Trial by Fury (11 page)

“We all were. There was a big table near the door where they were passing out drinks when you came in.”

Theo turned to Jalinda. “Go back to the people we’ve talked to already and see if anyone has photos from the party. It would be good to know who was handing out those drinks.”

“I can answer that,” Sarah said, suddenly sitting up straight. “It was Ruben Vargas. They always make him do stuff like that, serve drinks and clean up, on account of he’s a freshman.”

Vargas was a reserve shooting guard, not otherwise implicated in the assault.

“I still want photos, Jalinda. Anything you can get.” To Sarah, she said, “About Hayley’s story…did you believe her when she said she was assaulted?”

“Not at first. Sawyer Niles—she’s our president—she thought Hayley was being a drama queen, like she was playing a role. And a couple of them, like Morgan, kept telling her not to say anything because the guys could get kicked off the team.”

So far, it was completely consistent with what Hayley had revealed in her messages with Michael.

“The thing is, we were all there and nobody saw anything. But I
do
remember she stayed out all night. It wasn’t like her to do that. And then later she said somebody made a video of it—the rape, I mean—but she never showed it to any of us. I honestly didn’t know what to think, but it was obvious to me
Hayley
believed she was assaulted,” she mumbled, her voice hardened with regret. “I could have been a better friend about it.”

As Sarah paused to compose her cracking voice, Jalinda produced a bottle of water from her shoulder bag.

The young woman went on to describe the party atmosphere in detail. Lots of booze and loud music, everyone in a joyous mood because they’d just beaten Vanderbilt. She couldn’t recall seeing Hayley when the party began to break up.

Leaving aside the fact that being wasted meant a woman was incapable of giving consent, there was still a question of how much alcohol Hayley had consumed. According to Michael, she wasn’t into it.

“Did Hayley drink a lot?”

“Not that I knew of. I never saw her drunk or anything. Or even buzzed. She wasn’t much of a partier. She only went to things like that because it was a sorority event for all of us to go together—she was a good sister that way—but she usually left parties early, especially the wild ones.”

Theo pressed on. “Did Hayley have any boyfriends? Did she ever talk about her sexual experiences?”

Sarah shook her head. “The only guy she ever mentioned having a crush on was Michael. That was her freshman year before she found out he was into dudes. But let’s face it—even if she’d wanted to have sex with somebody, it wouldn’t have been with three guys at the same time. That’s what she said, that they took turns. I can tell you, she wasn’t like that at all.”

It wasn’t enough to get Sarah’s opinion. Theo needed examples of things Hayley had said or done that supported that characterization. With prodding, Sarah recounted conversations about dating and sex, the sort of girl talk roommates shared when they were drifting off to sleep.

“Tell me what you remember about Hayley’s behavior in the weeks after the incident. Was she depressed? Angry? Frustrated?”

“All of those. Some days she was hysterical. Like the day they called her from the dean’s office. I was sitting right there with her in the room. They told her how serious it was to make false allegations…something like that. She could be expelled.”

That also tracked with the other evidence from her notes to Michael. Sarah’s independent corroboration was an important addition, but not a smoking gun. A threat delivered by phone could have come from anyone—an administrator, a coach or even another student who wanted to protect the basketball program.

“One of her professors told her to go see a therapist so she did. Three or four times maybe. I don’t think it helped all that much though. Her prof was going to report what happened to the chancellor. But nothing ever came of it—they didn’t do anything at all.”

As a last effort to confirm the version of events Celia and Michael had cobbled together, she asked for the names of everyone in their sorority who might have talked with Hayley about what happened. In particular, she needed to substantiate the claim that Hayley’s state of mind deteriorated as a direct result of the school’s inaction. That was critical in order to hold the university responsible for her death.

“…and Jordan Cooke. Now there’s somebody you
really
ought to talk to. She’s a Chi Omega but we’re all friends. She was super pissed about it on account of it happened to her too, like a month ago. Not a whole bunch of guys like Hayley, but he did practically the same thing—put something in her drink while they were watching the tournament at Theta Pi house.”

“A month ago, you say.” The timeline was striking, but not as much as the fact that Jordan Cooke also had been drugged. “Did she report it?”

“Why bother? She saw how they handled Hayley. Those guys know all they have to do is say it was consensual. That’s it. No more questions.”

Theo looked at Jalinda, who nodded as she furiously made notes. They definitely wanted to talk to Jordan Cooke.

* * *

Celia cleared a corner of her desk for the cardboard box. “I appreciate this, Duncan. I packed that way too heavy to carry all the way from the faculty parking lot.”

Duncan had been eager to help in any way he could, though his brown-nosing was for naught. She’d already submitted her final grades for the semester.

“Anything else I can do?” he asked.

“Relax already. You got a B-minus.”

He pumped his fist and said a silent prayer skyward.

“But I’ll be honest with you. A lot of that was for effort and for turning in your work on time. Acting requires a fair bit of natural aptitude, and I don’t really think it’s your grace. If you’re set on a career in the performing arts, you might want to look on the business side.”

“Don’t worry. I promise not to sign up for any more of your classes. I’m a broadcast journalism major. I thought it would help if I had some performance experience, but Shakespeare doesn’t exactly jibe with SportsCenter.”

“And vice versa,” she added with a chuckle.

As she arranged the research materials on her desk, she took another opportunity to look at the embossed letter that had arrived that morning in campus mail. Her promotion to full professor had been approved by Harwood’s board of trustees, effective immediately. Finally, she could breathe a sigh of relief.

“You want me to unpack this for you?” Duncan asked, indicating the box.

“Sure, just stack it all on that middle shelf for now. Thank you.”

The migration from home to office was routine, and one of the few days she drove her car to campus. During spring and fall semesters, she kept regular office hours but did most of her scholarly work at home where she wouldn’t be interrupted. Summers were different. With the Fowler twins next door out of school for the summer, her office in Forbes Hall was quieter. Since there was nothing on her teaching schedule, she could come and go as she pleased and work undisturbed on campus. The third edition of her widely-used text,
The Television Actor’s Handbook
, was due back to the publisher by the end of August. She’d submitted the book as the centerpiece of her promotion packet.

The irony was, despite her expertise and text, most of Harwood’s TV performance classes were taught by someone else—a longtime adjunct—while she was relegated to theater courses. She hoped her new promotion would change that, along with ending her responsibility for the spring theater production.

“Did you see the
Daily Hornet
?” Duncan asked, his reference being the student newspaper. “They say Sacramento’s going to take Matt Frazier with the number one pick. Then D’Anthony Caldwell could go second to Detroit. One and two from Harwood—how awesome is that!”

The mere mention of their names shattered her upbeat mood and made her want to spew obscenities. The endless accolades from the media—how Frazier and Caldwell’s hard work had paid off, how they were good kids, good role models—sickened her. No one in the sports media, not even the outsiders who wrote provocative blogs, had written a word about their monstrous behavior, despite the number of people who knew about it. Somehow every whiff of allegation about the rape had been squelched.

“Duncan, did you happen to catch any rumors about those guys being involved in an incident last winter at one of the dorms? Something about a woman at a party?”

“Yeah, it turned out to be bogus. Some girl said she was raped, but all the people who were there said it didn’t happen like that, that she made it all up to get the players in trouble. The cops didn’t press charges, so there must not have been anything to it.”

“I heard there was a video.”

He shrugged, clearly oblivious.

It was infuriating how quickly the controversy had vanished, how the players’ denial had completely shaped the narrative. People shut out the stories they didn’t want to be true. Willful ignorance. Celia felt she was as much to blame for that as anyone, having given in to threats from the chancellor and board chair not to go public right away with the allegations.

How many others had been intimidated into silence?

* * *

Theo held the phone to her ear as she walked. “I’m on campus. Would it be all right if I stopped by your office?”

After a measured silence, Celia replied, “Oh, what the hell. Sure.”

Even after Celia had agreed to proceed as a witness, her anxiousness was unmistakable. It said a lot about her commitment to the case that she was willing to meet in public.

The visit to campus had paid off so far. Sarah Holcomb proved an excellent witness, accurately chronicling Hayley’s fall from a happy, friendly sorority sister to one who refused to socialize. One who cried frequently and suffered nightmares. And who grew especially despondent once she felt she’d exhausted all avenues of retribution.

That was the thrust of their case—the rape had thrown her into a depression that could have been mitigated had the university stood beside her and punished the men responsible. Instead, they’d further victimized her with overt threats of expulsion if she continued to tell her story. Their treatment of her amounted to depraved indifference.

Strolling across the azalea-lined campus, she took in its elegant beauty. It was a costume, not unlike the one Celia had worn to her office to disguise her identity. Underneath its veneer of Southern charm, Harwood was a bastion of misogyny.

Dropping in on Celia unannounced wasn’t a professional necessity, but the temptation had proven too strong to resist. Ever since Hank had remarked on her flirtations, she’d kept her distance, waiting to see if her interest in Celia was only a passing fancy, something that would naturally fade if she didn’t indulge it. Instead, she found Celia invading her thoughts each time she uncovered a new piece of information or identified a new witness. Justice for Hayley was her goal, but winning for Celia had become her motivation.

Unfortunately their case was still tenuous with a razor-thin margin for error. If they failed to prove the rape and subsequent coverup had caused Hayley to take her own life, Celia and the others would have sacrificed themselves for nothing.

She paused in the foyer of Forbes Hall long enough to view the building’s directory. Faculty offices were on the third floor.

The antebellum building was as well kept as the university grounds. Marble stairs, glossy tile floors, mahogany wainscoting polished to a reflective shine. The aura of tradition and privilege was undeniable. No wonder Celia valued her position.

A young man, obviously a student, emerged from a room near the end of the hall, never looking up from his texting as he passed.

Theo continued to the open office to find Celia arranging things on a shelf, her back to the door. Clearing her throat, she leaned against the doorjamb. As Celia turned, her eyes lit up and she briefly smiled. “Playing hooky from your office, counselor?”

“Sort of,” she said with a chuckle. “I came by for an interview with one of Hayley’s sorority sisters. Thought I’d stop by. Are you sure you’re okay with me being here?”

“Of course.” Despite her statement, she scooted behind Theo to close the door. For obvious reasons, she didn’t want to be overheard talking about a lawsuit against her employer.

The room’s centerpiece was an L-shaped desk covered with folders that surrounded a computer monitor and keyboard. Bookshelves lined the opposite wall. The only decorative piece in the room was a framed poster for
The Pirates of Penzance
.

“I take it you’re a Gilbert and Sullivan fan,” Theo said, her eyes drifting downward to note that Hayley and Michael had starred in the production. She’d hardly recognized them in costume.

“We staged that a year ago last spring. I wouldn’t call it my favorite, but it’s hard to find quality musicals that fit our theater budget. We picked that one because all the Gilbert and Sullivan work is out of copyright.” She arranged the armchairs in front of her desk so they faced each other. “I thought I’d hear from you sooner. I know you’re busy, but…”

Theo had no choice but to come clean. “To tell you the truth, it took me a few days to get over myself and start focusing on the case instead of my sudden infatuation with Little CeCe. I’m really sorry about that. It was unprofessional…and not something I usually do. Or ever do.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Celia’s thin-lipped smile was hard to read, but she definitely wasn’t annoyed. “I enjoyed talking with you at the pub.”

“Good…so did I. But I want you to know my head’s back on straight and Hayley’s my priority now.”

Celia gestured toward one of the chairs. Then she took the opposite seat, crossing a leg to show half of her thigh beneath a black denim skirt as she leaned across the desk to grab a piece of paper. “I was planning to call you later anyway. I got this letter today. It’s a done deal.”

Theo smiled to read of the promotion. “Congratulations. This puts that issue to bed. I bet you’re relieved.”

“You have no idea.” She pushed the letter aside and instantly shifted to a businesslike tone of her own. “So how did it go with Michael and Gavin?”