It’s been 25 years since Oregon Senator Bob Packwood was forced to leave the U.S. Senate over his sexual harassment scandal. It feels like just yesterday. And now, as #MeToo continues to cause conversation and an overdue national discussion, I find myself thinking back on my own “harassment scandal” when I was one of the women involved in the demise of Sen. Packwood.

And frankly, I didn’t want to do it.

I was Packwood’s press secretary. I called him BP. And I really liked him. We had a great relationship. I saw him as a father figure. Obviously, he felt differently. One night in his office late at night, he kissed me. I ran out of the building. It never came up again, and we continued working together. Sadly, I felt it was almost considered “typical” back then on the Hill.

About a year later, I learned The Washington Post was writing a story about Packwood’s “woman problem.” I told BP I had heard about the story. I remember so clearly, he said, “Good God, how do I know if I have this problem? What is harassment?” I calmly said, “Remember that night last year when you kissed me? I am a big girl. I was fine. But if you have done that to other women, we have a problem.”

My life changed the next day. I was left out of meetings. BP would no longer talk to me. And then, out of the blue, two weeks later, I was offered a great federal job in Oregon. I moved to Portland, and life went on.

Then things got messy. The Washington Post reporter heard I was once an object of Packwood’s affection. And, I was the only target in the last decade, so it was important to lock in my story. The reporter kept reaching out to me and telling me the Post’s editors would not run the story unless they could confirm my story. I kept refusing to participate.

That’s when Packwood’s survival instinct kicked in. He wanted to cast doubt about the dozen or so women involved to stop the story. And it worked. He kept the story out of the paper for more than a month, until after his re-election. And I finally agreed to be part of it.

Over the next two years, as the investigation continued, he solicited statements from colleagues about work habits and sex life, called old employers and tried to intimidate us. All of this was by way of making sure we would not coordinate with the Senate Ethics Committee.

The committee traveled to Portland to depose me. That was its own kind of experience. The chief counsel indicated Packwood behaved as he did because I wore short skirts. He asked me to stand up during the deposition so he could see my hemline.

Later, I learned BP’s efforts to cover up his behavior were what most likely cost him his job. He had gone through his diary and changed every entry he ever made on his nighttime dictations (yes, he dictated his exploits every night). Where his diary had said, “Lauri is a great press secretary,” it now said, “Lauri drinks too much,” etc. This ill-conceived strategy may have worked, except his secretary didn’t want to go to jail. So she sent the committee the real tapes. They caught him red-handed, changing all of his diaries and lying to his peers. Nothing kills you more quickly in the Senate than lying to your peers.

I was conflicted about BP for the longest time. My friend loved Sinatra. We loved the same music, old movies. We went to concerts together. We worked every Sunday drinking coffee and chatting. He called me the “youngest old-timer” he knew.

Twenty-five years later, as I watch Hollywood and Washington, D.C. implode over sexual harassment scandals, my thoughts constantly turn to Packwood. He wasn’t the only guy who harassed me. I started in broadcasting and dealt with it there. I have talked to many women friends and colleagues in recent months, and we are all flashing back to our own “MeToo” memories. I look at our culture today, at the culture in which my daughters now live, and I have hope they won’t have to go through the same things.

I believe there are always two crimes: There’s what BP did to women (many of the acts much more aggressive than what he did with me), and there’s what he did to cover it up and intimidate the women. I watch today as that instinct continues: Someone complains? Destroy her.

BP, I will never understand why you were willing to do what you did to keep your job. I will always remember the guy who liked old movies and music and spent Sundays at the office with me while we both worked and listened to music. That guy, I feel sorry for. You lost your legacy. And for what? I really don’t hate you. I just wish you would have done the right thing.

I guess I will always be conflicted about my old boss. I think our entire country has been similarly conflicted for so long. But I thank God we are beginning to see clearly.

— Lauri Hennessey was Bob Packwood’s press secretary in the early 1990s and was one of more than 20 women covered by The Washington Post in 1992, although she was never publicly identified.