocably lost. Essentially, I isolate myself from my community, and everyone who knows me understands that my community is what drives me.

This is my time to set the record straight. To tell my story the way it really happened, right from the actual transcripts. The good … the bad … and the ugly. In the end, although the system did work for me, I’ve lost more than I can ever gain back.

CHAPTER

TWO

W ednesday, October 5, was a normal workday for me. I was a divorced father raising three sons, Victor, eighteen, Christian, fourteen, and Brendon, thirteen, whom I considered my best friends. I was paying for private school for the two youngest, and my oldest attended college in Vermont. While raising my young family, I had attended college and had obtained my bachelor’s degree in business administration and my master’s degree in secondary business education. During those early years, I drove a garbage truck during the day and went to school at night. Now I was the director for the River Baldwin Recreation Center in the city of Waterbury. I was also a prevention officer at the West Side Middle School and an adjunct professor at Naugatuck Valley Community College several nights a week. After my arrest, life changed quickly. The only income I was able to rely on was my salary from the city of Waterbury, losing my other two incomes as a result of the publicized accusations.

So how did we get here? I’m not even sure exactly when the process began, although if I had to guess, and I have many times, I’d say it started when a thirteen-year-old girl decided to exact revenge on her fourteen-year-old boyfriend’s family after he broke up with her. It began with a simple boy meets girl, boy dates girl, boy breaks up with girl. It happens all the time, especially at that age. But the repercussions that followed were headline worthy, transforming into allegations of assault of a thirteen-year-old girl by a forty-four-year-old man.

In 2005, I was a prevention specialist at the West Side Middle School in town. Jane Doe was a thirteen-year-old student peer mediator at the same school. A prevention specialist promotes and teaches potentially at-risk youngsters how to live a drug-free and alcohol-free lifestyle, selecting healthier lifestyles. Individual support is provided to students in helping them deal with peer pressure, bullying, stress, and anger-management skills. As a prevention specialist, I provided workshops dealing with topics such as pregnancy prevention, gang prevention, and violence prevention. I also trained students to be peer mediators. I had a very good rapport with teachers and administrators, as well with the students. These eighth-grade students were trained to mediate issues with sixth- and seventh-grade students. Peer mediators are trained in listening and communications skills and are available to counsel other students with issues they may be struggling with. The students and I had a good rapport because I understood them. Jane signed up to be a peer mediator in one of my programs and was selected as one of twelve to be trained.

Jane was a thirteen-year-old girl who attended West Side Middle School in 2005. She was in the eighth grade. She lived in the same neighborhood where my family lived and was the third youngest of four children. She was the neighborhood kid who hung around the streets at night, participating in drinking and smoking at a young age, but I never knew her to be one to get into trouble.

On October 5, 2005, she told a teacher, and eventually the police, that I had taken her to a resort area in early July of that year and had sexually assaulted her. For the next three years, she stuck to this accusation, although the timing of this story changed three times.

Jane’s family and mine lived in the same neighborhood, and she claimed that she had only been to my house once or twice and did not know my son Christian, fourteen, very well. She denied the fact that she had ever dated him or been intimate with him. She also testified that I had only driven her to school once or twice, when she had missed the bus. She claimed to have shared confidential information with me on several occasions. In fact, I had driven her to school several times, as my kids went to school nearby, but she had shared no confidential information with me.

On October 5, 2005, when she was a freshman at Kennedy High School in Waterbury, she told a teacher at the school that she didn’t trust teachers but didn’t say anything more. The next day, she expanded on her statement to the same individual, saying that a teacher had raped her and named me as the perpetrator. This information was conveyed to a guidance counselor at the school, who contacted DCF, who in turn contacted the Waterbury Police Department to investigate further. At that point, she gave testimony to the police that I had picked her up at her home at 1:00 a.m., sometime around the middle of July or early August, with her mother’s consent, and had taken her to the beach for the evening, where I assaulted her at a condo I had rented. This was her first statement. Her next statement to the police changed the date to a later date. At that time, she also claimed we left the resort the next morning and arrived at her home at approximately 11:30 a.m. That’s the bare bones of her story. And that’s why I was arrested and charged with her assault.

As I said, Jane lived in my neighborhood and was about the same age as my middle son. She lived with her mother and stepfather, along with an older sister and two brothers. She was in the eighth grade at the time the alleged assault occurred. She was my student and my neighbor and would come around my house on the weekends and hang out with my then fourteen-year-old son, Christian. I thought nothing of it until I found out that, while I was at work, she would sneak into my home and be alone in my son Christian’s bedroom. When I learned of this, I was very upset and moved my family into a new neighborhood.

Because I worked three jobs and was actively involved in my sons’ school and sport activities, I was often away from the household and explained to my kids time and time again what the rules were. The biggest rule was no girls in the house when I wasn’t home. They knew the rules and were expected to follow them. Although Jane vehemently denied it, she and my middle son, Christian, became boyfriend and girlfriend. When I learned of this, I banned her from the house, and she did not take that well. Jane disputes this and says she was only at my house once and was not involved with my son. Christian refutes this, saying they were boyfriend and girlfriend and had a sexual relationship. Phone calls logged in confirmed several phone calls between the two, often late at night.

I had spoken to Jane’s mom, explaining the situation, and told her I did not want her daughter to see my son or come to my home. When my son eventually broke up with her, Jane told him, You took my virginity, and now you can’t be with me because of your dad. I will ruin both of your lives.

The night of the alleged incident, I had invited my two youngest sons to Water’s Edge Resort and Spa in Westbrook, Connecticut, but they had declined because of a baseball game the following day. I believe that Christian may have mentioned this trip to Jane as well. I continued with my plans to go with my girlfriend, Maria, and again warned that there were to be no girls in the home. At that time, I had a young man, Fred Carter, staying with us, whose father was a good friend of mine. I treated Fred as one of my sons. That evening when I was at Water’s Edge, supposedly with Jane, Fred had called me to let me know that she had banged on my front door demanding to see Christian. Fred told her that Christian was not there, but she did not believe him. In fact, Christian was not at home, having spent the night at his baseball coach’s home.

Fred, Christian, and I had several conversations that evening about Jane threatening Christian and leaving crazy messages on the app Messenger. I called Jane on her cell phone, against Maria’s objections, to tell her that I was going to call the police if she did not leave. She was very upset and kept repeating that I was keeping Christian from her and asking tons of questions. I was not interested in responding and eventually just hung up. Christian called me and said that she kept calling him. I advised him to turn off his phone as well.

Jane and I also had several conversations that night, most of which were to ensure that she left my premises. I talked with Fred Carter several times that night, who confirmed that Jane was parked at the bottom of my driveway with a group of teenagers, smoking and playing music. I called Christian at his coach’s house, and he confirmed that Jane was hanging out at our home. I also called another family friend, explained the situation to him, and asked if he could take a ride over to help get rid of the kids in the driveway, if necessary. I admit I was pissed and called her several times. But as far as I was concerned, the problem was over.

Five weeks later, I found out differently. Five weeks later, I was arrested and charged with assault of this same young girl. I spent fourteen days in jail while trying to raise $750,00 bond so I could work on my defense of innocence.

CHAPTER

THREE

J ane and I were part of the West Side Middle School system as student and teacher. Her mom was a volunteer at the school, and we knew each other well enough for her mom to be comfortable with me driving Jane to school when she missed the school bus. I didn’t mind, as my kids went to another school just a few blocks away. Although we were just acquaintances, in July 2005, Jane’s mom asked me to talk to her about another boy she was seeing, who the mom and her husband did not approve of. I spoke to Jane in front of her parents and tried to provide some guidance for her going forward. Her mom also shared that Jane was dealing with some other issues at the time.

During the days before my trial, I learned that Jane had met a friend over the app MySpace, who turned out to be a thirty-year-old man. She had lied to her mom and said that she was spending the night at a girlfriend’s house. Instead, she had this adult male friend call her mom and say he was her girlfriend’s dad and promise he would bring her home the next day in time for church. When Jane never showed up back at home, her mom went to the police, who paid a visit to Jane’s girlfriend’s home. There, they discovered the truth. The girl’s father knew nothing of what was happening, and his daughter told the police the truth. Jane had never been there. She was eventually found in a crack house in town, along with MySpace guy, who was arrested. My counsel tried to enter this public information into my defense as an indication of her character, but the judge would not allow it.

Jane’s mother had disclosed to me during her time at school that there were other problems at home. And other students shared the fact that Jane was cutting herself.

This was my accuser.

On October 5, 2005, Jane filed her first official complaint with the Waterbury Police Department, which states, A teacher at West Side Middle School took me to a beach house and raped me. It was Victor Cuevas. Mr. Cuevas called me on my cell phone and asked me if I wanted to go to the beach house. I gave my mother, Michele Carroll, the phone to talk to him, and I went to get ready. It was about midnight when he called. When he picked me up, it was about 1:00 in the morning. My mother walked me to Mr. Cuevas’ car. When I got into the car, Mr. Cuevas asked me if I wanted to stop and get beer or weed and I said, yes.

She further stated that, We drove somewhere near the River Baldwin Recreation Center and there was a group of guys outside that Mr. Cuevas knew. He asked them to get some beer for us and gave one of them some money. Then the same guy went into one of the apartments and came out with a bag that had loose Coronas in it. The same guy went into the apartment and came out with a couple of bags of weed. Then we got on the highway.

Jane’s statement further claims that she and I were drinking and smoking weed during the drive. She claimed to have had about four beers by the time we reached the beach house and said she was high. She described the beach house as being more like a condo, with a swipe key arrangement, and provided details of the layout. Her report goes on to clarify the details of the assault, after which she said we both fell asleep. She claimed that the next morning she got up and went down to the pool, and then we came home, after first stopping at a Subway restaurant. The report continued, My mother was home, but I did not talk to her. Later I called my best friend. I told her Mr. Cuevas had raped me. She told me I had to tell someone, but I said I can’t, and I didn’t want to.

The following day, October 6, Jane gave an amended statement. By then, the Waterbury police had ascertained that I was at Water’s Edge in Westbrook, Connecticut, on August 23 and 24, due to a bar tab I had paid with a credit card. It clearly showed that I was there at the end of August, not in July or early August. However, the police drove Jane to that location and led her around the complex for verification, where she stated that it was, in fact, the place of the alleged assault.

On October 7, Jane gave