An item from a recent broadcast of Investigation Requested: the rape in 2009 of a 15-year-old girl from Bilthoven. She was cycling home through a forest in broad daylight when a man dragged her off her bike and raped her after he put a plastic garbage bag over her head. Thanks to his fingerprints and a DNA profile, the police see opportunities to track him down.
My daughter pointed this matter out to me because, along with my other daughter, we had been talking a lot lately about the role of parents in general in this area. Do they warn their children enough? Or should they ban more, for example cycling home alone – especially in the dark, but also during the day?
How would I have handled that with my wife at the time? I didn’t remember exactly and couldn’t ask her again. Ultimately, in consultation with my daughters, a more or less clear picture of that part of education emerged, about 35 years ago. Was the result something to be proud of afterwards?
There appeared to be more reason for surprise than for pride.
A daughter told how she often returned home by bike at two or three o’clock at night after working in a café. A fifteen minute trip through a medium-sized provincial town to our house in a suburb. As parents we would not have objected to that. I had to take a deep breath when she reminded me of this, because “with what I know now” I would have rejected such a ride without any hesitation. My daughter herself did not feel comfortable during those rides, but she saw no other solution.
The fact that she had to drive through a reasonably well-lit city center must have encouraged our approval. Now I would recommend: “Just take a taxi.”
In other cases – parties, cinema, etc. – we always insisted that my daughter cycled back with a friend. If that didn’t work, we would come pick her up.
The case of B., a friend of one of my daughters, is interesting. She lived about eight kilometers outside our town. Her journey took her along a long, dimly lit road. Yet B. often cycled to her house alone in the dark. “She told her parents that she always rode with friends,” my daughter said. “Did you know she deceived her parents?” I asked. She nodded. “And I think I told you that too,” she added. “I don’t remember that,” I said hesitantly, but at the same time I heard my conscience nagging, because leave that to consciences.
“If she had been killed, it would have been your fault,” my conscience said. How could I have been so stupid? Could I have resented betraying her to her parents? Coincidentally, I recently met B. at a party. “I knew it was risky,” she said with a naughty laugh.
Children who deceive their parents in this area – that is also a reality to take into account. One of my daughters said: “You didn’t want me to cycle to school via the quiet heath, but because it was the shortest route, I sometimes did so anyway – with my heart beating.”
Would things be much different between parents and child now? I venture to doubt it.
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