Books, Crime, Rape

The Monster In The Three-Button Suit: Why You Should Worry More About Your Colleagues Than A Rapist In The Bushes

That trusted friend in the suit is far more likely to rape you than anyone hiding in the shrubbery, as sex-crimes prosecutor turned novelist Allison Leotta explains.

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Ed. note: This post is by lawyer turned novelist Allison Leotta, whom we previously profiled. Her newest novel, A GOOD KILLING (affiliate link), comes out this week.

With the warm summer air comes Biglaw summer-associate dinners and happy hours. If you’re worried you might’ve had a bit too much to drink, should you let that considerate older lawyer walk you home—you know, to protect you from whoever might be lurking in the alleys or bushes?

When I was a 2L spending the summer in a new city, I was told to be careful about strange men who might accost me on the street or follow me home. So I kept a little canister of pepper spray on my keychain. I double-locked my doors and windows. And if I had to walk home at night, I had a trusted male colleague from the firm walk with me. After all, women are warned about the rapist lurking in the bushes all our lives.

It wasn’t until I became a sex-crimes prosecutor that I learned how misguided my young law-school self had been. Statistically speaking, that trusted friend in the suit is far more likely to rape you than anyone hiding in the shrubbery.

The CDC estimates that over 19% of American women (and 1.7% of men) will be sexually assaulted in their lifetimes. And the Justice Department estimates that 80% of sexual assaults are committed by an acquaintance.

In fact, a rapist is usually more than a mere acquaintance. A predator is often someone the victim knows well and trusts, someone who uses that trust as a tool. Often, predators deliberately put themselves in a position to gain that trust. It’s all about access and power.

Rapes by strangers happen, but they’re outliers. Coaches are a far more common predator. Priests, obviously. There was that horrible rabbi who videotaped naked female congregants in his synagogue’s ritual bath. In D.C., where I was an AUSA, every year or so a different ice cream man would be charged with sexually assaulting the kids who came to buy his snow cones. Doctors, teachers, dentists, bosses, OB/GYNs, boyfriends, husbands, platonic friends, college buddies – these are the men with access, and these are the men who filled my caseload.

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And yes—even your firm’s partners. He has the access, he has the power, he has your trust. You’re more worried, I know, about how he’ll review you and whether you’ll get a bonus this year. But consider Robert Kerns, the silver-haired Pennsylvania lawyer and political boss who pleaded no contest to indecent assault of his law firm colleague. That case started like so many sexual assaults do: with drinks. A bunch of employees from Kerns’ law firm went out to celebrate a lawyer passing his bar exam. Kerns plied his colleague with alcohol, then offered to give her a ride home when she felt too tipsy to drive. Things got murky after that. Kerns was initially accused of drugging her and sexually assaulting her in the car and her home. The most serious charges were thrown out, but in the end he pleaded to misdemeanor indecent assault.

Then there’s the case of Marchuk v. Faruqi and Faruqi. A junior associate sued the New York firm, charging that one of the firm’s rainmakers, her supervisor Juan Monteverde, repeatedly sexually harassed her, then sexually assaulted her in his office on the night of a firm holiday party. A jury found the firm and Monteverde liable for creating a hostile work environment (although it found no liability on most of the charges).

Every few months, it seems, ATL reports on another lawyer accused of sexually harassing an employee. As you read these articles, keep in mind that they’re the tip of the iceberg. Sexual assault is the most under-reported crime in America. At least 80% of victims who are assaulted don’t report the crime.

I have two little kids, who think they know what a monster looks like. If they ever see someone with fangs, scales and claws, I’m sure they’ll run away. What shocked me when I was a prosecutor, what scares me as a mom, and what now compels me as a novelist is the monster in the three-button suit. He’s more common than we think. He looks respectable; he smiles endearingly. And that, in some ways, is his most dangerous tool. This is the interaction that inspired my latest book, A Good Killing.

From college campus assaults to drinks with Bill Cosby, from rape in the military to kids “mentored” by Jerry Sandusky — too many sex crimes are committed by the most trusted men in a person’s life. There’s nothing to tell you to run away.

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We need to recalibrate our understanding about sexual assault. More often than not, it’s the devil you know.

One note about the title of this piece. Most lawyers I know are reliable and kind. Same goes for most coaches, priests, ice cream men, and dentists. What I’m saying is: don’t let a sharp suit fool you. When you’re calculating who might present a danger to you, please consider that it probably won’t be someone who breaks in through your window. It’s someone you let in your front door.

Earlier: You’re Ruthless — But Are You Gangster Ruthless?
Law Firm Associates and Prostitutes: A Comparative Analysis
Law of Attraction: Meet Allison Leotta, Novelist and Federal Prosecutor

Allison Leotta was a federal prosecutor in Washington, D.C., where she specialized in sex crimes and domestic violence. She is the author of four legal thrillers and has been dubbed “the female John Grisham.” Her latest book, A GOOD KILLING (affiliate link), comes out this week. It earned a starred review in Library Journal (“This highly entertaining thriller shouldn’t be missed.”).

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