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Dear Diary:May 21st

After a winter-long pause that began after Christmas last year, the rapes have started again. The pause began about the time of Junior Bonner’s suicide.

I know I have told you this before, but Junior was a bully. A mean bully too. He was even a bully to his friends. Like all bullies, he was compensating. He must have known very early that he was attracted to boys. That he was queer. To compensate, he bullied other boys.

As I write, once again, the rapes have started. At last night’s meeting, we were told about them. In the past week, there were two in Minneapolis and one in St. Paul.

The two in Minneapolis were committed against a trans couple. A male and a female. The male, of course, was formerly a girl; the female was a boy. They were also African American. Their attackers were three black kids, not more than fourteen or fifteen.

Once again, the trans couple, early twenty-something, refused to go to the police. We have their names .

Two more weeks until graduation. I have told you,

I have been accepted into a very good college. St. Catherine’s in St. Paul. They have an excellent nursing program. I’m going to get a baccalaureate R.N. degree and maybe continue on to get an M.D. Mother Dear, and her dysfunctional family have inherited plenty of money. She can pay for it.

Time for bed. Almost done with The Wheaton Academy. It’s been a good school and I will miss it.

“Marc there’s a Robbie Craig on line one,” Marc heard the office receptionist, Ryan Burke, inform him. “Do you know…”

“Yeah, I’ll take it, thanks Ryan,” Marc replied.

“Robbie, how are you?” Marc sincerely asked.

“I’m doing okay, Marc. So, you remember me,” Robbie said.

“Of course,” Marc said.

“Oh, that reminds me, I saw in the paper the engagement announcement between you and Madeline Rivers. Wow! Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Robbie. Yep, I’m gonna try it again.”

“It’s not like it wasn’t obvious you were head-over-heels for her,” Robbie said.

“Everybody says that. Everyone else knew before I did,” Marc replied.

“No offense, but you’re overreaching,” Robbie said .

“Everybody says that too. Lucky guy. Have you graduated from high school?”

“Almost. A couple more weeks.”

“Good. You’re not in any trouble, are you?”

“No, no, not at all. I, ah, not at all. I, ah, need a favor,” Robbie said.

“Don’t you know? Lawyers are like hookers, they don’t do favors,” Marc answered.

Robbie went silent and after ten to fifteen seconds Marc said, “I’m kidding, Robbie. What do you need?”

“Oh, um, good. Well, I need, I mean, I remember you saying you know a reporter at the Star Tribune.”

“I do, Philo Anson. He’s a bit of an oddball but a good reporter. Why, what’s up?”

“Well, okay, here it is…”

Robbie went on to tell Marc the entire story about trans girl rapes and assaults. She even told him about confronting Junior Bonner at The Blue Lagoon and Junior’s suicide.

“The thing is, Marc, no one cares, at least not the police. A couple of the girls, I know one personally, went to the police and they made a joke about it. One of the girls in St. Paul, her name is Carolyn Weaver, she was beaten and stabbed several times. At first the doctors weren’t sure she would live.”

“I’ll tell Philo about her only if he promises to get her written permission to use her name. I know him, he’ll agree.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks. I meant to ask. I’ll talk to him if he promises to use me anonymously.”

“And none of this has been reported and the cops aren’t doing anything?”

“The St. Paul cops took a report from Carolyn…”

“They were called by the hospital. Was she in Regions?”

“Yes. Yeah, she was. Now she comes to our group meetings…”

“What group meetings?”

Robbie took a couple minutes to tell Marc about the trans girls support group and their meetings.

“Okay, so you know her, this Carolyn? ”

“Yes. She says the cops took her report and haven’t gotten anywhere. She’s pissed off about it. They never call her. If she wants an update, she has to call them.”

“Do you know their names, the detectives?” Marc asked.

“No, but she would, Carolyn would. What do you think? Will the reporter do the story?”

“Of course I can’t say for sure. But this is the kind of stuff Philo loves. Taking shots at the authorities. I’ll call him and let you know what he says.

“Anything else? What are your plans for after high school?”

“I’m going to Saint Kate’s,” Robbie said.

“Good school, especially for…” Marc stopped, hesitating to say it.

“Women,” Robbie said. “It’s co-ed, you know,” then she laughed.

“I know, sorry. That’s great. Good luck,” Marc said.

“I should go. I’ve kept you long enough. If you need to bill me for…”

“I’m not billing you for this,” Marc said. “This is important. I’ll give Philo a kick in the ass and if that doesn’t work, I’ll have Maddy call him. He’s totally smitten. He’ll do anything for her. I’ll stay in touch Robbie and I’m glad you called.”

“There’s some guy who says his name is Philo Anson on line two for you,” Ryan yelled through Marc’s open door.

Marc had called and left a message.

“What kind of name is Philo Anson?” Ryan asked.

“You know that’s a good question. I’ve got it, thanks, Ryan.”

Marc picked up the phone and before saying hello, first said, “Hang on, I’ve gotta shut my door.

“Hey, Philo,” Marc said after returning to his desk and answering his phone call.

“Tell me you’re calling to let me know Maddy came to her senses and dumped you,” Philo said.

“Any day now. She’s been looking at me lately with a questionable expression. ”

“Be still my heart. I know you’re lying, but it still brightens an otherwise miserable day,” Philo said.

Philo Anson was a five-foot, nine inch tall, Wisconsin dairy farm child. He escaped the farm through college, where he found out he could write. With a journalism degree from Northwestern, he caught on with Minnesota’s largest daily newspaper. Ten years later, he still had dreams of becoming managing editor of the New York Times. In the meantime, Philo was finding out writing a newspaper report was a lot easier than a three-hundred page novel.

“That’s what gets me out of bed in the morning. That and watching Maddy in the shower,” Marc said.

“Thanks, now I’m gonna kill myself.”

“Stick around. You never know. I could get run over on the street, gored by a Rhinoceros. I may have cancer and could be dying even as we speak.”

“Thanks, Marc, for giving me a reason to live. Comforting Maddy after your demise.

“So, what’s new? What do you have for me? My first Pulitzer?”

“I like the way you say first Pulitzer. Confidence. Okay. I do have something for you,” Marc said.

Marc explained what he had. While he did so, despite a photographic memory, Philo took notes.

When Marc finished, Philo said, “LGBTQ, rapes and cop indifference. That’s hot. I’ll take it.”

“Remember, all these sources, especially the victims, are anonymous unless you get written, signed, consent to use their real names. That goes for me too.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Philo grumpily agreed. “The people upstairs would insist anyway for something like this.”

The people upstairs were the managing editor, other editors, Philo’s boss and legal.

“This trans girl, Robbie Craig, is expecting my call. What’s her number?”

Marc read Robbie’s number to him then said, “Give me five minutes to give Robbie a heads up. Then go ahead even if I don’t get her. ”

“Will do. How do you know Robbie and why did she call you?”

Instead of answering because of attorney-client privilege, Marc said, “Five minutes, Philo. I’ll tell Maddy you said hello.”

“Tell her what you said about watching her shower. Hopefully, that’s an image I’ll never get out of my head,” Philo said.

“Yeah, I’ll call her with that right after I call Robbie. Then I’ll just go ahead and cut my balls off myself and save her the trouble. Keep me informed about this.”

“You’re gonna cut your balls off to save who the trouble?” Connie Mickelson said while opening Marc’s door and walking in. “You must mean Maddy. What did you do now?”

“Nothing, have a seat. Please, smoke a cigarette with the window open,” Marc answered.

With his desk phone still in his hand, Marc dialed Robbie’s number. It was answered on the first ring.

“Hey, I spoke to Philo. I was right, he wants it. He’ll be calling you in a few minutes. Now, listen, I told him that he will not use anyone’s name without written permission. We’ll see where this goes if I say that’s okay.”

“Thanks, Marc. This is great. Something needs to be done.”

“I told him to keep me informed. Call me after you talk to him,” Marc said then ended the call.

“What?” Connie asked.

Marc gave her a quick version of what that was about.

“They’re not doing anything?” Connie asked.

“So far, nothing. Maybe we can light a fire.”