Lisa Nuñez-Najera noticed a business card resting near her screen door at her home in Kansas. She picked it up and saw it was from a lieutenant in the sex crimes unit of the Wichita Police Department.

A flood of questions filled her mind at once: Was she in trouble? Had something happened to a family member? Or was this about one of the sexual assaults she had reported over the years? But why now?

Nuñez-Najera felt cautious about the police, having experienced judgment during previous calls for assistance. Nevertheless, she decided to call them back.

The lieutenant wanted to discuss a rape case she reported back in 2006. For a moment, she struggled to recall that distant memory, and when it came back to her, it took her breath away.

Twelve years had passed.

The lieutenant informed her that the police department had just processed her sexual assault evidence kit and had found a man’s DNA.

Nuñez-Najera felt bewildered; she had believed the kit had already been tested years ago.

A Rape Kit Backlog

The state of Kansas stumbled upon its rape kit backlog quite unexpectedly.

At a 2014 conference, Kansas Bureau of Investigation Director Kirk Thompson learned about untested sexual assault evidence kits that had been accumulating in several major U.S. cities. He initially believed that Kansas police were consistently sending their kits for testing, so he had his team conduct a simple analysis comparing reported rapes to the number of sexual assault kits submitted.

The findings revealed a significant discrepancy.

A thorough inventory later identified 2,200 untested kits across 86 law enforcement agencies in Kansas, with the oldest kits dating back to 1994.

In 2015, the Kansas Bureau of Investigation received a $2 million grant from the National Sexual Assault Kit Initiative, a program by the U.S. Department of Justice that has contributed nearly $350 million to state and local agencies across the country. This funding aimed to test rape evidence, reexamine cases, give closure to victims, and implement reforms to prevent future backlogs.

Katie Whisman managed the initiative in Kansas. A local who wanted to pursue a career in law enforcement since childhood, Whisman began as an intern at the Kansas Bureau of Investigation and climbed the ranks over a decade, including eight years as an agent focused on narcotics and violent crimes. Serving as the director’s executive officer, she was deeply involved in every aspect of the program’s implementation, from forming a steering committee to motivating law enforcement agencies to account for their kits and creating strategies for evidence testing.

However, once the state lab started processing the initial kits, the fate of those cases was out of her hands, resting with local police and prosecutors.

Aware that these agencies often faced resource constraints, Whisman asked her team to conduct complete background checks on every suspect identified through DNA testing, aiming to alleviate their workload as much as possible.

In Wichita, Lt. Jason Stephens—a seasoned officer overseeing the domestic violence and sex crimes unit—reviewed those suspect packets.

Stephens had personally cataloged the untested kits, which were stored in a climate-controlled room. There were about 1,100 kits, which accounted for half of the total in the state. He and his team had taken turns driving these kits to Topeka for testing in batches of around 200.

As results started coming in, Stephens examined the lab reports and selected approximately 300 cases for additional review, mainly those that revealed a DNA profile and a potential suspect’s name. Subsequently, a group of local law enforcement officials and prosecutors gathered to determine whether these investigations could be reopened.

Ultimately, only 16 cases advanced through this process.

Nuñez-Najera’s case was among those selected.

‘Finally, maybe somebody listens’

After a short phone conversation with Stephens following the discovery of his business card, Nuñez-Najera was reluctant but decided to meet with him at the police headquarters.

“At that moment, I thought, why is this happening now? But another part of me felt a glimmer of hope. Finally, I might get some answers. Finally, maybe someone is paying attention,” she reflected.

Though she had never known the name of the man who attacked her, she recognized him as someone who previously lived in her trailer.

park, who had been trailing her.

At that time, she was a 22-year-old mother raising two small boys. One day, a stranger knocked on her door with a companion who seized her children and led them outside toward a van. The man forced his way inside, boxing Nuñez-Najera into her bedroom. Despite her pleas for him to stop, he seemed to become even more resolute. Driven by the instinct to protect her children, she recalled stopping her resistance as the assault occurred.

“I remember thinking to myself, ‘Don’t make this difficult, I need to get back to my kids,’” she recounted.

When the intruder finally left, she discovered her boys outside, by themselves. At the hospital, a supporter from the local sexual assault center offered her clean sheets for her bed to replace the ones that had been taken by the police. A nurse collected samples from her body for evidence and packed away her clothes. An officer asked her questions and documented everything for a report.

However, when a detective later reached out to Nuñez-Najera to ask if she wanted to pursue the case, she hesitated. Concerned that the man might be affiliated with a local gang, her instincts as a mother took over: she feared for her family’s safety. She informed the detective that it might be best to abandon the case. He suggested she think it over and promised to call again.

It took twelve years before she was contacted by the police regarding the case once more.

Limited Survivor Outreach

Throughout Kansas, very few individuals whose kits were tested were ever reached out to by the police.

Whisman and her team found that most cases went nowhere after sending suspect information to law enforcement officials. This was disheartening for Whisman, who recalled her staff feeling defeated after putting in significant effort to provide suspect names to the police, only to see no progress.

“We had one instance where the law enforcement agency was fully engaged and wanted to do the right thing. They aimed to reinvestigate, but then their prosecutor declared, ‘They’re wasting their time; I’ve already reviewed these cases, and I won’t do it again,’” she remembered.

In response, Whisman redirected her grant funds toward training law enforcement and prosecutors to challenge prevalent misconceptions surrounding sexual violence. She felt that while she could not alter the outcomes of the older cases, she aimed to improve the situation for future victims. This was especially relevant after a previously untested kit went to trial but ended in acquittal.

“We’ve worked to enhance the criminal justice response, and now the issue lies with the public — the jurors,” she thought. “What can we do to drive change there?”

Whisman used grant funds to launch a public awareness initiative, emphasizing the reality of rape and its impact on those familiar to the audience.

Revisiting the Trauma

Upon arriving at the Wichita Police Department, Nuñez-Najera was greeted by a detective she had never met before, leading to a resurgence of anxiety she had been trying to manage all day. She had only just become comfortable speaking with detective Stephens, and now she had to start all over.

She responded to the detective’s inquiries, recounting the details of the assault to the best of her memory. When he presented a series of photographs, she began to look for her assailant.

Although years had passed, the image of her attacker had not completely faded from her mind. As she turned to the last page, she found him staring back at her.

“In that instant, all the same emotions flooded back,” she expressed. “It felt exactly as if I was reliving the assault.”

The detective asked her to sign next to his photo, which unsettled her as it connected her name with his.

Afterward, Nuñez-Najera walked a few blocks from the police station to the Wichita Area Sexual Assault Center, accompanied by Mary Stolz, an advocate. They had built a rapport over the past few months, and despite the presence of a police department advocate at the meeting, Nuñez-Najera insisted on having Stolz by her side.

Stolz, the daughter of a wheat farmer, has dedicated most of her career to working at the center, apart from two years spent training police on issues of domestic violence and sexual assault across the state. Some agencies were open to this training, while others were entrenched in outdated beliefs that many victims were lying.

“There was a police department at that time that was subjecting victims to polygraphs,” Stolz recalled.

Shifting that mindset felt almost impossible within a three-hour training session.

Stolz felt hopeful when Kansas received a federal grant to test old rape kits. She imagined that law enforcement might link various assault reports through DNA, similar to efforts in other states, and successfully prosecute serial offenders. To take part in this process, she attended a training in Topeka, which aimed to foster collaboration among law enforcement, prosecutors, and advocates as they began receiving results from the backlogged kits.

However, Stolz mentioned that she was only included in one meeting at the Wichita Police Department afterward, where they discussed a few cases.

“I felt like I was greatly outnumbered,” she said. “These were their cases, and they had far more knowledge than I did. I didn’t contribute much to those discussions beyond saying, ‘We’re here to help. We can assist with notifications.’”

Limited Victim Outreach

The Wichita police decided to reach out to victims only in cases they believed had a potential for prosecution — totaling 16 cases with 17 victims. They reported difficulties locating several of them, while eight indicated they did not want to engage.

three individuals, including Nuñez-Najera, expressed a desire to have investigations reopened despite their initial reluctance to proceed with their cases.

Stephens, currently serving as a captain in the department, explained that officials chose to reach out to a limited number of individuals to avoid re-traumatizing victims by revisiting their assault if their cases weren’t being reexamined.

Stolz, who is now the executive director of the center, questioned whether her organization’s assistance might have led to a higher number of women willing to pursue their cases further. Stolz participated in only two cases: Nuñez-Najera’s and another woman’s. This second individual was staying with a friend at the time, and, following her police interview, Stolz helped her find a shelter and subsequently permanent housing. Ultimately, her attacker was convicted.

Regarding the hundreds of victims still unaware that their kits were tested, Stolz acknowledged the police department’s intention to avoid inflicting further harm. However, she emphasized that survivors of sexual assault are often more resilient than many assume, stating that it feels paternalistic for the police to keep such personal crime information from victims.

She expressed concern that authorities might be aware of a suspect’s identity but still not inform the victim.

“I truly hope they considered the long-term safety of the victim, not just the possibility of prosecution, when deciding on notifications,” she commented. “Victims have the right to be informed, regardless of whether charges are pursued.”

When asked if Stolz’s concerns were justified, Stephens confirmed to YSL News that there are indeed cases in Wichita where DNA testing revealed a suspect for the first time, yet the victim has not been informed due to police decisions not to reopen the file.

Upon receiving that news the next day, Stolz had to take a moment to manage a surge of anger.

“This is an absolute violation of human rights,” she remarked.

Challenges in Implementing Change

When Kansas concluded its backlog-clearing project in 2019, the results were disappointing: only 10 victims notified, four cases filed, and two individuals convicted. In a final report, state officials noted that these outcomes highlighted the ongoing need for more training, awareness, and resources.

While acknowledging the existing issues, Whisman suggested that the reported outcomes might be underestimated. Tracking the efforts of local departments proved challenging, as some continued processing cases even after the grant program ended, including in Wichita, where they secured their first conviction in 2019 and another this year.

She cited achievements beyond convictions, mentioning the establishment of new collaborations across the criminal justice system, training of over 1,300 individuals, and the initiation of reforms.

In 2022, state lawmakers enacted a law requiring all sexual assault kits from reported crimes to be submitted for testing within 30 days. This legislation received support from the Kansas Sexual Assault Response Advisory Council, a committee formed towards the end of the backlog initiative, comprising many of the same stakeholders.

Wichita police officials also indicated that the initiative sparked significant changes within their department. They implemented a policy in 2018 to test all kits—nearly four years before the rest of the state did. Furthermore, all recruits now undergo two days of training focused on dealing with sexual and domestic violence, and the unit responsible for these investigations has expanded from eight to twelve detectives. Today, victims are interviewed in a welcoming environment, complete with comfortable seating and art, rather than at a cold metal table designed for suspects.

Andrew Ford, the public information officer for the department, emphasized their commitment to offering compassionate support to victims. He noted that investigators would no longer leave business cards visible at a victim’s home, an approach that was taken with Nuñez-Najera.

“We recognize that we have more knowledge now, so we must do better in the future,” Ford emphasized. “And that is what we are striving for.”

Nevertheless, the Kansas Sexual Assault Kit Initiative has not fully accomplished the necessary reforms.

The Joyful Heart Foundation, a national nonprofit advocating for rape kit reform, points out that Kansas has only achieved three of the six essential pillars of reform.

According to the most recent data from the Kansas Bureau of Investigation, only 15% of reported rapes in Kansas law enforcement led to arrests in 2022. This figure is lower than the arrest rate when the state began its backlog initiative in 2014. The number of reported rapes has remained relatively stable, a figure that public officials would prefer to see increase, as it would indicate that more victims are willing to reach out for police assistance.

Processing rape kits can also take months or even years. Wichita police officials reported that they typically wait nine months or longer for sexual assault kits to be processed by the county crime lab, unless expedited testing for critical cases is requested.

The delays lengthened further after the policy to test all kits was adopted. In the nearly four years since the previous backlog was documented, over 700 untested kits accumulated. These were sent to the state lab in 2019.

The last of these kits did not get processed until 2023.

Whisman, who left her position at the Kansas Bureau of Investigation in 2020, expressed her disappointment upon hearing that some of the advancements she anticipated have not come to fruition. She still takes pride in the accomplishments of the initiative but recommended several actions for Kansas officials to pursue for further progress: increased funding for training, updates to the state’s sexual assault laws, and the implementation of a rape kit tracking system. Officials from the Kansas Bureau of Investigation declined requests for interviews but did state that steps are being taken towards launching a tracking system.

“We had tremendous momentum. It felt like things were improving and would keep getting better for victims,” Whisman reflected. “Realizing it seems to have been a temporary improvement and that we might be reverting to past ways is really disheartening.”

Shifting Perspectives

Nuñez-Najera has experienced periods in her life marked by such overwhelming fear that she barely ventured outside and would startle at her dog’s barking.

“I felt as though my life was vanishing,” she shared. “I was disappearing.”

Over time, that sense of fear has diminished. She has begun to engage with support groups

A sexual assault center has provided significant support. Creating art—such as colorful paintings, pottery, and dreamcatchers—has also played a therapeutic role in her life at her home in Wichita.

Additionally, obtaining information regarding her assault has been vital.

She shared that the police informed her about the suspect in her case, Jorge Martell-Silva.

The year following the initial contact from a lieutenant, Martell-Silva’s photograph was listed among suspects on the Sedgwick County Sheriff’s Office website. An archived version of the site contained a notice stating, “JORGE is wanted by the Sedgwick County Sheriff’s Office for RAPE CHARGES.”

Sheriff’s Lt. Nathan Gibbs confirmed to YSL News that a rape warrant for Martell-Silva from 2018 is still active.

While Wichita police did not verify Martell-Silva’s identity, they indicated to YSL News that the warrant connected to Nuñez-Najera’s case remains open and that they suspect he is currently outside the country. Attempts to reach Martell-Silva for a comment via social media went unanswered, and he has not been found guilty of any crime in this matter.

Nuñez-Najera expressed relief in knowing that if he returns to the country, an arrest could take place. Even if that doesn’t happen, she appreciates that her evidence kit was tested and that the police reached out with the findings.

Her perception of Wichita police hasn’t changed; she remains uncertain if she would seek their assistance today.

However, her self-view has transformed.

Despite her efforts to suppress the trauma, the memory of the assault would often resurface. She recollects moments, such as washing dishes, where the memories came flooding back. When the police requested a meeting to discuss her case after the kit results, she considered declining, doubting her emotional readiness to confront it.

Now, she realizes she was indeed strong enough.

“It feels,” she stated, “like I am reclaiming a bit of my power.”

Contributing: Savannah Kuchar and Dian Zhang, YSL News

Tricia L. Nadolny is part of the investigative team at YSL News. Follow her on X @TriciaNadolny.