No should really mean no, yes? |

No should really mean no, yes?

There are no atheists in foxholes, nor are there apparently any in the midst of preliminary hearings here in Eagle County.

While the Eagle County Bean Wars are unfortunately back in full swing, the young man accused of a brutal rape has magically transformed himself into a God-fearing, wife-fearing tattooed mouse incapable of harming so much as a piece of well-cooked brie while quoting recently memorized scripture.

Yeah, and Roy’s white tiger was trying to save him from the perilous threats of a cheering audience. (Introducing the next Iraqi information minister, Siegfried Fischbacher!)

“You know, I think I like Vail, Colorado,” allegedly said “Javier Rodriguez” while leaning forwards over the back of a chair and squeezing the piece of undercooked veal temporarily restrained in his possession, according to the woman who accuses Kobe Bryant of raping her.

No matter what alias he uses, no matter how many claims of innocence, no matter how many statements confirming the importance of family, God and basketball, I am now officially sick of the guy. Reprint the business cards and update the Web site, my previously open mind has been slammed shut by the TMI police.

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“You’re not gonna tell anybody, right?” also allegedly said by Javier during the alleged rape and again afterward while allegedly insisting the young lady “clean herself up” so she didn’t return to work looking like a cheerleader who had just run naked through a gantlet of Air Force Academy seniors.

You betcha, pal. She won’t tell anyone, at least not until after you let her out of your enormous clutches and your tiny delusional world of untouchable pro athletes.

I’m not saying this now swagger-free, sorry excuse for an idol is guilty – that’s still up for a jury to decide – but his innocence appears as obvious to me as Donald Rumsfeld’s pacifism.

No means no and stop means stop. Now. Not five minutes later when you’re finished.

A kiss on the lips is just a kiss on the lips, not an invitation to force kissing elsewhere.

He allegedly refused to give her an autograph with pen and paper, allegedly choosing instead to force an engraving of another style. One allegedly with blood.

Three men in three days? Please. I don’t care if it was three men in three hours as long as all three were consensual.

This naive young man with an incredible talent is being led from the frying pan of public opinion straight into the fire pit of judicial perdition.

Defense attorney Mackey and her so-called dream team have a nightmarish history of representing confessed child killers and wife beaters, so don’t even think about admiring her lewd tactics, which are nothing more than rude, crude and socially unacceptable methods representative of the slimy underbelly of her chosen profession.

They are the desperate techniques of a desperate defense attorney frantically trying to create a persona worthy of book deals and made-for-the-WB-Network TV movies.

Having told the judge after she named she-who-must-not-be-named six different times during the hearing that it was a forgetful “mistake” as opposed to the repetitive smearing that it appeared to be, how are we supposed to tell what else she is “mistaken” about? Character is as character does, sweetheart.

Admitting adultery; buying your wife a diamond the size of Shaq’s head; having a tribute to her, your daughter and a psalm tattooed on your bicep; suddenly quoting former political figures and scripture while parading your new Bentley down an LA freeway; declaring you are “terrified” while questioning whether you should go to “work” or not and then out of the blue acting like a scared little puppy are not the normal actions of an innocent man.

I could be wrong, of course. She could be lying. Could have made the whole thing up. Could have given herself a paper cut with Javier’s check-in form at the front desk and then somehow wiped the blood on the lower part of his undershirt when he wasn’t looking.

But then again, maybe she’s telling the truth.

Either way, hiding behind the see-through veil of religious conviction before a jury will probably have as strong an effect as the Nobel Peace Prize did on Arafat.

Richard Carnes of Edwards writes a weekly column for the Daily. He can be reached at

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