By : After years of faking campus rape cases (Columbia University, University of Virginia, Ohio University, Duke University, Occidental University, and so on) feminists finally found a supposedly legitimate case of campus rape and pushed it to a conviction in the Stanford rape trial of jejune Freshman Brock Turner. The judge sentenced Brock to a scanty six-month term of imprisonment, which has angered people across the political spectrum and calls and petitions are demanding the judge’s removal.
What could have motivated an otherwise law-and-order judge to issue such a light sentence, when he could have sent the first-time offender away for up to 14 years? I believe that a close reading of the victim’s own impact statement, delivered by her aloud in court after the guilty verdict, offers clues that tend to undermine the prosecution’s case and support Brock’s claims that “Updie” had consented to their ill-fated sexual encounter as a part of a scam to further push both her own enrichment and the feminist agenda.
You can read Updie’s statement here. It is long and harrowing so you may have to read it twice to see how badly she screwed up her case. Unfortunately, because of rape shield laws, the information she revealed was not used at trial – victim impact statements are not probative in trials because they are only given at sentencing and normally they only cover the aftermath of a crime. Updie, however, led the court through the entire evening of the alleged rape and in doing so wound up saying way too much.
The judge, who would have been keenly attuned to the many subtle admissions Updie let slip out, had to feel a growing horror as he realized his court had been subverted from a place of legal justice to a tool of the Social Justice vengeance against men. Updie is lucky that Brock got any more jail time at all – the judge could have let him off with time served.
Here are some of the howlers Updie revealed in her statement. Updie’s words are indicated with italics. My analysis follows each section.
Your Honor, if it is all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly.
Slighting the judge to lambaste the accused directly was not a wise start. The judge wanted to hear items related to sentencing, not her vengeful verbal assault on the scared boy sitting at the defendant’s table. The judge’s ears had to be burning – what details and slip-ups was she going to give to self-sabotage her own case?
On January 17th, 2015, it was a quiet Saturday night at home. My dad made some dinner and I sat at the table with my younger sister who was visiting for the weekend. I was working full time and it was approaching my bed time. I planned to stay at home by myself, watch some TV and read, while she went to a party with her friends. Then, I decided it was my only night with her, I had nothing better to do, so why not, there’s a dumb party ten minutes from my house, I would go, dance like a fool, and embarrass my younger sister.
The virtue-signalling in her introduction is not only annoying, it hints at a guilty mind already spinning a fantastical account of an innocent encounter. Then, out of the blue, we get the first damning admission:
On the way there, I joked that undergrad guys would have braces. My sister teased me for wearing a beige cardigan to a frat party like a librarian. I called myself “big mama”, because I knew I’d be the oldest one there.
A man who fantasized about “big papa” partying with little girls in braces would be dealt with harshly. I see no reason to go easy on a female pedophile, either. The judge had to be paying full attention now. In fact, Updie was 22 and a college graduate at the time of the party. Brock was a freshman.
I made silly faces, let my guard down, and drank liquor too fast not factoring in that my tolerance had significantly lowered since college. The next thing I remember I was on a gurney in a hallway.
Updie admits she is an experienced hard-partier – she surely knew what the implications of over-drinking at a hookup frat party were. Notice also that her memory of the party and its aftermath was supposedly nil so that any other detail she gives about the experience is either concocted, or in direct contradiction to her own statement, or perhaps both.
I knew no one at this party.
Um, her sister was there, and Updie admitted to speaking to her sister earlier that same evening.
My boyfriend did not know what happened, but called that day and said, “I was really worried about you last night, you scared me, did you make it home okay?” I was horrified. That’s when I learned I had called him that night in my blackout, left an incomprehensible voicemail, that we had also spoken on the phone, but I was slurring so heavily he was scared for me, that he repeatedly told me to go find [my sister]. Again, he asked me, “What happened last night? Did you make it home okay?” I said yes, and hung up to cry.
Updie lies to her boyfriend about being okay at the party. One motivation for a woman faking a rape is to cover up infidelity in an established relationship. Updie had been caught by her boyfriend partying with a bunch of younger men. Suddenly the defense would’ve had a new avenue to explore – was the rape claim a ruse to get Updie off the hook for straying? – but this revelation came too late to be used at trial. The judge had to be cringing inside at this.
One day, I was at work, scrolling through the news on my phone, and came across an article. In it, I read and learned for the first time about how I was found unconscious, with my hair disheveled, long necklace wrapped around my neck, bra pulled out of my dress, dress pulled off over my shoulders and pulled up above my waist, that I was butt naked all the way down to my boots, legs spread apart, and had been penetrated by a foreign object by someone I did not recognize. This was how I learned what happened to me, sitting at my desk reading the news at work. I learned what happened to me the same time everyone else in the world learned what happened to me.
Up until this point Updie had no clue about what had happened to her, nor who had done it. The idea that she just stumbled onto her own anonymous case and recognized it as her own strains credulity. Her name has never been revealed, as far as I can tell. She had no memory of what happened – supposedly – yet now she just magically happened to remember that this was her? Oops. Even Updie admits this is miraculous:
When I read about me like this, I said, this can’t be me, this can’t be me. I could not digest or accept any of this information.
Perhaps that is because it is all confabulation? I have searched for the article she described without success.
The night after it happened, he said he didn’t know my name, said he wouldn’t be able to identify my face in a lineup, didn’t mention any dialogue between us, no words, only dancing and kissing…When the detective asked how we ended up behind the dumpster, he said he didn’t know. He admitted to kissing other girls at that party, one of whom was my own sister who pushed him away.
How does Updie know that Brock kissed Updie’s sister? Updie had claimed she didn’t remember anything and Brock had no way of guessing sororal relationships in a dark, drunken frat house. Perhaps in her haste to demonize Brock for hitting on her sister, Updie has accidentally shown that she was more functional than her other statements allow for.
He admitted to wanting to hook up with someone. I was the wounded antelope of the herd, completely alone and vulnerable, physically unable to fend for myself, and he chose me.
Updie was not alone, her sister was right there, making kissy-face with Brock. Jealousy is another reason women fake rape claims.
Sometimes I think, if I hadn’t gone, then this never would’ve happened. But then I realized, it would have happened, just to somebody else.
This is standard feminist boilerplate to excuse their own risky behaviors by claiming they were saving some other girl – another girl who might have been happy to hook up with a noted athlete. This is the third reason women fake rape claims – to further the feminist agenda that all men are bad. A judge hearing this might well realize that Brock was being used as a pawn in a feminist game.
The night after it happened, he said he thought I liked it because I rubbed his back. A back rub. Never mentioned me voicing consent, never mentioned us even speaking, a back rub.
More of the feminist agenda – although nonverbal clues are 80% or more of communication, feminists know they can artificially inflate rape rates by insisting on a verbal consent standard that no one actually uses during sex because there are better things do to with one’s mouth.
One more time, in public news, I learned that my ass and vagina were completely exposed outside, my breasts had been groped, fingers had been jabbed inside me along with pine needles and debris, my bare skin and head had been rubbing against the ground behind a dumpster, while an erect freshman was humping my half naked, unconscious body. But I don’t remember, so how do I prove I didn’t like it.
Do they really put details like that into public news about rape cases without contacting the victim? Again, credulity is strained.
I thought there’s no way this is going to trial; there were witnesses, there was dirt in my body, he ran but was caught. He’s going to settle, formally apologize, and we will both move on.
Settle? While one might well settle a civil case, “settling” a criminal case doesn’t really work in this context. Updie seems to be talking about some sort of civil case with monetary damages instead of a criminal trial. This is the fourth reason women fake rape claims: money. But, surprising Updie, Brock decides to fight the charges.
It is the saddest type of confusion to be told I was assaulted and nearly raped, blatantly out in the open, but we don’t know if it counts as assault yet.
Nearly raped? Doesn’t “nearly raped mean “not raped”?
When I was told to be prepared in case we didn’t win, I said, I can’t prepare for that. He was guilty the minute I woke up. No one can talk me out of the hurt he caused me.
More feminist agenda: get rid of due process of law, he is automatically guilty, and no counter-evidence could ever matter even if it proved him innocent. You, dear reader, can imagine why a fair-minded judge might rankle at this.
Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I’d like to point out that you said it was set to ring.
Rather helpfully, Updie reads one of her own contradictions into the victim impact statement, in essence reminding the judge that she had lied to them all, and yet they had convicted Brock despite her lies.
I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who had me half naked before even bothering to ask for my name.
She remembers being asked for her name after her clothing was removed, contradicting her claims about not remembering anything.
Then he asked if he could finger me and I said yes. Most guys don’t ask, can I finger you? Usually there’s a natural progression of things, unfolding consensually, not a Q and A. But apparently I granted full permission.
Even Updie thinks the feminist consent standard is ludicrous, and she blames Brock for following it!
Your attorney has repeatedly pointed out, well we don’t know exactly when she became unconscious. And you’re right, maybe I was still fluttering my eyes and wasn’t completely limp yet. That was never the point. I was too drunk to speak English, too drunk to consent way before I was on the ground. I should have never been touched in the first place.
Oops, now Updie is back to plugging the feminist verbal consent standard again. Could you please pick a standard and stick with it, maybe? Because your nonverbal YES is sounding more and more like a calculated feminist trap.
To sit under oath and inform all of us, that yes I wanted it, yes I permitted it, and that you are the true victim attacked by Swedes for reasons unknown to you is appalling, is demented, is selfish, is damaging. It is enough to be suffering. It is another thing to have someone ruthlessly working to diminish the gravity of validity of this suffering.
Yes, under feminism, men are not allowed to defend themselves. Dump due process of law.
The victim statement went on and on like this, full of unlikely details, political posturing and imagined suffering at something the supposed victim cannot remember. Explaining why the judge gave such a modest sentence should be clearer now – Updie should be glad she wasn’t laughed out of court.
For young men, the message should be clear – do not date or hook up with women on campus. Brock’s life is ruined: no college degree. No Olympic games. A lifetime as a registered sex offender.
Perhaps other young men can learn from his example.
Editor’s note: Scrape, Noun, informal. An embarrassing or difficult predicament caused by one’s own unwise behavior.
Once he stumbled onto GirlWritesWhat's videos, August Løvenskiolds, aka The Bibo Sez, started eating red pills like they were tic-tacs. He likes debating feminists, but knows this stage will pass soon enough.
Source
What could have motivated an otherwise law-and-order judge to issue such a light sentence, when he could have sent the first-time offender away for up to 14 years? I believe that a close reading of the victim’s own impact statement, delivered by her aloud in court after the guilty verdict, offers clues that tend to undermine the prosecution’s case and support Brock’s claims that “Updie” had consented to their ill-fated sexual encounter as a part of a scam to further push both her own enrichment and the feminist agenda.You can read Updie’s statement here. It is long and harrowing so you may have to read it twice to see how badly she screwed up her case. Unfortunately, because of rape shield laws, the information she revealed was not used at trial – victim impact statements are not probative in trials because they are only given at sentencing and normally they only cover the aftermath of a crime. Updie, however, led the court through the entire evening of the alleged rape and in doing so wound up saying way too much.
The judge, who would have been keenly attuned to the many subtle admissions Updie let slip out, had to feel a growing horror as he realized his court had been subverted from a place of legal justice to a tool of the Social Justice vengeance against men. Updie is lucky that Brock got any more jail time at all – the judge could have let him off with time served.
Here are some of the howlers Updie revealed in her statement. Updie’s words are indicated with italics. My analysis follows each section.
Your Honor, if it is all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly.
Slighting the judge to lambaste the accused directly was not a wise start. The judge wanted to hear items related to sentencing, not her vengeful verbal assault on the scared boy sitting at the defendant’s table. The judge’s ears had to be burning – what details and slip-ups was she going to give to self-sabotage her own case?
On January 17th, 2015, it was a quiet Saturday night at home. My dad made some dinner and I sat at the table with my younger sister who was visiting for the weekend. I was working full time and it was approaching my bed time. I planned to stay at home by myself, watch some TV and read, while she went to a party with her friends. Then, I decided it was my only night with her, I had nothing better to do, so why not, there’s a dumb party ten minutes from my house, I would go, dance like a fool, and embarrass my younger sister.
The virtue-signalling in her introduction is not only annoying, it hints at a guilty mind already spinning a fantastical account of an innocent encounter. Then, out of the blue, we get the first damning admission:
On the way there, I joked that undergrad guys would have braces. My sister teased me for wearing a beige cardigan to a frat party like a librarian. I called myself “big mama”, because I knew I’d be the oldest one there.
A man who fantasized about “big papa” partying with little girls in braces would be dealt with harshly. I see no reason to go easy on a female pedophile, either. The judge had to be paying full attention now. In fact, Updie was 22 and a college graduate at the time of the party. Brock was a freshman.
I made silly faces, let my guard down, and drank liquor too fast not factoring in that my tolerance had significantly lowered since college. The next thing I remember I was on a gurney in a hallway.
Updie admits she is an experienced hard-partier – she surely knew what the implications of over-drinking at a hookup frat party were. Notice also that her memory of the party and its aftermath was supposedly nil so that any other detail she gives about the experience is either concocted, or in direct contradiction to her own statement, or perhaps both.
I knew no one at this party.
Um, her sister was there, and Updie admitted to speaking to her sister earlier that same evening.
My boyfriend did not know what happened, but called that day and said, “I was really worried about you last night, you scared me, did you make it home okay?” I was horrified. That’s when I learned I had called him that night in my blackout, left an incomprehensible voicemail, that we had also spoken on the phone, but I was slurring so heavily he was scared for me, that he repeatedly told me to go find [my sister]. Again, he asked me, “What happened last night? Did you make it home okay?” I said yes, and hung up to cry.
Updie lies to her boyfriend about being okay at the party. One motivation for a woman faking a rape is to cover up infidelity in an established relationship. Updie had been caught by her boyfriend partying with a bunch of younger men. Suddenly the defense would’ve had a new avenue to explore – was the rape claim a ruse to get Updie off the hook for straying? – but this revelation came too late to be used at trial. The judge had to be cringing inside at this.
One day, I was at work, scrolling through the news on my phone, and came across an article. In it, I read and learned for the first time about how I was found unconscious, with my hair disheveled, long necklace wrapped around my neck, bra pulled out of my dress, dress pulled off over my shoulders and pulled up above my waist, that I was butt naked all the way down to my boots, legs spread apart, and had been penetrated by a foreign object by someone I did not recognize. This was how I learned what happened to me, sitting at my desk reading the news at work. I learned what happened to me the same time everyone else in the world learned what happened to me.
Up until this point Updie had no clue about what had happened to her, nor who had done it. The idea that she just stumbled onto her own anonymous case and recognized it as her own strains credulity. Her name has never been revealed, as far as I can tell. She had no memory of what happened – supposedly – yet now she just magically happened to remember that this was her? Oops. Even Updie admits this is miraculous:
When I read about me like this, I said, this can’t be me, this can’t be me. I could not digest or accept any of this information.
Perhaps that is because it is all confabulation? I have searched for the article she described without success.
The night after it happened, he said he didn’t know my name, said he wouldn’t be able to identify my face in a lineup, didn’t mention any dialogue between us, no words, only dancing and kissing…When the detective asked how we ended up behind the dumpster, he said he didn’t know. He admitted to kissing other girls at that party, one of whom was my own sister who pushed him away.
How does Updie know that Brock kissed Updie’s sister? Updie had claimed she didn’t remember anything and Brock had no way of guessing sororal relationships in a dark, drunken frat house. Perhaps in her haste to demonize Brock for hitting on her sister, Updie has accidentally shown that she was more functional than her other statements allow for.
He admitted to wanting to hook up with someone. I was the wounded antelope of the herd, completely alone and vulnerable, physically unable to fend for myself, and he chose me.
Updie was not alone, her sister was right there, making kissy-face with Brock. Jealousy is another reason women fake rape claims.
Sometimes I think, if I hadn’t gone, then this never would’ve happened. But then I realized, it would have happened, just to somebody else.
This is standard feminist boilerplate to excuse their own risky behaviors by claiming they were saving some other girl – another girl who might have been happy to hook up with a noted athlete. This is the third reason women fake rape claims – to further the feminist agenda that all men are bad. A judge hearing this might well realize that Brock was being used as a pawn in a feminist game.
The night after it happened, he said he thought I liked it because I rubbed his back. A back rub. Never mentioned me voicing consent, never mentioned us even speaking, a back rub.
More of the feminist agenda – although nonverbal clues are 80% or more of communication, feminists know they can artificially inflate rape rates by insisting on a verbal consent standard that no one actually uses during sex because there are better things do to with one’s mouth.
One more time, in public news, I learned that my ass and vagina were completely exposed outside, my breasts had been groped, fingers had been jabbed inside me along with pine needles and debris, my bare skin and head had been rubbing against the ground behind a dumpster, while an erect freshman was humping my half naked, unconscious body. But I don’t remember, so how do I prove I didn’t like it.
Do they really put details like that into public news about rape cases without contacting the victim? Again, credulity is strained.
I thought there’s no way this is going to trial; there were witnesses, there was dirt in my body, he ran but was caught. He’s going to settle, formally apologize, and we will both move on.
Settle? While one might well settle a civil case, “settling” a criminal case doesn’t really work in this context. Updie seems to be talking about some sort of civil case with monetary damages instead of a criminal trial. This is the fourth reason women fake rape claims: money. But, surprising Updie, Brock decides to fight the charges.
It is the saddest type of confusion to be told I was assaulted and nearly raped, blatantly out in the open, but we don’t know if it counts as assault yet.
Nearly raped? Doesn’t “nearly raped mean “not raped”?
When I was told to be prepared in case we didn’t win, I said, I can’t prepare for that. He was guilty the minute I woke up. No one can talk me out of the hurt he caused me.
More feminist agenda: get rid of due process of law, he is automatically guilty, and no counter-evidence could ever matter even if it proved him innocent. You, dear reader, can imagine why a fair-minded judge might rankle at this.
Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I’d like to point out that you said it was set to ring.
Rather helpfully, Updie reads one of her own contradictions into the victim impact statement, in essence reminding the judge that she had lied to them all, and yet they had convicted Brock despite her lies.
I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who had me half naked before even bothering to ask for my name.
She remembers being asked for her name after her clothing was removed, contradicting her claims about not remembering anything.
Then he asked if he could finger me and I said yes. Most guys don’t ask, can I finger you? Usually there’s a natural progression of things, unfolding consensually, not a Q and A. But apparently I granted full permission.
Even Updie thinks the feminist consent standard is ludicrous, and she blames Brock for following it!
Your attorney has repeatedly pointed out, well we don’t know exactly when she became unconscious. And you’re right, maybe I was still fluttering my eyes and wasn’t completely limp yet. That was never the point. I was too drunk to speak English, too drunk to consent way before I was on the ground. I should have never been touched in the first place.
Oops, now Updie is back to plugging the feminist verbal consent standard again. Could you please pick a standard and stick with it, maybe? Because your nonverbal YES is sounding more and more like a calculated feminist trap.
To sit under oath and inform all of us, that yes I wanted it, yes I permitted it, and that you are the true victim attacked by Swedes for reasons unknown to you is appalling, is demented, is selfish, is damaging. It is enough to be suffering. It is another thing to have someone ruthlessly working to diminish the gravity of validity of this suffering.
Yes, under feminism, men are not allowed to defend themselves. Dump due process of law.
The victim statement went on and on like this, full of unlikely details, political posturing and imagined suffering at something the supposed victim cannot remember. Explaining why the judge gave such a modest sentence should be clearer now – Updie should be glad she wasn’t laughed out of court.
For young men, the message should be clear – do not date or hook up with women on campus. Brock’s life is ruined: no college degree. No Olympic games. A lifetime as a registered sex offender.
Perhaps other young men can learn from his example.
Editor’s note: Scrape, Noun, informal. An embarrassing or difficult predicament caused by one’s own unwise behavior.
About August Løvenskiolds
Once he stumbled onto GirlWritesWhat's videos, August Løvenskiolds, aka The Bibo Sez, started eating red pills like they were tic-tacs. He likes debating feminists, but knows this stage will pass soon enough.
Source
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