By M. William Phelps
In 1993, Donna Palomba was once raped via a masked assailant in her own residence. but, her tale is greater than a victim’s story of actual and emotional restoration. it's a tale of 1 woman’s hunt for justice whereas heading off assaults by way of associations designed to protect and defend her—the police division, the neighborhood executive, and a neighborhood clinging to an outrageous declare that Donna had invented the crime to hide up a sexual affair.
From the evening of the assault, the botched crime scene research, and the abuse as specialists tried to shut the case through discrediting her, Donna used to be left as a sufferer with out identify and no identification. in the meantime, there has been one brave detective, later to develop into leader of police, who broke a cops’ code of silence within the identify of justice. As they fought on, a criminal conflict ensued after the Waterbury Police Department—now with media support—refused to permit move of its allegations opposed to her and admit wrongdoing. ultimately, after 11 years of fight, Donna realized the identification of her attacker from the manager of police, who defined that the DNA from the rape equipment taken a decade in the past had became up a stunning match.
In 2007, Donna Palomba was once the topic of a different two-hour Dateline episode approximately her case. all at once, she was once Jane Doe not more, launching the Jane Doe not more association and turning into a promoter of the rights of girls and sufferers of sexual attack. With the aid of crime investigator and writer M. William Phelps, this is often her story.
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Extra info for Jane Doe No More: My 15-Year Fight to Reclaim My Identity--A True Story of Survival, Hope, and Redemption
Example text
Spectators filled the courtroom to hear him ring the rafters with rhetoric and watch him fall to his knees and weep before the jury. Only prosecutors were glad when he left town. But on May 14, 1987, Lester’s world collapsed. He had already resigned his license to practice law. Gone were the diamonds and fancy suits. One newspaper compared him to a dethroned heavy-weight. He was fifty-five. Stooped and abject, he stood before a federal judge, having waived his right to a trial, and wept not for a client, but for himself.
Lester must be kidding. This was robbery! Lester suggested that Roger go back to his cell to think things over. The sooner he came to a decision, the better, because if he was not going to hire Lester Burns, he had better get someone else, quick. There would be an extradition order coming down from Kentucky. There wasn’t any time to waste at all, but Roger could sleep on it, if he wished. “You don’t hire the best for peanuts,” Lester told him. As he headed for his car, Lester ran into Carol and Sherry, who were with two other women Carol introduced as Louise Farley and Sharon Wilson, Donnie Bartley’s mother and sister.
High cheekbones, a tanned, coppery complexion, and a regal carriage exuding confidence suggested a Shawnee chief, maybe Tecumseh himself somewhere in the background ennobling the tough Scottish strains. His hair was sandy; his eyes gleamed turquoise. “Momma and I just about raised him,” Governor Chandler recalled twenty-five years later in speaking to a reporter who was preparing a front-page feature story on Lester. “He just had that Clay County determination about him. Under other circumstances, he might have had an average life.