Driscoll's accuser first claimed she was raped a few hours after he had dropped her off, in a text message to her boyfriend that read: "i need to tell u something last night one of the dudes i thought was gay so raped me. i am freaking out idk what to do." According to testimony she gave to police the day before Driscoll was apprehended, the woman said Driscoll claimed to have been too drunk to drive her home at the end of the night, so she stayed in his guest room. Later that night, she said, she was awoken by Driscoll grabbing both of her arms and pinning them over her head. He then forced his penis inside her while she struggled to get free. He tried to penetrate her anally. She resisted and hit him. Afterward, he stood at the foot of the bed to prevent her from leaving, and after a short period of time he proceeded to rape her again. She told the police she didn't bother to fight back that time.

After questioning Driscoll for two and a half hours, officers cuffed him and charged him with not just three counts of first-degree rape but also with first-degree sodomy, first-degree unlawful penetration, first-degree sex abuse, and fourth-degree assault. His attorney, Ted Coran, who he retained through the United Defense Group for $40,000, told Driscoll that he might have to come up with $1 million in bail or he might have to stay in jail until his trial, which could be a year or more away.

Quickly, the dominoes began to fall. Two days after Driscoll was charged, he says, the police faxed his arrest report to his office at the Federal Aviation Administration. And that was the end of his $80,000-a-year job as an electrical engineer at the Bend airport, where he'd spent years working on landing systems and radar. He lost his fiancée, too. Dunn didn't think he was a rapist, but she couldn't forgive him for cheating. "Torrey called me," recalls Driscoll's mother, Nancy Trevana, "and I was just going about my normal life, and she said, 'Kevin was arrested and he's in jail for rape, and he's your fucking problem.'" In Redmond (population 25,000), a charming mountainside town that's one of the fastest growing municipalities in Oregon, local news is big news. Some days, the TV station would run a story about Driscoll on the morning, afternoon, and evening news broadcasts, sometimes breaking into daytime programming for updates, such as when he pleaded not guilty to all charges at his arraignment. They broadcast his address. Reporters swarmed his subdivision, which they noted was near an elementary school, stoking the fears of his fellow residents. "It's quiet, you know, and nice, nice people—nice neighborhood to live in," one neighbor told the TV station. "But you never know who's around." Most of Driscoll's friends learned about his arrest from the media. Angela Dundas, who had known Driscoll for about five years, remembers falling asleep in front of the television and waking up to his mug shot on the 11 o'clock news. It was so surreal that she texted him immediately. It didn't occur to her that he was in jail and unable to answer.

Driscoll was held in the Deschutes County jail, where even among hardened criminals, rapists are seen as a lower life-form. Other inmates sought him out to start fights in the halls and in the showers. Had he not been so physically imposing, it's likely Driscoll would have faced worse. Finally, after several weeks, he caught a break—the judge agreed to remand him to house arrest on $50,000 bail with the condition that his mother move in and supervise him. In one day, she was forced to give up her life: She quit her job as a bank manager in Eugene and moved two and a half hours away to room with her housebound 30-year-old son. She was one of the few people who could raise his spirits, and one of the few who even tried.

As the news reports continued to paint Driscoll as a rapist, most of those closest to him kept their distance. Almost none of his male friends would speak to him, including the two who were out with him the night he met the woman who accused him. It was his female friends who regularly came to his house and offered support. Most of the time, Driscoll was in bed or on his deck, staring at his boat. He watched all of Lost in one week. "I tried drinking myself stupid, but that didn't do crap," he says. "There were many times when I was curled up in my closet, bawling." He had been a friendly, unguarded guy, but now he shut down. During the one hour a week he was allowed off the premises, he went to stores on the other side of town, where he hoped to avoid anyone he knew. He caught a glimpse of his accuser one day at Wal-Mart and fled.