It's Over

The detective at the local police department who has been handling my case called today, two weeks after, you know, the incident. He called "the man" and asked him about the evening in question and, of course, the spineless piece of crap denied even being at the local movie theater that night or spitting in my face. In fact, he commented to the detective that I should be arrested for having the gall to do what I did.

Yeah.

I cried a lot this afternoon after his phone call. The nice detective said he could get the douche bag's picture and place it, along with pictures of several others, in a photo line-up and begin the process of a misdemeanor trial, but it would ultimately be his word against mine. And let's face it, a jury would have to let him off because of the lack of evidence. And deep down, I'm fearful of facing this idiot. What could he do to my family? My children? I'm scared. And so upset with myself for being scared and for telling the detective to forget it. It's not worth it. What's the point, right?

Right.

Until he does this or worse to another woman or person. I keep repeating to myself, "Don't research his license plate number on-line. Don't research his license plate number on-line. If you confront him, it won't do any good, it won't change his attitude. It will only make things worse. He'll hurt you. He'll hurt your family. Don't research his license plate number on-line. Don't be the woman on whom he snaps."

I ended up unloading onto poor Detective Bishop (I really wanted to ask him if he was an android) and asking him, "Was the asshole at least scared when you called him?" The kind, understanding detective admitted that the asshat was fairly uncomfortable during their phone conversation.

At least I have that.