Tears flowed freely in a Michigan courtroom last week. Bitter, angry tears staining the cheeks of the young gymnasts who were all sexually abused by Larry Nassar, former USA Gymnastics team doctor. The gymnasts included Aly Raisman, Olympic gold medalist and the pride of Needham. Aly was one of the first to face down Nassar delivering her victim impact statement in a strong, sure voice. “Larry, you do realize now that we … are now a force and you are nothing. We are here,” she said firmly. "We have our voices, and we are not going anywhere.” Raisman remained dry-eyed, as did Kyle Stephens who recalled how the sexual assault started when she was six years old in her home. Stephens blames Nassar for the suicide of her father who was emotionally devastated because the team doctor convinced him she was lying about the abuse.
But unlike Kyle and Aly, most of the 156 victims who told their stories in court broke down while remembering their confusion and trauma, and because few believed them, their shame and humiliation. Watching them on TV, I choked up as they haltingly spoke about how Larry Nassar forced them to touch his genitals and used his fingers to penetrate them. How, under the guise of "treatment," he assaulted many of the female athletes he saw in his multiple roles as doctor for USA Olympics Gymnastics and Michigan State University.
Which is why I boiled with rage watching Nassar’s self-serving response to their gut-wrenching testimonies. There he was, covering his eyes, weeping unearned tears. His too little, too late display of remorse came after he begged to be excused from hearing any of the victims’ statements. He told Judge Rosemarie Aquilina he feared for his mental health. The judge rightly denied his request and ripped him, publicly saying, “Nothing is as harsh as what your victims endured for thousands of hours at your hands.”
Larry Nassar’s courtroom crying reminded me of another serial rapist who bawled like a baby in court. Before I knew Nassar’s story, I thought the reign of terror by Oklahoma police officer Daniel Holtzclaw was the worst I’d heard. His victims were women he arrested for petty crimes. One he assaulted while she was shackled to a hospital bed, and another 17-year-old he attacked in her mother’s house — a perverted scenario he and Nassar apparently shared. And like Nassar, he hid behind an institution — the police department — to cover his crimes.
Hotlzclaw was finally arrested after he pulled over a 57-year-old grandmother for a made-up traffic violation. She was brave enough to defy his threats and report him. The sobbing 6-foot-2 former football player traded his police blues for the prison uniform he wears now while serving his 263-year sentence. And in a Michigan courtroom last week, Judge Aquilina offered knife-edged commentary before sentencing Nassar to 40-175 years in prison, saying, "I just signed your death warrant.”
There aren’t enough prison years to make up for the damage done by these sexual predators. But at least their victims can continue their journeys to solace and peace. And if there is justice in the universe, maybe their tears will help them wash away the harrowing memories that still haunt them.
