From: madlove@arkham.dc   
      
   e.d.'s fb post... :-(   
      
   When I was 12 years old, while filming "True Lies", I was sexually   
   molested by Joel Kramer, one of Hollywood's leading stunt coordinators.   
      
   Ever since, I have struggled with how and when to disclose this, if   
   ever. At the time, I shared what happened to me with my parents, two   
   adult friends and one of my older brothers. No one seemed ready to   
   confront this taboo subject then, nor was I.   
      
   I am grateful to the women and men who have gone before me in recent   
   months. The ever-growing list of sexual abuse and harassment victims who   
   have spoken out with their truths have finally given me the ability to   
   speak out. It has been indescribably exhausting, bottling this up inside   
   me for all of these years.   
      
   I remember, so clearly 25 years later, how Joel Kramer made me feel   
   special, how he methodically built my and my parents’ trust, for months   
   grooming me; exactly how he lured me to his Miami hotel room with a   
   promise to my parent that he would take me for a swim at the stunt   
   crew’s hotel pool and for my first sushi meal thereafter.   
      
   I remember vividly how he methodically drew the shades and turned down   
   the lights; how he cranked up the air-conditioning to what felt like   
   freezing levels, where exactly he placed me on one of the two hotel room   
   beds, what movie he put on the television (Coneheads); how he   
   disappeared in the bathroom and emerged, naked, bearing nothing but a   
   small hand towel held flimsy at his mid-section.   
      
   I remember what I was wearing (my favorite white denim shorts,   
   thankfully, secured enough for me to keep on). I remember how he laid me   
   down on the bed, wrapped me with his gigantic writhing body, and rubbed   
   all over me.   
      
   He spoke these words: "You're not going to sleep on me now sweetie, stop   
   pretending you're sleeping," as he rubbed harder and faster against my   
   catatonic body.   
      
   When he was 'finished', he suggested, "I think we should be careful...,"   
   [about telling anyone] he meant. I was 12, he was 36.   
      
   I remember how afterwards, the taxi driver stared at me in the rear view   
   mirror when Joel Kramer put me on his lap in the backseat and clutched   
   me and grew aroused again; and how my eyes never left the driver's eyes   
   during that long ride over a Miami bridge, back to my hotel and parent.   
      
   I remember how Joel Kramer grew cold with me in the ensuing weeks, how   
   everything felt different on the set.   
      
   And I remember how soon-after, when my tough adult female friend (in   
   whom I had confided my terrible secret on the condition of a trade that   
   she let me drive her car around the Hollywood Hills) came out to the set   
   to visit and face him, later that very same day, by no small   
   coincidence, I was injured from a stunt-gone-wrong on the Harrier jet.   
   With broken ribs, I spent the evening in the hospital.   
      
   To be clear, over the course of those months rehearsing and filming True   
   Lies, it was Joel Kramer who was responsible for my safety on a film   
   that at the time broke new ground for action films.   
      
   On a daily basis he rigged wires and harnesses on my 12 year old body.   
   My life was literally in his hands: he hung me in the open air, from a   
   tower crane, atop an office tower, 25+ stories high. Whereas he was   
   supposed to be my protector, he was my abuser.   
      
   Read more at:   
   https://www.facebook.com/OfficialElizaDushku/posts/1769957739689557   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)