BALTIMORE — In the video, Anna Borkowski snuggles with her dog Remi after waking up, their faces touching. The only sound is Remi’s breathing and a sigh as the dog shifts her position.
“When you know mommy is sad,” the caption reads.
Though it could have been taken yesterday — Remi and her two siblings still cuddle on Borkowski’s lap whenever they can — the saved Snapchat footage is from five years ago this past October, the day after Borkowski reported a sexual assault by three University of Maryland, Baltimore County baseball players.
That night — and officials’ response to her efforts to hold the men accountable — set in motion a yearslong court battle that cast an unflattering spotlight on how police, prosecutors and the university handled sexual assaults.
A lawsuit filed by Borkowski and several other women contributed to an outcry that prompted reforms around rape kits, investigative waivers, police practices and prosecutorial decision-making. It sparked student demonstrations. And it hung over Baltimore County State’s Attorney Scott Shellenberger, dogging him throughout his reelection campaign.
Borkowski, now 26, was ready to take her fight against Shellenberger and the police detectives who she argued violated her constitutional rights all the way to trial this September. Instead, presented with a $100,000 offer that would save her grandparents from having to testify in court, Borkowski settled.
In an interview with The Baltimore Sun, she said she believes Baltimore County officials will think twice before treating another person the same way, and that she sees the case’s conclusion as an acknowledgment of wrongdoing, even if the agreement itself doesn’t admit fault by police or prosecutors.
Her satisfaction, she said, also comes from changes made in the years since, which she’s had the chance to appreciate and fully grasp as this chapter of her life comes to a close.
“If a woman walked in and tried to report the same thing that I did, she would have a different outcome,” Borkowski said. “Over these five years, things really have changed for the better.”
The Baltimore Sun typically does not name people who say they were sexually assaulted, but when Borkowski granted The Sun an interview, she said she wanted her name used and her photo taken.
“I don’t know why I shouldn’t show my face. I don’t know why I shouldn’t show my name,” Borkowski said. “I’ve done a lot of work over the last five years, and I shouldn’t be ashamed anymore. I should be proud and recognize the effort and time that this took.”
‘Something in me that wasn’t OK with letting it go’
Just a few months old in the Snapchat video, Remi has at least doubled in size, alongside her sister Rue and a third Labrador retriever named Che.
They’ve been a grounding presence for Borkowski, who has undergone her own transformation. The then-undergraduate who’d often go out with friends has become a self-described homebody, more reserved and protective of her privacy.
After filing her sexual assault report, Borkowski would try to go out like before, and end up wracked with anxiety — about who she’d see or what they’d think of her. She closed off her social media profiles and removed followers. Anytime she left her house, she’d think about when she could go back to be with her dogs and their unconditional love.
Even as her lawsuit made headlines, she shared the full details with few.
Things took a dark turn at times, including self-harm, drug use, suicidal thoughts and a brief stay in an inpatient facility. As much as she struggled, though, she refused to stop pushing back against authorities she believed mishandled her case.
As Borkowski explained to The Sun, there was “just something in me that wasn’t OK with letting it go.”
Her story, as laid out in legal documents, goes like this: She told police the three UMBC athletes assaulted her and another female college student during a night of drinking. The women told police they’d blacked or passed out; the male students said it was consensual.
Baltimore County prosecutors declined to bring charges in the case, prompting Borkowski to seek charges against the men herself, by filing a statement of charges with a court commissioner. Her first attempt was unsuccessful, but a second commissioner filed charges in 2018 of rape and sex offenses.
Before the criminal summonses were delivered, Shellenberger ordered police to tell Borkowski to stop applying for charges, according to her legal filings. Police showed up at her house and spoke with her grandmother. Prosecutors later dropped the charges against the three men, and said in court records they’d sent detectives to warn Borkowski she risked a civil suit or criminal charges.
She alleged in the lawsuit it was a violation of her First Amendment rights, and a federal judge agreed, concluding that a reasonable jury could find the actions had “conveyed” their message to “stop or face consequences.”
Borkowski’s allegation was the only count the judge allowed to continue to trial, dismissing other defendants and other plaintiffs’ allegations. In the larger suit, she and four other women had alleged unfair treatment by Baltimore County authorities after they reported sexual assaults, including destruction of evidence such as rape kits.
What will the legacy of her legal fight be?
Borkowski’s attorney, Rignal Baldwin V, of Baldwin | Seraina, said his client’s suit has helped change “how women are treated by people in power on what are hopefully the worst days of their lives.”
Baltimore County’s handling of sexual assaults had come up before and “kind of quietly gone away,” Baldwin said. What was different here, he said, was Borkowski’s willingness to “grit out” years of lawsuits, counterclaims and university Title IX procedural steps.
He pointed also to changes made by institutions dismissed from the suit, such as UMBC, saying: “They didn’t do it out of the kindness of their heart. They did it because Anna wouldn’t go away.”
These are some of the reforms made in recent years by local, state and university officials, some of which coincided with the national #MeToo movement’s focus on sexual misconduct and attention around additional cases:
-- Officials ended the practice of asking someone reporting a sexual assault whether they’d be interested in waiving police investigation of the crime, a form Borkowski was given and declined to sign that some agencies said was meant to give victims “a voice” and create a “necessary paper trail.”
-- The state legislature passed laws requiring rape kits to be maintained for 20 years, not destroyed, and to be tested in most cases (The Sun reported in 2019 that Baltimore County destroyed more than 500 rape kits over a six-year period).
-- Baltimore County Police agreed to move toward a “trauma-informed, victim-centered and offender-focused” investigative model, including adding a new victim interview room.
-- After a special review, the second in three years, found lingering issues with police and prosecutors, Baltimore County Police began conducting a full or partial investigation in more sexual assault cases, according to a follow-up audit.
-- UMBC solicited analysis of its prevention and response to sexual violence, leading to more than 100 recommendations and reforms, such as a confidential online reporting form and new mandatory training.
It’s hard to say whether Borkowski’s case would have resulted in a judgment had it gone to trial, but the $100,000 settlement, on its face, indicates a “clear recognition there was something there,” said Mark Graber, a professor at the University of Maryland Francis King Carey School of Law.
Baltimore County paid at least $490,000 for an outside law firm’s representation, according to invoices obtained by The Sun. County prosecutors were represented by the Attorney General’s Office, rendering the cost difficult to calculate.
“If I were the lawyers advising, I would tell the prosecutor in question: ‘Let’s not have any more of these incidents,’” said Graber, noting he wasn’t familiar with the specifics of the complaint.
It’s not “unheard of” for prosecutors to face legal challenges over how they treated a victim, as in Borkowski’s complaint, Graber said, but suing someone in that position of power can carry risk.
Another challenge, said David Jaros, faculty director of the University of Baltimore School of Law’s Center for Criminal Justice Reform, is the “massive discretion” prosecutors have in key decisions, such as whether to pursue criminal charges.
Borkowski’s legal claim against Shellenberger and his team survived because the judge determined the office’s action was outside the scope of their normal job duties. When it became about the alleged First Amendment violation, not about a decision not to pursue the case, the “easy way” prosecutors get allegations kicked out was no longer available, Jaros said.
More broadly, however, there is an ongoing struggle with how to regulate police and prosecutors, Jaros said.
“Across the country, there have been concerns about whether or not police and prosecutors are taking seriously allegations of sexual assault,” Jaros said. “This is a much larger issue.”
‘I was able to do something about what happened’
As her lawsuit was grinding its way through the court system, Borkowski was putting herself back together piece by piece.
She’s still sensitive to feeling violated or out of control, and may be more prone to snapping when she feels disrespected. She still surveys a room when she enters it. She still keeps a close circle of friends and doesn’t share the details of that October night with many. And she still looks forward to going home to her dogs.
But she’s graduated from college and earned a master’s degree in social work, securing a job in that field working with oncology patients.
Her mother, Bea Borkowski, said it’s “almost like she’s helping herself, like it’s come full circle.”
“She gets what it’s like to be that wounded, unprotected soul,” Bea Borkowski said. “I see her get angry and impassioned for other people, for them being mistreated. She’s an eternal advocate.”
Anna Borkowski re-listened to her first and only interview with a Baltimore County detective, from the day she reported the sexual assault, when she was preparing for her 2021 deposition. In it, while waiting her turn for a forensic exam at the hospital, she told the detective she wanted to go into social work.
“It’s crazy that over these five years, I’ve done what I said I wanted to do,” Borkowski told The Sun, smiling.
She plans to put the money from her settlement, which she calls a “gift,” toward a future doctorate degree in social work.
Her areas of research interest: mental health on college campuses and intimate partner violence, including sexual assault.
She said the civil case has served as a “reminder” of what happened to her. Its conclusion makes a new chapter seem more possible.
“I feel like now I can put it to rest, and know that I was heard, by at least some people,” she said, “and I was able to do something about what happened.”
