Kimberly Moreau, 17, was last seen in Jay in May 1986. Her father, Richard Moreau, continues to look for her remains after 27 years.

“All I want is her remains to put her down at the cemetery at the side of her mum, her grandmother and grandfather and eventually me,” he said. In 27 years, he hasn’t stopped searching. He has walked the woods over and over, looking. He still puts up posters on utility poles every week.

Few things are worse than losing a child. The least Maine communities can do is keep their memories intact and, if they have not been found, to look for their bones.

When Moreau hears news of other teenagers being killed, he relives the loss. The pain does get better, he said, but it never completely leaves. The death of Nichole Cable, 15, of Glenburn, is an “absolute tragedy,” he said. Police have charged Kyle Dube, 20, of Orono, with her murder, and her family appeared in court Wednesday to watch as a judge denied him bail. “My heart goes out to them,” he said.

He knows their long road ahead, to be filled with memories and reminders. Recently, at his church, he saw a little girl run down the aisle. She was lost and confused for a moment until she saw her parents. She smiled widely. He thought of his daughter then as a little girl. He recalled seeing a teenage girl, tall like his daughter, and, “I can almost picture her there,” he said. Or maybe he encounters a young woman with a baby, and he remembers what he never got to see.

He still pictures her first day sitting behind the steering wheel in his car. He remembers the regular things, like the bickering between all three of his daughters. He said, “I can picture her and her two sisters right here at the table.” He still lives in the house in which Kim grew up. When he drives around town and passes a poster with her picture on it, “I wink when I go by and say, ‘Hi, darling,’” he said.

Some things have helped, including the presence of family, friends and strangers. People have stopped when he’s taping up posters to ask about them. Others have said, “God bless you for what you’re doing.” In a grocery store, a woman recognized him and grabbed his hand and told him she was so sorry. She said she would keep praying.

“More people tell me that: ‘She’s in my prayers; she’s in my prayers.’ I tell them all, ‘That’s the only thing that will get her home,’” he said.

He knows tragedy. The year after Kim disappeared, his father, Donia Moreau, 70, died. The next year his wife, Patricia Moreau, 48, died. He married again, to Beatrice, who “has given me 110 percent cooperation whenever I’ve got to do anything about my daughter,” he said.

According to the Maine State Police, Kim was last seen in Jay at about midnight on May 11, 1986, in the company of someone she had met earlier that day. She was wearing a white blouse, blue jeans, white high-top sneakers and a men’s class ring engraved “Mike ’87.” The case continues, and people are encouraged to call state police at 657-3030 if they know something about her disappearance.

Moreau said bringing her killer to justice is not important. “I would let the individual go because I truly feel this way: In our lifetime, anything we do, sooner or later, we get to answer for it,” he said. “God will take care of all of that. He would do a much better job than I ever would.”

What is important is the closure. There’s a stone at the cemetery with his daughter’s picture on it, he said, but the ground is empty. He will continue searching until he finds her remains or until his own body is lowered down.

I am sitting at my desk in Bangor, Maine, trying to find words that will carry weight for you. This is as good a time as there will ever be to change how the military responds to sexual assault. You do not have the executive authority to demand changes in the U.S. Armed Forces. But you have the ear of your husband, and you have shown you understand the need with your initiative Joining Forces.

It’s good the president is outraged about the recent report from the Pentagon that an estimated 26,000 people in the armed forces were sexually assaulted last year, an increase from 19,000 in 2010. It’s good he’s told the generals to address the problem. At least our country’s top officials are no longer refuting or downplaying the military’s troubles.

There’s something else he can do. Focusing on prevention and the venue for judicial proceedings is important, but he shouldn’t forget the thousands of male and female veterans, from World War II through the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, who have already suffered the degradation of sexual assault. Part of their healing will come from knowing that their country, for which they signed over their lives, will support them as they deal with post-traumatic stress disorder and other diagnoses.

Your husband should direct the Department of Veterans Affairs to relax standards currently required to determine disability compensation for veterans with mental health conditions related to sexual trauma. Sexual assault survivors should not have to meet the unreasonable burden of proving that a sexual assault occurred, such as by having the perpetrator convicted at a military trial. Most survivors do not report, and of those who do, few see a conviction. Yet they suffer. If a health professional diagnoses their mental health condition as being related to military sexual trauma and consistent with the circumstances of service, that should be enough to warrant disability benefits.

There is a bill with significant bipartisan support currently making its way through Congress called the Ruth Moore Act, sponsored by Maine Rep. Chellie Pingree, that would make this change, as it was made for veterans with PTSD a couple years ago. The House is scheduled to vote on it Monday, and the Senate will take up the matter later. But your husband doesn’t have to wait for Congress. He could issue the order on his own. It could take effect immediately.

Ruth Moore is from Milbridge, a town of about 1,300, located in Washington County where the Narraguagus River meets the Atlantic Ocean. More than 25 years ago, she was sexually assaulted once by her immediate supervisor in the Navy when she was stationed in the Azores and again in retaliation when she tried to get help. She tried to commit suicide. Her superiors denied the rapes happened, and her attacker was not punished.

The struggle continued. It was difficult then, as it can be difficult now, for veterans to get the disability benefits they are due. Moore was discharged with a mental health diagnosis, and her first applications for disability benefits were denied. She fought for years to get the benefits she knew, and eventually the military came to understand, were hers.

I talked to Pingree this week, and she reiterated a point she has been making for several years: “The fact is, we say to people who serve in the military: ‘You serve in the military, and we will take care of you.’ … It’s our job to say, ‘We’ll help you put your life back together.’”

Over the last six weeks, I have been taking a class to learn how to become an advocate with an organization in Bangor called Rape Response Services. Advocates may accompany sexual assault victims through their stay at a hospital. Their role is to support victims and provide them with options. On Tuesday, I had my last class.

After 40 hours of listening to other advocates, police, nurses, doctors and legal professionals share their knowledge of how to assist sexual assault survivors, I better understand just how important it is for victims to know their communities will help them through their pain and let them choose the route most fitting for their individual healing process.

There are many things I still don’t know. I don’t really understand why perpetrators feel they need to exert their power over another human being in such a horrific way. I don’t fully understand what it takes to heal after abuse. What about the woman I learned of who had her skull broken before being raped? The children who were molested by their mother? The woman who depended on her rapist husband because she had a disability and used a wheelchair? Recovering takes such strength.

What I did learn: So many people are working every day to both prevent sexual assault and make a difference in the lives of victims. The president wants to be, I believe, and should become, one of them. I tell this to you because Pingree and Sen. Jon Tester, D-Mont., have already asked your husband to take immediate steps. A little more reminding might be all it takes.

Maine needs more male advocates. By speaking out, they set an example for others to follow. They show abuse is not a women’s issue but a societal one. Jette has seen the worst result of abuse, which is why he also serves as the volunteer leader of the Maine chapter of Parents of Murdered Children.

He has a big goal: “The battle is to change the hearts and minds,” he said during my recent training for people studying to become advocates with Rape Response Services in Bangor. Abuse is far more than physical violence. It can start with demeaning comments, emotional put-downs, coercion or isolating someone. He said to think of the continuum of abuse as measured by a 6-inch ruler. Probably about 5 of the 6 inches represent legal behavior. It’s up to all who see or hear those actions to recognize and stop them.

We spoke more afterward about what cultural change entails. He said, “There’s not any good way to try to talk about ending abuse without saying that it has to start with somebody, and so what I hope is that men will get to a point where, rather than just seeing themselves as having to use physical strength to be the protectors of the ones they love, they would be willing to step out and be willing to use the emotional strength, to be willing to stop the behavior that leads up to the violence.”

It’s a personal issue. On Dec. 3, 1999, he was working at Fayscott when his wife, Deb, called. She was so upset that office personnel said they couldn’t understand what she was saying. She told him her daughter, Cassie Cunningham, had just lost her 21-month-old son, Treven Cunningham, who was being watched by her best friend, Mindy Gould, 20, of Dexter.

Treven and Mindy were each shot once in the head. A few days before the murders, Cassie had helped Mindy obtain a protection order against her ex-boyfriend, Jeffrey Cookson, of Guilford. A jury convicted him of the double murders in December 2001. He is currently serving two consecutive life sentences.

Cassie, with Treven Cunningham, had lived with her mother and Jette at that time. Jette said the toddler had loved being involved with whatever the family was doing, even if it was bringing in firewood. Jette said he used to handpick tiny pieces for him to carry.

“I just think of what could have been,” he said. “Even the short time he lived, I know he changed us. He showed me how to love. I give him credit for that.”

The killings of Mindy and Treven were paralyzing, he said, describing that time as “a nightmare that you can’t wake up from.” Jette and family members started attending support meetings with the Parents of Murdered Children, which gathers at MaineGeneral Medical Center in Augusta at noon on the last Sunday of every month.

“The healing comes from being able not to suppress what you’re feeling but to be able to share it with someone else, to be able to speak open and honestly with someone else,” he said, adding that it helped to connect with people who had also experienced tragedies and who were willing to listen and accept the emotions that were shared.

Womancare had helped Mindy before her death, so Jette and family members volunteered in small ways for the organization and attended vigils. Then, Jette decided to take the 40-hour training to become a volunteer advocate. And when a position opened up in May 2008, he said he saw it as an opportunity. He was the first male Womancare hired.

“I have so much desire to do so much to eliminate abuse from the lives of people who are living in it that I look for excuses not to take time off,” he said.

He continues to talk about the need for everyone to treat others respectfully and stop small behaviors and derogatory comments that contribute to the larger culture of violence. Men have a large role to play.

“When I think about what it would be like to have a society where men would be willing to be straight up and honest about not wanting to see their boys have to use examples of strength as the only way they could prove they were men, I think that alone would make a big difference,” he said.

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence and would like to talk with an advocate, call 866-834-4357, TRS 800-787-3224. This free, confidential service is available 24/7 and is accessible from anywhere in Maine.

They know that, even though their school was initially given an F, it was later revoked because the school’s configuration had changed during the years assessed. They understand their grade was determined by a bell curve, not necessarily by whether their school was progressing or meeting a certain desired academic benchmark.

But it doesn’t mean students, teachers and parents aren’t angered or frustrated or that the label won’t affect the community or even the future of the school, which has 184 students in grades 9-12, with 39 in the graduating class.

Because of the way it measures schools, the grading system mainly hurts areas already trying to improve. It focuses on a largely one-dimensional approach at a time when the administration has supported proficiency-based education, which is less dependent on traditional grades. The system will make it more difficult for LePage to build strong relationships with school district leaders, which is essential if he wants to find ways to help districts grow.

Damean Newbury, 16, of Millinocket, said the F grade felt like another slap in the face for an area that has seen its share of challenges, and it will only hinder efforts to consolidate schools with East Millinocket.

“Some of the kids here want to consolidate, yet some of the parents don’t want us to. For us to get an F grade, that kind of concerns the parents — that they don’t want the kids to come here,” he said. “If we continue to decrease in our population then pretty soon we won’t have a school.”

His advice is for the state to judge the school more holistically and not focus as much on a standardized test. The methodology for the high school grading system takes into consideration the percentage of students who are proficient in math and reading on the SAT — now called the Maine High School Assessment. It also examines students’ progress on the test in three-year averages, the percentage of students taking the SAT and the percentage of students who graduate after four and five years of school.

Shelby Lane, 15, of Millinocket, agreed with Newbury. She’s in show choir, jazz band, on the math team, plays field hockey, takes dance, tutors, has two jobs and is taking three honors classes, she said. There are many ways to judge a school.

“It’s just that our school doesn’t have a lot of students in it, and a lot of our students here are involved in more than just academics. I feel I’m involved in a lot, so I’m going to get more out of life than studying for the SAT for a really long time,” she said.

It’s important to consider that the school has adapted its curriculum over the last few years to try to “get it right,” said Tanner McLaughlin, 16, of Millinocket. Where was that taken into consideration in the grading system?

Marc Morneault, 15, of Millinocket, emphasized that school isn’t just about academics but being prepared for the real world. It’s also about character. “[Teachers] help you be kind,” he said.

Even though the grade of F was taken away, no one has forgotten, Rutherford said. She talks to her students about life lessons, how sometimes if you say something, you can’t always take it back.

“You can’t remove it. It’s there. It’s out there,” she said. “You’re not even grading these kids against themselves. You’re grading one group of students and comparing it to another group of students. So let’s talk growth.”

If the state wants to talk growth, though, how many people will be listening?

A Robbinstown mother testified before a legislative committee in February that her daughter endured seven years of rape, abuse and incest by her biological father. It happened on the weekends he was supposed to be taking care of her, as the couple had separated. The mother said she missed her daughter’s silent cries for help, such as her wanting to be alone after spending time with him, a change in eating habits and eventually fainting spells.

“Maybe she could have found the words through education and school to have opened up to myself or another adult or friends,” she said.

The mother’s experience led her to urge lawmakers to support a bill, LD 95, sponsored by Rep. Joyce Maker, R-Calais, that would create a task force to study the issue of child abuse in Maine. It could result in recommendations for age-appropriate curricula and ways to increase teacher, student and parent awareness.

Educating Maine schoolchildren about appropriate and inappropriate touches, and how to respond, may not prevent abuse. But it will create active bystanders and may make it easier for abused children to confide in someone they trust. As I am learning in my 40-hour class to become an advocate with Rape Response Services in Bangor, there are many reasons why both adults and children stay silent.

They may be told the abuse is their fault or that bad things will happen to their family if they talk. They may think no one will believe them. Our training manual contains explanations from child victims, in their own words:

“He was too much bigger to me, so I didn’t say nothing,” said a 4-year-old.

“He said if I told my mother, he would kill her and eat her, and he said if I told anyone else, he would just kill me,” said an 8-year-old.

“I was told that I’d be put in a foster home if I said anything,” said an 11 year old.

Some people might think it’s the role of family members to talk with their children. It is, but what if they are the ones committing the crime? Children are sexually assaulted by strangers, but more often they are abused by people they know, whether acquaintances, family members or older children.

Many Maine schools discuss abuse. Or they request a service center with the Maine Coalition Against Sexual Assault to provide free sexual violence prevention education. But the efforts aren’t uniform across Maine schools and can be improved. LD 95, to create the task force, is proposed as an emergency measure, so it will take effect immediately upon passage, which is likely.

“This is an emergency,” Maker, the bill’s sponsor, said. If Maine doesn’t do something now, “that’s one more child who’s being abused as we speak.”

There are a number of age-appropriate ways to talk to children about abuse. Educators with MECASA, for example, educate students about personal body safety, which can include talking about the difference between “good touch,” “hurtful touch” and “confusing touch.” Ultimately, youth should understand the following:

• Their body belongs to them.

• Touches are supposed to feel good.

• Touches in private areas are only to keep them clean and healthy.

• Touches are never secrets.

• If they feel hurt or scared, they should tell someone they trust.

• It’s never too late to tell someone.

• They should keep telling until they get the help they need.

It’s difficult to talk about abuse, but perhaps that’s one reason why it’s remained such a problem. One study published in 2003 found that about one in three girls and one in seven boys will be sexually abused at some point in their childhood. We may hear more about the high-profile cases involving offenders who are public figures, but, of course, child abuse happens in every community. It will take a community reaction to reduce the rates of victimization, and talking to children is a good place to start.

Communities begin to heal when the people within them develop secure connections with family, friends and loved ones and address the loss and trauma symptoms. Healing is aided by the normalization of trauma reactions — basically, understanding that fear, sadness, anxiety and anger are normal responses to abnormal situations. No one responds in the same way to a traumatic event, and reactions can be complex.

With Friday’s violent manhunt for the Boston Marathon bombers ending a week of one tragedy after another, many people may experience some level of emotional shock.

They don’t have to experience an act of terrorism directly to have a heightened response. In a study reported in the Journal of Anxiety Disorders in 2007, researchers examined the effect on children and their mothers of television coverage of the Sept. 11 bombing at the World Trade Center in New York City. Though the study subjects were not present at the disaster, 5.4 percent of the children and 1.2 percent of the mothers had post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms from seeing it on TV.

I have been learning about the effects of horrifying, overwhelming experiences as I take a 40-hour course to become an advocate with Rape Response Services in Bangor. Experts used to think PTSD affected only soldiers, and, while traumatic disorders are common among people who experience combat, it was largely the women’s movement in the 1970s that established the category of post-traumatic stress disorders in the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual in 1980. From the movement emerged greater awareness of the effects of rape, domestic violence and child abuse.

According to the PTSD Alliance, the estimated risk for developing PTSD after different types of trauma is: rape, 49 percent; severe physical assault, 32 percent; sexual assault other than rape, 24 percent; serious accident or injury, 17 percent; shooting or stabbing, 15 percent; sudden unexpected death of a family member or friend, 14 percent; a child’s life-threatening illness, 10 percent; witnessing a killing or serious injury, 7 percent; and natural disaster, 4 percent. Acts of terrorism are rare in the United States but cut deep and put thousands of people at risk for PTSD.

Reactions to trauma are normal, healthy and help people survive. With a typical stress response, people might have difficulty concentrating; they might feel guilty, shocked, helpless, anxious, fearful or irritable and have an increased “startle” response and loss of interest in usual activities. They might withdraw and want to avoid contact with the outside world. Acute stress disorder is more serious and long-lasting and can also involve dissociation — where people experience changes in their sense of self, time and memory — along with severe anxiety, hypervigilance and flashbacks. PTSD is very similar to acute stress disorder but lasts longer and interferes with regular activities.

People shouldn’t be afraid to seek counseling, said Ann Hartman, a licensed clinical social worker with a private practice in Bangor. “It’s OK to get help. It’s actually a strong thing,” she said. A counselor can help patients understand what’s happening to them, identify any triggers and ensure they are taking care of themselves.

There are different therapies and paths to wellness. Hartman said it’s important for people to stay connected to others, as, “Trauma can be a pretty isolating experience.” And some people find mindfulness practices — like meditation or yoga — helpful. It can also be comforting to people to do something positive, whether it’s giving a donation or volunteering at a local charity, “to feel connected, like they’re trying to make something good out of something so bad,” Hartman said. “What we’re talking about is trying to make people feel empowered again.”

Empowered again. It’s possible, especially when people come together, to go on together.

Maine’s statewide crisis number is 1-888-568-1112.

That’s why, as my class discussed Tuesday, the job of advocates is to help survivors process their feelings by listening, remaining grounded and calm, and validating their experiences. By not providing advice or telling survivors what to do, we return some control to them to make decisions for themselves. One tool, in particular, is used at the hospital to corroborate survivors’ stories and, in that way, return to them some feeling of power. That tool is a forensic medical exam, during which a sexual assault evidence collection kit — often called a “rape kit” — may be used. The kit contains tools that may be used to collect DNA left by a suspect. Of course, if survivors wish, they can receive medical care and not do the full forensic exam.

For many survivors, seeking medical attention is terrifying. Adults may think they will have to report their sexual assault to authorities. (They don’t.) They may be embarrassed at the thought of running into someone they know. (They might, but hospitals generally give sexual assault victims priority, second only to patients with life-threatening injuries, and see them promptly; confidentiality is key.) Or they might think they can’t afford it. (Services for victims are free, thanks largely to the Violence Against Women Act and the Victim Compensation Board.) An advocate will encourage survivors to seek treatment, though it’s a decision over which they must have control. Sometimes survivors may have clear physical injuries, or those injuries may not show up until later. Medical staff can assess survivors and address any potentially received sexually transmitted diseases. If it’s their choice, getting medical care can be a significant step for survivors toward reclaiming control of their bodies.

It’s also their choice whether they want a forensic exam — where a trained sexual assault forensic examiner collects evidence that may be used in an investigation and possible prosecution. Even if survivors agree to the head-to-toe examination, it doesn’t mean they are giving police permission to pursue the case. Advocates, who may accompany survivors through their hospital stay, might explain that doing a forensic exam early will preserve evidence that otherwise can deteriorate quickly and that survivors can always decide later whether to report to police.

In order to preserve possible evidence, it’s also recommended that survivors refrain from things like showering, changing their clothes or brushing their teeth — though, of course, it’s natural to want to do so. If survivors have cleaned themselves, though, it doesn’t necessarily mean no evidence remains or that they shouldn’t have an exam. And if they have changed their clothes, they can always bring the original clothes worn during an assault to the hospital. (Ideally the clothes would be brought in a paper bag, as plastic breaks down evidence and doesn’t allow it to breathe.)

An advocate may be in the room with the survivor as the medical professional swabs a survivor’s mouth, nostrils and genitals and collects fingernail clippings and blood and hair samples. The nurse with special training may take a past medical history, including details of the sexual violence, and do an assessment of physical injuries, such as bites, strangulation marks or bruises. The nurse may use a UV lamp to find dried secretions like saliva, blood or semen. It’s important to understand that just because DNA, such as semen, is found on survivors, doesn’t necessarily mean the offender will be convicted of sexual assault. The exam might show sex happened, but it’s harder to prove it was non-consensual. And even if no semen is found, tearing or other marks on the survivor’s body can corroborate their story.

Validating survivors’ story this way can be healing for them, even if the exam itself is intimidating or embarrassing. Also important is the ability of those who encounter survivors after an assault to return the decision-making process to them, to bolster their strength. In the end, taking back control of their body, at their own pace, is the way toward overcoming the fear and suffering so wrongly thrown into their lives.

At the same time, shedding light on sexual assault and all its impacts is important. Because when one person is raped or molested, the suffering spreads to family, friends, caregivers. If we don’t see the problem for what it is, we can’t begin to change it, to start to heal. I knew a woman with six children who was frequently beaten and likely raped by her husband. One night, he broke her jaw. When I cried, she wrapped an arm around my shoulder. If I think about it, I can still feel her arm there, even though she died of complications from the beatings. She has been dead five years.

I thought of her on Tuesday when BDN Newsroom Administrator Natalie Feulner and I had our first session of a 40-hour course to learn how to be advocates with Rape Response Services, a subsidiary of Penquis in Bangor. We will write about our training over the next six weeks, fittingly starting during April, which is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. “Awareness” is an overused word, but that is the purpose. You never know what impact you will have when you let your words go.

In some respects, that is the point of being an advocate, we learned Tuesday. We are there, yes, to study the effects of trauma, how to respond to disclosures of sexual violence and gain an understanding of how to help victims learn strategies for coping and being safe. When we’re done with training, we will be available to meet victims at the hospital and accompany them through an examination of their physical injuries and any evidence collection. But, more broadly speaking, our purpose is to just be present.

There will be cases when you are frustrated, Angel Shaw, an advocate, told the nine of us in training. Sometimes you don’t know if you helped. And that’s OK. In the future, she said, victims might remember someone told them they are important, their story is important, and that they didn’t deserve what happened to them. One hopes you plant enough of that idea, she said, that it carries forward and stays with them.

After all, she said, you are there not to do things for them or to give advice. You’re there to present options. You’re not there to question why, for instance, victims don’t file a report with police. You’re there to give control back to the victims and support their choices. It’s their story, not ours, she said. If they don’t want to talk about what happened, it’s OK. If they do, that’s fine, too.

To be fully present and supportive, advocates have to understand their own tendencies and biases, she and Alex Turallo, another advocate, explained to us. Know: Sexual violence is not about sexuality. It’s about control. It does not matter what a victim was wearing, drinking or doing. Sexual assault is a crime. Since 1985 in Maine, it has been a crime for a spouse to rape his or her partner. Victims are never responsible for their rape.

One question was posed to us as part of a worksheet: Do you agree or disagree that all men are potential rapists? I weighed the words “all” and “potential” and removed “men.” Could all people potentially commit a rape? Could all people potentially commit a crime or be violent? The answer is no. Not everyone is a potential criminal. But then look at the implication within the sentence, which focuses on males. It assumes an inherent bias against all men, which is unfair. All males are not potential rapists, but some people believe that’s true, just as some people still think that if a woman “leads a man on,” she is obligated to have sex with him.

Examining our assumptions is part of our preparation. Angel and Alex also had us complete an exercise, to make us aware of our need to “rescue” people. I fit some of the “rescuer” characteristics. For example, I am better described as “feeling uneasy unless I’m being useful” than “I choose, am not driven, to be useful.” But I also fit some of the “helper” traits. I “want others to stand on their own feet” and don’t “require people in need of help in order to feel good about myself.” The point is that, as advocates, our role will be to help, not rescue. Someone’s eagerness to assist can be overwhelming for a victim and unproductive. My job will be to focus on adopting the role of “helper.”

As a group, we also talked about how we take care of ourselves — because we can only be there for others if we are healthy emotionally. Angel and Alex told us there may be triggering moments for us during our training and as advocates, and we should take breaks when we need them.

I had prepared myself for gruesome stories but not for so much self-reflection. Little did I know, going into the training, that I would gain a different take on what it means to be “aware” of the issue of sexual violence. Before we can respond to someone who has been assaulted, we have to be aware of our own behavior and beliefs. Only then can we be effective. A story about the world of rape begins with ourselves.

“Most people never commit sexual assault, but so many people are affected by it,” said Maj. Tara Young, a resilience, risk reduction and suicide prevention coordinator with the Maine Army National Guard. The same fact holds true for military and civilian life.

“It’s not a man’s problem or a woman’s problem. It’s just a problem,” added Lt. Col. Debbie Kelley, a spokeswoman for the 101st Air Refueling Wing, based in Bangor, and a domestic and sexual abuse prevention advocate.

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, a time of increased public awareness about sexual violence and education about prevention. The Muskie School of Public Service estimates roughly 13,000 Maine residents are victims of rape or unwanted sexual activity each year, but in 2012 only 391 rapes or attempted rapes were reported to law enforcement in the state.

In the Maine National Guard, efforts focus heavily on preventing sexual assaults. The Army National Guard has about 2,126 members, and the Air National Guard has about 1,100, and there is not always even one report of a sex assault in a year, Young said. Advocates are more likely to hear from members trying to help someone in their family or an acquaintance, or else want to talk about an experience from their childhood.

The Guard places an expert in victim advocacy at each of its smaller units, and every member every year receives training about available resources and staff, sexual assault and harassment policy and response, and how to be responsible bystanders. What they learn is helpful for anyone, whether they’re civilians or in the military.

“We focus on making sure everybody has the chance to intervene,” Young said. The chances are good that Maine residents, at some point in their lives, will have the chance to stop child abuse, sexual assault or some form of violence. They should know it’s OK to say something and know free services are available to help victims.

Just because victims confide in an advocate, on or off a military complex, doesn’t mean they have to file charges or let others know. Young said the most important thing is for a victim to seek help.

Sometimes, though, victims don’t want to get someone in trouble and so are afraid to report. “They want it to stop. They want to be safe, but they don’t want to upset the apple cart. And that is something we have to deal with,” Young said. She wants people to know that reporting the problem is not causing the problem.

The Guard made an administrative change a few years ago to provide victims more control when reporting an assault. Instead of requiring leadership to know the details of what happened, victims have the option of telling their commanders. The change was a long time coming.

“[Victims] need to have that power back,” Young said.

And every month, certain Maine National Guard members meet as part of the Wellbeing Council to address issues such as sexual assault, suicide awareness, sexual harassment and domestic violence. They discuss how they can improve prevention and response efforts systemwide.

Nationally, the military has been heavily criticized for not doing nearly enough to curb sexual violence. Reform has happened slowly.

Young and Kelley acknowledge the struggle and the positive change. Kelley described a recent training in Washington, D.C., for new Guard leaders. The seminar started with people being told that if they think there’s no problem, they’re part of the problem. No one should forget that sentiment, whether they’re a Guardsman or civilian.

The point, Judi, 53, of South Portland, said, is not that Darien was a kind, intelligent, loving person who graduated from Bowdoin College with a major in sociology and a minor in education. The point is not, Judi said, that her daughter was “beautiful inside and out,” wanted to be a teacher, was taking graduate classes at the University of New England or that she loved to dance or participate in sports.

She did all those things. But the point is that she should have been safe, and she’s far from the only victim of gun violence. “No one should ever have to live through that, to wake up in the middle of the night with some person in your room, shooting. It’s like the Dark Ages,” Judi said. “I could fill a book about how wonderful she is, but the point is that this shouldn’t happen to anybody.”

Darien Richardson

Police said Darien was shot in the leg and hand in her Portland duplex and initially survived. She was scheduled for several surgeries. But she died the following month, on Feb. 28, from a pulmonary embolism resulting from the gunshot wound. She was 25. The gunman has not been found.

Something might have helped police identify the shooter. In fact, it’s already in place for most, but not all, gun sales. It’s even something most people support when they’re polled: universal background checks. Police were unable to trace the .45 semiautomatic pistol used to kill Darien because it had been sold privately by someone at a gun show  who did not run a background check and did not keep records of the transaction.

Congress should approve universal background checks. It’s abhorrent that a criminal or someone who had been involuntarily committed to a mental institution can simply avoid the gun store and purchase a firearm at a gun show. Background checks are not an imposition on those permitted to own guns; they prevent people for whom it’s already illegal to buy guns from making the purchase.

Some people who run gun shows already require that sellers conduct background checks. And for everyday-type sales, it would not be inconvenient for a seller to go to a licensed gun dealer and pay a small fee for a background check on a prospective buyer. More than 450 licensed gun dealers operate in Maine. In comparison, there are about 430 post offices and about 60 McDonald’s locations.

If the gun-show loophole didn’t exist, it’s possible Darien’s killer would have been caught.

“It might have helped if there was a trail that would lead us to who did this. The person who shot my daughter is still out there,” Judi said.

Wayne Richardson, 58, Darien’s father, added, “Some people think [a background check is] an inconvenience, but what’s a small inconvenience if it’s going to save someone’s life?”

Darien Richardson is pictured at back, with her mother Judi, sister Sarena and father Wayne.

The Richardsons have taken their plea from Maine, where they have teamed with Maine Citizens Against Handgun Violence, to the federal level. In February, they joined 120 gun-violence survivors and family members of victims in Washington, D.C., to lobby Congress to enact background checks.

There, they met first lady Michelle Obama, who listened to their story and saw photos of Darien. “They are parents, like us, with two daughters, and we talked about that and the pain of having one taken by violence,” Judi said.

Police did find the gun used to ultimately kill Darien. It was used in another killing in Portland about a month after she was shot. The two cases are not connected, police said, except for the gun used. They just don’t know where it came from.

It may be too late to find Darien’s killer, but it should not be too late to prevent more tragedies. The Senate is planning a bill that would expand background checks. There is an opening for a positive change.

Independent Sen. Angus King and Rep. Chellie Pingree, D-1st District, are likely to support universal background checks. Will Republican Sen. Susan Collins and Rep. Mike Michaud, D-2nd District?

Maine’s delegation should remember Darien as her parents do. “There are no words that adequately convey the heartache that comes from such a loss. We miss her every hour of every day. … We miss her kind and helpful ways and her carefree, fun-loving energy. Most of all we miss her love,” Judi said.

Wayne remembers her as “the type of person who could just walk into a room and light it up with her smile.”

The Richardsons run the nonprofit Remembering Darien, which will benefit from proceeds earned at the third annual Walk to Remember Darien and Other Victims of Violent Crimes on Saturday, March 23, from 1 to 3 p.m. at Back Cove in Portland.