“Once we got into the typical, annoying Los Angeles traffic, completely out of the blue, he placed his hand on my inner thigh and then grabbed my crotch. I screamed, ‘What are you doing? No!’”
I was kicked in the head, I was beaten with a club. And then strangled again for the kill; at which time he disposed of my body into an area I refer to as the ‘hole’.
"In a puddle of my own blood, he left me in the dark—barely 20 paces from a main road. For all he knew I was dead...This is real. This did happen. It does happen."
"I draw a line down the middle of a chalkboard, sketching a male symbol on one side and a female symbol on the other. At first there is a kind of awkward silence as the men try to figure out if they've been asked a trick question..."
