Criminally Negligent

Julie, a tattooed brunette in her mid-30s, was walking with her newborn son in a stroller on a northeast Minneapolis sidewalk last August when a white Ford pulled up. The driver, a slight, middle-aged man with round glasses and a mild demeanor, made a strange proposition: "I'll give you $100 if you'll talk to me. I don't care if the baby watches."

Julie, who asked that her last name not be used, ignored the bizarre request and strolled down to the 1029 Bar, a cop hangout. Suddenly, the man ran up from behind her and jammed his hand between her legs, then groped her breast. "Get the fuck off of me, you motherfucker!" Julie screamed.

Passing motorists stopped. The attacker ran back to his car, kicking over the stroller with her baby in it in his hurry. He sped off, but not before Julie and a witness got his license plate number.

Julie borrowed a phone and called 911. Twenty minutes later, a Minneapolis police officer arrived and took down her statement, but didn't interview any of the witnesses. Later that day, Julie followed up with a visit to precinct headquarters. She was told to come back Monday—it was Friday afternoon and the Sex Crimes Unit wasn't available on weekends.

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