Abuse victim walks the state to promote awareness

Almost every day of her 39-day, 1,500-mile walk up and down and across the state, Lauren Book will hear stories. Most often, they will be dark tales filled with agony and shame.

Book, empathic and passionate, will take them all in. She'll offer smiles and hugs and encouragement, then move on to the next stop. More terrible stories. More smiles, more hugs.

Sometimes, when she's alone at night and anger overcomes her, she breaks cheap plates against a wall, shattering each one to expel her rage over this 12-year-old's rape, or that middle-aged man who drinks to forget what was done to him by his childhood coach.

The bus that clears the way as she heads down the road spells out her mission: "Walk in My Shoes," making it clear the tanned 27-year-old is hiking from Key West to Tallahassee to raise awareness of childhood sexual abuse. It's the third time she's made the trek.

Book stops along the way at facilities that help survivors of sexual abuse and rape, but sometimes people see the bus and the bright blue T-shirt she wears and stop her to tell their tales. Last week, she walked from Alpha House of Tampa to the Crisis Center of Tampa Bay, followed by a meeting with the staff at Mary Lee's House. From there, it was on to Ocala and Gainesville.

All along the way, she listens. She gets it.

Book was just 11, the daughter of a wealthy lobbyist from Broward County, when Waldina Flores moved in as the family's full-time nanny. "Waldy" quickly made herself indispensible. Book's mother struggled with mental illness, while her busy father most often was at work miles away in Tallahassee. Book had responsibility for her two younger siblings until Waldy took over.

Pedophiles often groom their carefully chosen victims, offering gifts and special treatment to win them over and prepare them for the abuse to follow. Flores groomed the entire Book family.

Book no longer had to make dinner every night, get her sister and brother ready for school, worry about her mother's severe depression. Her father could work as long as he needed to, knowing his family was in Waldy's capable hands.

But Book was the primary – and perfect – target. She was then a shy girl who felt unloved, already accustomed to hiding the secret of her mother's mental illness. Waldy worked on her slowly, telling the lonely girl how special she was and how much she adored her.

Over time, Flores escalated to sexual abuse, alternately showering the young girl with affection, then degrading her. Eventually, she beat and raped her with objects if Book displeased her. In her book "It's OK to Tell," published in 2011, Book describes the misery in detail and with blunt honesty.

She was afraid to tell, conflicted about whether she would be believed or even blamed. She also didn't want to hurt Waldy or upset the family's tenuous stability, a reaction that seems contradictory but is common in victims.

She eventually disclosed the abuse at age 17 when Flores threatened to kill a boy Book started dating.

Book knows how lucky she is that her father believed her and took action, something she is well aware doesn't always happen.

After first fleeing to Oklahoma, where she was found coaching a girls' soccer team, Flores was caught and sentenced in 2002 to 25 years in prison.

Book continued to struggle emotionally, sometimes feeling guilty for what happened and for testifying against Flores. High school classmates ridiculed her, called her names. She began cutting and burning herself, became anorexic and abused drugs.

At Flores' sentencing, Book, then 18, spoke publicly about it, and her wholesome good looks combined with the unusual and prurient nature of her victimization brought national headlines.

Since then, she graduated from college, got her health under control, and with her father, Ron Book, founded "Lauren's Kids" to help other victims. She successfully lobbied the Legislature to require that victims of sexual abuse receive the results of an abuser's HIV test, something not available to her when Flores was convicted.

Also, the Lauren Book Protection Act makes it a felony for offenders to contact their victims or victims' families after conviction. For a time, Flores continued to torture Book with frequent letters begging for help, love and money.

This session, Book is lobbying the Legislature to require the state's child abuse hotline to accept reports even if the abuser is not the child's caregiver. The Department of Children and Families says that while it does only investigate if a caregiver is involved, reports received on the hotline are turned over to law enforcement.

Book also hopes to increase penalties for failing to report child sexual abuse and establish penalties for schools that cover it up or fail to report it, measures that might have made a difference in the recent Penn State scandal. In that case, Jerry Sandusky is accused of sexually abusing a number of boys, allegedly with the knowledge of his boss, football coach Joe Paterno and others at Pennsylvania State University.

Another goal is providing a small amount of funding to relocate victims, especially important when perpetrators have not been arrested and might return.

Book will discuss these issues with legislators at the end of her walk at the Capitol on Feb. 22.

Last year, her efforts helped guide the Legislature to mandate abuse prevention curriculum in all Florida public elementary schools. Book, with a degree in elementary education and creative writing, created the coursework for kindergarten. The packets, including worksheets, information for parents and DVDs, will reach schools this month.

The curriculum doesn't explicitly deal with sexual abuse, but teaches children to tell a trusted adult about any situation that makes them feel unsafe, uncomfortable or confused.

Book believes knowing what to do could help save 90 percent of those who otherwise would be abused. As an insecure, people-pleasing child, she had no idea what was happening to her or what to do about it.

She doesn't know how long she'll keep making the annual walk to Tallahassee – sometimes just getting up and lacing her track shoes again seems too much – but she somehow finds the energy and vows to keep at it. Her hope is that someday, the terrible tales will slow to a trickle, and her anger will, too.

For information about Lauren's Kids, go to www.laurenskids.org or call the 24-hour hotline at (877) LKIDS-01. The state child abuse hotline is (800) 962-2873.