For many in the once-prominent Whaling City of New Bedford, it is a case many would like to forget.
But for those intimately involved in what would become known as the Big Dan’s rape case, forgetting their involvement in a case that brought unsuspecting people into the spotlight is impossible, even 26 years after the fact.
For many in the once-prominent Whaling City of New Bedford, it is a case many would like to forget.
But for those intimately involved in what would become known as the Big Dan’s rape case, forgetting their involvement in a case that brought unsuspecting people into the spotlight is impossible, even 26 years after the fact.
Daniel Patrick O’Neill and his brother Michael — breaking their silence after last testifying at the Fall River Superior Court trial more than 25 years ago — said they weren’t asking for anything that March 6, 1983 night when the pair, along with friend Bobby Silva, took that left-hand turn down Belleville Avenue just after midnight.
“We had gone out that night to Spirits Pub for a few beers and we on our way home. I was slouched against the window when my brother saw this girl run out of the bar and run up the street. He shouted to us, ‘Naked girl in street, naked girl in street,’ ” said Dan, 33 at the time. “I thought to myself, yeah right. But there she was, standing in front of the truck, like a deer in the headlights.”
In front of their vehicle, right near the intersection of Collette Street and Belleville Avenue, was 21-year-old Cheryl Ann Araujo, wearing just a brown coat and a single sock.
“We noticed a bunch of guys that had come out of the bar after her,” said Michael, 31 at the time, “but they saw us and ended up going back into the bar.”
Araujo would wrap her hands around Dan’s neck so hard that police would have to pry each of her fingers off him hours later. Araujo told the three men that she had just been raped by a group of men in the bar and the three men gave her their coats so she could cover herself up.
Seeing some men come out of the bar and hastily make their way to their cars, Michael said he picked up a rod that was on the street and made his way toward the men.
“On cross examination, they asked me why I picked up this pipe that night and I told them it wasn’t an actual pipe and that I don’t normally make it a habit of going after four guys alone who may have just raped someone,” he said. “I didn’t exactly know what I was getting into.”
Michael said he ended up chasing the men in his truck, leaving his brother and Araujo behind, but he lost them. Michael said he also went inside the bar afterwards, but the silence was deafening.
“We thought initially that we would drive her to the North End police station, but we thought about it again and ended up going up the street to a pay phone at the Rite Aid and called the police to go there,” said Dan. “There wasn’t any cell phones in those days.”
Once the police picked up Araujo that night, the brothers gave a statement and thought that was the end of their involvement. That proved to be far from the truth.
Police called their homes the next day, and the evidence began to mount against a number of men that were inside the bar that night. Although the O’Neills were never able to identify a single face that night, their testimony, combined with that of the embattled rape victim, was instrumental in the case, according to U.S. District Court Judge William Young, who was the Superior Court judge who preceded over the entire Big Dan’s case.
“The victim in this case was subject to vigorous cross examination but these three fellows who stopped for her were just average citizens, out for a night on the town, conducting their private affairs, that just happened to stop for her,” Young said. “They took care of her when she was distraught, were interviewed by police and did everything that a citizen could do.”
Young said testimony like the O’Neill’s is rare these days. He said that many citizens don’t step forward to testify to what they see out of fear, and police are forced all too often to cop a deal with a less-than-stellar witness to improve a case.
“It impairs the quality of justice and the public, rightfully so, sees that as people attempting to flip themselves to minimize their involvement in the case by involving someone else to save their own skin,” said Young, who teaches law students the importance of testimony. “In the Big Dan’s case, these three men didn’t ask to be at that site at that time, didn’t ask to be thrust into this spotlight. While her testimony went under serious cross-examination because she went into the bar unaccompanied, had a drink and had small children at home, her credibility and believability was bolstered by the enormous testimony of these three folks that came to her defense.”
The brothers were often ridiculed for their testimony, suffering numerous death threats, and even today, find people sometimes hearing rumblings about their involvement in the case.
Dan, now 59, said their lives forever changed that night they saw that girl run down the street. Although he now lives in Peabody, there’s still reminders of the case every time he comes home.
“I guess what I want after all these years is a thank you. We never got that after all we did. Never a good job or an 'attaboy or anything like that,” said Dan. “So many people involved in that case went on to prominent careers but those of us who stood on the front lines of this case got nothing.”
“It’s the case careers were made on,” said Michael, 57, who still lives in New Bedford.
In the end, four of the six Big Dan’s defendants were found guilty of aggravated rape, receiving prison terms between six to 12 years. The most any of them served was 6½ years. Two others were acquitted.
While the O’Neills tried to get back to their normal life after the trial, Araujo was not as lucky. Feeling vilified after her name was revealed in the trial — something Judge Young said he regrets to this day — Araujo and her family attempted to start a new life in Florida. She was killed in a car accident on Dec. 14, 1986, after losing control of her car while taking her daughters to a Christmas show. Nearly three years after her death, the last of the convicted rapists was released on Oct. 30, 1989.
Dan said if he had to do it all over again, he would still save Araujo from the men that came after her that night. If they hadn’t, a jury never would have believed her testimony against the other men involved at the bar, he said.
“We would have helped her, but I don’t think we would have got involved with the police or the DA’s office. There was a circus atmosphere to it and there were so many times they were trying to put words in our mouths,” he said.
“So many things came out with the case, so many lies — that she was a whore, and things like that — but my thoughts were always that a woman, no matter what, has the right to say no,” said Michael, “and frankly, even if she was a whore, it doesn’t matter, because she said no.”
Years after the case was over, Michael was at a New Year's Eve party when a girl came up to him.
“This girl asked me if I knew who she was and I told her I didn’t. She said she was Cheryl Araujo’s sister and that her mother was there and wanted to talk with me,” said Michael. “When I went over to their table, they asked me if I knew that Cheryl had died and I told them that I had. The mother then said how much she appreciated what I did for Cheryl and how much it helped her get through it, how much it meant to her. That meant a lot.”
Judge Young said he was “upset” to hear about the O’Neills never being thanked for what they did and the harassment they faced during and after testifying. Attorneys and judges often engross themselves in one case, but unlike the victims or the witnesses themselves, end up leaving the case behind them once all is said and done, he said.
“When you have a trial, we care about them at the time but then we move on to the next one and focus our attention on the one we are trying right now,” said Young. “But the folks involved in that trial, or in any trial where they are personally involved, they don’t get to go on with their lives in the same way they once did.”
E-mail Jay Pateakos at jpateakos@heraldnews.com.