I don’t know her name, but that’s okay, I don’t really want to know it. I don’t have any right to know it. I want to protect her privacy, as she has already been through quite enough.
But I know YOUR name. Your name is Brock Allen Turner.
Brock Allen Turner.
Oh, and LOOK! Here’s a picture of you:
There you are, Brock Allen Turner.
Yes, I know your name, and I know what you did to her. I know that you were convicted unanimously by a jury of your peers. I know that I don’t give one single flying fuck about all that your oh-so-bright future was supposed to hold. I know that you damaged somebody else’s future, took a little piece of her away, a piece of her that you can never give back and she can never replace. It will always be permanently gone.
I know that the judge sentenced you to six months in jail. I know that this joke of a sentence is yet another in a long line of obscene and infuriating re-victimizations of this brave young woman. I know–we all know–that justice has not been done here.
But I am going to do something to you that might be worse than jail, Brock Allen Turner. Actually, we all are. All of us who are enraged at what you did, at the fact that to this day you continue to deny wrongdoing aside from getting too drunk, that you continue to feign ignorance as to the egregiousness of your actions. All of us who are enraged by the fact that the not-very-honorable Judge Aaron Persky was so clearly more concerned with your life than with your victim’s, together, we are going to put you in a new kind of jail.
We are going to splatter your name and face across social media so that everyone knows who you are and what you look like. So that everyone knows what you’ve done. So that women know that they’d better not get drunk in your presence…or even…be in your presence at all.
Stay away from Brock, ladies. He’ll violate you in your sleep. He’s not a good guy, this one.
Let us gather, as a community, on behalf of this woman for whom justice was not served, with our torches and pitchforks, ready to put Brock in his place. Because the justice system failed not only her, but all of us. And goddammit, if the justice system is not going to protect us, I guess we are just going to have to fucking protect ourselves.
Notoriety. That’s your jail, Brock.
Everyone reading this? Share it. Share it for the picture and the name.
Let this be a lesson, an example to those who would dare touch another without clear consent. To those who would dare drag someone’s limp body behind a dumpster to strip it, sully it, abuse it, invade it. And then fucking deny the whole thing.
We’ve got our torches and pitchforks ready. We know who you are. And we are watching you. Remembering your face. Remembering your name. Putting up invisible walls around you, boxing you in, shutting you out. Shunning you.
So, Brock, how does it feel to be violated? You were sort of unawares while I did it to you…almost like being passed out drunk, in a way.
That makes it okay, right?