From survivor to reformer: One woman’s pursuit of justice through DNA analysis

An afternoon that rewrote her life

When Julie Weil picked up her three-year-old daughter and eight-month-old son from church in 2002, she had no reason to expect anything but a peaceful afternoon of scrapbooking with her kids. What followed was an ordeal no parent should ever face, one that would change her family forever and drive her to transform systems meant to protect survivors like her. 

She had been a member of her local church since she was seven. At 31, she was a mother of two. After picking up her daughter Emily from church school, she spent the afternoon chatting with friends and browsing books at the nearby bookstore. They returned to their car, where the nightmare of that day started. Julie still remembers seeing her friend’s taillights when she was struck on the head, grabbed in a bear hug and held at knife point. Her children, terrified, screamed. “Do you believe in God?” the unknown assailant taunted. “Then you’re going to forgive me for what I’m going to do to you today.”

He forced them into the van and drove off. The assailant demanded to know where she lived, taunted her with cruel questions and subjected her to repeated assaults. The perpetrator couldn’t stop talking. He told her about his mother being a prostitute, dropping out of school and how women like her – who drove minivans and took their kids to church – deserved to suffer. He referred to a woman who had escaped him ten days earlier, warning Julie that she wouldn't be so lucky. What followed was hours of calculated terror. During each assault, he forced Julie to look into her infant son’s eyes not only to avoid being identified but to inflict lasting psychological torment. He wanted her to relive the trauma every time she looked at her child.

He claimed he'd just gotten out of jail and was looking for guns and money. He threw her shirt at her after an assault and forced her into a bank to withdraw $400 from her account. After the last assault near an elementary school across from her parents' house, he demanded she wipe surfaces to destroy any evidence. At that moment, he was still weighing whether to spare Julie’s life. Then, suddenly, he was gone. Julie lay unconscious until her daughter said, “Mommy, get up. He’s gone.”

Science brings a thread of hope

After escaping, Julie made a call that would change everything – she dialed 911. The police officer who responded was a woman. For the first time that day, Julie could finally breathe. The officer listened and directed her to Miami’s Rape Crisis Center. There, she met a sexual assault detective and forensic nurses trained to collect biological evidence. Despite the attacker’s efforts to leave no trace, forensic scientists recovered a speck of DNA from Julie's shirt. That trace amount was enough to yield a usable profile.

But this was no ordinary case. The DNA linked her assault to multiple other unsolved cases. That match linked her case to several others, forming a pattern the authorities could no longer ignore. They were dealing with a serial rapist. 

Known to law enforcement as the Palmetto Bay rapist, he had slipped through the cracks before. Julie’s sample would change that. Just weeks before the arrest, a bystander reported a domestic violence incident at a hotel where a man was assaulting his pregnant girlfriend. Although the woman dropped the charges, police had already collected DNA from the assailant, one that matched the profile of the Palmetto Bay rapist.

A forensic scientist’s search for truth

Behind the scenes of Julie’s case was a relentless DNA analyst who refused to give up. She examined every angle, tested every garment and meticulously built the DNA profile that linked the attacks. When initial testing showed no usable material, she pushed further. On a second-tier test, a mixed DNA sample from Julie's shirt provided the lead they needed. That forensic perseverance made all the difference.

Weeks after the match, the same analyst was off duty when she spotted a man at a Burger King, standing at the counter with his pregnant partner and a toddler in his arms. She recognized him instantly. Trusting her instincts, she called the police. As officers closed in, Julie heard sirens and helicopters from her home nearby. That night, law enforcement came to her door. They had located the man, but he had fled the scene. Two months later, he was arrested.

Testifying for truth, fighting for others

Julie was the only survivor who chose to go to trial. For her, closure didn’t mean forgetting – it meant making sure her attacker could never harm another family again. The case was built solely on her testimony and the DNA evidence.

“If I can’t make something good out of this,” she told herself, “then what was it for?” Her bravery not only led to justice but also gave strength to countless others who had suffered in silence.

It wasn’t an easy process. During the trial, the defense argued that Julie had fabricated the story, even suggesting she had an affair. The most painful moments came when the forensic nurse and sex crimes detective had to testify, including invasive photos from the evidence collection. Still, Julie held firm.

The jury took just 2.5 hours to convict the perpetrator. He received seven lifetime sentences for each count of rape and kidnapping involving Julie and her children, plus 15 years for the related bank robbery.

Trauma’s lasting impact

Julie’s recovery wasn’t linear. For months, she couldn’t meet her son’s gaze without feeling retraumatized. “He must have felt like he had a phantom mother,” she said. Emily wore diapers until age 5, long after the event, and struggled with basic concepts like object permanence. Julie lived for weeks at her mother’s house. Her home never felt safe. Eventually, they moved to Palm Beach County to start over.

Even there, Julie discovered major gaps in survivor services. Unlike Miami, Palm Beach had no rape crisis center or trained forensic response team. In some communities, she realized, people assumed crimes like hers didn’t happen. Julie knew otherwise, and she made it her mission to change that.

Every survivor deserves more

Julie recognized that, despite the horror she endured, she had been fortunate to have access to trained professionals, a responsive community system and tested forensic tool – support that many survivors still go without.

She decided to act. Julie founded the Not Just Me Foundation to support survivors and became a key voice in shaping legislation. Her advocacy contributed to the passage of the Sexual Assault Forensic Evidence Reporting (SAFER) Act, helping clear thousands of backlogged rape kits across the United States.

She also led the creation of the Butterfly House in Palm Beach County – a compassionate, survivor-centered facility that provides comprehensive support after an assault. It offers forensic exams, fresh clothing, toiletries, a hot meal and most importantly, a space to begin healing. “Every single person of sexual assault in my mind and in my heart deserves the same level of care, the same standard of professionalism, and I’m not gonna rest until everybody has that,” says Julie.

The center is designed with dignity in mind: a single-stop facility where survivors are met with trained staff, trauma-informed nurses and access to practical comforts like showers and clean clothes. No detail is overlooked. Each patient is offered a journal and blanket to hopefully make them feel like a person again after the assault.