Cry Rape: The True Story of One Woman's Harrowing Quest for Justice (29 page)

In early January 2002 Blanchard told me the plan was to prosecute “unless we see something that causes us to rethink.” His office wanted to review “all” of the material in Patty’s case.

Soon after, Feagles obtained a signed release from Patty to access the medical and mental health records that Axley had unearthed during the civil suit. Short was bothered by this request, which again seemed to indicate a greater interest in checking out the alleged victim than the alleged crime. Had Patty really been vindicated, or was she being set up for another fall?

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Wishing It Were Over

In journalism, as in quantum mechanics, the process of observation alters what occurs. People and institutions behave differently when they’re being watched. As Patty’s ordeal played out to growing media interest, a key question arose: were they behaving better, or worse, than if no one was paying attention?

Clearly the Madison Police Department, from Chief Williams on down, was mainly interested in justifying its actions. With the exception of Captain Maples, no member of the department had publicly acknowledged that any errors were made or had expressed any sympathy for Patty. And even Maples sought to exonerate the police and shift blame back to the person she now acknowledged was a victim. “This is not Tom Woodmansee’s fault,” she stated in one communication, calling him “an inexperienced detective in sensitive crimes [who] was not given enough managerial help and support.” She also said Patty did not behave like “most sexual assault victims” and may have “exaggerated portions of her story because she is not used to being believed.” No examples were given of this alleged exaggeration, a charge not even Woodmansee had thought to make.

Just as clearly, the desire to avoid looking bad had driven the extraordinary efforts of the district attorney’s office to salvage its criminal case against Patty after the discovery of semen evidence. Might it now also affect whether and how aggressively it was willing to prosecute Joseph Bong, the man whom this evidence ultimately implicated?

As the weeks turned into months with no action taken, this seemed more likely. Privately Harlowe and Short expressed rising levels of 201

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frustration. For Patty, the delay was heartrending, oppressive. She couldn’t understand what was taking so long, and this compounded her anxiety over the part of her ordeal that she knew was still ahead.

In mid-March of 2002 Patty contacted Kerman, the office’s victim/

witness advocate, imploring that the case move forward as quickly as possible. He explained that Schwaemle had many hats to wear and cases to attend to, but intended to file charges within the next two weeks.

That meant the preliminary hearing would probably take place in April.

By mid-April Patty still hadn’t heard a thing. She was reluctant to make further inquiry: “It just seems like, what good does it do to keep calling them?” But she did call and she spoke with Schwaemle. Patty explained her anxiety and concern, saying she hoped to plan a vacation but was unable to, not knowing when the hearing might be. Schwaemle said she planned to come in that weekend to draft a criminal complaint.

Another week passed, and neither Patty nor her lawyers were apprised of any new developments. Harlowe drafted a letter to Blanchard, saying that unless action was imminent he planned to ask a judge to file charges directly and appoint a special prosecutor, as Wisconsin law allows. He finished the letter on Friday, April 26, but gave himself the weekend to think it over. It would be a shot across Blanchard’s bow, a challenge to his authority, and it could be seen as an attempt to embarrass him. It was not Harlowe’s style, but he felt he had no choice.

In other quarters, too, frustration was reaching critical mass. Short barely stopped himself from upbraiding Blanchard when he saw him in a public place that Saturday. Instead, he vented to Feagles: “I told Liz, basically, that what they’ve been doing is cruel. They have all the information to charge the guy, and then to let Patty twist in the wind is cruel.” Feagles didn’t disagree. She told Short she had awoken at 2 a.m.

this same Saturday, distressed about Patty’s case. Later that morning, Feagles called Schwaemle and found her at work, drafting the criminal complaint. On Monday it was presented to Feagles to sign, as a complaining witness.

Harlowe learned the news when he decided to place one last call to Schwaemle before sending his letter. He was delighted that he didn’t have to: “I would rather have them feeling good about themselves than looking over their shoulders.” He thought Schwaemle seemed committed to the cause, although he remained perplexed as to why the office
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took it on. It could have passed the buck to the state Justice Department, to avoid the conflict presented by its prior prosecution of Patty.

Schwaemle, in talking to Harlowe, mentioned that she thought Patty was on vacation. This is how Patty’s remark about not being able to plan a vacation was misinterpreted. Patty, on hearing this, thought it was typical: the people who had put her life on hold were twisting her words to suggest she was taking off on vacation irrespective of what was happening with her case. “It will be so good to have this done with,” she sighed.

The criminal complaint charged Bong with five felony offenses: one count of first-degree sexual assault while armed for each of his three acts (anal intercourse, vaginal intercourse, and fellatio), plus one count each of burglary and robbery while armed. Each count carried a maximum penalty of forty years, plus a ten-year penalty enhancer for “habitual criminality.” That made for a potential but wildly unlikely sentence of 250 years. The complaint recounted the crime, drawing on information from Thiesenhusen, Woodmansee, and Kaddatz, and detailed the events that produced the DNA match.

Bong was brought back to Dane County from the state prison in Green Bay and made his initial appearance on May 17, 2002. It took place in a special secure courtroom, adjacent to the jail, where defendants and court personnel conduct preliminary business. In a separate chamber, members of the public sat in pews, watching the proceedings through thick glass and listening via crackling speakers. Among those present were Short, Feagles, and Misty, who had seen an article in the paper that morning and rushed down. Said Feagles to Short, “I wish I could say it was over.”

Led in wearing a jail jumpsuit and handcuffs, Bong smiled thinly as he exchanged a few words with the court-assigned public defender.

Since Bong was in prison, the bail was nominal—$10,000, or $2,000

for each count. A preliminary hearing was set for the following week.

This formal filing of charges against Bong was the first actual news event in Patty’s case since the DNA link came to light a little more than eleven months earlier. And it was the first development
ever
that suggested that the district attorney’s office considered Patty a victim, not a likely criminal. Harlowe, in his public comments, showered the office with praise, saying it had done “a commendable job.” He attributed the 204

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long delay—felony complaints in Dane County are generally drawn up within a few days—to the office’s desire to be thorough. Harlowe also publicly praised Patty’s courage, telling the
State Journal,
“I’m honored to know her.”

The Capital Times,
in an editorial that week, called the charges “a step toward justice in a case where police and prosecutors failed [Patty]

and the community.” It added, “Patty is still owed public apologies by Madison Police Chief Richard Williams and the Police and Fire Commission, which failed to investigate police wrongdoing.” Patty, wisely, did not hold her breath.

On May 22 Patty met with Schwaemle and Kerman to go over the testimony she would be asked to give at the preliminary hearing the following day. Harlowe had offered to accompany her, but Patty chose to go alone. Schwaemle explained that Bong’s appointed public defender, Daryl Jensen, was not an especially abrasive fellow and the questions should not be punishing. Patty was given various pieces of advice, such as not to use the words “I guess” when answering questions. She was heartened to perceive that Schwaemle and Kerman were on her side.

The preliminary hearing was set for 9 a.m. Patty arrived early for a pep talk with Harlowe. Three other prosecution witnesses—Schwartz, Kaddatz, and Feagles—were on hand to document the chain of evidence that led to the DNA match. They gathered in a group in the hallway, but none of them said a word to Patty; because of her visual disability, she didn’t even know they were there. When she learned of this later, she was surprised that Feagles had not greeted her, and irked that Schwartz did not take this opportunity to express regret over what police had done. “She should be ashamed of herself,” said Patty. “I would have swallowed my pride and said, ‘I’m so sorry.’”

Before the case was called, Judge John Albert asked Schwaemle whether the prelim would take place as planned: “Is this a go?” “No,”

she answered, explaining that the proceeding would have to be delayed.

Just then Bong was led into the courtroom wearing a blue Dane County jail shirt, his hands cuffed in front of him. He took a seat at the defense table and leaned back in his chair.

The lawyers stated their appearance. Public Defender Jensen, sport-ing a Chia-like growth of short, curly hair, explained that his client wished to be represented by another attorney. This meant Bong needed
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to waive his legal right to a prompt preliminary hearing, which he did by softly answering “yes, sir” to a series of questions. Judge Albert, himself a former defense attorney, made the next scheduled event a status conference rather than a preliminary hearing, so the prosecution’s witnesses would not have to show up again only to experience another delay.

The proceeding ended. Bong stood up, turned around, and peered at Patty with narrowed eyes, maintaining this focus all the while that he was led from the courtroom. She sensed, more than saw, that he was staring at her. At one point, he was just a few feet away, his eyes continuing their cold embrace. In the hallway afterward, Schwaemle explained that the new timeline probably meant the preliminary hearing would take place in late June or early July. Patty’s hands were shaking.