Chapter 6: Sayonara Sucker!

“Oh God!” Peter breathed into the phone, “This is Peter Shipley at 347 Poplar Drive...” he paused as the girl above him screamed again. He held the phone up so the operator could hear, “GET OFF ME!”

“It’s my dad!” he cried into the phone. “We have a young exchange student staying with us, and he’s raping her upstairs! Please come quickly!”

“I’m dispatching law enforcement to your location. Please stay on the phone--”

“OW! PLEASE! YOU’RE HURTING ME!” the girl’s voice rang out in the dark.

A loud crash, and Roger yelled angrily, “WHAT THE FUCK? YOU BITCHT!” Then he screamed in agony. Another loud thud, and the girl shrieked.

“JESUS CHRIST!” Peter whispered loudly, his voice full of genuine panic. “Can you hear that?”

“I can hear it. Stay calm. Are you safe?”

“I’m in my room directly underneath them,” he replied harshly—another female scream of outrage was followed by a loud smacking sound.

“OW! GODDAMN IT!” Roger hollered. “MY FUCKING FACE!”

“Hurry!”

“They’re less than a minute out!” the operator’s voice was strained as she tried to remain neutral and calm over the phone. “Can you get out of the house?”

Peter froze at the sickening sound of flesh being struck, followed by another female scream. Tearful sobs came from above him, and he felt his stomach twist as he jumped out of bed. A distant siren wailed. “Uh, yeah. I’m heading out the front door. My girlfriend is with me,” he turned on his light and gestured for Kathy to follow him. Her eyes were wide with fright as she let him pull her from the bed and out of his room.

Stepping onto the porch, he saw neighboring houses with lights on, and people gathered on their porches. Flashing blue and red emergency lights lit up the street as police cars raced towards them. He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket with his free hand.

Jeremiah answered on the first ring, “Talk to me.”

“It’s going down,” Peter murmured, holding the cordless from his face.

“I see the police heading your way now,” the man replied calmly. “I’ll be close by.” The line went dead.

“The cops are here,” he blurted over the cordless phone. “I gotta go.” He hung up before the operator could protest and waved frantically to the squad cars pulling up his driveway. Two male officers stepped from their unit and quickly approached the teenagers by the door.

“Where are they?” one asked while his partner spoke into his radio.

“In there!” Peter cried. “Upstairs! She’s just a little girl! Hurry!” he urged as they cautiously entered the house with weapons drawn. The source of the dispute was clear: an angry man shouted while a tiny female voice cried out in pain and fear.

Two more officers ran into the house, and a female cop beckoned Peter and Kathy to step down from the porch and join her away from the commotion. They hurried across the yard to her and tripped over each other, trying to answer her questions.

A sudden outburst from the house made them turn back as authoritative voices commanded them to put their hands up and get on the floor. Peter began sweating as he recalled the previous police incident at his house. He dreaded the sound of gunfire, but none came. Just drunken screams from his outraged father as he was taken down aggressively before being handcuffed and dragged down the stairs.

“Copy 2-7,” the female police officer spoke into her lapel mike. “Aid is inbound. One underage female, domestic abuse, suspect sexual assault.” Her face was hard as she watched several policemen half-carry and drag the naked man out the front door and down the steps. Then she dashed inside and disappeared up the steps, leaving Peter and Kathy standing off to the side.

“THAT FUCKING CUNT!” Roger roared at the top of his lungs for the entire neighborhood to hear.

“You have the right to remain silent,” someone intoned mechanically over the man forced to his knees in the grass.

“FUCK THAT!” he screamed as he tried to break free. That earned him a rough shove, toppling him onto his face. “OW! Take it easy! That cunt nearly clawed my eye out!”

“Get him out of here,” ordered a newly arrived cop, a sergeant. He turned to Peter as his dad was lifted by four cops and carried to a squad car. “Peter Shipley?” the man asked.

Peter nodded. “This is my girlfriend, Kathy. Thanks for getting here so fast!”

The Sergeant was noncommittal as another siren approached, and they turned to see an ambulance pull up. “Are you prepared to give us a statement now, or do you need a moment?”

“I ... um,” he glanced back at Kathy before nodding. “I’ll do whatever you need,” he agreed. “I know I’m just a minor, but I called my ‘old’ legal guardian, and he should be here soon. I don’t mind talking without him.”

Several minutes later, EMTs brought Kimi out on a gurney. She was bundled in blankets, but her tragic face shocked everyone as they observed the angry, swollen welt over her left eye, causing it to remain tightly closed. She sniffed tearfully as they transported her to the rig and took her away.

Moments later, Peter and his girlfriend were seated on the porch steps, giving statements to the investigators. When he heard his name, he looked up and recognized the black man outside his gate. Jeremiah was dressed in his typical flamboyant fashion, like a cross between an old Western gunfighter and a Baptist preaCher. A patrol officer manning the gate barred his passage.

“That’s my guardian,” Peter pointed. “Let him in.”

One of the interviewing officers gestured, and the Southern gentleman was allowed entry. He strolled forward using his ebony and silver cane to tap the concrete walkway. He doffed his cream, felt Stetson at the footing, and gave Peter a subtle wink.

When the news stations arrived, only a few investigators remained on the scene, none of whom spoke to the reporters. Peter, Kathy, and Jeremiah were taken to the downtown police station for a formal interview with a CPS representative. Scott Bales appeared just as the interview began but made no effort to interfere or steer the conversation.

Peter’s mother couldn’t corroborate his story, and he felt guilty for using her under pretenses. But the narrative was secondary to the ultimate situation of Roger Shipley attacking and sexually assaulting an underage girl in their home. Despite his stance that he was set up and wrongfully accused—he was charged with first-degree rape of a minor and held in the King Couty Jail without bail.

Kimi underwent a thorough physical examination, including a rape kit. The analysis determined that the seminal fluid and tissue scraped from her nails matched the accused man. All her clothing was kept and entered as evidence against Roger. She was treated for her injuries and released, dressed in hospital scrubs. She held an icepack to her face as she was wheeled out to Jeremiah’s Cadillac. She was helped into the back seat with Kathy while Peter rode up front.

They drove in silence for several minutes before the Asian girl tossed the ice pack aside and sighed happily. “Damn, that was the most intense trick yet,” she exclaimed as she morphed into her carefree self. She leaned forward and pulled a brown paper sack from beneath Peter’s seat, containing a dozen tiny ‘airline’ bottles of spirits. Kathy shook her head in amazement as she watched the girl start tossing them back—one after another.

“Jesus! Kimi,” Peter breathed from the front passenger seat. “I’m so sorry about this! I can’t believe he hit you!” Her boisterous laugh took him aback.