The Opportunity I Wish I Never Ceased

They sing Merry Christmas, and I prayed not to be raped.

In the midst of the hustle and bustle of all tourists and local families basking in the joys
of the season, one could not really tell whether a shout, a yell or a gasp is of shock, happiness or
grave pain. It was almost impossible to think of unfortunate events taking place at this time of
the year, for people are more likely to daydream about the Tassie Christmas on the Beach they
have been waiting for all year. Or, they might be too immersed to go to places with higher
altitudes to witness the seldom snowing, and view the battling pink and orange color of the sky
for the remarkable sunsets around solstice. Some still, despite the good offerings of the outside
world, choose to stay at home, but are unbothered with the delectable taste of Tasmanian recipe
from locally produced ingredients, ready to bewitch at its first entry to one’s taste buds.
At this point, every person is either blind, deaf or mute, and just ravishes with the
comforts of this season, oblivious to the possibility of horror and shutter. Nevertheless, it was
one unique holiday at Tasmania.
It is very typical to attribute the Christmas season with a time exclusively spent with
family and close relatives. Several people reject parties far away, or a meeting with a longtime
friend, since this is the only opportunity to be unbothered by the yearlong work. An awaited
break, if you must. This is not the case for Leia’s last peaceful Christmas Eve on 1993, the last
time when a vision of a truck will be nothing but ordinary, and house parties were usual and
routine.
Nightmare at Mount Street
Awaiting for a public vehicle, Leia stood at the corner of Mount Street with eyes full of
excitement for a party she was invited to. The 16-year-old girl lived for this, and as young as she
was, it is truly an honor to be included in the list of attendees. As if she was running out of time,
she praised the heavens as a pick-up vehicle stopped in front of her, and ass the window rolled
down, she saw a friend, Glen Last. They offered her a ride, which she agreed to, because “The
party was only up the same road and we were all going to the same place, so I [Leia] thought it
was fine.”
They were not alone in the truck, though. Three foreign faces greeted her with such
innocence, and named themselves Geoffrey Michael Haywood, Leon Roy Roughley, and
Timothy John Marshall, who were 29, 27 and 22 years old at that time, respectively. It was a
kind gesture, especially coming from a friend, and as a girl, she treasured guy friends offering
such service. Needless to say, she looked forward to the party with strong faith to men.
Seating at Glen’s knee as the truck was already crowded with all people, she made herself
comfortable with the little space they had at the back. Seeing the house where the part would
happen gave her a tingling sensation, but she was surprised that the car did not stop there.
Thinking that it was a mere mishap, she called for the driver to halt, but it was to no avail. It was
something else, and at this moment, she wished she never took this “blessing”.

Creative Non-Fiction: Feature Story

Julienne Espinosa
 Cold. That was what Leia felt as they passed the Three Mile Line Rd, and stopped at a
white barn. She could only wish that it was just a dream, but hearing Haywood spit the words,
she lost all hope. What she knew was she was terrified, her heart was racing, and the words “we
should all jump her” sending shivers down her weakened spine. Her last hope was Glen, who
still attempted to free her, but was beat up by the rest of the men, leaving his body mangled on
the dimmed street. Silent prayers beneath the shouted pleads came out of her, but sadly, this
became her Christmas nightmare.
They took her to a paddock, and her last conscious thought was to see her parents again.
With her head hit hardly, she barely heard Haywood say something about digging her own grave,
and not telling anyone about the whole event. Lying down without any strength left, the demonic
deed was done, and her soul left at its deathbed.
"I'm not religious but in that moment, as they got me into the ute [truck], I remember
praying, 'God help me, please, please, help me,” she said.
A Christmas Miracle?
Despite her semi-conscious stupor, Leia still calculated ways to get out of this truck and
survive. It seemed impossible, as Haywood drove so fast along West Mooreville Rd, and she
doubted her chances of survival if she was to be burst out. As the night could get worse, the rainy
Christmas Eve prompted the truck to hit something, flip and crash.
With her eyes barely open, Marshall took her at his brother’s apartment where the other
soon followed by. The men got drunk and smoked a lot, and as there was only one door for
entrance and exit, she was too scared. She is barely awake, and if she tried to make a run for it,
she may be killed this time.
At dawn on Christmas morning, with her throat scorched and her lips slowly peeling its
skin, she creeped past the drunken men, and inched slowly toward that door, leading to her
freedom.
It is a shame that other girls her age would wake up today opening gifts of new clothes,
make-up and every girly thing in their wish list, but she would spend the entire holiday in a
police station, with a scare of having a child born from violence.
A Movement
After 25 years of agony waiting to tell her story and an annual reliving of what happened
to her years ago, she wanted to change something. Her identity was kept secret due to an archaic
Tasmanian Law – section 194K of the Evidence Act which prohibits all media from naming
sexual assault victims.
"As a survivor I should have the right to tell my story with my name. Without my name
and face, it's not my story, it's just my words. You need a name and a face. Every survivor
deserves that. It's an injustice not to allow us our names."

Creative Non-Fiction: Feature Story

Julienne Espinosa
 This is why the #LetHerSpeak campaign for law reform was born. Just last 2018, more
than 5,000 people signed the petition, a sexual assault survivor dubbed “Jane Doe”, and her
perpetrator Nicolaas Bester sent to jail. In partnership with Marque Lawyers, the reform was
created by End Rape On Campus Australia.
All facts considered, may this be a reminder to all that this case is never a victim’s fault,
much like being shot by a gun is due to the one bleeding. This should be a call for people, that
young girls like Leia spend the holidays waiting for Santa Claus, not a police officer, or a lawyer.
May all girls receive candies because it is Christmas, and not due to their bravery when they visit
a doctor’s clinic to get their parts tested to confirm their rape statement. Make the world not birth
another Leia, or better yet, let them learn that not all opportunities are worth ceasing.

Creative Non-Fiction: Feature Story

Julienne Espinosa