January 30, 2025 • 11 mins
This week we meet Dan. Dan wants an eye for an eye.
Sure, he’d been a frat boy, done his share of drinking and carousing. But it was different then. More innocent. They didn’t slip mickeys into the girls’ drinks.
Dan’s memory of his college days might be a tad murky and a touch selective, but he knows what he knows, and he knows the names of the boys who violated his daughter.
See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Welcome to the ten Minute Storyteller. That's me Bill Simpson,
your host, narrator and author. We hear at the ten
minute Storyteller endeavor to entertain you with tall tales or
rendered swiftly and with the utmost empathy. We pledge to
(00:25):
pack as much entertainment, emotion, and exploration into the human
condition as ten minutes will permit mini novels on steroids.
This week we meet Dan. Dan wants an eye for
(00:45):
an eye. Sure, he'd been a frat boy, done his
share of drinking and carousing, but it was different then,
more innocent. They didn't slip Mickey's into the girl's drinks. Now.
Dan's memory of his college days might be a tad
murky and a touch selective, but he knows what he knows,
(01:07):
and he knows the names of the boys who violated
his daughter. Rethinking date rape, Dan, Dad did his research,
his due diligence. He didn't just fly off the handle
(01:30):
and shoot up the whole damn fratthouse. Oh, he wanted
to when he first got the word, when he first
saw his daughter, when he first heard the horror story.
He wanted to buy an AK forty seven on the
black market. Fill the trunk of his bends with Ammo,
drive across the state line and attack that damn fratthouse
(01:50):
as though it was a croud machine gun bunker on
the beaches of Normandy. But Dan Dad kept his cool,
did the breathing exercises the therapist had taught him to
help with the anxiety that sometimes rolled over him like
a three hundred pound defensive lineman. He hired a private investigator.
(02:14):
He gave the slick, wise cracking sleuth a hefty retainer.
Told him he wanted names. I want the filthy, stinking'
names of every son of a bitch involved. He got
me his girl, his eldest, his most precious, the one
who had fully and finally taught him the true meaning
(02:35):
of love. Was a straight a student, four point three gpa, soccer, basketball,
and track, peer leader on the staff at the high
school paper, taught Sunday school, and was a counselor at
the summer wreck program in their small suburban town. A
real sweetheart and his pride and joy. She got accepted
(03:01):
to every college she applied to, including an IVY. In
the end, she chose her dad's alma mater. It wasn't
her first choice, but she wanted to make him happy.
She wanted to make him proud. Driving across the bridge
over the state line, the list tucked away in the
(03:23):
breast pocket of his Ralph Loreen featherlight jacket, he remembers
the day, just a few short months ago when he
and Ellen dropped off their baby to begin her college career.
A magnificent late summer day, high blue skies, a gentle
breeze upon the hill top campus, overlooking town, the grass cut,
(03:47):
the hedges pruned, the ivy forest green against the old,
weathered brick buildings, a distinct aura in the air of
new beginnings, of great things to come. He carried boxes
up to her second floor dorm room in the Everett
Building on the old Quad. He'd lived in Everett his
(04:09):
freshman year. Such a great year, so many new friends
and excellent experiences. Pledged a fraternity, drank a few beers,
even smoked a little grass, and did some crazy shit. Shit,
well shit you're supposed to do in college. Not that
he ever told his kids about any of that stuff.
All that stuff was out the window once he became apparent.
(04:32):
Once he had to set an example. Oh yeah, he remembers,
But he damn well, never did anything like this, Never
did anything anything like this ever, not like this, No way.
There were beer bashes in the basement of the frat house. Sure,
and okay, yeah, the girls, especially the good looking girls,
(04:53):
well they were encouraged to drink, Sure, to have another.
But that was it, that was all. After crossing the bridge,
he turns off the highway and drives north along the river.
He's going to do it, goddamn right, He's going to
do what needs to be done. There are simply times
(05:13):
in life when nothing less than an eye for an
eye will do the job. Back in September, toading the
boxes and lamps and comforters up to the second floor
dorm room, he passed young men on every trip. He
joked around with them, told them his name, told them
he was an alum in the record books, played football
(05:35):
running back, told them his daughter's name, told them his
little girl was extremely valuable merchandise, not to be touched.
Those young men laughed and nodded and acted and pressed,
even as they thought to themselves, who is this old douchebag.
The old douchebag is now armed and dangerous. They violate
(06:00):
his valuable merchandise, his sweetheart, his pride and joy, his
first born, the one who taught him the meaning of
love and turned him finally from a boy into a man.
She had been on campus for a month or so,
but hadn't attended any parties yet, at least not any
(06:22):
inside parties. She had stood around outside on the lawns
of the frat houses and sipped a beer with her
new college friends, all of them kind of quiet and
shy and slightly intimidated by the noisy upper classmen. But then,
on that chilly Saturday night, it had started to rain hard,
(06:42):
and against her wishes and best judgment, she allowed herself
to get swept up onto the porch and then down
into the basement of the frat house, where the music
was deafening and a hundred or more kids shouted and
danced and drank from the enormous punch bowl in the
middle of the room. A boy handed her a glass
(07:03):
of punch. She sipped it, cool and sweet, didn't taste
of alcohol at all, kind of refreshing, actually much better
than beer. Parched. She drank it and a second glass too.
Within a few minutes, she started to feel dizzy a
little woozy. She thought she just needed air, and so
(07:25):
started upstairs, where the desire to sit, or better yet,
lie down, quickly overwhelmed her. She spotted a dark brown
leather sofa in a small sitting room just off the
dark paneled front foyer, and she belined for it. That
dark brown leather sofa is the last thing she remembers
(07:48):
about that evening. Dozens of times she has gone over
the details with school officials, campus police, town detectives, Mom,
and especially Dad, and always that dark brown leather sofa
is the last thing she remembers. The truth, of course,
(08:09):
is that the attacks remain deeply embedded in her psyche,
and no way does she intend to dredge them up.
The large quantity of rahipnol she ingested in those two
glasses of punch rendered her unfit to defend herself or
to fully comprehend exactly what was unfolding. As first one boy,
(08:35):
and then in quick succession, two other boys held her
legs apart and violated her with hard, quick thrusts. She
remembers hearing laughter, and now Dan, Dad has their names
in his pocket. The detective paid college kids thousands of
(08:57):
dollars to go into the frat house, Play dumb and
get the names. Now, Dan has the names, three names
in his pocket. The boys who answer to those names
don't have a clue that he's now cruising up the
long winding drive to the campus in his Mercedes Benz.
(09:18):
This well known alum who still holds the record for
most rushing touchdowns in a season, and say some for
scoring the most co eds in his senior year. He
parks and steps out of his long, snazzy black sedan. No,
those college boys just doing what college boys are supposed
(09:42):
to do, don't have a clue that the father of
the girl they drugged and raped his armed to the
teeth with three, count them, three large syringes of pure fentanyl,
potent enough to send an eight hundred pound bull moose
back to his maker. Thanks for listening to this original
(10:09):
audio presentation of Rethinking Date Rape, narrated by the author.
If you enjoy today's story, please take a few seconds
to rate, review, and subscribe to this podcast, and then
go to Thomas William Simpson dot com for additional information
(10:30):
about the author and to view his extensive canon. The
ten Minute Storyteller is produced by Andrew Pleiglsi and Josh
Colodney and as part of the Elvis Duran podcast Network
in partnership with Iheartproductions. Until next time, this is Bill Simpson,
(10:51):
your ten minute storyteller,
Welcome to the ten Minute Storyteller. That's me Bill Simpson,
your host, narrator and author. We hear at the ten
minute Storyteller endeavor to entertain you with tall tales or
rendered swiftly and with the utmost empathy. We pledge to
(00:25):
pack as much entertainment, emotion, and exploration into the human
condition as ten minutes will permit mini novels on steroids.
This week we meet Dan. Dan wants an eye for
(00:45):
an eye. Sure, he'd been a frat boy, done his
share of drinking and carousing, but it was different then,
more innocent. They didn't slip Mickey's into the girl's drinks. Now.
Dan's memory of his college days might be a tad
murky and a touch selective, but he knows what he knows,
(01:07):
and he knows the names of the boys who violated
his daughter. Rethinking date rape, Dan, Dad did his research,
his due diligence. He didn't just fly off the handle
(01:30):
and shoot up the whole damn fratthouse. Oh, he wanted
to when he first got the word, when he first
saw his daughter, when he first heard the horror story.
He wanted to buy an AK forty seven on the
black market. Fill the trunk of his bends with Ammo,
drive across the state line and attack that damn fratthouse
(01:50):
as though it was a croud machine gun bunker on
the beaches of Normandy. But Dan Dad kept his cool,
did the breathing exercises the therapist had taught him to
help with the anxiety that sometimes rolled over him like
a three hundred pound defensive lineman. He hired a private investigator.
(02:14):
He gave the slick, wise cracking sleuth a hefty retainer.
Told him he wanted names. I want the filthy, stinking'
names of every son of a bitch involved. He got
me his girl, his eldest, his most precious, the one
who had fully and finally taught him the true meaning
(02:35):
of love. Was a straight a student, four point three gpa, soccer, basketball,
and track, peer leader on the staff at the high
school paper, taught Sunday school, and was a counselor at
the summer wreck program in their small suburban town. A
real sweetheart and his pride and joy. She got accepted
(03:01):
to every college she applied to, including an IVY. In
the end, she chose her dad's alma mater. It wasn't
her first choice, but she wanted to make him happy.
She wanted to make him proud. Driving across the bridge
over the state line, the list tucked away in the
(03:23):
breast pocket of his Ralph Loreen featherlight jacket, he remembers
the day, just a few short months ago when he
and Ellen dropped off their baby to begin her college career.
A magnificent late summer day, high blue skies, a gentle
breeze upon the hill top campus, overlooking town, the grass cut,
(03:47):
the hedges pruned, the ivy forest green against the old,
weathered brick buildings, a distinct aura in the air of
new beginnings, of great things to come. He carried boxes
up to her second floor dorm room in the Everett
Building on the old Quad. He'd lived in Everett his
(04:09):
freshman year. Such a great year, so many new friends
and excellent experiences. Pledged a fraternity, drank a few beers,
even smoked a little grass, and did some crazy shit. Shit,
well shit you're supposed to do in college. Not that
he ever told his kids about any of that stuff.
All that stuff was out the window once he became apparent.
(04:32):
Once he had to set an example. Oh yeah, he remembers,
But he damn well, never did anything like this, Never
did anything anything like this ever, not like this, No way.
There were beer bashes in the basement of the frat house. Sure,
and okay, yeah, the girls, especially the good looking girls,
(04:53):
well they were encouraged to drink, Sure, to have another.
But that was it, that was all. After crossing the bridge,
he turns off the highway and drives north along the river.
He's going to do it, goddamn right, He's going to
do what needs to be done. There are simply times
(05:13):
in life when nothing less than an eye for an
eye will do the job. Back in September, toading the
boxes and lamps and comforters up to the second floor
dorm room, he passed young men on every trip. He
joked around with them, told them his name, told them
he was an alum in the record books, played football
(05:35):
running back, told them his daughter's name, told them his
little girl was extremely valuable merchandise, not to be touched.
Those young men laughed and nodded and acted and pressed,
even as they thought to themselves, who is this old douchebag.
The old douchebag is now armed and dangerous. They violate
(06:00):
his valuable merchandise, his sweetheart, his pride and joy, his
first born, the one who taught him the meaning of
love and turned him finally from a boy into a man.
She had been on campus for a month or so,
but hadn't attended any parties yet, at least not any
(06:22):
inside parties. She had stood around outside on the lawns
of the frat houses and sipped a beer with her
new college friends, all of them kind of quiet and
shy and slightly intimidated by the noisy upper classmen. But then,
on that chilly Saturday night, it had started to rain hard,
(06:42):
and against her wishes and best judgment, she allowed herself
to get swept up onto the porch and then down
into the basement of the frat house, where the music
was deafening and a hundred or more kids shouted and
danced and drank from the enormous punch bowl in the
middle of the room. A boy handed her a glass
(07:03):
of punch. She sipped it, cool and sweet, didn't taste
of alcohol at all, kind of refreshing, actually much better
than beer. Parched. She drank it and a second glass too.
Within a few minutes, she started to feel dizzy a
little woozy. She thought she just needed air, and so
(07:25):
started upstairs, where the desire to sit, or better yet,
lie down, quickly overwhelmed her. She spotted a dark brown
leather sofa in a small sitting room just off the
dark paneled front foyer, and she belined for it. That
dark brown leather sofa is the last thing she remembers
(07:48):
about that evening. Dozens of times she has gone over
the details with school officials, campus police, town detectives, Mom,
and especially Dad, and always that dark brown leather sofa
is the last thing she remembers. The truth, of course,
(08:09):
is that the attacks remain deeply embedded in her psyche,
and no way does she intend to dredge them up.
The large quantity of rahipnol she ingested in those two
glasses of punch rendered her unfit to defend herself or
to fully comprehend exactly what was unfolding. As first one boy,
(08:35):
and then in quick succession, two other boys held her
legs apart and violated her with hard, quick thrusts. She
remembers hearing laughter, and now Dan, Dad has their names
in his pocket. The detective paid college kids thousands of
(08:57):
dollars to go into the frat house, Play dumb and
get the names. Now, Dan has the names, three names
in his pocket. The boys who answer to those names
don't have a clue that he's now cruising up the
long winding drive to the campus in his Mercedes Benz.
(09:18):
This well known alum who still holds the record for
most rushing touchdowns in a season, and say some for
scoring the most co eds in his senior year. He
parks and steps out of his long, snazzy black sedan. No,
those college boys just doing what college boys are supposed
(09:42):
to do, don't have a clue that the father of
the girl they drugged and raped his armed to the
teeth with three, count them, three large syringes of pure fentanyl,
potent enough to send an eight hundred pound bull moose
back to his maker. Thanks for listening to this original
(10:09):
audio presentation of Rethinking Date Rape, narrated by the author.
If you enjoy today's story, please take a few seconds
to rate, review, and subscribe to this podcast, and then
go to Thomas William Simpson dot com for additional information
(10:30):
about the author and to view his extensive canon. The
ten Minute Storyteller is produced by Andrew Pleiglsi and Josh
Colodney and as part of the Elvis Duran podcast Network
in partnership with Iheartproductions. Until next time, this is Bill Simpson,
(10:51):
your ten minute storyteller,
Host
Bill Simpson
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