IN MAY 2009, WE LEARNED via PACER (Public Access to Court Electronic Records) about a civil lawsuit filed against Jeffrey Epstein on behalf of someone who went by the pseudonym Jane Doe 102. The complaint stated that she was recruited as a young teenager when she was a spa employee of Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago Club in Palm Beach. The person she said recruited her was not another minor child, but Epstein’s top assistant and longtime girlfriend, Ghislaine Maxwell. Before that complaint was filed, we had scant information about his activities when he wasn’t in Florida. We also didn’t know whether his powerful friends were aware of his exploits. This victim and her lawsuit changed that.
If Jeffrey Epstein was running his elaborate scheme to fuel his sexual appetite in Florida, then logic would dictate that he was doing the same thing everywhere else he went during his frequent travel around the world. The Jane Doe 102 complaint gave us confirmation and exposed the breadth of his sexual appetite. Unlike the others identified by the FBI, Jane Doe 102 flew on Epstein’s airplane and visited his other homes. She had been to his house in New York, which was one of the largest town houses in Manhattan; his ranch in New Mexico, which he’d purchased from the governor of New Mexico and which included its own airplane runway; his apartment in Paris; and his own private island in the U.S. Virgin Islands, Little Saint James, nicknamed Little Saint Jeff’s. She had traveled the world with Epstein and was a true insider with much more knowledge of the structure of his organization than the others.
Perhaps most important, Jane Doe 102 named Ghislaine Maxwell as being deeply involved in the criminal activities. Logically, we knew that some adult was at the top of the pyramid having recruited a child for Jeffrey, but before now we didn’t know who that adult was. Jane Doe 102 described Maxwell approaching her at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago and inviting her over to learn massage therapy. When her father dropped her off that night, she was sexually abused by both Maxwell and Epstein, who finished by telling her that she had “lots of potential.” The complaint alleged that she was given “hundreds of dollars” for the day, which was much more than she was making at Mar-a-Lago.
Jane Doe 102 then described essentially becoming an underage traveling sex slave trained by Maxwell to perform sexually on Jeffrey Epstein daily. She claimed not only to have met Epstein’s close friends but to have been lent out for sex with many of them. While they were not identified by name, they were described as politicians, academics, businessmen, and even royalty. As suspected, Epstein’s criminal enterprise reached far beyond Palm Beach.
Jane Doe 102 traveled all around the world and saw Epstein engage in sexual acts with girls from many different countries. She alleged that Maxwell participated in the same activities and was the master recruiter. She even recounted one of Epstein’s friends sending him three twelve-year-old girls from France who spoke no English as a birthday “gift,” just so he could sexually exploit and abuse them before they were sent back to France the next day.
Jane Doe 102 described the photographs of nude girls that covered the walls of Epstein’s homes in New York City, Palm Beach, Santa Fe, and the Virgin Islands, many of which were taken by Ghislaine Maxwell and at least one of which was a nude photograph of Jane Doe 102 herself. She explained that the abuse got so bad that she was finally forced to flee the country in 2002. She was sent to Thailand by Epstein and Maxwell with instructions to locate a young girl whom Epstein was considering to become one of his sex slaves. Jane Doe 102 instead left Thailand and went to Australia, where she hid out from Epstein and Maxwell for more than a decade. She thought she was safe until she received a threatening telephone call in 2007 from Epstein himself, telling her not to cooperate against him in any investigation. She was important to the clients I represented and she was the key to taking Jeffrey Epstein down.
I needed to meet Jane Doe 102.
The problem was I didn’t represent her. She was still hiding halfway across the world, and her attorneys were guarding her closely. I would have to be patient and, in the meantime, keep tracking down other local victims. We located more than twenty women. One by one, I heard the ways in which time spent with Jeffrey Epstein rather than living a regular high school life left lasting scars.
Each went through an experience that started with teenage excitement and typically ended in humiliation. While Epstein made all of them feel special during the grooming process, most of them would eventually realize that he was a predator who had stripped them of their self-esteem and rearranged their values through manipulation. To cope, many of his victims turned to drugs. Others, depleted of all self-worth, submitted to abusive relationships or degrading professions. In story after story, these now young adults broke down crying, whether in formal depositions or just speaking with me in informal interviews when asked to discuss the time when their adolescent lives collided with Jeffrey Epstein.
While most, but not all, of these girls who were sexually used by Epstein as teens felt victimized, every so often a former victim had a completely different outlook.
Allison was not the only victim who had expressed gratitude toward Epstein, but she was certainly the most extreme example. While she was twenty years old and had not seen Epstein in years, Allison was still deeply conflicted about her feelings toward him. It took me going to her house several times before she was comfortable enough to share the uncensored version of her story.
Allison was only fourteen when she met Epstein, but by that point she had been as desensitized to sex as a young teenager could be. Not only had she serviced Epstein, but she was hard at work recruiting other girls, as young as fourteen, to bring to Jeffrey.
Allison explained how she spent more time in taxicabs between 2002 and 2005, shuttling girls to and from the house, than she did in school. In fact, the only reason she even attended high school was because it was the perfect recruiting ground. She was beautiful, charismatic, and hungry to succeed in her new business venture with Epstein. She wanted to prove herself as loyal and committed. In return, Epstein referred to Allison as his number one girl. She didn’t know that he referred to many others the same way.
When the police started to close in on Epstein, Allison had Jeffrey’s back. Not only did she continue to recruit for him, but she went to her prior recruits to persuade them to agree to help Jeffrey by staying quiet. The police investigation was cramping Allison’s hustle. But she was addicted to the life. When Epstein went to “jail,” Allison began escorting in seedy establishments masquerading as massage parlors in the area.
Allison’s dysfunctional work life was matched by the craziness of her home life. She would talk about sex even as an eight-year-old kid. By ten years old, Allison was so oversexualized that she told her fifth grade math teacher, whom we will call Mr. Jeffers, that she had just sent her mom out to give a blow job. When the teacher told Allison he was going to call the Department of Children and Families, Allison cried and begged him not to. He asked her to stay after school so that they could discuss what Allison was talking about.
Sitting behind his desk and across from a sobbing and crying ten-year-old little girl, the math teacher told Allison to come over to him. Allison hung her head and nestled in as her teacher gave her a hug to comfort her. “I won’t tell, but then you shouldn’t, either,” her teacher explained. Allison agreed, still thinking that they were talking about her mom.
Allison confided to Mr. Jeffers that her mom was a prostitute and Allison answered the phone when her mom was working to make sure she didn’t miss the next job. It felt good to get this off her chest. As Allison picked up her head with tears dripping off of her small, freckled nose, Mr. Jeffers leaned in to wipe away the tears. He slid his hands down her back and lifted her up to place her on his left knee. “Remember, I won’t say anything,” he confirmed. “You can come back and talk to me, and only me, about your secrets.”
For the rest of the school year, Mr. Jeffers would regularly ask Allison to stay after school. She and her teacher had “secrets.” That was comforting to Allison. No one else in her class had these types of secrets. It made her special. She began to embrace the world of secrets. She finally felt like she had an adult who cared about her.
To prove she was more than just a telephone operator for her mom, after one of the long hugs with her teacher, Allison took charge and kissed him. She was in control, or at least that was what her fifth grade math teacher had very carefully led her to believe.
By the time Allison graduated from fifth grade, she had experienced what she believed was a sexual relationship with an older man and had mastered the scheduling of a sex worker—her mother—as well as the art and power of keeping a secret.
As if things weren’t bad enough, during the summer between fifth and sixth grades, Allison was maturing. Her braces had been removed. She was beginning to develop. A normal summer outfit for Allison consisted of short jean shorts, a crop top that looked more like a bathing suit, and a pair of flip-flops—advanced for someone that age, but her dominating personality gave her such an influence over the kids around her, all of her friends quickly began following suit.
Allison turned twelve that summer. On her birthday, her dad, Manny, had a party for her and eight of her friends at the community pool in the trailer park where he lived. There wasn’t any birthday cake, nor were there drinks for the kids, chips, or fancy Happy Birthday napkins; instead, her dad invited his two best friends, Forrest and Jesse, and brought a cooler full of Miller Genuine Draft bottles. Forrest had an eleven-year-old daughter, Savanah, whom he brought to the party, even though she had never met Allison or Allison’s friends. Manny told Allison to be nice to Savanah.
Savanah was sitting awkwardly on her father’s lap while the other girls were huddled by the pool. “Savanah, come over!” Allison screamed from the other side.
Savanah stood up from her father’s knee and soon she was with all the other girls in the pool. “What school do you go to, Savanah?” Allison asked.
“I live with my mom and go to school in North Carolina,” she said. “I’m just here visiting my dad for the summer.” Those were the first words she had spoken all day.
“Now you hang out with us,” Allison told her, immediately making Savanah feel welcome.
A few minutes later, the girls looked up to see the dads walking out of the pool area and to the trailer. Allison ran over to the cooler and grabbed three beers. She popped them all open before walking back into the pool, using the steps to make sure she didn’t spill. She passed the beers around. “Drink fast. The old guys could come back any minute.”
Angela, the only friend who did not live in a trailer, asked, “Aren’t they going to notice that the beers are gone?”
Allison replied, “Of course not. They’re too drunk already, and I know my dad. He’s taking them inside to do drugs.”
The girls passed around the bottles, taking swigs each time one got to them. Allison was watching closely, noting who was drinking and who was pretending. When the bottle got to Savanah, Allison put her fingers on the bottom of the glass as soon as Savanah tipped it back so that the bottle would stay pressed to her lips. “Drink more,” Allison encouraged, “till it’s gone!”
When Allison finally let Savanah release the bottle, it was empty. “That was awesome,” Allison told her. Savanah, who already admired Allison by this point, winked as if to say, Thank you for letting me into your world.
Allison hopped out of the pool with all three beers and ran to the bin behind the bathroom to toss them out. A few minutes later, her dad came back with Forrest and Jesse—all three clearly hopped up on something.
They couldn’t sit still. Each immediately popped open a new beer and began pacing around the pool, directing the girls to have chicken fights with each other. Savanah’s dad, Forrest, demanded that one girl put Allison on her shoulders and fight against another girl and Savanah. Allison and Savanah were on top, face-to-face.
Allison started out by taking it easy on Savanah, until Savanah tried to grab Allison by her hair and pull her backward into the pool. Allison reached out with her right hand, grabbed Savanah’s bathing suit top, and pulled forward to regain her own balance. But when Allison didn’t let go, Savanah’s top came off of the right side of her chest, exposing her breast completely.
“Oh yeah!” shouted Forrest. “Now we have a fight. Go get her, Savanah!” He cheered as he splashed the girls with beer. Caught up in the excitement, Allison put Savanah in a headlock and both girls started swinging at each other’s faces ferociously. The others backed away and let them fight for a while until Allison took Savanah’s head and dunked her underwater, where she held her until Savanah’s father screamed for Allison to let her up.
As soon as Savanah’s head resurfaced, she dove at Allison with a roundhouse punch that hit her just below the eye. Jesse jumped in the pool to break it up. The “party” was over. One by one the girls began to grab their things and walk home.
Manny, Forrest, and their two girls walked back to the trailer. While the dads drank, Allison and Savanah made up as they hung out in Allison’s bedroom.
“Where did you get this?” asked Savanah as she stood up from the bed and walked over to grab a locked jewelry box that was sitting on the dresser.
“Do you want to open it and see what’s inside?” Allison asked. Savanah nodded. “I’ll show you if you take off your underwear. Don’t worry, after you do it, I will, too.” Savanah stood there unsure. To ease her in, Allison said, “You can just pull it down in the front.”
Savanah flashed Allison and Allison smiled. “Good enough for now.” She grabbed her key and handed it to Savanah so that she could open the box.
Savanah looked inside and turned immediately to find Allison laughing on her bed. “It’s empty,” Savanah said.
“I didn’t say anything was inside,” replied Allison. “Are you a virgin?” she asked, certain she knew the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.
“What does that mean?” Savanah asked.
Allison said, “It’s when a boy puts his penis in you.” Allison was expecting to hear Savanah say that was gross or no way or one of the responses Allison had received from her other friends with whom she had played this “show me yours and I’ll let you see the stuff in my room” game.
Savanah instead whispered, “Has it happened to you?” It hadn’t, although Allison was “too cool” to admit that. Since graduating from elementary school, she had met up on several occasions with some older boys—fifteen and sixteen—at the community park. There, she became increasingly “experienced,” fooling around and letting them touch her. But she had not actually had intercourse.
“Of course I have,” Allison lied, “with the older guys.”
Savanah paused for an uncomfortably long time and stared at Allison. She believed she knew what Allison was saying because Allison had referred to the dads at the pool as the “old guys.” Seizing on the connection, Savanah pulled closer and spoke in a softer whisper. “Then I can talk to you,” Savanah said. “I’ve never told anyone, but I also haven’t ever met anyone else whose dad did that to them.”
Allison’s mind was immediately racing. For once, she stayed silent.
“Are they going to make us do it tonight?” Savanah asked. “My dad did it to me the first time when I was really little. I think I was seven. A few months ago, he started taking me to his friend’s house by my school in North Carolina and letting Jesse do it to me, too. My dad and Jesse dress up as girls when they do it to me. They did it to Jesse’s daughter the day before we drove down here. Does your dad dress up like a girl? Is he mean?”
As confident and in charge as Allison always liked to be, she was unsure how to respond. She later explained to me how she thought to herself at that point, I can’t believe I let the conversation get this far. How do I tell her now that my dad hasn’t ever done anything like that to me?… Wait, is my dad going to do this to me?… Is that why Savanah is here?
She quickly put on a strong face. Even though she had not gone through exactly what Savanah was describing, Allison did now feel a connection that she hadn’t previously felt.
Her dad was down the hall laughing loudly with Forrest. She could tell they were continuing to do drugs and get drunker. One thing Allison decided was that she and Savanah were not staying there. Savanah believed she and Allison had this bond, having endured the same type of abuse. While that wasn’t actually true, Allison was taking no risk that it might become true.
Allison stood up and grabbed Savanah’s hand, saying “Let’s get out of here. Follow me.” They both walked quietly out of the bedroom and left through the back door of the trailer to walk to the community park. When they got there, they found Chad and Joe, two of the older boys Allison had made friends with, drinking.
“We want a drink,” Allison said.
John handed her two Natural Lights. “Take this, too,” he said, handing out two white oblong pills.
Allison tossed one of the pills in her mouth and chased it with a sip of beer before asking, “What is it?”
“Xanax bars. They get you messed up faster,” Joe told her.
“Exactly what I was hoping for. Here’s yours, Savanah,” Allison said as Savanah took the pill from her and followed her lead.
Before they knew it, the girls had each downed four beers. Allison turned to Savanah and said, “I dare you to kiss Joe.”
Joe was cool. He was a sixteen-year-old who drove a black 1988 Mustang 5.0 with no muffler that he had rebuilt himself in the garage next to his trailer. Savanah, with clearly lowered inhibitions, gazed at Joe, almost daring him to do it. Joe leaned in and grabbed Savanah’s face as he pecked her on the lips.
“What was that?” Allison asked. “I said kiss him, like this.” She jumped into Chad’s arms and made out with him.
Allison had this way about her that made Savanah want to do anything she said. For the rest of the summer, Allison and Savanah hung out with Chad and Joe, driving around West Palm Beach and getting drunk. The girls were bound together by secrets. Savanah left Florida at the end of the summer to go back to North Carolina.
Allison spent the next two years spiraling further and further into the world of sex and drugs as she watched her mom work the streets day in and day out—just as she had for Allison’s entire existence. With her confident personality, Allison started to outgrow coordinating her mom’s escorting schedule.
At Allison’s middle school graduation party, she met a girl named Carol. The two girls spent the night drinking together. When the keg ran dry, Carol pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill and yelled to her friend’s dad, “Go get us another keg.”
“Where did you get that money?” Allison asked.
“An old guy in Palm Beach. He’ll let you give him a massage for two hundred dollars, cash.”
“What do you have to do for it?” Allison responded.
Carol just looked at Allison, not directly answering the question. “Do you want to make money?”
Allison’s eyes lit up. “Of course.” She wanted nothing more in this world than to make money. Her own money. The girls partied until the early morning. When they were leaving, Allison turned to Carol and said, “Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” Carol responded.
“To go to the guy’s house to get the money,” Allison reminded her.
While Carol wasn’t nearly as ambitious as Allison, she needed money, too, and wasn’t passing up this opportunity. Carol went back inside to use the house phone. She pulled a napkin out of her purse with a telephone number and the name Sarah Kellen written on it.
Allison stood there listening to half of the conversation. “Do you have work for me? It’s not just me, I have a new girl for Jeffrey,” Carol explained. “Today? Okay, four o’clock is fine.”
“We’re going today?” Allison asked. Carol nodded. A huge smile spread across Allison’s face. “What do I have to do again? Give this guy a massage? I’ve never given anyone a massage. What should I wear? Where is his house? How do we get there?”
Carol held out her hand as if to stop Allison from talking. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. He doesn’t care about what you wear. You can wear what you have on.”
Allison went home and lay down in her bed, but not before setting her alarm for three p.m. When she woke up, she heard a car horn honking outside. Allison looked out the window and saw Carol waving from a yellow cab. She ran outside and jumped into the taxi, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Where am I going?” asked the cabdriver.
Carol responded, “Let me look for the address, it’s El Brillo or something like that, on the island.”
The cabdriver cut her off: “Let me guess, 358 El Brillo Way?”
“That’s it!” Carol confirmed before the cab headed east.
Allison had never been to Palm Beach Island. The closer the cab got to the house, the stronger the butterflies grew in her stomach. The taxi parked in the driveway and Carol told the driver that she would be right back. She walked up to the house while Allison sat in the cab, as instructed. The fare was $11.69. Within seconds, a striking blonde walked up to the car with a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the cabdriver as if this was something that she had done a million times.
Allison had been gazing up at the massive house from the back seat of the taxi. She was mesmerized. She stepped out of the cab and continued to stare. In that moment, she knew that no matter what happened in that house, she was all in. This house and this experience represented all that Allison ever wanted.
An hour later, the same cabdriver was sitting in the driveway as Allison and Carol exited the kitchen door. Unlike most of the girls leaving Epstein’s house after giving him their first “massage,” Allison could not have been happier. While her experience in the room was no different than the others’, her reaction certainly was. “That was awesome,” Allison said. Carol told her to just let her know when she wanted to go back and she would call Sarah. Carol didn’t know that Allison had already left her number with Sarah and even told Sarah that she expected a call the next day. Carol had served her purpose for Allison. Now nothing was going to stand in Allison’s way.
Allison went home to her mom’s trailer that night, about a mile east of where her father lived. It wasn’t as roomy as her dad’s, but it was closer to Jeffrey’s house, and the park was full of childhood friends that Allison had already targeted in her mind as “masseuses” for Jeffrey. Plus, Allison had left her mother’s telephone number for Sarah, knowing that her dad might get suspicious of a call from an adult-sounding voice.
When Allison walked into her mom’s place, her mom was sitting at the kitchen counter. Allison pulled up a chair next to her and pulled out four folded fifty-dollar bills from her jean shorts pocket and began counting. Her mom took a long drag from her cigarette and laid it down on the ashtray before asking, “Where did you get that?”
Allison smiled. “I do my own thing now.”
Allison walked to her bedroom. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking just how easy it had been to make this money and how there was so much more where that came from. Her mom had brought her up in a very unorthodox way, but it had prepared her exactly for this.
Allison just needed to bring Jeffrey one girl and she would be off to a good start. It had to be someone who wouldn’t chicken out—a sure thing. Someone she could bring immediately to prove to Jeffrey that she was a better recruiter than anyone else. She racked her brain, going through everyone she’d grown up with. It had to be somebody who needed money. It had to be someone who wasn’t going to think that going over to some old man’s house to “massage” him was too crazy or scary. It needed to be someone who had already experienced pain. Someone who might actually see this strange experience as a good escape from ordinary life.
“I wonder what happened to Savanah,” she thought. Allison hadn’t seen the girl in more than a year. The last she heard, Savanah’s father, Forrest, had died. There was actually suspicion that he had been killed, but that was probably just a drunk story Allison’s dad had told her. She did remember that her dad said the funeral was in Florida, and that he had gone.
Allison picked up the phone. “Dad, remember your friend Forrest? You went to his funeral, right? Where is Savanah?” Her dad explained that Savanah had been arrested and was now in summer school at the Pace Center for Girls, a local center for troubled kids. After school the next day, Allison took a cab to Pace and waited for her old friend to show up.
Allison stood behind a tree watching as kids filed down the stairs of a bus. When she saw Savanah, she ran at her at full speed. Savanah lifted her head to see this flash coming out of the corner of her eye. Before she could really react, Allison had her in a bear hug and was spinning her in circles. “What’s up, bitch? It’s been a long time.” Both girls were so excited to see each other, they were jumping up and down.
“What are you doing here?” Savanah asked.
“Look, I’m not going to get mad at you for not telling me you moved back to Florida or for not tracking me down, but I got us all set up. Wanna make two hundred dollars? Meet me at Lakeside at ten a.m. tomorrow and be excited.” Lakeside was a trailer park that both girls knew well.
Allison called Sarah as soon as she left Savanah. She told Sarah that she was ready to work again in an hour. Sarah told her there was an opening and to come over. That afternoon, when Jeffrey was on the massage table and instructed her to remove her panties, Allison did so without pause. “I have someone new for you tomorrow morning.”
Jeffrey opened his eyes and smiled at Allison. “Very good. Now pinch my nipples,” he said as he closed his eyes again.
The next morning, Allison was at Lakeside in a taxi thirty minutes early, at 9:30 a.m. So was Savanah. “Get in, you’re about to have the time of your life,” Allison told her. She talked it up the entire ride. Savanah was about as excited as she could be, although with her usual emotionless face. You could never tell how Savanah was feeling by looking at her. She was almost a zombie going through life. But if Allison said to do it, then she would never turn it down.
Allison showed herself up the stairs and into the bedroom, with Savanah following closely behind. It all happened in such a hurry; Savanah didn’t have time to think, much less ask any questions. Allison walked into the bedroom and within seconds had stripped completely naked and told Savanah to do the same.
When Jeffrey emerged from the shower and walked toward the massage table, there were two naked fourteen-year-old children waiting to rub him down. Allison led the way and Savanah followed suit. While Jeffrey was pressing a vibrator down on Allison, he was commanding Savanah to pinch his nipples harder. No matter how hard Savanah squeezed, it wasn’t hard enough. He kept telling her over and over again to keep squeezing harder. Before Jeffrey finished, he was irritated. Savanah was pinching as hard as she possibly could and it still wasn’t enough.
Jeffrey wiped himself with a towel and hopped up from the massage table. “Your money is on the table,” he said as he walked toward the dresser.
“See you tomorrow,” Allison said arrogantly. She grabbed both stacks of money, handing one to Savanah. The girls got dressed and Allison led the way back down the stairs and out the door.
This was the last time Allison would see Savanah for a long time. Jeffrey typically only paid one finder’s fee for the first time a new girl was brought, so Savanah didn’t have much of a purpose for Allison after that day.
From that point forward, if Jeffrey was in town, Allison was there, either with a new young girl in tow or, on the occasion when she couldn’t find anyone, by herself. Allison didn’t have the patience for massage. When she went alone, she would sit in front of Jeffrey with her legs spread so that he could read the morning newspaper while looking over to catch a glimpse of her straddled in front of him. In her mind, it was the same two hundred dollars. She didn’t think that she needed to pretend to be a masseuse to earn it. She just gave him what he wanted, whatever that might be on any given day.
As the years went on, Allison stayed the course. She was on call until Jeffrey was arrested. Jeffrey called her himself and told her the news. “You have nothing to worry about,” Allison told him, “thank you for everything. You have always been good to me. If I can help, I will.”
By the time I learned Allison’s story, I had already spoken with many victims. Allison wasn’t the first to say that her time with Jeffrey wasn’t so bad. But she was the first to give such a glowing testament to his positive contribution to her life.
Allison thrived off of what Jeffrey Epstein did to her. For years, she remained in the sex industry and credited Epstein with catapulting both her confidence and her “career.” She was proud of the woman she had become and she always appreciated the role Epstein played in her life.
But then there was Savanah. Like Allison, Savanah didn’t get involved in the criminal investigation or any of the civil lawsuits. But unlike Allison, she felt severely damaged by this experience. At twenty-seven years old, she was sitting on the couch with her husband, breastfeeding her newborn for the very first time, when she started to cry uncontrollably. As her child latched down on her nipple, the only thought running through her mind was Epstein repeating “Pinch my nipples” and her overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. Savanah couldn’t do it. She couldn’t breastfeed her son. The flashback from that day began playing over and over in her mind. Savanah was able to put the incestual abuse by her father behind her, but one morning at Jeffrey’s house was destroying her ability to nurture her child.