Dear Parole Board member, I would like to first thank you for the job you do. I cannot imagine what a difficult task this is, and I am appreciative for each of you. I am going to do the best I can to tell you my story. I have put off writing this letter for years - but the time has finally come when I must force myself to relive the events of July 29, 1994, and share with you. It’s an ugly, emotional and painful life changing horrific event and I will do my best to convey why I am begging and pleading to each of you to please deny release or the possibility of parole to my attacker, Scott Travis Baughman. It was a beautiful Friday morning in Surfside Beach, Texas, the date was July 29, 1994. I was a young 29-year-old mother of two small children, Cody age 5 and Kelsey age 13 months. We lived in a beachfront home two doors down from my parents. We had moved to the island in January of that year - my father was diagnosed with lung cancer, and we wanted to spend as much time with him as possible - he loved the beach and we had hoped it would help him recover. My parents left the island that morning to visit family in Livingston and my husband left early that morning for his job in Houston. The children were playing in the living room watching television and I headed downstairs to put the clothes in the dryer. When I entered the laundry room my back was to the door and I immediately saw the light go out of the room, I would realize later this was due to a man entering behind me. That man was Scott Baughman, he was 20 years old at the time. He was wearing swim shorts and had long hair the color of a Dr. Pepper can, cut short on top. He immediately came towards me and grabbed me. I was confused and shocked for the first few moments - I thought he might be a surfer looking for help, I was not processing this man was there to harm me. He had a knife in his hand and grabbed me and threw me over the dryer and said, “Lean over, I’m going to fuck you.” I began to beg this man not to harm me, not to harm my children, I started screaming, “Please, please sir I will give you everything I have, please don’t hurt me or my children.” I remember at some point he screamed, “I don’t want any fucking thing you have you fucking bitch.” He stabbed me in the face and began twisting my neck- I assume to break it. He then started beating my head on the dryer. When he was not able to break my neck, he then took the knife and slit my throat on the left side very close to my jugular vein. I was trying to grab the knife from him with my hands as I grabbed the blade and we wrestled to the floor. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one could hear me, the roar of the ocean was too loud and the television was blaring upstairs. He began screaming at me to shut up, shut up! I was begging him and saying, “Please sir I have babies.” He told me he did not give a fuck about my babies. At this time he straddled my body and sat on top of me, he screamed at me to take my clothes off and I told him I could not because he was holding my arms - he let go of my left arm to take my shorts off himself and this is when I grabbed his hair and began pulling as hard as I could, this angered him and he placed both his hands on top of and around my neck and started to bear down on me and was screaming, “Come on, come on!” Waiting for me to die. I grab his arms with my hands trying to get him off me and I cannot budge him. The room began to spin. I am still processing this is happening, I am still in shock, I am losing this battle, and I am losing my life today, “My God what will he do to my babies?????” My entire life is literally flashing before me. It’s hot, I feel sick, “I’m dying today like this??? I have plans tonight, I am going to El Chico and to Sears to return a coat. Not today? Not like this? My God I hope I am going to heaven??” I realize I have done this all wrong. I have wasted precious time and what good did pulling his hair do?? No one is coming to help me. I’m going to be found raped and dead in my washroom. And then my life was over. To me and to Scott Baughman, I was dead. It was at this point that he sexually assaulted me - then he got up and left, grabbed my husband’s flip flops and ran out into the ocean to wash all of the blood off of him - thinking I was dead. I would later find out that when we wrestled to the floor the knife broke - the blade separating from the shaft. Approximately 15-20 minutes later I regained consciousness. I remember lying on the floor and seeing lights above me. Am I dreaming? Why am I breathing so heavy? Where am I? Why is it so quiet, and it’s daylight? And then it hit - “Oh my God, that really happened to me, and I lived!!! What did he do to my babies????” My pants were off, and my bra was around my neck, and I was covered in blood from my throat being cut. I ran upstairs to check on my babies and they were still watching cartoons, totally unaware of what had transpired downstairs. I screamed at my young son and asked him “Cody, is there a man in here??” He began to laugh and said “mommy, why do you look so funny?” I was half naked and my hair was drenched in blood. I screamed again and asked about a man, and this is when he realized something bad was happening and began to cry. He told me he would call 911 for me. But he could not get the phone to work. I did not know at the time the phone downstairs had been knocked off during the struggle. I began to panic, thinking the man was still there and maybe had cut the phone lines. I was feeling very sick, afraid I was about to pass out - honestly not knowing if I was going to die, again today - I did not know how much blood I had lost or how deep my neck wound was. I knew I needed to get help. I was afraid to go back outside, I had no idea where the bad man was. I ran out and began to scream at beachgoers, screaming to please help me!! There was a young couple on the beach - Kelly and Lisa Lauderdale - they were there on a family vacation. They thought maybe one of my children were hurt, no way imagining such a horrific crime has just taken place on a bright sunny day at a beautiful beach. When they got closer to the home, I explained a man had attacked and raped me and Kelly grabbed a broom to swing since we did not know where he was. A neighbor also came hearing the screams and called 911. Brian Slater, a rookie with the Surfside Beach Police department showed up and was too shaken to speak on the radio upon arrival. It was at this point someone told me I may want to find clothes as I am still naked from the sexual assault. The ambulance arrived and transported me to Brazosport Hospital and the neighbor took my children. I repeatedly ask everyone, “Am I going to die? Please don’t let me die.” This was in an age before cell phones. My husband was finally located at work and my parents were contacted, they all rushed home, also trying to process such a horrific event had taken place just a few short hours after they had left. Upon arriving at the ER people were staring and whispering, “What happened to her??” My hair still matted in blood and cuts on my hands, face and neck. A volunteer sat with me until a SANE nurse arrived and began the process of collecting evidence. My husband and parents arrived; my mother fainted. They called in a plastic surgeon for my face and neck. I was admitted to the psych floor. I am put in a tub and the blood, and the horrible events of the day are finally being washed off of me - I remember the smell of the soap to this day, the blood pouring in the tub, many hands cleaning me. They really did not know what to do with me. A stranger rape was very rare, I was told. A man hunt for Scott had begun with the Sheriff’s department leading the investigation. Sheriff’s officer Gary Stroud came to the ER and spoke with me. I can’t eat, I throw up, I am anxiety ridden and exhausted. My neck hurts, it hurts to swallow, my face is swollen, and I am full of cuts and bruises. After a few days I was released and sent to my mother’s home where we stayed as a family for the next month. My family felt finding my attacker would be next to impossible, but due to excellent police work Scott Baughman was apprehended on his 21st birthday, 3 days after the attack. The part of Scott’s story I have been told is what I will relay next. He had been under a bond in Florida for petty theft and forgery. His father was a Blue Springs Missouri police captain. The Surfside Beach police began searching the area for clues or leads. They found a bike and a duffel bag stuffed in the rafters of a house down the street. They obtained a warrant and searched the items and found letters written to Scott from an ex-girlfriend while he was incarcerated. Scott had befriended a man at the bus station in Houston. This man took Scott in and hired him to help with his pool maintenance business and Scott performed sexual acts on the man in return for a place to stay. A few days before the attack Scott stole the man’s bike and rode it from the Katy area to Quintana beach. It was there he met a man named Jim. Jim told him he may want to try the Salvation Army for help. When he took Scott there, they were full for the night, so he took Scott by his friend Mary’s that owned the local flower shop in Oyster Creek, and asked if she thought it was okay to take him home. Jim took him home and they woke up the next morning and watched the Maury Povich show - it was about a rapist getting off because the woman asked him to use a condom. Scott and Jim talked about the show at length. Jim told Scott he should try to go to Surfside as it was more populated, and he would have a better chance of finding work there. This is where Scott ended up and broke into the house down the street with a perfect view of my home. Scott would later say he was frustrated with his life and grabbed a knife from the home and began to walk down the beach when he saw me. His story in the beginning was he was going to steal my car. After the assault and the swim in the ocean to wash off Scott walked to San Luis Pass and chatted with the park ranger. Then called his friend in Katy to come and pick him up. He said he had the cuts and scratches all over from sleeping at the beach. He got to the friend’s house and washed his clothes, assuming I was dead, and no one would ever know who did it. The Sheriff’s office reached out to Scott’s father for a photo of him to see if he may be the one they were looking for. His father sent a photo, and they showed me in a line up, I picked him right away. They also gave a description on the radio scanner and Jim and Mary heard the description and reached out to the police. Now they had to start the task of finding him. They decided to reach out to the girl in the letters. They went to her home and a boyfriend was there. He said a man had come by looking for Scott (the man was the friend in Katy he had stolen the bike from) he had left a card with his address. The officers then proceeded to that address and asked the man if he had seen Scott. In the beginning he denied it, but then they showed him a photo of me in the ER and said that was why they were looking for him and the man gasped and said, “My God, he is in my back yard!” By this time Scott has jumped the fence, he returned later that night and after an extensive manhunt was captured and brought back to Brazoria County. When he was apprehended, they asked him if he knew why he was going to jail - he responded, “Yeah, murder.” Now me and my family begin to learn about the justice system and how it works and doesn’t work. We were clueless and we were scared. The newspaper and tv stations are reaching out to us. I allow them to use my name - I am not ashamed, I have done nothing wrong. I’m still trying to process I lived - this is so difficult for me for years. I am sent to my gynecologist to be tested for STD’s, I am sent to therapy, I am sent to a plastic surgeon again, I see a doctor for my elbow. Now we wait. My case was considered high profile, but it still took 15 months to go to trial. My husband asks for a job transfer to anywhere - we have to get out of that house, we had an alarm system installed and I carry a panic button everywhere - I am a wreck. We are sent to the Dallas area but do not last there long - I am overcome with fear and anxiety - our home is broke into the night before we move in. I have purchased a handgun by now - we never had a gun for protection in our home prior to the assault. I carry the gun to the mailbox. If I am sitting in the back yard the gun is next to me. Our children sleep in our room with us every night either in bed or a pallet on the floor. Our daughter continues this for years. I am depressed. Why does everything seem so pointless? I wish so much I had someone to talk to “like me.” I have terrible bizarre sexual dreams. I am repeatedly raped and killed in my dreams. Everyone looks at me funny - they are waiting for me to “crack.” My life is now before the rape, after the rape. It’s been 4 months. No one wants to talk about it anymore. Everyone is just waiting for the trial. What if he gets off? What if he is not convicted? I do not have any patience anymore with anyone or anything. Why won’t this go away? I was not doing anything dumb, I was not in a bad place at a bad time. I’m so tired of thinking about it, I’m drowning in self-pity and fear. I begin thinking about taking my life. At least I would be in control. The fear of my “next death” is overwhelming me. I can’t live - I am focused on dying. It’s November 1995 and the case finally goes to trial. Scott pleads NOT GUILTY by reason of insanity. He said he was off his meds and that is why he committed the crime. He indicated he had found God now and was going to live a life free of sin. Thank God for Jeri Yenne and the 12 jurors in Brazoria County that did not believe this pathetic story and sentenced him to 99 years for aggravated sexual assault. Judge Ray Gayle tells the audience post-trial if Mr. Baughman had his way that day, this would have been a murder trial. I will also forever be indebted to my jury foreman Tito Rodriguez, Gary Stroud and the Surfside Beach police department as well as many other members of law enforcement that helped bring this monster to justice. My father succumbed to his lung cancer a few months later and we moved back to Surfside in a different house to be close to my mom. My family slept most nights in the same room - fear had gripped my family, to us the boogey man was real now and could show up at any time - even broad daylight. Scott Baughman was brought back to Brazoria County not long after he was sent to prison to stand trial for ripping a phone off the wall while in jail and expressing threats to another inmate to “finish the job” (meaning me) and “take care of” the district attorney when he got out. The DA decided to drop the charges so he could not sit at the county jail since he would probably serve any time given concurrently, and he was sent back to TDCJ. My husband and I have been married for 35 years this May. In the first years after the attack, I threw myself into my kids - I was not strong or brave as everyone was telling me, I was breathing in and out and the kids needed me, it was my focus. I could not understand why I was still living. Dying that day was so very scary and I had accepted it. How scary would it be when I died again?? Fear had taken over my life. My husband and I could not be intimate. My mind would not let me. This part of my marriage was taken from me that day to never return. I had seen therapists, but they were not sure how to help me as again, my case was rare. I joined a victim’s support group and spoke at a few victim impact panels, I met other women that had also been victims of horrible crimes. My daughter is about to be 30 - she still struggles with fear and anxiety of someone coming into her home - they have just had an alarm installed. I would eventually remove myself from everything in hopes of this nightmare all going away. This has and will never go away. There is not a day I do not feel fear for what I went through. I can still see, smell, and hear the attack vividly. I cannot imagine Scott Baughman being a free man in the same world with me. I cannot imagine what that would do to my children or my family. Please, please I beg each of you from the bottom of my heart and the depths of my soul to please keep this monster incarcerated so he cannot rip apart another family. He knew right from wrong and chose to commit this horrible crime that day, and only felt remorse for himself. Scott Baughman’s life was spared, and he was given the maximum sentence by law, my life was spared on July 29, 1994 - that glory is given to God, not Scott Baughman. Thank you so very much for reading this and considering me and my family when you make your decision. I appreciate you very much. Sincerely, Vicki Osgood