Emily Winslow was raped in 1992. To call what happened to her rape raises no red flags, as rape was still rape in 1992, before the word lost all meaning and it became fashionable among one’s friends to be a rape “survivor.” This was the rape that forms our disgust and hatred of the crime. And, under the circumstances as they played out, there is no reason to doubt that she was raped.

Winslow wrote about it, reflecting a knowledgeable understanding of why, 20 years later, the rape kit prepared in 1992 wasn’t tested.

MY rape kit was created on the evening of Sunday, Jan. 12, 1992, at Magee-Womens Hospital in Pittsburgh. Tiny pieces of evidence were swabbed, plucked and combed from me: bits of me and, they hoped, bits of him, to be used in court one day to prove who had done this to me. Like many evidence kits collected at that time, it was not analyzed for DNA, and became part of what is called the backlog: untested rape kits across the country, which number at minimum in the tens of thousands.

Rather than bemoan the backlog, Winslow took the time to understand it.

My evidence was not analyzed for DNA even though the technology was available, not because my case was deemed unworthy of the time, money and effort, but because there was no one to whom to compare the results.

It was only in the late ’90s that the F.B.I. database of criminal DNA samples now known as the Combined DNA Index System (Codis) became fully operational. Until then, DNA evidence from rapes without suspects was not useful. Nevertheless, it was collected and stored, with hope for the future.

From today’s perspective, the backlog of rape kits seems outrageous. But back then, before the government amassed its forced DNA database Codis, there wasn’t much to be done with them. Testing was hugely expensive and time-consuming, and there was little to do with the results. Keeping untested rape kits meant using real estate. Keeping track of them for future evidentiary chain of custody purposes meant record keeping across various locations and agencies, something the cops have never excelled at.

And even when done properly, the never-ending stream of new crimes, new cases, kept coming, demanding new and more resources.  Winslow got it.

There’s a justified impression that the backlog of untested rape kits is, at least in part, a result of indifference on the part of the police and others in authority dismissing rape as unworthy of prosecution. But this part of the backlog, made of pre-Codis kits like mine, was a result of forward-thinking and diligent police and medical personnel who cared so much about rape that they collected and kept evidence that they, at the time without a database to match up to, would not themselves get to take to court.

But that was in the old days. Things change. DNA testing became commonplace, far less expensive and time consuming. The Codis database was created, and grew. And grew, as DNA was seized from every source law enforcement and the courts were able to sink their claws into, regardless of whether there was any justification.

The insatiable appetite for DNA seems justified when viewed in light of solving a rape. It seems less so when taken from people for whom no there was no reason in the world to suspect them of a crime. And that it not only works to match a rape kit, but to reveal a great many other personal secrets, doesn’t enter one’s thinking if viewed only from the perspective of solving Winslow’s rape.

But Winslow kept pushing for her rape kit from 1992 to be tested, which, on its surface, seems not only reasonable, but an undeniable obligation to the victim of a heinous crime. Winslow got “lucky,” to the extent that word can be used in conjunction with someone who was raped.

The slush fund collected by Manhattan District Attorney Cy Vance, which might have been put to use for other purposes, was made available to the lab that would test Winslow’s rape kit.

The grant money is providing the means to get known kits tested. It’s my hope that it will also, in every jurisdiction that accepts the money, provide the impetus to uncover the older kits that could so easily be overlooked.

To their credit, and Winslow’s appreciation, her rape kit still existed, could be located, was properly stored and gained a slot to be tested, now there there was money to clear the backlog. But that doesn’t end the story.

Some of these pre-Codis kits will be from cases past their statutes of limitations. Depending on details, they may or may not be prosecutable now. I can’t speak for any victims other than myself, but, for me, the identification of my attacker was by itself a significant event in my life, separate from the prosecution that followed. To learn who he is was important. To see my case at last taken as far as it could go by the police and prosecutors was important.  It turned out to be too late for some things, but it was not too late to acknowledge me, to respect me and to help me.

The funds, lab time, personnel and effort were put to use, and there was a hit, identifying the person’s DNA.  But it was already past the statute of limitations, so that there could be no prosecution for Winslow’s rape in 1992. Still Winslow applauds the fact that her rape kit was finally tested, recieving its slice of scarce resources, because it “respected” her.

When the backlog grants were announced last year, Attorney General Loretta E. Lynch said: “For anyone who has felt isolated and afraid, left out and left behind as a result of a sexual crime, our message is clear: We will not forget you. We will not abandon you. You are not alone.” This is important to say to every victim, not just those whose cases can be prosecuted; not just those whose evidence is easier to find; not just those with evidence already in line at the lab.

Bringing the emotional turmoil of a rape victim to rest isn’t a bad thing, but it’s also not the purpose for which the criminal justice system exists.  The money and manpower put into ascertaining Winslow’s rapist means it won’t be available elsewhere. That’s how allocation of scarce resources work. No one can blame Winslow for her feelings, but she’s very wrong. The system doesn’t exist to make victims feel better, but to prosecute and prevent crime.

Judge Richard Kopf called AG Lynch’s inexplicable attention on bathrooms (really, expanding the definition of sex discrimination, but it’s more fun to call it bathrooms) “craven politics.” There is neither money nor concern by the Department of Justice for indigent defense, but they swoon over fulfilling certain emotional needs of a small constituency with sad stories.

It’s something of a false dichotomy, since neither money nor attention would be afforded defendants denied constitutional rights but for this pandering to the social justice flavor of the month.  And to those who are more deeply moved by their preferred sacred cows than, say, poor defendants, it’s a far more worthy use of resources.

Except one use of focus and funds goes to the legitimacy of the legal system, while the other serves to assuage feelings. Yet, the latter preoccupies the government’s, and the nation’s, attention, while the former sit in jail unrepresented, just as they have for more than 50 years.