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She was good at empathizing with the victims, who were overwhelmingly women.
They sank down on separate couches in their living room. The attacker had been cunning, attempting to erase any traces of DNA from the scene. “I basically had 20 minutes to pack my stuff and go.” Until something more permanent could be found, Marie moved in with Shannon Mc Query and her husband in Bellevue, a booming, high-tech suburb east of Seattle.
It had cost her the newfound independence she was savoring after a life in foster homes. Each ring of the phone seemed to announce another friendship, lost. Galbraith spotted the victim standing in the thin sunlight outside her ground floor apartment. She had been alone in her apartment the previous evening. Afterward, he ordered her to brush her teeth and wash herself in the shower. Galbraith listened to the woman with a sense of alarm. The woman underwent a special forensic examination to collect more DNA evidence. But there was still the issue of the woman’s story. Or fabricating a ruse to cover a sexual encounter gone wrong?
A friend from 10th grade called to ask: How could you lie about something like that? She doubted herself, wondering if there was something in her that needed to be fixed. She was young, dressed in a brown, full-length coat. After cooking green mung beans for dinner, she curled up in bed for a marathon of “Desperate Housewives” and “The Big Bang Theory” until drifting off. The attack was so heinous; the attacker so practiced. Sitting close to her in the front seat of the car, Galbraith carefully brushed the woman’s face with long cotton swabs to collect any DNA traces that might remain. Before she left with a nurse, the woman warned Galbraith, “I think he’s done this before.” Galbraith returned to the crime scene. As she headed home that night, Galbraith’s mind raced. In that way, rape cases were unlike most other crimes.
And she would have to pay 0 to cover the court’s costs. In the snow, they found a trail of footprints leading to and from the back of the apartment through an empty field. An investigating officer had to figure out if the victim was telling the truth. “A lot of times people say, ‘Believe your victim, believe your victim,’” Galbraith said.
But in fresh light, it appeared very much like a failed rape attempt, committed by an attacker who closely resembled the description of the rapist. But when the man looked away, the woman jumped out of her bedroom window.
But Hendershot right away recognized the potential in collaborating and in using every tool possible. Her department was small — a little more than 40 officers serving a town of about 20,000. “I have no qualms with asking for help,” Galbraith said. She recalled the camera that the attacker had used to take photos. “Sometimes going a hundred miles an hour, you miss some breadcrumbs,” the same colleague noted.
“Two heads, three heads, four heads, sometimes are better than one, right? “Let’s do what we can do to catch him.” A week later, Galbraith, Hendershot and Aurora Detective Scott Burgess gathered around a conference table in the Westminster Police Department. It was a pink Sony digital camera — a description that fit the model stolen from the apartment of the Westminster victim. Their initial attempts to identify the attacker faltered.
Launched the year before, the program was designed to help young adults who had grown up in foster care transition to living on their own. She was a little scared, but any trepidation was tempered by a sense of pride.
Case managers would show participants the dos and don’ts of shopping for groceries, handling a credit card, buying insurance. Best of all, Project Ladder provided subsidized housing, with each member getting a one-bedroom apartment. She moved into the Alderbrooke Apartments, a woodsy complex that advertises proximity to a mall and views of the Cascades.