I grew up in Pettsburg. My dad started out as a machinist for D.L. Metals and Parts (now Gotham Tool and Die) my mom was a stay at home mom. My little sister Julie and I were Gotham Girl Guides (my mom was a troop leader.) We had a cat named Sneakers and a hamster named Jumble.

I was in college when my mom called me and told me I needed to come home that night. I drove home from school. My mom sat me down at our kitchen table, at the plaid placemats where we ate dinner as a family on Sundays, and told me that my sister, Julie, had been assaulted, in the parking lot at the mall where she worked at a music store.

I can't say that I found my life's calling that night. I can only say what every victim, and every victim's family says. That night everything changed. You walk into that conversation one person, and walk out another person. What happened to my sister was awful, but what happened after that felt even worse. Her attacker was caught. My seventeen year old sister bravely identified him from a line-up. She testified in court. And he was in jail for eighteen months.

Her assailant, who had a court appointed lawyer, got his GED while he was in jail. He was required to attend a substance abuse program.

And my sister? My sister had anxiety attacks. She found it harder and harder to leave the house. She broke up with her boyfriend. She graduated from high school, but couldn't bring herself to go to college. When she tried to take a tour of Gotham University, she had a panic attack in the parking lot.

My sister got counseling, with the help of my family, and today Julie is a speech therapist. But as I have found, for many victims, things don't turn out so well.