Post by EGK Post by anim8rfsk Post by David
Eliza Dushku accuses True Lies stunt coordinator Joel Kramer of
sexually assaulting her when she was 12 years old
by William Hughes
Eliza Dushku has accused a well-known and prolific Hollywood stunt
coordinator of sexually assaulting her during the filming of True
Lies, when the Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Dollhouse actress was only
12 years old. Dushku posted a lengthy essay on Facebook last night,
opening up about an incident from 25 years ago in which she says Joel
Kramerwhose recent credits include high-profile projects like Blade
Runner 2049, Star Trek: Discovery, and Westworldfirst earned her and
her familys trust during her time on the Arnold Schwarzenegger action
vehicle, and then abused it by luring her to a hotel room in the guise
of letting her swim at the facilitys pool.
More and more it seems like everyone in Hollywood is an abuser, a victim or
an enabler who knew but kept quiet about it. Where the fuck were her
parents? They let a 12yr old go to an adult's hotel room alone? I don't
care that he groomed them too to gain their trust. As soon as she told
them what happened, I would have pulled her from the movie and gone to the
cops and the press.
Her Facebook article details it. His hotel had a swimming pool for the
stunt people, that *that's* where he was supposed to be taking her.
Here's her original post, in full:
13 hrs ·
When I was 12 years old, while filming ³True Lies², I was sexually
molested by Joel Kramer, one of Hollywood¹s leading stunt coordinators.
Ever since, I have struggled with how and when to disclose this, if
ever. At the time, I shared what happened to me with my parents, two
adult friends and one of my older brothers. No one seemed ready to
confront this taboo subject then, nor was I.
I am grateful to the women and men who have gone before me in recent
months. The ever-growing list of sexual abuse and harassment victims who
have spoken out with their truths have finally given me the ability to
speak out. It has been indescribably exhausting, bottling this up inside
me for all of these years.
I remember, so clearly 25 years later, how Joel Kramer made me feel
special, how he methodically built my and my parents¹ trust, for months
grooming me; exactly how he lured me to his Miami hotel room with a
promise to my parent that he would take me for a swim at the stunt
crew¹s hotel pool and for my first sushi meal thereafter. I remember
vividly how he methodically drew the shades and turned down the lights;
how he cranked up the air-conditioning to what felt like freezing
levels, where exactly he placed me on one of the two hotel room beds,
what movie he put on the television (Coneheads); how he disappeared in
the bathroom and emerged, naked, bearing nothing but a small hand towel
held flimsy at his mid-section. I remember what I was wearing (my
favorite white denim shorts, thankfully, secured enough for me to keep
on). I remember how he laid me down on the bed, wrapped me with his
gigantic writhing body, and rubbed all over me. He spoke these words:
³You¹re not going to sleep on me now sweetie, stop pretending you¹re
sleeping,² as he rubbed harder and faster against my catatonic body.
When he was finished¹, he suggested, ³I think we should be careful,²
[about telling anyone] he meant. I was 12, he was 36.
I remember how afterwards, the taxi driver stared at me in the rear view
mirror when Joel Kramer put me on his lap in the backseat and clutched
me and grew aroused again; and how my eyes never left the driver¹s eyes
during that long ride over a Miami bridge, back to my hotel and parent.
I remember how Joel Kramer grew cold with me in the ensuing weeks, how
everything felt different on the set.
And I remember how soon-after, when my tough adult female friend (in
whom I had confided my terrible secret on the condition of a trade that
she let me drive her car around the Hollywood Hills) came out to the set
to visit and face him, later that very same day, by no small
coincidence, I was injured from a stunt-gone-wrong on the Harrier jet.
With broken ribs, I spent the evening in the hospital. To be clear, over
the course of those months rehearsing and filming True Lies, it was Joel
Kramer who was responsible for my safety on a film that at the time
broke new ground for action films. On a daily basis he rigged wires and
harnesses on my 12 year old body. My life was literally in his hands: he
hung me in the open air, from a tower crane, atop an office tower, 25+
stories high. Whereas he was supposed to be my protector, he was my
Why speak out now? I was 12, he was 36. It is incomprehensible. Why
didn¹t an adult on the set find his predatory advances strange that
over-the-top special attention he gave me. Fairly early on he nicknamed
me ³Jailbait² and brazenly called me by this name in a sick flirty way
in front of others (at the time, I remember asking one of my older
brothers what it meant). Sure, I¹ve come to understand the terrible
power dynamics that play into whistle-blowing by ³subordinates² against
persons in power, how difficult it can be for someone to speak up. But I
was a child. Over the years I¹ve really struggled as I¹ve wondered how
my life might have been different if someone, any one grown-up who
witnessed his sick ways, had spoken up before he lured me to that hotel
Years ago, I had heard second hand that Joel Kramer was ³found out² and
forced to leave the business. I learned recently that in fact he still
works at the top of the industry. And a few weeks ago, I found an
internet photo of Joel Kramer hugging a young girl. That image has
haunted me near nonstop since. I can no longer hide what happened.
Hollywood has been very good to me in many ways. Nevertheless, Hollywood
also failed to protect me, a child actress. I like to think of myself as
a tough Boston chick, in many ways I suppose not unlike Faith, Missy, or
Echo. Through the years, brave fans have regularly shared with me how
some of my characters have given them the conviction to stand up to
their abusers. Now it is you who give me strength and conviction. I hope
that speaking out will help other victims and protect against future
With every person that speaks out, every banner that drops down onto my
iphone screen disclosing similar stories/truths, my resolve strengthens.
Sharing these words, finally calling my abuser out publicly by name,
brings the start of a new calm.
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