We read in the ARA that "the second woman who accused Íñigo Errejón, in this case of rape, has not ratified the facts before the judge." Her lawyer says that his client is an actress "of recognized public notoriety and potential," and has decided to act this way—the case is provisionally dismissed—because "she is very anxious and fears that her identity will be revealed."
It is obvious that, if you go to a high-profile trial like this, your name and image will be everywhere, and your image as an actress—which should be as neutral as possible for the sake of credibility—will be undermined. Going to a rape trial is an ordeal, an unprecedented trauma. But you can't not go.
If this woman had been stabbed, beaten in a park, thrown into the sea from the port, or kidnapped, she wouldn't consider "not going" to trial. She would go, because her loved ones and she herself would be aware of the terrible crime committed against her. It would be traumatic to go and point out the culprit. To look him in the eyes and listen to his defense attorney. It would be days and days of trauma. Why is rape less than a stabbing? Why should a rapist have more luck than an aggressor?
The woman's reservations are understandable, but they cannot be accepted. If what happened was rape, it must be reported. If that woman doesn't, it trivializes rape. It makes it seem less serious than other crimes. It is, of course, arousing suspicion of a setup, of exaggeration, of the deceitful perversion of language. It gives wings to those who criticize feminism. To avoid all this, it is necessary, and terrible, to go to trial.
