Know her story: A letter to Plonit Almonit of Jerusalem (Jane Doe)

She spoke up. The system failed her.

Content note: This article discusses sexual harassment, sexual assault, and the death of a young woman. Support resources are listed at the end.

By Orly Benaroch Light

Dear Plonit Almonit,

We never met, but I know your name. Your family has asked for privacy, and they have lost enough. So I will call you Plonit Almonit, the Hebrew equivalent of “Jane Doe.” It’s the one thing I can give them. But your story deserves to be known, because what happened to you is happening to women around the world.

I learned about you only recently, when news broke that an appeals panel had upheld the conviction of the man who sexually harassed you, while leaving in place a penalty the panel itself called lenient. So I went looking. I expected darkness, and I found it. What I didn’t expect was how much light you created in your short life.

You were a mathematician long before your case was a headline. You came to Jerusalem to study mathematics at the Hebrew University, and your doctoral research took you abroad. You loved the moments when a problem hinted at a hidden structure, a sign that two different corners of mathematics were connected underneath. Math was never my favorite subject, so I can only imagine the mind it takes to pursue it at that level. You didn’t just study it. You chose it.

For those of us outside academia, a doctoral supervisor can be one of the most powerful people in a student’s life. Supervisors shape research, open or close professional doors, and influence careers long after graduation. When someone holds that much power over your future, turning down his advances can cost you your career. Reporting him can cost even more.

Your supervisor was an accomplished mathematician. According to the university’s disciplinary ruling, things changed toward the end of 2020. After criticizing your work, he began offering you more help and talking with you every day. You depended on him for your research and your income, and the tribunal found that he used that dependence in ways no supervisor ever should.

The ruling describes a conference in Paris in February 2021 where he touched you and offered you massages. On another trip, you were told you would have your own room and arrived to find one bed. He admitted the two of you had shared a bed about 60 times. He called it friendship. The tribunal called it abuse of power.

It found that you had become emotionally dependent on him, and that his power over your future put you in an impossible position. He also tried to shift the blame onto you, as abusers so often do, by claiming you were an unsuccessful student he was only trying to help. The tribunal rejected that too.

In November 2023, you reported him anyway. That took courage. Some of your friends walked beside you from the day you filed your complaint, and some sat with you while you testified. Then you waited. In August 2025, the tribunal convicted him of sexual harassment, indecent acts, repeated sexually oriented remarks, and abuse of his position as your supervisor. In December, it set his penalty: compensation to you equal to two months of his salary. More than two years of waiting, for that. Two months’ pay, for betraying the trust of the person he was supposed to guide.

There is a name for the additional harm many survivors face after speaking up: secondary victimization. It happens when the people and institutions meant to help instead doubt a survivor, blame her, or leave her waiting for answers. For some, the experience feels like being violated all over again. Faced with that response, women sometimes stop telling anyone at all. You didn’t stop. You kept asking to be heard.

You died young, after you testified against him and before his appeal was decided. The appeals panel said it had no knowledge of any connection between your death and your complaint. I won’t pretend to know what you carried or claim your death for a cause. Grief and pain don’t need a verdict. You should still be here. That much I know.

Today he holds a senior research position with France’s National Center for Scientific Research (CNRS) at Sorbonne Université. His career continues. Yours was cut short before you could finish your doctorate.

What bothers me most is how rarely we hear these stories, and what happens to the women who tell them. You reported, and it was you who had to prove it, find the courage, and wait. We teach women to protect themselves. Don’t walk alone, share your location, call someone when you arrive, find another job if your boss crosses a line. But somewhere along the way, we need to ask: Why aren’t we teaching men not to harm women? Our safety cannot be our responsibility alone.

I learned this early. When I was 25, I interviewed at a major airline for an important position. During the interview, the executive told me how he pictured me in a bikini on his boat. I told him that would make me seasick. I’ll never know whether that answer cost me the job, but I shouldn’t have had to wonder. His comment wasn’t rare, and that’s the problem. Patterns of abuse like this go unchecked. They live inside a system that too often accepts and protects men like him.

Your department remembered you as brilliant, kind-hearted, and a supportive friend. I’m holding on to those words, because they are about who you were.

On the day his appeal was heard, your friends stood silently outside the courtroom door, holding signs asking for justice for you. In honoring your memory, we will not let what he did to you have the final word.

Plonit Almonit of Jerusalem. Mathematician. Daughter. Friend. A life that mattered. Rest in peace.

Know her story. Support and protect survivors. Help create a culture where they can speak their truth without fear of disbelief or retaliation.

Source: The appeals panel’s ruling, published by the Hebrew University (in Hebrew). Her name has been removed from the ruling to protect her privacy.

Where to Find Help

In the United States

• If you or someone you know has experienced sexual assault, you are not alone. RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Hotline offers free, confidential, 24/7 support in English and en Español.

  
  

   Call 800.656.HOPE (4673)

  
  

   Chat at RAINN.org/hotline

  
  

   Text “HOPE” to 64673

  
  

• If you or someone you love is struggling, you can call or text 988, the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

  
  

In Israel

• If you have experienced sexual violence, the rape crisis center hotlines are 1202 (answered by women) and 1203 (answered by men). You can also reach them on WhatsApp at 052-836-1202.

  
  

• ERAN emotional first aid is available around the clock at 1201, with Arabic support at extension 7. WhatsApp: 052-8451201. Support in English is available at *3201, Sunday to Thursday, 4 to 9 p.m.

Orly Benaroch Light is the founder of MCE Conferences, Mid-Life Women, and Prime Time Havurah, a friendship group, and the author of the children's book Papimento series. She has long been an advocate for global peace and women's empowerment. A foodie, proud mom and Yemma, she lives by the sea in San Diego with her peekapoo Alfie.