06/01/2026
In 1988, Robin Givens sat beside her husband Mike Tyson on national television and told Barbara Walters that her life was "pure hell." Tyson sat silent next to her as she said it.
The world's undisputed heavyweight champion was one of the most feared athletes alive. Givens was 23 years old, Black, and speaking on ABC while the man she was describing sat close enough to touch her.
The interview aired on September 26 1988 and became one of the most watched moments in television history. There was no domestic violence hotline banner. No trigger warning. No support structure of any kind. Givens said what she said, by name, on camera, to millions of people, and took everything that came after it. The public backlash against her was immediate and sustained, lasting years.
She gave other women a blueprint for naming abuse before most institutions were willing to hear it.
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05/29/2026
She was 15 years old when she walked into the most important audition of her life.
Her name was Jackie Fuchs. She'd been playing bass for less than a year. She was a high school sophomore in Los Angeles who still got nervous before tests. And she was about to join one of the most revolutionary rock bands in history.
The band was called The Runaways.
Joan Jett. Lita Ford. Cherie Currie. Sandy West. All of them teenagers. All of them about to prove that teenage girls could play hard rock — loud, aggressive, unapologetic rock — at a time when the music industry had decided girls belonged in the background.
They became famous fast. Their song Cherry Bomb became an anthem. They toured Japan to screaming crowds, sold-out arenas, scenes that looked like Beatlemania. Jackie — now performing as Jackie Fox — was 16 years old and playing bass for a band that was changing rock history.
And then, on New Year's Eve 1975, everything changed.
At a party after a concert, Jackie was given Quaaludes — powerful sedatives — and rendered incapacitated. Her manager, Kim Fowley — a man in his mid-30s who had built the band and controlled their careers — r***d her.
In a room full of people.
Band members. Roadies. Industry insiders. People who saw what was happening and looked away. People who stayed and watched. People who had every opportunity to stop it.
Nobody did.
Jackie was conscious enough to know what was happening. Paralyzed enough to do nothing about it. Sixteen years old, in a room full of adults, completely alone.
She never told anyone.
Not her parents. Not her friends. Not the other girls in the band. She buried it the only way a teenage girl in 1975 could bury something like that — in silence, in shame, in the private knowledge that nobody would believe her over him.
She stayed in the band for another year and a half. Showed up to rehearsals. Played concerts. Smiled for photographs. Performed alongside the man who had assaulted her, in front of the people who had watched it happen.
Then, in 1977, she quietly left.
She told people she was leaving to focus on school. That was true. What she didn't say was that leaving music was the only way to survive — to stop existing in the same orbit as her ra**st, to stop pretending, to start building something that was entirely her own.
She went to UCLA. Then to Harvard Law School. She became an entertainment lawyer. She built a career, a life, a reputation on her own terms, brick by brick, year by year.
For forty years, she said nothing publicly about what had happened to her.
Then, in 2015, Kim Fowley died.
He died without ever being charged. Without ever facing trial. Without ever spending a single day being held accountable for what he had done to a sixteen-year-old girl. He died celebrated in certain corners of the music industry as a rock and roll character — eccentric, legendary, untouchable.
Jackie Fuchs decided she was done being silent.
In July 2015, she gave a full interview to the Huffington Post. She told the complete story. She named Fowley. She described that night. She explained, clearly and without apology, why she had waited forty years: because in 1975, no one would have believed her. Because the music industry of that era treated teenage girls as raw material. Because speaking up would have destroyed her, and staying silent was the only way to survive long enough to build something worth protecting.
The response was immediate. The article spread across the internet. Survivors recognized their own stories in hers. Music fans confronted parts of rock history they had romanticized without understanding. People asked — and are still asking — how a room full of witnesses could watch and do nothing.
Some questioned her timing. She answered them.
"I had no expectation of justice," she said. "I just didn't want to die with this secret."
Today, Jackie Fuchs advocates for survivors across the entertainment industry. She speaks about the systems — the power imbalances, the silence, the enablers — that allow men like Fowley to operate without consequence for decades.
The fifteen-year-old who nervously walked into that audition became a bass player in a revolutionary rock band.
She also became a survivor who rebuilt her entire life in secret — quietly, methodically, brilliantly — until the day she decided her silence had protected the wrong person long enough.
She finally spoke.
He never faced justice.
But she made sure the world knew his name, and hers.
05/20/2026
In 2016, a twelve-page letter read aloud in a California courtroom stopped the country cold. The judge gave the man who assaulted her six months.
Chanel Miller was twenty-two when Brock Turner attacked her behind a dumpster at Stanford. The judge, Aaron Persky, cited Turner's swimming career and his "potential" as reasons for leniency. Miller had no name in the press at that point. She was known only as Emily Doe.
She gave herself a name in 2019 when she published her memoir, "Know My Name." But before that, her victim impact statement had already moved millions of people and landed directly on the California ballot. In 2018, voters removed Persky from the bench, the first judicial recall in the state in eighty-six years. California also passed new mandatory minimum sentencing laws for sexual assault cases involving unconscious victims. Miller's words did that.
She was never asking for sympathy. She was building a record no one could ignore.
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05/20/2026
Happy Birthday Nicole Brown Simpson
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Denise Brown Too
She called the police nine times. The man she was calling about walked free.
Nicole Brown Simpson lived inside a marriage that the Los Angeles Police Department documented repeatedly and acted on almost never. O.J. Simpson was one of the most recognizable athletes in America. She was his wife. That combination, in 1980s and early 1990s Los Angeles, meant her calls for help produced little more than paper trails.
Nine documented calls to LAPD. A 1989 plea deal that resulted in community service and no jail time for O.J. Simpson after a brutal New Year's Day assault. Nicole was murdered on June 12 1994 at age 35, along with her friend Ron Goldman. The criminal trial that followed became one of the most watched in American history. The jury acquitted. Her name stayed attached to his.
Her sister Denise Brown spent the three decades since building the Nicole Brown Simpson Foundation, refusing to let the story settle into tabloid history and forcing a national conversation about domestic violence that courts and police had quietly avoided for years.
Nicole Brown Simpson did not survive the system that failed her. Denise Brown made sure the system knew it failed.
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05/02/2026
JANE’S STORY
Please help us raise awareness and continue the fight for Justice for Jane Laubacher Laut. We continue to grieve, as this March 2026, just passed 10 years of her serving
time at Chowchilla Women’s prison. Jane endured 29 years of domestic abuse. Her thera**st of 6 years
has documentation of extensive instances and nightmares to prove it. We fear the Oxnard police
department and the Ventura County DA’s Office made many mistakes, enamored by Dave Laut and
maintaining blind ambition and a desire to win. Dave was an Olympic athlete and local Hueneme HS
Athletic Director, known to have used steroids heavily, (evidence of which was inadmissible in court). One
horrific night in August of 2009, Jane’s husband, Dave Laut, threatened to kill her son in front of her, then
their dogs and finally her. He shoved a loaded gun in her face and a battle to survive ensued. It was a
fight or flight situation. Dave taught Jane how to use those exact guns and forced her to play Russian
Roulette before that night. During her trial, we believe poor jury instructions, improper charges
presented and juror intimidation, led to the jury deciding on first degree premeditated murder. Jane’s
thera**st and a Domestic Violence Expert called it PTSD, self-defense and fear of death in action. The DA
offered her a 6-year jail sentence before going to trial, acknowledging she was a battered wife. She
decided to take a courageous stance for herself and other victims of domestic violence, pass on the plea
deal and take her chance on trial. Jane believed she was innocent and did not deserve to spend any time
in jail. She wanted to be around to raise her then 16-year-old son. The DA turned around and charged
her with two double life sentences. The DA or the California Governor still have the power to exonerate
her or issue her a pardon. We need you to help fight for justice for Jane and all other victims of domestic
violence, sexual assault and abuse. Jane was silenced for 29 years and the justice system failed her when
she finally gathered up enough strength to fight back and use her voice. Join us in the fight for change
for all victims living in fear and silence!
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05/02/2026
04/26/2026
04/26/2026