Recently, I published a story with my colleague Adia Witherspoon about Dominik Simunovic and the charges he faces for an alleged rape that occurred behind Bourbon Cowboy in the early morning hours of Oct. 14. 

The story was no easier for me to write than it was for you to read. 

The weeks I spent reading and rereading the probable cause affidavit and writing out its content in a sensitive manner wholly broke my heart, broke me, and broke my perception of this job. 

I’ve covered hard stories before. I’ve spent hours listening and taking notes on the experiences of victims of sexual misconduct. I’ve listened to podcast episodes by kidnapping and rape survivors who discuss their trauma. I learn about these things in my classes. 

Nothing I have covered in the entirety of my journalism career and nothing I have learned in a classroom has impacted me as hard as covering the Simunovic story has. Nothing.

I hate even calling it “the Simunovic story” because it’s not about him. It’s about what he did to Jane. It’s her story. 

I struggled so hard with publishing the Simunovic story. I feared that in doing so I would revictimize Jane and make her relive what Simunovic did to her. I feared I would cause her harm. 

As a sociology student, I know the statistics on revictimization. I know that after a sexual assault or rape, those who come forward are likely to be revictimized by the justice system through the countless times they are forced to recite, recount, and hear the events of their attack.

That was the last thing I wanted to do. Part of me didn’t even want to publish the story at all. 

I know that publishing the content we did was the best way to inform the public of Dominik Simunovic, what he is said to have done, and the severity of the charges and accusations against him. At the end of the day, I handled Jane’s story as sensitively and respectfully as I could because that was the most important thing to me. 

But part of me still feels like I did her a disservice. 

I know I did my job. I know I served the public and made them aware of something crucial for them to know, but at what cost to Jane? 

I still find myself thinking about that.

I think so highly of my job here at The Bulletin. I love what I do and I would not trade it for a single thing. I love my colleagues. I love writing stories and doing investigative work. I love connecting with people.

I know I’m doing good work, important work, but I would be lying if I said my job didn’t suck sometimes – because that’s the truth. 

Sometimes it just does.