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Would-be Rape Victim Takes Hold Of The Situation - and then some!

This is an article written April 30, 1993, By Mike Royko of the Chicago Tribune. I ran across it again as I was cleaning out a file cabenet. The first time I read this, I laughed so hard I cried, and it still makes me laugh almost every time I read it.

It is a true account of Curtescine Lloyd, a middle-aged nurse who lives with an elderly aunt in the rural hamlet of Edwards, Miss., near Jackson. This is her story, most of it taken from a court transcript.

One night, Lloyd was awakened by a sound. She thought it was her aunt going to the bathroom.

Suddenly a man stepped into her bedroom. Terrified, she sat up. He shoved her back down and said: ''Bitch, you better not turn on a light. You holler, you're dead. You better not breathe loud.''

He declared his intentions, which were to rob her and commit sexual assault. Of course, he phrased it far more luridly. Then he took off most of his clothing and jumped into bed.

Here is what happened next, according to court records:

Lloyd: ''I got it. I grabbed it by my right hand. And when I grabbed it, I gave it a yank. And when I yanked it, I twisted all at the same time.''

(Need I explain what Lloyd meant by ''it''? I think not.)

''He hit me with his right hand a hard blow beside the head, and when he hit me, I grabbed hold to his scrotum with my left hand and I was twisting it the opposite way. He started to yell and we fell to the floor and he hit me a couple of more licks, but they were light licks. He was weakening some then.''

With Lloyd still hanging on with both hands, squeezing and twisting the fellow's pride and joy, they somehow struggled into the hallway.

''He was trying to get out, and I'm hanging onto him; and he was throwing me from one side of the hall wall to the other. I was afraid if I let him go, he was going to kill me.

''So I was determined I was not going to turn it loose. So we were going down the hallway, falling from one side to the other, and we got into the living room and we both fell. He brought me down right in front of the couch and he leaned back against the couch, pleading with me.

''He says, 'You've got me, you've got me, please, you've got me.' I said, 'I know damn well I got you.' He said, 'Please, please, you're killing me, you're killing me. . . . I can't do nothing. Call the police, call the police.'

''I said, 'Do you think I'm stupid enough to turn you loose and call the police?' He said, 'Well, what am I gonna do?' I said, 'You're gonna get the hell out of my house.' He said, 'How can I get out of your house if you won't let me go? How can I get out? I can't get out.'

''I said, 'Break out, son-of-a-bitch. You broke in, didn't you?' And I was still holding him.

''He said, 'Oh, you've got me suffering, lady, you've got me suffering.' I said, 'Have you thought about how you were going to have me suffering?' He said, 'Well, I can't do nothing now.' I said, 'Well, that's fine.' ''

Lloyd, still twisting and squeezing, dragged the lout to the front door, which had two locks, and told him to unbolt them.

It was a difficult process because he kept collapsing to the floor and she kept hauling him back to his feet.

When he finally unlocked the doors, he screamed: ''I'm out, I'm out.''

But Lloyd, now confident that she had the upper hand (or should I say the lower hands?) and a full grasp of the situation, said: ''No, damn it, I'm taking your ass to the end of the porch. And when I turn you loose, I'm going to get my gun and I'm going to blow your (obscenity) brains out, you nasty, stinking, low-down dirty piece of (obscenity), you.

''And when I did that, I gave it a twist, and I turned him loose. And he took a couple of steps and fell off the steps and he jumped up and grabbed his private parts and made a couple of jumps across the back of my aunt's car.

''And I ran into my aunt's room, got her pistol from underneath the nightstand, ran back to the screen door, and I fired two shots down the hill the way I saw him go. And then I ran back in the house and dialed 911.''

The police came and examined the man's clothing. Inside the trousers was written the name Dwight Coverson. They found Coverson, 29, at home, in considerable pain and wondering if he could ever be a daddy.

A one-day jury trial was held. As Coverson's court-appointed lawyer put it: ''The jury was out 10 minutes. Long enough for two of them to go to the bathroom.''

And the judge gave him 25 years in prison.
All I can say is: "It was a twist of fate!"