My Story On Sexual Assault.

The following information is a written training I provided for the University of Northern Iowa as they reached out and asked for my story. I had an internship within the Center of Violence Prevention my last semester I attended there and I was comfortable enough to share my story with them. This is directed to a training program for high school students but can be relatable for other audiences.

Hello, my name is Megan Boone and I am a 2020 graduate from the University of Northern Iowa. Go Cats! Looking back on all the memories and friendships college gave me will forever hold a spot in my heart. The innocent excitement when thinking back to when I was a Freshman in Dancer Hall to graduating virtually in May with my Bachelors alongside some of my best friends is heartwarming to say the least. Now, I’m not going to continue talking sunshine and rainbows about those 4 great years, because there would be no benefit to that… even though I have some pretty great memories to share. 

What I wanted to talk about today was March 2nd, 2017. What I wanted to talk about today is that it can happen to anyone. It isn’t something that is only mentioned in movies or the news.  What if I told you that 8 out of 10 rapes are committed by someone the survivor knows? What if I told you that 1 in 5 women in college experience sexual assault, and the risk is higher within the first few months of their first and second years? Some of you watching this video are probably wondering why I am giving out college statistics as you are just in your beginning years of high school, or wherever you are at. This is the best time to listen to my story and all of the other stories you will hear. Right now is where you can make the change and be aware. You hold the power to hold yourself, your classmates and other people accountable for their actions. 

My story starts back in first grade. I didn’t know this at the time. I say it starts there because that’s where I first became aware of a life-long friend, or so I thought. I’m from a small town, about 20 people max in each elementary classroom, you know everyone in your town kind of thing. Fast forward to high school, John* and I were buddies. We were in the same circle of friends. Every hangout we were there, every football game I was cheering him on with the rest of the team, every “hey what’s up?” following a hug was normal, every laugh was genuine, every dance competition our senior year when he joined the hip-hop team was cherished. Our Senior year we found out we were going to the same college and even living in the same dorm! How awesome that we get to continue our friendship?!

Skip to August 2016. We are excited, on top of the freaking world. Starting our new chapter in life. Throughout the months we are making new friends, getting adjusted to college courses, going out on the weekends as a typical Freshman does right? It wasn’t unusual for John* and I to study in one of the lounges with other friends during the week. It wasn’t uncommon for us to introduce each other to our new friend groups. It wasn’t uncommon for us to grab lunch or dinner together when our schedules aligned. It wasn’t weird when he asked me to be his date for a formal that was going on in his fraternity. What did change was when he expressed his feelings to me about extending the friendship line. This wasn’t crazy news, as I had a feeling he wanted more but I just saw him as a good friend. We got over that hump and continued being friends. 

March 2nd, 2017. A day that will forever change mine and so many other’s lives. It was a Thursday. Remember that, it will hold significance for silly reasons. Two of my friends and I were supposed to go to a movie that night, we planned it all week. Jane*, Christy* and I were talking about this movie when some of our guy friends sat down next to us at dinner. There were a couple guys we didn’t know and were quickly introduced to them and found out they were from out of town visiting. The question that started the story “You guys should come out with us, want to come over around 7pm?” After much deliberation, we decided YOLO the movie can wait!! We got ready and headed to their dorm for a night out with a great group of friends. The dorm consisted of card drinking games and laughing about dumb stuff we did. We were all letting off some steam as Midterms were the following week so the weekend was going to be a fun-filled, wild study party. 

One of my last memories is receiving a text from John* asking what I was up to that night and if I wanted to study, I told him I wasn’t going to study that night and he should come out and meet us at the bar. He declined and told me to have fun. I received this text as we were walking to the bar from the dorm. 

I don’t remember being at the bar. I don’t remember John* being there or talking to him or even receiving a drink from him. I don’t remember leaving the bar by myself. I don’t remember leaving Jane*. I don’t remember falling down getting to the dorm. I don’t remember putting on my pj’s and climbing into my loft. I don’t remember this because Jane* and I were drugged by John*. Although it can’t be written down as proof that it happened as it goes out of your system once you go to the bathroom, with observation and suspicion we can say that it is true. 

Friday morning I awoke in my loft with two phones by my head. I instantly knew it was Janes*. Why the heck did I have her phone, how crazy did the night get? I thought. I was then hit with a funny feeling in my head/tummy. I was so dizzy. I’ve had hangovers before, this was a weird experience. I quickly dismissed this and just laughed it off. Crazy Meg, what did you get yourself into I thought? As I checked my phone, the messages starting coming in from Jane* and I’s friend group. They were asking where we were and how the night was. I texted back “I’m good, but why do I have Jane’s* phone?!” The search was started. A couple of our friends checked her room...she wasn’t there...weird?? After some time of searching we found her in the lounge. She was in her clothes the night before but with some untidiness to it. I called my mom after we found her and I can remember her saying “Megan are you okay, I’m worried about you. You’re slurring your words” I didn’t think anything of it.

Jane*, myself and a couple of our friends went to breakfast. Jane and I were acting weird, confused to say the least. We tried piecing the night back together but had such a hard time. Why was Jane in the lounge? Her room was literally right outside the lounge. As we were at breakfast John* came by and said something about being hungover and if we were okay. This was when I found out that he came out and saw us at the bar. I was so confused, why don’t I remember him? He said that I left the bar alone, the video footage proves this, and he walked Jane* back after they went to Domino’s. Oh GOOD she got back home safe. We found out at breakfast that her room was locked so that is why she ended up in the lounge. Jane always keeps her key on her wrist...it would’ve been simple to find. Oh well. We are safe. How funny how the night ended, right? That’s what we thought.

We didn’t think any more of Thursday until Sunday night. Us girls were just hanging out in the lounge, the lounge where we found Jane*, studying when Jane came up to me telling me she doesn’t feel right in her abdomen area. She was on her period but something just didn’t feel right, she was trusting her gut. It was late so urgent care wasn’t open so we both decided that going to the hospital  just down the road was the best option. When we got there we explained to the front desk that we were wanting to be seen for Jane’s painful abdomen, a thought that maybe she had 2 tampons in was in her mind that night. An accident, a forgetful moment for Jane. We were ushered to an exam room. When explaining to the lovely Karen nurse, her name was literally Karen, that we think that there were 2 tampons in because of a night out and things happen. We were immediately scolded because we went out on a Thursday, how dare we do that and how old are we?! This didn’t sit well with me. She fit her name to a T. I will never forget her. The doctor came in and removed the tampon. We were then told that it wasn’t just a forgetful moment, there with some visible scarring. If you get what I’m getting at, he meant that it wasn’t a tampon that caused that damage. Toxic Shock Syndrome was the first thing that came to my mind. As a woman we are told this happens if menstruation products are kept in too long. You can get really sick. Thank god Jane didn’t get sick after 3 days. As a concerned friend, I then asked the nurse Karen for a drug test. She refused saying that it’s out of our system. I then asked her if we could get a rape kit done. We were simply asked if she was found with her underwear on, and when we nodded our heads yes, it was assumed that she had not been assaulted by Karen. This would be OK if it weren’t capable for other people to put on underwear for you. I can’t believe that we were dismissed like that. We were told to always respect and trust medical professionals as they care about us. 

After leaving the hospital, Jane’s dad knew something else was up and made it our mission to fill in the missing pieces of Thursday night. I told my roommate that there was no way that the guy who walked her home - a guy I grew up with - would do anything because I trusted him. I trusted him. John reassured us that all he did was bring her back to his room to drop off a jacket then took her to the lounge because the room was locked. Each time he told the story a detail was added, small but mighty were these details. Not even thinking he was the perpetrator, I asked him if someone might have followed them that night. No was the answer. No because no one needed to follow them, the danger was within the acquaintance. We didn’t determine anything had happened until Monday evening when John confronted my roommate after one final text stating that she is going to press charges if he doesn’t tell the whole story if he knows anything. He didn’t answer the text but went to find Jane in person. He admitted something happened…. “I only stuck it in a couple times”… and that he only was untruthful because he didn’t want his girlfriend finding out and then walked out of the room. 

She told me to come to her right away.

   Immediately after I went to the RA who we both knew quite well when she called the cops, which followed with campus security and administrators. Jane and I were rushed to Allen Hospital in a police car where we were both given an advocate and rape kits, mine to be just on the safe side. Riding in the back of a police car in a situation like that is numbing, so many thoughts running through your head. We weren’t taught how to handle these situations. Rape is only considered rape if it’s by a stranger right? That’s the story that is displayed on movies, tv shows, tragic stories in the news, etc. The only stories that are broadcasted are the most tragic, gruesome by the scary stranger hiding in a dark alley. 

   The amount of love we had then was overpowering as five of our closest friends were there with us and our frantic parents rushed to see us. The date rape drug goes out of your system right after you pee, so we were confirmed without a test by witnesses describing our behavior and our observations about ourselves and how we felt Friday morning. I remember the whirlwind of emotions, interviews, police interrogation type of meetings that followed. I remember the emotions displayed on Jane and her family in that hospital room. 

This was Monday. The start of midterms. We couldn’t take our midterms, Jane and I, because we were outrageously sick from all of the pills we had that prevented STD’s and the sickness that was deep down inside. I remember crawling to the bathroom on the 12th floor, having my roommate bring me things to the bathroom because I couldn’t get myself to get out of there. I remember being huddled up in Jane’s room together. Watching movies and waiting for the next meeting with the campus police and Cedar Falls police. Having to recall the night over and over again was horrible. We did it though because we wanted to fight. We wanted to get justice. The character questions were what really sucked. The questions I’m talking about are: “Do you girls usually go out and party during the week?”, “What were you wearing?”, “Do you think you maybe drank too much?”, “Do you think Jane maybe had too much?” I know it’s the police’s job to gather both sides of the story to make it fair but why did these things matter? The fact and simple fact is that John disrespected Jane’s body and there is nothing okay about that.

The guilt I held of not being able to stop this. The guilt I held that I was the person that introduced John and Jane. This guilt is something that I had to get over on my own. The world we live in is skeptical to question the perpetrator but encouraged to question the survivor of assault. Isn’t that crazy? It’s common for survivors to feel guilty. Well, if only I was wearing something different. Maybe I was being too flirty. Maybe it is my fault. No is no. No consent is no consent. 

The professors were incredible and so understanding. I will forever remember the compassion they held for us while we had to explain (in depth as much as we wanted) why we were unable to take midterms during the expected time. I hope they know that they were part of the push to keep fighting. 

Fast-forward to August 2017 about a week before school starts back up, Jane won her university trial against John, which expelled him from going to the University of Northern Iowa and its properties. Now, as I said in the beginning, John and I went to the same school, we grew up in the same small town. News of what happened broke out obviously. This caused sides to be taken. There’s no way that he could’ve done this, I could relate to this because I at one point too didn’t think he could. The hateful comments were brought to my attention, friendships were broken because of the side I took but what kept me going was the support that outweighed the negative. 

Now, today is October 6th, 2020. To this day it has been almost 2 months since the criminal trial happened. Did you notice the date? Yes, that is right. It took 3 years and 5 months to get justice. 3 years and 5 months of fighting. 3 years and 5 months of continually telling this story. So many days of wondering if giving up and dropping the case is best. So many days of knowing that giving up isn’t going to help the next survivor. The trial was bittersweet and full of emotions to me. Bittersweet is a weird way to describe this, but after so much time was put into it. It was a chapter that was wanting to be closed but the strength and voice that came out of it is something that I am grateful for. The trial gave me closure but it also brought me anger. Anger that there was video footage of Jane being brought back into the elevator by John so she could go to his room where she wasn’t even able to stand on her own. Anger, happiness, confusion and so many emotions were brought out that day. 

I would’ve never gotten the opportunity to be so passionate about sexual assault awareness. I would never have the ability to be vulnerable talking about the struggles I have faced. The way I can be empathetic with other survivors and can connect with them is something that I would never be able to do if I didn’t tell my story. 

I am so proud of Jane and her family for fighting and not giving up. It inspired myself and so many others that their story and voice matters. You’re not alone, and if you think you are the only one then please reach out to me. The resources and organizations I have been introduced to because of the route I have taken because of what happened is amazing. I know more about how trials happen and the process that goes along with. 

I have a really hard time trusting people now. When I go out to the bars with friends I get anxious as to where everyone is. I only feel okay when I buy my own drinks, I watch drinks getting poured for my friends and I watch like a mama hawk. Yes, these may seem like easy inconveniences but it can be exhausting being constantly alert when it’s a time to be relaxed. 

Right now, as high school students it is the perfect time for you all to spread the word of holding each other accountable. Rape is rape. No matter if you are friends, boyfriend, girlfriend, strangers. In this instance, John was good at sports, he was well-known and his family holds powerful roles and friendships in the community I am a part of back home. It’s difficult to push for a cause like this when you are up against powerful defenders, expensive lawyers, half of the town, etc. The thing is though, they can’t erase the past. They can’t take your story away from you. You are the only one in control of your body and what happens to it. You are the only one that can give consent. If someone can’t respect that they don’t deserve to be in your life. You deserve people who respect you and your body. Did I know that John would one day do this? Did I ever think my dad telling me to always keep an eye out on my drink if I set it down would become reality? Did I trust him to not do this? Did I ever think my Freshman College year would consist of police interviews and riding in the back of a cop car to do a rape kit? The answer is no. That was never a thought. You can’t control what happens sometimes but you can control how you deal with it and can learn from it. 

What I’m asking is to support this cause. Support that friend, stranger, family member, etc that you know has been assaulted. I didn’t stop and won’t stop fighting. There is no putting this behind me. I’ve been told to stop dwelling, I’m not dwelling but fighting. If we don’t talk about it no one will.  Although I got turned down in some situations where my story wasn’t wanted, there were many other opportunities who encouraged it. Just be there. Be there to hold their hand, dry their tears, and fight alongside them. 

*I changed names in the story for privacy reasons

https://www.womenshealth.gov/relationships-and-safety/sexual-assault-and-rape/college-sexual-assault