Supermodel Beverly Johnson Writes in Vanity Fair about Bill Cosby Abuse

Supermodel Beverly Johnson  has come out with her story and told it to Vanity Fair, confessing that actor/comedian Bill Cosby drugged her. Johnson’s story began when an agent called her to ask her to audition for a role on “The Cosby Show.” The part was small–she was to be a pregnant woman sitting in Cosby’s office waiting room, as Cosby played an obstetrician. Rumor has it, Cosby used models to play the roles. So when Beverly was offered the role, she jumped on it.

Bill Cosby is going down and it should be very evident that these women are telling the truth. That is what we say.
Johnson said,

“As I thought of going public with what follows, a voice in my head kept whispering, ‘Black men have enough enemies out there already, they certainly don’t need someone like you, an African American with a familiar face and a famous name, fanning the flames.'” With the climate of America being mostly about systematic racism and Black men who are losing their lives at the hands of White police officers, Johnson felt guilty for wanting to share her story, but it’s the solidarity with other sexual assault victims that made her speak up. “I had to use my voice as a sister, mother, and grandmother, and as a woman who knows that, according to the C.D.C., nearly one in five women has been sexually assaulted at some time in her life, and that women of color face an even higher attack rate.”

“For a long time I thought it was something that only happened to me, and that I was somehow responsible. So I kept my secret to myself, believing this truth needed to remain in the darkness. But the last four weeks have changed everything, as so many women have shared similar stories, of which the press have belatedly taken heed,” Johnson said.

Beverly and her daughter visited Cosby’s New York City brownstone and had brunch with him. She then went on a tour of the amazing space. Again–all parts of Cosby’s elaborate plan to create a level of comfort. Beverly said, “Looking back, that first invite from Cosby to his home seems like part of a perfectly laid out plan, a way to make me feel secure with him at all times. It worked like a charm.”

A few days later, Beverly went back to his house to read for the part. This time, she went alone. They shared a light dinner and she talked with him about her plans for the future, hopeful that these intimate meetings with Cosby would help fuel her career. After dinner, Cosby showed her his massive bar upstairs. On the bar, he had a big brass espresso machine that took up half the counter. Beverly said, “At the time, it seemed rare for someone to have such a machine in his home for personal use.” This espresso machine is what Cosby used to offer Beverly a cappuccino. She told him she didn’t drink coffee, but he insisted. In fact, Beverly says, “He wouldn’t let it go. He insisted that his espresso machine was the best model on the market and promised I’d never tasted a cappuccino quite like this one.” She didn’t want to argue with Cosby, so she obliged and took a few sips to appease him.

Cosby wanted to see how Beverly handled various scenes, so he suggested (like he did with many of his victims) for her to be drunk. Remember, Johnson was going out for the role of a pregnant woman. So when she suggested she act drunk, she was confused, but went with it anyway.

Here’s Beverly’s story:

Now let me explain this: I was a top model during the 70s, a period when drugs flowed at parties and photo shoots like bottled water at a health spa. I’d had my fun and experimented with my fair share of mood enhancers. I knew by the second sip of the drink Cosby had given me that I’d been drugged—and drugged good.

My head became woozy, my speech became slurred, and the room began to spin nonstop. Cosby motioned for me to come over to him as though we were really about to act out the scene. He put his hands around my waist, and I managed to put my hand on his shoulder in order to steady myself.

As I felt my body go completely limp, my brain switched into automatic-survival mode. That meant making sure Cosby understood that I knew exactly what was happening at that very moment.

You are a motherf*cker aren’t you?”

That’s the exact question I yelled at him as he stood there holding me, expecting me to bend to his will. I rapidly called him several more “motherfuckers.” By the fifth, I could tell that I was really pissing him off. At one point he dropped his hands from my waist and just stood there looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

What happened next is somewhat cloudy for me because the drug was in fuller play by that time. I recall his seething anger at my tirade and then him grabbing me by my left arm hard and yanking all 110 pounds of me down a bunch of stairs as my high heels clicked and clacked on every step. I feared my neck was going to break with the force he was using to pull me down those stairs.

I didn’t call back the next day or any other day after that. At a certain moment it became clear that I would be fighting a losing battle with a powerful man so callous he not only drugged me, but he also gave me the number to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

How could I fight someone that boldly arrogant and out of touch? In the end, just like the other women, I had too much to lose to go after Bill Cosby. I had a career that would no doubt take a huge hit if I went public with my story and I certainly couldn’t afford that after my costly divorce and on going court fees.

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