I was harassed by creepy men at the pool. Then one of them started drowning

Fourth Friend’s plea deal came through the following week after his lawyer realized the case against him was solid. During his allocation to the judge he actually sounded sorry about what happened saying he got caught up in mob mentality and alcohol.

He admitted to pouring beer on me and participating in the harassment, accepting responsibility without making excuses. The judge gave him six months probation and fifty hours of community service at a domestic violence shelter.

“She said maybe helping abuse victims would teach him how his actions affected others” The judge said

Around this time I found a support group for assault survivors that met Tuesday nights at the community center. The first meeting was hard, sitting in that circle of metal chairs listening to other people’s stories of harassment and assault.

But hearing how they survived and fought back through the legal system made me feel less alone in this mess. One woman had been through three trials before getting justice and she became my unofficial mentor in navigating the system.

We’d get coffee after meetings and she’d remind me that healing wasn’t linear and bad days didn’t mean I was weak. Beer Gut refused all plea deals because he insisted he’d done nothing wrong and the head injury was my fault for not saving him fast enough.

His lawyer filed motion after motion trying to get the charges dropped or reduced but the judge denied them all. The trial date got set for three months out and the prosecutor started preparing me for what would be another round of testimony.

She had the video enhanced and got medical experts to testify about the difference between his self-inflicted injury and the assault injuries I sustained. Beer’s defense strategy seemed to be blaming alcohol and claiming he couldn’t remember anything.

This fell apart when the prosecutor showed the video of him very deliberately snapping my swimsuit strap and cornering me in the pool. Three weeks later I walked into the courtroom for Beer Gut’s trial wearing the same dark suit I’d worn to every hearing.

My hands were steady this time as I took the witness stand. The prosecutor had me walk through the harassment again but this time I didn’t shake when I described Beer Gut pulling at my suit straps or how he’d cornered me in the pool before his stupid backflip attempt.

She showed the jury the enhanced video frame by frame, pointing out how he deliberately grabbed me underwater and snapped my swimsuit hard enough to leave the mark. Beer Gut sat there in his cheap suit trying to look sorry but I could see him rolling his eyes when his lawyer thought the jury wasn’t watching.

The prosecutor brought up the other women who’d filed complaints about him at different pools over the past five years, establishing a clear pattern. When the defense tried to argue that his head injury was punishment enough, the prosecutor showed medical records proving his concussion had fully healed within six weeks while my therapy bills were still mounting.

The jury took less than two hours to come back with guilty verdicts on assault and battery charges. The judge didn’t buy Beer Gut’s sudden remorse act during sentencing, giving him six months in county jail plus two years probation and ordering him to pay all my therapy costs.

Flameshort’s trial started the following month and by then his tough guy act had completely disappeared since his buddies had all testified against him to get lighter sentences. His wife had divorced him and his employer fired him after the video went viral locally.

The prosecutor played the audio from Minnie’s video where he called me those awful names and pushed me against the pool wall. Three other witnesses testified about seeing him throw my towel in the water and hold it down with his foot.

His own lawyer convinced him to change his plea to guilty on the second day when it became clear the jury hated him. The judge gave him four months in jail and mandatory anger management classes specifically stating that his harassment created the environment where the others felt empowered to assault me.

Reclaiming the Water

With all four convicted I finally felt safe enough to go back to the pool during regular hours instead of just senior swim times. Though I still checked the parking lot for their cars out of habit.

Jonas had the staff put up my photo in the office so all the lifeguards and desk workers knew to watch out for me. The regulars started nodding at me in solidarity which helped more than they knew.

The victim advocate called to ask if I’d volunteer with their office since they needed people who understood the court process firsthand. I started spending Tuesday evenings helping other assault survivors fill out paperwork and understand what to expect at hearings.

Six months after that awful day I signed up for a master’s swim meet at the aquatic center across town. My times in practice were still slower than before and I’d gained weight from the stress, but I needed to prove to myself that they hadn’t taken swimming away from me.

The morning of the meet I threw up from nerves but still showed up and swam my events. I finished middle of the pack in freestyle but somehow winning my age group in backstroke.

Minnie showed up to cheer me on bringing homemade cookies and a sign that said survivor strong which made me cry. We started meeting for coffee every few weeks after that and she told me how proud she was that I’d fought for justice.

She said sharing that video was the easiest decision she’d ever made because she knew what it was like to be harassed. Through Jonas, the teenage lifeguard who’d gone on break sent an apology saying he felt terrible about leaving when things got bad and asked if I blamed him.

I had Jonas tell him the grown men were responsible for their own choices and a sixteen-year-old kid shouldn’t have to deal with drunk adults anyway. Plus he tried to help when he came back and that counted for something.

At the swim meet six months later I touched the wall after the hundred meter freestyle and looked up at the clock to see I’d finally beaten my pre-assault time. Standing on the pool deck getting my little plastic medal for winning my age group I felt something shift back into place inside me.

My body was mine again. Every stroke I took in the water was my choice and those men were behind bars or doing community service while I was here swimming faster than before.

The water didn’t care about what happened to me or what I’d survived; it just held me up the same as always. Detective Pots called me at work two weeks after the swim meet with news that made me sit down hard in my desk chair.

She explained that our case files had been shared with other departments and three more women had filed reports about similar pool harassment. The prosecutor was using our case as the main example because we had the strongest evidence and most witnesses.

I took notes while she talked about how the other cases were moving forward now that there was a pattern to show. My boss walked by and saw me crying at my desk and mouthed to ask if I was okay.

I nodded and wiped my face while Detective Pots told me the investigation was expanding to include other public pools in the county. She said my willingness to pursue charges had opened doors for other victims who thought nobody would believe them.

After the call I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face before returning to finish the quarterly reports. My boss called me into her office an hour later and closed the door behind us.

She sat on the edge of her desk and told me she’d been watching how I handled everything since the assault.

“My determination to keep working while dealing with court dates and therapy showed real strength” She said

She slid a folder across the desk with a promotion offer inside: senior analyst position with a twenty percent raise and my own team to manage.

She mentioned that seeing me stand up for myself had inspired other women in the office to report their own harassment issues. I signed the paperwork right there and she hugged me before I left her office.

Jonas called that afternoon while I was packing up my old cubicle to move to the new office. He asked if I’d be willing to speak at a regional pool management conference next month about harassment prevention.

The organizers wanted someone who could talk about both the victim experience and the legal process. I agreed immediately because other pools needed to know how to protect their swimmers better.

A year passed with therapy every week and support group meetings twice a month. At the group’s summer picnic I met someone whose sister had been assaulted at a gym.

He understood why I sometimes flinched when men got too close at the pool. We started going for coffee after meetings and then actual dates where we talked about everything except our trauma.

He never pushed for physical contact and always asked before touching me, even just to hold hands. Six months into dating we went swimming together for the first time at a different pool across town.

I had a panic attack in the parking lot but he sat with me until my breathing slowed down. We made it into the water and I managed ten laps before needing to get out.

He celebrated those ten laps like I’d won an Olympic medal and bought me ice cream after. Some days were harder than others and I’d have to leave the pool early when groups of men got too loud.

He never made me feel weak for struggling or suggested I should be over it by now. Instead he’d research new pools we could try or find lap swim times when it would be less crowded.

The triathlon had been on my bucket list for years but I never felt ready until my therapist suggested setting a concrete goal. I signed up for a sprint distance race six months out and started training slowly.

Race day came and I threw up twice before the start from nerves. But when the gun went off I dove in and just kept moving forward.

The swim felt endless but I made it to the bike transition and then pushed through the cycling and running portions. Crossing that finish line with my boyfriend and Minnie cheering felt like taking back every piece of confidence those men had tried to steal.

The victim advocate office called the week after the triathlon with a job offer. They needed someone to develop their assault survivor program and wanted someone with lived experience.

I accepted immediately and gave notice at my analyst job the next day. My boss understood and said she was proud of me for choosing purpose over pay.

Now I swim every morning at 6:00 when the pool opens and the lanes are mostly empty except for serious swimmers. I help three to five assault survivors each week with paperwork and court preparation.

My boyfriend and I moved in together and he installed extra locks on all the doors without me having to ask. Life isn’t perfect because I still have bad days where I can’t get in the water at all, but it’s good in ways I didn’t think were possible when I was trapped against that pool wall.

The men who hurt me are living with their criminal records while I’m living with purpose and surrounded by people who actually care about my safety.