Canary

The story begins

Lauren Clark is a hair stylist in D.C. When a stranger sexually assaulted her in 2013, it sparked a years-long courtroom saga and a campaign for justice. Her story started The Post’s Amy Brittain on a reporting journey that has lasted for nearly three years — one that played out in the middle of a larger cultural reckoning.

(Salwan Georges/The Washington Post)

“I deserve to feel safe, and so does this community. How many people have to hold their sisters, their friends, their lovers or their daughters while they weep because of the things that this man has done?”

Listen to Lauren, in an excerpt from Chapter 1

“This man said himself that he’s sick, and he told you that he has a problem.”

“Why don’t you take his word for it? I certainly do.”

When Carole Griffin, a baker in Birmingham, Ala., read The Post’s story about Clark in 2019, it prompted her to reveal an unlikely connection.

In an email to The Post, Griffin said that she had information pertinent to that story. And later, she alleged that a prominent figure in the D.C. criminal justice system had committed a sexual assault decades earlier.

(Jared Ragland for The Washington Post)

“Hi Amy. My name is Carole, and I have some information that may be pertinent to your recent article. It is very sensitive information for me implicating a person in your story.”

Listen to Carole, in an excerpt from Chapter 1

“I appreciate your reporting and the work you do around this issue. It’s truly making a difference for survivors like myself.”

“In fact, the grace it has afforded me has compelled me to pay it forward. It is the inspiration for my reaching out to you. Best to you. Carole.”

The search for evidence

What does it take to report a story like this one?

Investigating a sexual assault allegation requires a high level of sensitivity, and before these stories can ever be published, they go through a rigorous process of vetting.

On-the-record interviews, family photographs and decades-old journals all served as key evidence in attempting to corroborate Griffin’s account.

Griffin said her family grew to know Truman A. Morrison III through his sister and that she met him in person on a trip to Washington, D.C., in 1973, when she was 13 and he was 29. The families grew close and began to vacation together, including a 1976 trip to rural southwest Virginia to a property owned by Morrison’s family. Griffin and Morrison are pictured below, and Morrison is pictured with his parents when he became a judge with the D.C. Superior Court in 1979.

The support systems around a survivor can often influence their decision to come forward. So what happens when a family has to reckon with the consequences of long-kept secrets?

And when faced with the allegations, how will the accused respond?

Finding their voices

It wasn’t just about what was done to them. It was about what they did in response.

Two women, who shared a refusal to stay silent, finally meet.

(Salwan Georges/The Washington Post)

(Salwan Georges/The Washington Post)

“When I walked in here, I’m like, I just — I picture myself just holding your hand and just — I don’t know what to say to you. Except just thank you. …”

Listen to Carole, in an excerpt from Chapter 7

“And we’re in this together, sort of like something like that, you know? And — that’s what I picture.”

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