In The Criminal Justice System, sexually based offences are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories…

I knew the girl was in trouble from the moment she walked in the door. She was young, probably only 15 or 16, looked scared out of her wits, and was at least six months pregnant. She stood at the door looking around… almost as if she was trying to decide whether it was safe for her to come in or not. Being the only female detective around, I got up from my desk and slowly walked over to her.

I tried my hardest not to frighten her. I smiled and asked her if she needed help. She stared at me and didn't answer. I realized that she was staring at my gun and handcuffs. Realizing that they made her nervous, I took off my holster, locked it inside my desk, and came back over.

She loosened up a little and allowed me to come closer than she had before. I asked her again if she needed help… this time, she started to cry.

I took her arm and started to lead her over to an interview room and she freaked on me. She began fighting me, trying to pull herself out of my grasp. I quickly let go of her arm and gently placed my hand on her back. I wanted to keep her as comfortable as possible, but she wouldn't have it.

I told her we were just going somewhere more private to talk, but she stood rooted where she was and wouldn't move. I asked her if I could call one of her parents and she shook her head no. I asked her what her name was but she wouldn't answer me. I pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. I assured her that I was on her side, that I wanted to help her… but she didn't seem to believe me.

She turned and began to walk away. I called out to her, begging her to give me a chance to help. She stopped walking for a moment, contemplating what to do, then turned around and slowly walked towards me.

I took her into an interview room and closed the door. I saw her jump at the sound of the door and wondered what had happened to make her so frightened. I watched as she circled the room again and again. I didn't want to rush her. I sat down and waited.

After a few minutes I asked her if I could get her something to eat or drink. She stopped circling and walked over to me. In a soft voice she said, "do you promise you won't hurt me?" I assured her that I wouldn't. She pulled out a chair and sat down, facing me. "My name is Ana" she told me, in that same soft, sweet voice.

As soon as I promised that I wasn't going to hurt her, the flood gates opened and her entire story came rushing out. Ana told me that she was a product of the foster care system. She explained that she was bounced around too many times and never stayed in one place long enough to make friends. She paused for a minute then told me that something had changed at her most recent placement. She finally found people she fit in with… the problem was, they were druggies.

Ana explained that she wanted friends so badly that she didn't mind. She started using and after awhile, she started dealing. She told me that she had been doing okay, selling low quantities to her friends and such. Basically, she was simply a transporter. She paused for a minute and asked for a cup of water. I obliged. When I returned with her water, she took a sip, then continued.

She told me that she had received a strange call one night on her cell phone from her supplier. He asked her to make a special sale the next day. He told her to come by before school to pick up the drugs and told her when and where the sale would go down. She told me the events that happened that day changed her life.

She admitted to me that she went to his place to pick up the stash and that she went through the entire school day with the drugs in her backpack. She said that after school, she was to go into the wooded area behind her school and wait for the buyer by the pond. After about ten minutes of waiting, she saw someone approaching. He gave her the agreed upon sign, gave her the money, and took the drugs. She openly wept as she told me that, when she turned to leave, she heard someone yell, "stop! Police! Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees." She told me that her heart dropped as she felt the cuffs circling around her wrists.

We'd been talking for almost an hour and a half and I still had no idea what had brought her here. I knew I needed to let her get there in her own time, so I listened and made sure she knew that I cared. She described her arrest and intake, the meetings with the lawyers, and told me that her supplier had gotten into trouble with the law and made a deal for time off of his sentence for every dealer he served the police. She was a pawn in his scheme. He set her up for a drug bust.

She told me that the lawyers fought for a long time about what to do. She was clearly guilty, but she wasn't the only one to blame. She explained that she was given a choice of punishments when she agreed to plead guilty: she could go to Juvenile Hall for a year, she could go to a Reform School until she graduated, or she could go to a Juvenile Detention Camp for a year and a half. She looked at all three options with her foster parents and they all decided that the camp looked like the best possibility.

She vividly described the long bus ride out to the camp. She told me how the cuffs on her wrists were so cold they felt like they were burning her. She explained the eerie silence on the bus and the fear she felt as she stepped off of the bus and onto the camp ground. She told me that it was arranged just like a prison: there was a warden, they slept in cells, there was fencing around the complex, and worst of all, she explained that their identities were taken away.

She told me that she was brought into the warden's office, he handed her a uniform and told her that he'd be searching her since all of the female officers were busy. She explained that she felt it was wrong but was afraid to argue with him, so she allowed him to watch her undress and inspect her naked body. She described the look on his face as he watched her get dressed again and the way it made her feel. She went into a long description of the detention camp itself and how things were run, then she finally got to the real reason she had come to me.

She told me that the warden liked young girls so much that he'd trade them time off of their sentences for sexual favors. She explained that he'd bring them to an isolation cell and wear them down to nothing then come in and offer a way out… for a price. She told me that she was so desperate to go home that she accepted his offers and that, a week after she was released, she realized that she was pregnant.

Listening to her story broke my heart. It sounded like my experience at Sealview and I wanted more than anything to help those poor girls. I drove Ana home to her foster parents' house and came back to the precinct. I knew that the Captain had been watching the interview the whole time and wanted to know what he thought. As I expected, I was told that Ana, as a convicted juvenile offender, would not be a good enough witness.

I asked what else we could do and Cragen looked deep into my eyes for a minute, as if he was studying my every thought. He said to me, "Olivia, they're looking to hire one female corrections officer as soon as possible. If you really feel strongly about this case, we can build you a cover story, one that will guarantee you will get the job.

"You want me to go undercover?" I asked. Many thoughts began to race through my head. I couldn't keep them all straight.

"It's up to you" Cragen replied. "Just know that this time, you'll be back on the side with power. You'll be safe this time… and you'll be saving all those girls from suffering what you went through.

I took a deep breath, tried to hide my shaking voice, and replied with as much determination as I could muster, "I'll do it!"