Postcards, not valentines.
Story time:
I was working in my old high school building the set for a show. It was a weekend, I was working alone in the theatre. At the other end of the school was the gymnasium and pool. Apparently there was some sort of swim competition going on, and a guy went into the girl's locker room and raped one of the competitors.
Another girl was in there and saw it. She alerted an adult and the authorities tried to find the guy, unsuccessfully.
I heard about this two days later from a student. I asked the drama teacher about it. He told me that the faculty were told it was a guy in his mid twenties, flannel shirt, blue jeans, beard, ~160 lbs, 6' tall. I got nauseous - I fit that description *perfectly* and I had no verifiable alibi.
Then I got nauseous again when I realized a girl had been raped a couple hundred feet away from me and nobody ever asked me about anything. I had no idea that it had happened at all. No. Police, no nothing.
Not cool at all.