I met an extraordinary woman several weeks ago. Her name is Julie Woodley. She is middle aged with shoulder length auburn hair and a smile that makes you want to tell her your deepest secrets.

I knew Julie’s history before we met because I read her book, a Wildflower Grows in Brooklyn. If I hadn’t known her story, I never would have believed it when we met. She looked as though life had been good to her. She had very few wrinkles on her face and she stood erect- as one who has nothing to hide.

As far back as she can remember, Julie’s father sexually abused her. If that weren’t bad enough, he forced her brother to do the same. He beat her regularly. As she got into her young teen years, her father decided to make money from her and he “sold” her to men who snuck away from their homes to seedy hotels. Her mother knew these things were happening and she, like many women co-conspirators, simply said nothing.

Julie vowed to leave home as soon as she graduated high school. She did. The day after graduation, she boarded a bus bound for Minneapolis without leaving word to…