Blasey Ford already knows what she thinks happened. I've been waiting my whole life to unburden myself about that night in 1981, 1982 or 1983 in a dark bedroom. Well, I'm not sure if it was a bedroom, but it definitely had a door. And a ceiling and a floor-ish kind of thing. And walls -- I know I was surrounded by walls. I remember thinking, "OH MY GOSH, I'M IN A CLOSED SPACE!" On one hand, walls keep me warm, but that's also why I've never enjoyed sex.
The only reason for the professor to insist upon an "investigation" is to delay having to give her story under oath until she knows what can be proved -- and what can be disproved.