Dear Brock Turner,

On January 18th, 2015, you ruined a young girl's life forever. You dragged her unconscious body behind a dumpster on a dark street and took what you wanted from her. You didn't ask, you didn't care. When two graduate students tackled you to the ground after you ran away from her immobile body, they testified that you were smiling.

You had the audacity to take the stand in front of a jury and in front of the girl whose smile you destroyed, and tell a complete and fabricated lie. You made her sit there, the worst night of her life now a discussion topic in open court, and listen to you tell the world that she wanted it.

Your dad read a heartwarming letter to the judge about how you wish you could re-do that night, about the person he knows you are, about the sweet memories he has of you. He told the judge how dedicated you have always been to the people you care about, your studies, succeeding in swimming and getting into Stanford. What a bright young boy you are, how much promise you have.

He told the courtroom how much your life has been altered since January 2015; how you'll never enjoy your favorite rib-eye steak the same way again.About how unfair it is that 20 minutes of "action" will affect your 20 years of life.

His letter was signed, "Respectfully, Dan. A. Turner."

So, respectfully, Mr. Turner, I think your letter and your son are full of it.

As a survivor of sexual assault myself, I'd like to write the rest of this letter with not an ounce of respect for you, Brock Turner.

When your steak doesn't taste the same way on your tongue as it did before you raped an innocent unconscious girl, I want you to think of the way her tears tasted on her lips the morning she woke up in a hospital being told by officers, nurses, and the press what had happened to her.

When you can't swim laps and win trophies, think of how she can't sleep. How she can't be touched. How she can't eat or look at herself in the mirror. When the nasty articles like this one hurt your feelings, imagine how she felt reading about her own rape through an article she found online.

When you're embarrassed by the protesters in the streets marching to send you back to prison where you belong, imagine her humiliation when she read at the end of the article about her own rape that you said she liked it.

When nobody believes that you really were a good kid, you didn't mean to, you just didn't know, think of how she feels when nobody believes her truth because of your self-concerned lies.

Brock Turner, when you're at home in your nice warm bed whining about how everyone is mean and you didn't intend to rape an unconscious girl, I hope you think of me, and the millions of survivors of sexual assault that re-endure their trauma just by seeing your face on their 11 o'clock news.

When I was downtown visiting the CNN center, I saw the giant blue flashing "Breaking News" headline on every screen: "Brock Turner Released From Prison," and had to dig my nails into my own skin to keep from screaming. I had to busy myself looking anywhere but at your face to keep from vomiting up rage.

I hope you feel that way every day for the rest of your life.

And lastly, Brock Turner, I really hope you mean it when you say you're sorry. I hope you mean it when you say you've learned your lesson and that you'll never do it again. I hope it really does hurt your feelings that everyone is being so very mean to you.

But respectfully, Brock Turner, I don't care at all.

Most Sincerely,

Tennant Ross