Jessica* made eye contact with a man sitting at the nearby hotel bar. Clean-cut, suit and tie, with a hint of grey around his temples. To other guests, he was the local judge. A man of honor and respect. But her stomach sank. She knew the truth—that he regularly paid her trafficker for access to sexually abuse her. “If you ever ID me, just know I’m friends with every cop and lawyer in town,” he told her the first time he’d exploited her. Of course, he didn’t need to say that at the time. Because Jessica knew cops and lawyers in town regularly assaulted her as well—in fact, one was upstairs in the hotel room waiting for her right now. Who was she supposed to reach out to, when the powerful men in town were sex buyers? |
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*Jessica’s story is a composite of common survivor experiences expressed to NCOSE staff and is not any one individual’s story. |
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