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For years, the seven women who walked into a Sonoma County courtroom carried more than just their own memories. They carried the quiet, heavy burden that so many survivors know: the fear of not being believed, the shame that somehow gets misplaced onto the wrong person, and the exhausting work of convincing the world that what happened to them was real. On Friday, a jury finally gave them something that no amount of therapy or time could fully provide: validation. Dominic Foppoli, the former Democratic mayor of the small Northern California town of Windsor, was found civilly liable for sexually assaulting all seven women. The jury ordered him to pay a combined $13 million in compensatory damages, with individual awards ranging from $6,000 to $4,650,938. The allegations against him stretched back nearly two decades, from 2001 to 2020, and painted a picture of a man who used charm, alcohol, and power to prey on women who trusted him. Foppoli, who led Windsor from late 2018 until he resigned in May 2021, has consistently denied every accusation. He has never been criminally charged. But for the women who testified, the civil verdict was not about prison time or a criminal record—it was about being heard, finally, by a jury of their peers.

The details that emerged during the trial were disturbing and deeply personal. The lawsuit, filed in April 2022 by seven Jane Does, alleged a pattern of behavior that went far beyond bad relationships or broken promises. Several women said Foppoli drugged their drinks before assaulting them. Jane Doe 1 claimed he raped her dozens of times, including one alleged incident in which she said he handcuffed her to a bed. Another woman said she was assaulted while she was incapacitated. The accusations did not stop with the seven plaintiffs. According to the San Francisco Chronicle, a total of 13 women have accused Foppoli of sexual assault or misconduct. In 2024, the California attorney general’s office suspended its criminal investigation into him, saying prosecutors did not have enough evidence to file charges on the cases that were not already barred by the statute of limitations. That decision left the civil courtroom as the only place where the women could seek accountability. Foppoli took the stand during the trial, which began in July, and again denied everything. “I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and partner, cheating, selfish and egotistical, but I’ve never done any of those things I’m being sued for,” he said, according to KGO Eyewitness News. It was a statement that acknowledged his flaws while rejecting the far more serious accusations—a distinction the jury ultimately did not accept.

The verdict also reached beyond Foppoli himself. The jury found the Santa Rosa chapter of Active 20-30, an all-male charitable social club where Foppoli was a member, liable for the assault of Jane Doe 4 and awarded her an additional $2 million. According to the lawsuit, the woman alleged that Foppoli sexually assaulted her during the national Active 20-30 convention in Reno, Nevada, in June 2012. But the case against the organization was about more than just the assault itself. She also accused the club’s leaders of failing to investigate complaints she made to them at the time. For many survivors, this is the most painful part of the story: the institutions that are supposed to protect them, or at least take them seriously, often look away. The jury’s decision to hold the club accountable sent a powerful message that complicity and inaction have consequences. It also highlighted a broader cultural problem—how often sexual assault is enabled not just by the perpetrator, but by the people around him who choose not to act. The women who came forward were not just fighting one man; they were fighting a system that had allowed him to operate for years, moving through social circles and political life with a reputation that protected him long after the first allegations surfaced.

In the aftermath of the verdict, the emotions on both sides were raw and unmistakable. Traci Carrillo, an attorney for the plaintiffs, called the verdict the “ultimate validation” for the women. She said they had to overcome “their trauma, their shame, their own guilt” to obtain justice. Those words matter because they capture the invisible struggle that survivors face long before they ever step into a courtroom. It takes an enormous amount of courage to sit in front of a jury, relive the worst moments of your life, and answer questions that make you feel like you are the one on trial. The women did that, and the jury believed them. Foppoli’s attorney, Andrew Watters, responded with a statement to Fox News Digital saying he would seek a mistrial over claims that the court improperly excluded key witnesses for the defense. If that fails, Watters said he would pursue an appeal. “What happened with the verdict was that the jury sent a message based on questionable self-reported evidence and junk science, and that’s not appropriate. It appears the passions of the jury were inflamed by the evidence, and they hated my client, so they made a very large award to punish and make an example of him,” Watters said. Outside the courthouse, Foppoli struck a defiant tone, telling reporters that his accusers “are trying to crucify me for a cause I’m not responsible for,” and suggesting they were motivated by the $13 million payout. It was a familiar strategy—casting the survivors as opportunists and himself as the real victim—but it did not sway the jury.

Foppoli’s legal troubles, however, are far from over. He still faces a separate lawsuit from Farrah Abraham, a social media influencer and former reality television personality, who claims the ex-politician raped her in March 2021 at a house party in Florida. That civil case is expected to go to trial next year, according to court records. Additionally, the Chronicle reported that Christopher Creek Winery, which Foppoli owns, settled a separate lawsuit filed by a Montana woman who alleged Foppoli raped her multiple times in 2020 when she was 18. The settlement of that case, while not an admission of guilt, added yet another layer to the pattern of allegations that have followed Foppoli since he resigned as mayor. It is worth noting that Foppoli has never been criminally charged in connection with any of these allegations. The suspension of the state attorney general’s investigation in 2024, combined with the statute of limitations issues, means that the criminal justice system has largely closed its doors on these cases. That is a frustrating reality for many survivors, who often find that civil court is the only avenue left to them. But the civil verdicts, and the financial consequences that come with them, are still a form of accountability. They say, in the clearest possible terms, that a jury of ordinary people examined the evidence and concluded that these women were telling the truth.

What does justice look like for the women who won this verdict? It is not a magic eraser. It cannot undo the nights they lost, the trust they lost, or the sense of safety that was stolen from them. But it is a public acknowledgment that what happened to them was real, that they were not to blame, and that the man who hurt them is now legally responsible for the harm he caused. For a small town like Windsor, the case has been a painful reckoning. Foppoli was not just a mayor; he was a visible figure, a winery owner, a member of local clubs, a man who seemed to belong. The idea that someone so embedded in the community could be accused of such things by so many women is hard to process. But the jury’s verdict forces the community—and the broader public—to sit with that discomfort. It also serves as a reminder that predators often hide in plain sight, protected by charm, status, and the willingness of others to look the other way. The women who testified did not just seek money; they sought to be believed. And in the end, they were. The punitive damages phase of the trial begins Tuesday, and the jury will decide whether Foppoli must pay even more. Whatever happens next, the seven women have already won something that cannot be taken away from them: their voices, finally, were louder than his.

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