Her letter, which was read in court defending Brock Turner, sparked national outrage from people who said it perpetuated rape culture and blamed victims 
 
 A woman who blamed a Stanford University sexual assault victim for drinking too much alcohol has issued a defensive apology, marking the latest controversy surrounding an athlete who avoided prison time for attacking an unconscious woman. 
 
 Leslie Rasmussen, a childhood friend of former Stanford swimmer Brock Turner, who was convicted of three felonies, wrote a letter to the judge saying that the assault was “a huge misunderstanding”, Turner is “not a monster”, and that she thought it was unfair “to base the fate of the next ten + years of his life on the decision of a girl who doesn’t remember anything”. 
 
 Stanford sexual assault: dozens of letters to judge urge leniency for Brock Turner Read more 
 
 Her statement continued: “Where do we draw the line and stop worrying about being politically correct every second of the day and see that rape on campuses isn’t always because people are rapists.” The letter – a selection of which the judge read in court, saying it was a useful reference that highlighted Turner’s strong character – went viral this week, sparking national outrage from people who said it perpetuated rape culture and cast blame on victims. 
 
 In the wake of significant backlash, Northside Festival, a New York music showcase, announced Tuesday that it had dropped Rasmussen’s band from its lineup, and her group, Good English, has now released an apology from Rasmussen. 
 
 The 20-year-old’s letter of support for Turner was one of dozens submitted to the judge, Aaron Persky, who is facing a recall campaign for giving the defendant a light sentence. Although a jury determined, based on witness testimony, that Turner had sexually assaulted an unconscious woman outside a fraternity party on campus, Persky ordered a sentence of six months in county jail, instead of the minimum two years in prison prescribed by law. 
 
 In a statement Good English shared with the Guardian, Rasmussen said she wanted the judge to “consider the effect that alcohol played in this tragedy”, adding: 
 
 I understand that this appeal has now provided an opportunity for people to misconstrue my ideas into a distortion that suggests I sympathize with sex offenses and those who commit them or that I blame the victim involved. Nothing could be farther from the truth, and I apologize for anything my statement has done to suggest that I don’t feel enormous sympathy for the victim and her suffering … There is nothing more sad than the unnecessary, destructive and enormous toll that overuse, misuse and abuse of alcohol and drugs play in people’s lives, and I don’t think my effort to point this out in confidence to a judge while commenting on Brock Turner’s character, as the sober person I knew him to be, was an irresponsible or reckless decision. Unfortunately, due to the overzealous nature of social media and the lack of confidence and privacy in which my letter to the judge was held, I am now thrust into the public eye to defend my position on this matter in the court of public opinion. 
 
 Unlike her original letter, Rasmussen acknowledged the “enormous pain” of the victim and said Turner was “tried and rightfully convicted of sexual assault”. 
 
 The band – which posted the apology on Facebook and subsequently deleted the page – declined to comment further. 
 
 
 
 After publication of this article, Rasmussen posted a second apology on her personal Facebook page, saying it was wrong for her to make assumptions about what happened that night. 
 
 “Most importantly, I did not acknowledge strongly enough the severity of Brock’s crime and the suffering and pain that his victim endured, and for that lack of acknowledgement, I am deeply sorry. 
 
 I fully understand the outrage over Brock’s sentencing and my statement. I can only say that I am committed to learning from this mistake. I am 20 years old, and it has never been more clear to me that I still have much to learn.” 
 
 Rasmussen’s letter was part of the court record of character references Persky considered before sentencing, and activists and supporters of the victim said they were appalled that the judge, who is a former Stanford athlete, placed so much weight on the references and the impact the trial has had on Turner. 
 
 Michele Dauber, a Stanford law professor and family friend of the victim, said it was important that these letters be exposed considering that the judge used them to justify leniency. 
 
 “She says in the letter that rapists don’t cause rape. That’s ridiculous,” said Dauber, who posted an excerpt of Rasmussen’s letter on Twitter and is leading the recall campaign against the judge. “I’m shocked that the judge found that to be persuasive.” 
 
 Michele Dauber (@mldauber) #brockturner court probation report is fetid pond of victim-blaming rapeyness @thehuntinground @hodgman @brielarson pic.twitter.com/hygboyoV9q 
 
 Citing Rasmussen’s references to “being politically correct”, Dauber added, “If that’s what this judge thinks is a good argument, then I think we need to get that out in front of the voters.” 
 
 Dauber noted that the character witnesses participated in a “public process”, adding, “They wanted to help their friend, and it was very effective. He was not sentenced to prison.” 
 
 Turner’s own testimony blaming the assault on “party culture” and his father’s statement that his son is paying a steep price for “20 minutes of action” have also attracted widespread criticisms. 
 
 The judge has declined to comment while an appeal in the case is pending. 
 
 The case originally received international attention when the 23-year-old victim released a powerful statement about rape culture and the suffering she has endured throughout the process. 
 
 • Two quotes in this article were amended on 8 June at the request of Michele Dauber. ||||| The woman who was assaulted by former Stanford University student Brock Turner has received international attention for her powerful statement describing the trauma she and her family have experienced. One particularly compelling part of the victim’s testimony is her anguish over Turner’s refusal to express remorse and take responsibility for sexually assaulting her while she was unconscious – an attack that led a jury to convict him of three felonies. 
 
 The Guardian has since obtained a copy of Turner’s full statement to judge Aaron Persky, who gave him a lenient sentence of six months in county jail, sparking widespread outrage and a recall campaign. 
 
 Ex-Stanford swimmer gets six months in jail and probation for sexual assault Read more 
 
 The letter from the former swimmer offers a close look at the many ways Turner has refused to even acknowledge that he assaulted the woman, despite the guilty verdicts, and has instead continued to place blame on a “party culture” of “drinking”. 
 
 Although the victim and the prosecutor raised concerns about Turner’s hollow apology and his continued unwillingness to admit that he committed an assault – despite overwhelming evidence that the woman was unconscious – the judge said this should not count against him at sentencing. 
 
 Stanford sexual assault: dozens of letters to judge urge leniency for Brock Turner Read more 
 
 “I take him at his word that subjectively that’s his version of his events,” Persky said. “I’m not convinced that his lack of complete acquiescence to the verdict should count against him.” 
 
 Turner’s statement, along with many of his letters of support, provide insight into what activists describe as rape culture in the United States, meaning an environment in which assault and sexual violence is normalized and victims are blamed for being attacked. 
 
 
 
 In a phone interview on Tuesday, the victim said it was important for people to recognize the harms of Turner’s statement. 
 
 “People need to know that this way of thinking is dangerous. It’s threatening. More than my emotions, it’s my safety, everyone else’s safety. It’s not just me feeling sad and defeated. It’s honest fear.” 
 
 She added: “The anger everyone is expressing has so many levels of being hurt and feeling that fear. Anger is how a lot of us are expressing it, but it comes from a place of pain. It’s unacceptable. There’s no way you can wiggle out of this.” 
 
 Below, the Guardian has published a portion of Turner’s statement that illustrates, as the victim described in her original statement, the ways in which Turner “failed to exhibit sincere remorse or responsibility for his conduct”. 
 
 _________ 
 
 The night of January 17th changed my life and the lives of everyone involved forever. I can never go back to being the person I was before that day. I am no longer a swimmer, a student, a resident of California, or the product of the work that I put in to accomplish the goals that I set out in the first nineteen years of my life. Not only have I altered my life, but I’ve also changed [redacted] and her family’s life. I am the sole proprietor of what happened on the night that these people’s lives were changed forever. I would give anything to change what happened that night. I can never forgive myself for imposing trauma and pain on [redacted]. It debilitates me to think that my actions have caused her emotional and physical stress that is completely unwarranted and unfair. The thought of this is in my head every second of every day since this event has occurred. These ideas never leave my mind. During the day, I shake uncontrollably from the amount I torment myself by thinking about what has happened. I wish I had the ability to go back in time and never pick up a drink that night, let alone interact with [redacted]. I can barely hold a conversation with someone without having my mind drift into thinking these thoughts. They torture me. I go to sleep every night having been crippled by these thoughts to the point of exhaustion. I wake up having dreamt of these horrific events that I have caused. I am completely consumed by my poor judgement and ill thought actions. There isn’t a second that has gone by where I haven’t regretted the course of events I took on January 17th/18th. My shell and core of who I am as a person is forever broken from this. I am a changed person. At this point in my life, I never want to have a drop of alcohol again. I never want to attend a social gathering that involves alcohol or any situation where people make decisions based on the substances they have consumed. I never want to experience being in a position where it will have a negative impact on my life or someone else’s ever again. I’ve lost two jobs solely based on the reporting of my case. I wish I never was good at swimming or had the opportunity to attend Stanford, so maybe the newspapers wouldn’t want to write stories about me. 
 
 Stanford sexual assault case: victim impact statement in full Read more 
 
 All I can do from these events moving forward is by proving to everyone who I really am as a person. I know that if I were to be placed on probation, I would be able to be a benefit to society for the rest of my life. I want to earn a college degree in any capacity that I am capable to do so. And in accomplishing this task, I can make the people around me and society better through the example I will set. I’ve been a goal oriented person since my start as a swimmer. I want to take what I can from who I was before this situation happened and use it to the best of my abilities moving forward. I know I can show people who were like me the dangers of assuming what college life can be like without thinking about the consequences one would potentially have to make if one were to make the same decisions that I made. I want to show that people’s lives can be destroyed by drinking and making poor decisions while doing so. One needs to recognize the influence that peer pressure and the attitude of having to fit in can have on someone. One decision has the potential to change your entire life. I know I can impact and change people’s attitudes towards the culture surrounded by binge drinking and sexual promiscuity that protrudes through what people think is at the core of being a college student. I want to demolish the assumption that drinking and partying are what make up a college lifestyle I made a mistake, I drank too much, and my decisions hurt someone. But I never ever meant to intentionally hurt [redacted]. My poor decision making and excessive drinking hurt someone that night and I wish I could just take it all back. 
 
 If I were to be placed on probation, I can positively say, without a single shred of doubt in my mind, that I would never have any problem with law enforcement. Before this happened, I never had any trouble with law enforcement and I plan on maintaining that. I’ve been shattered by the party culture and risk taking behavior that I briefly experienced in my four months at school. I’ve lost my chance to swim in the Olympics. I’ve lost my ability to obtain a Stanford degree. I’ve lost employment opportunity, my reputation and most of all, my life. These things force me to never want to put myself in a position where I have to sacrifice everything. I would make it my life’s mission to show everyone that I can contribute and be a positive influence on society from these events that have transpired. I will never put myself through an event where it will give someone the ability to question whether I really can be a betterment to society. I want no one, male or female, to have to experience the destructive consequences of making decisions while under the influence of alcohol. I want to be a voice of reason in a time where people’s attitudes and preconceived notions about partying and drinking have already been established. I want to let young people now, as I did not, that things can go from fun to ruined in just one night. ||||| A former Stanford swimmer who sexually assaulted an unconscious woman was sentenced to six months in jail because a longer sentence would have "a severe impact on him," according to a judge. At his sentencing Thursday, his victim read him a letter describing the "severe impact" the assault had on her. 
 
 One night in January 2015, two Stanford University graduate students biking across campus spotted a freshman thrusting his body on top of an unconscious, half-naked woman behind a dumpster. This March, a California jury found the former student, 20-year-old Brock Allen Turner, guilty of three counts of sexual assault. Turner faced a maximum of 14 years in state prison. On Thursday, he was sentenced to six months in county jail and probation. The judge said he feared a longer sentence would have a “severe impact” on Turner, a champion swimmer who once aspired to compete in the Olympics — a point repeatedly brought up during the trial. On Thursday, Turner's victim addressed him directly, detailing the severe impact his actions had on her — from the night she learned she had been assaulted by a stranger while unconscious, to the grueling trial during which Turner's attorneys argued that she had eagerly consented. The woman, now 23, told BuzzFeed News she was disappointed with the “gentle” sentence and angry that Turner still denied sexually assaulting her. “Even if the sentence is light, hopefully this will wake people up," she said. "I want the judge to know that he ignited a tiny fire. If anything, this is a reason for all of us to speak even louder.” She provided her statement, printed in full below, to BuzzFeed News. 
 
 Your Honor, if it is all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly. You don’t know me, but you’ve been inside me, and that’s why we’re here today. On January 17th, 2015, it was a quiet Saturday night at home. My dad made some dinner and I sat at the table with my younger sister who was visiting for the weekend. I was working full time and it was approaching my bed time. I planned to stay at home by myself, watch some TV and read, while she went to a party with her friends. Then, I decided it was my only night with her, I had nothing better to do, so why not, there’s a dumb party ten minutes from my house, I would go, dance like a fool, and embarrass my younger sister. On the way there, I joked that undergrad guys would have braces. My sister teased me for wearing a beige cardigan to a frat party like a librarian. I called myself “big mama”, because I knew I’d be the oldest one there. I made silly faces, let my guard down, and drank liquor too fast not factoring in that my tolerance had significantly lowered since college. The next thing I remember I was in a gurney in a hallway. I had dried blood and bandages on the backs of my hands and elbow. I thought maybe I had fallen and was in an admin office on campus. I was very calm and wondering where my sister was. A deputy explained I had been assaulted. I still remained calm, assured he was speaking to the wrong person. I knew no one at this party. When I was finally allowed to use the restroom, I pulled down the hospital pants they had given me, went to pull down my underwear, and felt nothing. I still remember the feeling of my hands touching my skin and grabbing nothing. I looked down and there was nothing. The thin piece of fabric, the only thing between my vagina and anything else, was missing and everything inside me was silenced. I still don’t have words for that feeling. In order to keep breathing, I thought maybe the policemen used scissors to cut them off for evidence. 
 
 "You don’t know me, but you’ve been inside me, and that’s why we’re here today." 
 
 Then, I felt pine needles scratching the back of my neck and started pulling them out my hair. I thought maybe, the pine needles had fallen from a tree onto my head. My brain was talking my gut into not collapsing. Because my gut was saying, help me, help me. I shuffled from room to room with a blanket wrapped around me, pine needles trailing behind me, I left a little pile in every room I sat in. I was asked to sign papers that said “Rape Victim” and I thought something has really happened. My clothes were confiscated and I stood naked while the nurses held a ruler to various abrasions on my body and photographed them. The three of us worked to comb the pine needles out of my hair, six hands to fill one paper bag. To calm me down, they said it’s just the flora and fauna, flora and fauna. I had multiple swabs inserted into my vagina and anus, needles for shots, pills, had a Nikon pointed right into my spread legs. I had long, pointed beaks inside me and had my vagina smeared with cold, blue paint to check for abrasions. After a few hours of this, they let me shower. I stood there examining my body beneath the stream of water and decided, I don’t want my body anymore. I was terrified of it, I didn’t know what had been in it, if it had been contaminated, who had touched it. I wanted to take off my body like a jacket and leave it at the hospital with everything else. On that morning, all that I was told was that I had been found behind a dumpster, potentially penetrated by a stranger, and that I should get retested for HIV because results don’t always show up immediately. But for now, I should go home and get back to my normal life. Imagine stepping back into the world with only that information. They gave me huge hugs and I walked out of the hospital into the parking lot wearing the new sweatshirt and sweatpants they provided me, as they had only allowed me to keep my necklace and shoes. My sister picked me up, face wet from tears and contorted in anguish. Instinctively and immediately, I wanted to take away her pain. I smiled at her, I told her to look at me, I’m right here, I’m okay, everything’s okay, I’m right here. My hair is washed and clean, they gave me the strangest shampoo, calm down, and look at me. Look at these funny new sweatpants and sweatshirt, I look like a P.E. teacher, let’s go home, let’s eat something. She did not know that beneath my sweatsuit, I had scratches and bandages on my skin, my vagina was sore and had become a strange, dark color from all the prodding, my underwear was missing, and I felt too empty to continue to speak. That I was also afraid, that I was also devastated. That day we drove home and for hours in silence my younger sister held me. My boyfriend did not know what happened, but called that day and said, “I was really worried about you last night, you scared me, did you make it home okay?” I was horrified. That’s when I learned I had called him that night in my blackout, left an incomprehensible voicemail, that we had also spoken on the phone, but I was slurring so heavily he was scared for me, that he repeatedly told me to go find [my sister]. Again, he asked me, “What happened last night? Did you make it home okay?” I said yes, and hung up to cry. I was not ready to tell my boyfriend or parents that actually, I may have been raped behind a dumpster, but I don’t know by who or when or how. If I told them, I would see the fear on their faces, and mine would multiply by tenfold, so instead I pretended the whole thing wasn’t real. I tried to push it out of my mind, but it was so heavy I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone. After work, I would drive to a secluded place to scream. I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone, and I became isolated from the ones I loved most. For over a week after the incident, I didn’t get any calls or updates about that night or what happened to me. The only symbol that proved that it hadn’t just been a bad dream, was the sweatshirt from the hospital in my drawer. One day, I was at work, scrolling through the news on my phone, and came across an article. In it, I read and learned for the first time about how I was found unconscious, with my hair disheveled, long necklace wrapped around my neck, bra pulled out of my dress, dress pulled off over my shoulders and pulled up above my waist, that I was butt naked all the way down to my boots, legs spread apart, and had been penetrated by a foreign object by someone I did not recognize. This was how I learned what happened to me, sitting at my desk reading the news at work. I learned what happened to me the same time everyone else in the world learned what happened to me. That’s when the pine needles in my hair made sense, they didn’t fall from a tree. He had taken off my underwear, his fingers had been inside of me. I don’t even know this person. I still don’t know this person. When I read about me like this, I said, this can’t be me, this can’t be me. I could not digest or accept any of this information. I could not imagine my family having to read about this online. I kept reading. In the next paragraph, I read something that I will never forgive; I read that according to him, I liked it. I liked it. Again, I do not have words for these feelings. 
 
 "And then, at the bottom of the article, after I learned about the graphic details of my own sexual assault, the article listed his swimming times." 
 
 It’s like if you were to read an article where a car was hit, and found dented, in a ditch. But maybe the car enjoyed being hit. Maybe the other car didn’t mean to hit it, just bump it up a little bit. Cars get in accidents all the time, people aren’t always paying attention, can we really say who’s at fault. And then, at the bottom of the article, after I learned about the graphic details of my own sexual assault, the article listed his swimming times. She was found breathing, unresponsive with her underwear six inches away from her bare stomach curled in fetal position. By the way, he’s really good at swimming. Throw in my mile time if that’s what we’re doing. I’m good at cooking, put that in there, I think the end is where you list your extracurriculars to cancel out all the sickening things that’ve happened. The night the news came out I sat my parents down and told them that I had been assaulted, to not look at the news because it’s upsetting, just know that I’m okay, I’m right here, and I’m okay. But halfway through telling them, my mom had to hold me because I could no longer stand up. The night after it happened, he said he didn’t know my name, said he wouldn’t be able to identify my face in a lineup, didn’t mention any dialogue between us, no words, only dancing and kissing. Dancing is a cute term; was it snapping fingers and twirling dancing, or just bodies grinding up against each other in a crowded room? I wonder if kissing was just faces sloppily pressed up against each other? When the detective asked if he had planned on taking me back to his dorm, he said no. When the detective asked how we ended up behind the dumpster, he said he didn’t know. He admitted to kissing other girls at that party, one of whom was my own sister who pushed him away. He admitted to wanting to hook up with someone. I was the wounded antelope of the herd, completely alone and vulnerable, physically unable to fend for myself, and he chose me. Sometimes I think, if I hadn’t gone, then this never would’ve happened. But then I realized, it would have happened, just to somebody else. You were about to enter four years of access to drunk girls and parties, and if this is the foot you started off on, then it is right you did not continue. The night after it happened, he said he thought I liked it because I rubbed his back. A back rub. Never mentioned me voicing consent, never mentioned us even speaking, a back rub. One more time, in public news, I learned that my ass and vagina were completely exposed outside, my breasts had been groped, fingers had been jabbed inside me along with pine needles and debris, my bare skin and head had been rubbing against the ground behind a dumpster, while an erect freshman was humping my half naked, unconscious body. But I don’t remember, so how do I prove I didn’t like it. I thought there’s no way this is going to trial; there were witnesses, there was dirt in my body, he ran but was caught. He’s going to settle, formally apologize, and we will both move on. Instead, I was told he hired a powerful attorney, expert witnesses, private investigators who were going to try and find details about my personal life to use against me, find loopholes in my story to invalidate me and my sister, in order to show that this sexual assault was in fact a misunderstanding. That he was going to go to any length to convince the world he had simply been confused. I was not only told that I was assaulted, I was told that because I couldn’t remember, I technically could not prove it was unwanted. And that distorted me, damaged me, almost broke me. It is the saddest type of confusion to be told I was assaulted and nearly raped, blatantly out in the open, but we don’t know if it counts as assault yet. I had to fight for an entire year to make it clear that there was something wrong with this situation. 
 
 "I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who had me half naked before even bothering to ask for my name. " 
 
 When I was told to be prepared in case we didn’t win, I said, I can’t prepare for that. He was guilty the minute I woke up. No one can talk me out of the hurt he caused me. Worst of all, I was warned, because he now knows you don’t remember, he is going to get to write the script. He can say whatever he wants and no one can contest it. I had no power, I had no voice, I was defenseless. My memory loss would be used against me. My testimony was weak, was incomplete, and I was made to believe that perhaps, I am not enough to win this. His attorney constantly reminded the jury, the only one we can believe is Brock, because she doesn’t remember. That helplessness was traumatizing. Instead of taking time to heal, I was taking time to recall the night in excruciating detail, in order to prepare for the attorney’s questions that would be invasive, aggressive, and designed to steer me off course, to contradict myself, my sister, phrased in ways to manipulate my answers. Instead of his attorney saying, Did you notice any abrasions? He said, You didn’t notice any abrasions, right? This was a game of strategy, as if I could be tricked out of my own worth. The sexual assault had been so clear, but instead, here I was at the trial, answering questions like: How old are you? How much do you weigh? What did you eat that day? Well what did you have for dinner? Who made dinner? Did you drink with dinner? No, not even water? When did you drink? How much did you drink? What container did you drink out of? Who gave you the drink? How much do you usually drink? Who dropped you off at this party? At what time? But where exactly? What were you wearing? Why were you going to this party? What’ d you do when you got there? Are you sure you did that? But what time did you do that? What does this text mean? Who were you texting? When did you urinate? Where did you urinate? With whom did you urinate outside? Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I’d like to point out that you said it was set to ring. Did you drink in college? You said you were a party animal? How many times did you black out? Did you party at frats? Are you serious with your boyfriend? Are you sexually active with him? When did you start dating? Would you ever cheat? Do you have a history of cheating? What do you mean when you said you wanted to reward him? Do you remember what time you woke up? Were you wearing your cardigan? What color was your cardigan? Do you remember any more from that night? No? Okay, well, we’ll let Brock fill it in. I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who had me half naked before even bothering to ask for my name. After a physical assault, I was assaulted with questions designed to attack me, to say see, her facts don’t line up, she’s out of her mind, she’s practically an alcoholic, she probably wanted to hook up, he’s like an athlete right, they were both drunk, whatever, the hospital stuff she remembers is after the fact, why take it into account, Brock has a lot at stake so he’s having a really hard time right now. And then it came time for him to testify and I learned what it meant to be revictimized. I want to remind you, the night after it happened he said he never planned to take me back to his dorm. He said he didn’t know why we were behind a dumpster. He got up to leave because he wasn’t feeling well when he was suddenly chased and attacked. Then he learned I could not remember. So one year later, as predicted, a new dialogue emerged. Brock had a strange new story, almost sounded like a poorly written young adult novel with kissing and dancing and hand holding and lovingly tumbling onto the ground, and most importantly in this new story, there was suddenly consent. One year after the incident, he remembered, oh yeah, by the way she actually said yes, to everything, so. He said he had asked if I wanted to dance. Apparently I said yes. He’d asked if I wanted to go to his dorm, I said yes. Then he asked if he could finger me and I said yes. Most guys don’t ask, can I finger you? Usually there’s a natural progression of things, unfolding consensually, not a Q and A. But apparently I granted full permission. He’s in the clear. Even in his story, I only said a total of three words, yes yes yes, before he had me half naked on the ground. Future reference, if you are confused about whether a girl can consent, see if she can speak an entire sentence. You couldn’t even do that. Just one coherent string of words. Where was the confusion? This is common sense, human decency. According to him, the only reason we were on the ground was because I fell down. Note; if a girl falls down help her get back up. If she is too drunk to even walk and falls down, do not mount her, hump her, take off her underwear, and insert your hand inside her vagina. If a girl falls down help her up. If she is wearing a cardigan over her dress don't take it off so that you can touch her breasts. Maybe she is cold, maybe that's why she wore the cardigan. Next in the story, two Swedes on bicycles approached you and you ran. When they tackled you why didn’t say, “Stop! Everything’s okay, go ask her, she’s right over there, she’ll tell you.” I mean you had just asked for my consent, right? I was awake, right? When the policeman arrived and interviewed the evil Swede who tackled you, he was crying so hard he couldn’t speak because of what he’d seen. Your attorney has repeatedly pointed out, well we don’t know exactly when she became unconscious. And you’re right, maybe I was still fluttering my eyes and wasn’t completely limp yet. That was never the point. I was too drunk to speak English, too drunk to consent way before I was on the ground. I should have never been touched in the first place. Brock stated, “At no time did I see that she was not responding. If at any time I thought she was not responding, I would have stopped immediately.” Here’s the thing; if your plan was to stop only when I became unresponsive, then you still do not understand. You didn’t even stop when I was unconscious anyway! Someone else stopped you. Two guys on bikes noticed I wasn’t moving in the dark and had to tackle you. How did you not notice while on top of me? You said, you would have stopped and gotten help. You say that, but I want you to explain how you would’ve helped me, step by step, walk me through this. I want to know, if those evil Swedes had not found me, how the night would have played out. I am asking you; Would you have pulled my underwear back on over my boots? Untangled the necklace wrapped around my neck? Closed my legs, covered me? Pick the pine needles from my hair? Asked if the abrasions on my neck and bottom hurt? Would you then go find a friend and say, Will you help me get her somewhere warm and soft? I don’t sleep when I think about the way it could have gone if the two guys had never come. What would have happened to me? That’s what you’ll never have a good answer for, that’s what you can’t explain even after a year. On top of all this, he claimed that I orgasmed after one minute of digital penetration. The nurse said there had been abrasions, lacerations, and dirt in my genitalia. Was that before or after I came? To sit under oath and inform all of us, that yes I wanted it, yes I permitted it, and that you are the true victim attacked by Swedes for reasons unknown to you is appalling, is demented, is selfish, is damaging. It is enough to be suffering. It is another thing to have someone ruthlessly working to diminish the gravity of validity of this suffering. My family had to see pictures of my head strapped to a gurney full of pine needles, of my body in the dirt with my eyes closed, hair messed up, limbs bent, and dress hiked up. And even after that, my family had to listen to your attorney say the pictures were after the fact, we can dismiss them. To say, yes her nurse confirmed there was redness and abrasions inside her, significant trauma to her genitalia, but that’s what happens when you finger someone, and he’s already admitted to that. To listen to your attorney attempt to paint a picture of me, the face of girls gone wild, as if somehow that would make it so that I had this coming for me. To listen to him say I sounded drunk on the phone because I’m silly and that’s my goofy way of speaking. To point out that in the voicemail, I said I would reward my boyfriend and we all know what I was thinking. I assure you my rewards program is non transferable, especially to any nameless man that approaches me. 
 
 "This is not a story of another drunk college hook­up with poor decision making. Assault is not an accident." ||||| “How does the average person who is really upset and troubled about the Brock story, how does somebody participate in that, making right of a wrong?” Mr. Stedman said. “We are really just one tiny, infinitesimal part of that puzzle, but I think it was a no-brainer for us.” 
 
 In her letter, Ms. Rasmussen, 20, says that there was a distinction between rape and Mr. Turner’s case, and suggested that alcohol was to blame for his actions. 
 
 Mr. Turner, 20, a swimmer at Stanford, was found by two passers-by, partially clothed behind a trash bin on campus, on top of the 23-year-old woman, who was incapacitated by alcohol, according to the authorities. The passers-by stopped the assault and held Mr. Turner down as he tried to flee. 
 
 “I don’t think it’s fair to base the fate of the next ten + years of his life on the decision of a girl who doesn’t remember anything but the amount she drank to press charges against him,” Ms. Rasmussen, who plays drums in the band, wrote. “But where do we draw the line and stop worrying about being politically correct every second of the day and see that rape on campus isn’t always because people are rapists.” 
 
 Mr. Turner was convicted of three counts of felony sexual assault for the attack, which took place in January 2015. This week the judge in the case, Aaron Persky of Superior Court in Santa Clara County, Calif., came under withering criticism from the public for the sentence he imposed: six months in jail and probation. 
 
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 Ms. Rasmussen’s letter was part of a package of letters sent to the judge on behalf of Mr. Turner before his sentencing, a standard practice in which people seek to influence a sentencing decision by sharing their experiences of the defendant. His father also sent a letter that had an even more explosive effect when it was made public this week; he said that the episode had affected his son’s appetite and that, in particular, he no longer enjoyed rib-eye steaks. 
 
 Following the firestorm her letter provoked, Ms. Rasmussen said that her words were being twisted and that she was being unfairly stigmatized. “This appeal has now provided an opportunity for people to misconstrue my ideas into a distortion that suggests I sympathize with sex offenses and those who commit them or that I blame the victim involved,” she said in a statement. 
 
 Ms. Rasmussen also believed that the letter to the judge was private. But a spokesman for the court said she was wrong — such letters, like most documents entered into the court, are a matter of public record. 
 
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 Within hours of Ms. Rasmussen’s letter being made public by New York magazine, Good English was removed from a roster of Brooklyn venues where they were scheduled to perform in the coming days, including Rock Shop in Gowanus, Industry City Distillery in Greenwood, Gold Sounds in Bushwick, and Bar Matchless in Greenpoint. 
 
 “We don’t want to be affiliated with anyone that’s going to try to victim-blame or even just downplay rape,” said Larry Hyland, an owner of Bar Matchless. 
 
 Mr. Hyland said he had received over 50 emails and posts on the bar’s Facebook page demanding that the band’s show be canceled. Some of the messages, he said, included threats to confront the band members if they did perform. 
 
 “We didn’t cancel the show because of censorship,” he said, adding that while he disagreed with the content of Ms. Rasmussen’s letter, he understood the impulse to want to help a childhood friend. “I wanted to avoid an unsafe environment.” 
 
 On Tuesday, the Dayton Music Art and Film Festival near the band’s hometown announced that it, too, was removing the band from its September lineup. “Such actions should not be defended, friend or not,” the festival wrote on its Facebook page. On Wednesday, Behind the Curtains Media, the public relations firm that represented Good English, dropped them from its client roster. 
 
 In her statement, Ms. Rasmussen attributed the fallout from her initial letter not to what she wrote, but to “the overzealous nature of social media.” In particular, she lamented the “uproar of judgment and hatred unleashed on me” and the effect it was having on her musical aspirations.
– More aftermath following the conviction of Stanford swimmer Brock Turner on sexual assault charges, including new allegations of previous troubling behavior he showed toward women—with prosecutors noting he was "on the prowl" the night of the attack and was still in denial as of his sentencing that his actions were criminal, ABC News reports. Per sentencing documents, a woman at a party the same night Turner attacked his victim alleges he became sexually aggressive toward her, grabbing her and kissing her, without encouragement. And in June 2015, investigators got wind about two other women who ran into Turner at a frat party the weekend before the January assault. One said he was "flirtatious" while dancing, and that when she began to feel "creeped out" and tried to turn away, he became "touchy." Meanwhile, a Turner supporter facing backlash for calling out the victim's drinking issued a "defensive apology" to the Guardian Wednesday. In her statement, Leslie Rasmussen says people "misconstrued" her defense of Turner into meaning she didn't feel for the victim, a "distortion" she blames on the "overzealous nature of social media" and, per the New York Times, the fact that she mistakenly thought her court letter would be kept private. "I apologize for anything my statement has done to suggest that I don't feel enormous sympathy for the victim and her suffering," she said. The Guardian notes that after its own article was posted with her apology, she wrote a follow-up on Facebook. "I was not there that night. I had no right to make any assumptions about the situation," she wrote Wednesday evening. "Most importantly, I did not acknowledge strongly enough the severity of Brock's crime and the suffering and pain that his victim endured, and for that lack of acknowledgement, I am deeply sorry." She adds that, at the age of 20, "it has never been more clear to me that I still have much to learn." (New York explains why Turner isn't "technically" a convicted rapist.)