Theo’s jaw twitched with anger as she ground her teeth. “Of course it is. It’s a classic smear campaign, and whoever’s behind it knows we can’t push back because of the gag order.”
“Then somebody should write a letter to the editor. I bet I can get Michael to do it.”
“Michael’s one of my witnesses. I’d be in jail for contempt two seconds after it showed up.” She abruptly scraped the rest of her breakfast down the garbage disposal, apparently having lost her appetite. “I can’t believe an editor let that story through without any sourcing. That tells me whoever planted this has some powerful friends.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
Theo shook her head. “No, the damage is done. I won’t get anything out of Wallace about who said this, but you can bet I’m going to put the whole team on my deposition list. No one’s going to own this, so Ivan’s going to come off looking like a hack.”
Celia followed her into the bedroom and watched as she continued getting ready for work, the sensual start of their day forgotten. With the gag order and now this, it was undeniable the momentum had swung to the side of the defense.
When Theo emerged from the bathroom, her hair dry and makeup in place, she tugged Celia back onto the unmade bed. “You know what? Screw it. I’m not going to let a pack of lies ruin a day that started with me making love with the sexiest woman on the planet.”
A series of increasingly heated kisses threatened to derail their plans for getting to work, especially when Theo’s hand wandered up her shirt to squeeze a breast.
Though Celia had no schedule to keep, she couldn’t let Theo miss her meeting. “You’re going to be late…and it will be my fault.”
Theo murmured, “Everything is your fault. Like the fact that I can’t go three minutes without thinking about you. Like I won’t be able to sleep tonight because you aren’t here…unless I touch myself.”
“Just promise me you’ll pick up the phone when you do.”
* * *
Alone in her office, Theo polished the legal argument she expected to make in response to the motion for dismissal. Though she hadn’t yet received the defense’s reply to her suit, she had a reasonable idea what it would contain.
The point of the defense’s motion wasn’t to argue the facts of the case, but its legal merits even if all the facts were assumed to be true. Without admitting anything, they would claim as a matter of law that they weren’t legally culpable for Hayley’s suicide even if the players had committed the sexual assault, even if the campus police had ignored the evidence and denied her due process, and even if the chancellor and board of trustees had taken no action to help her.
Four out of five judges would probably agree. That’s how difficult it was in Georgia to hold anyone responsible for someone else’s suicide. Would Judge Henry be the one who opened the door to the suit? Only if Theo could convince her Hayley’s suicide was both foreseeable and a direct result of the defendant’s actions.
After a soft knock, her door opened to Penny. “Theo, your ten o’clock is here early. Can you see him?”
She’d been so busy, she hadn’t even glanced at her schedule. “Shane Satterfield? Are you kidding me?” He was a Senior District Attorney from the Felony Division. “Any idea what he wants?”
“A criminal matter. That’s all he said.”
Theo knew Shane from a pro bono case she’d argued several years ago, a domestic abuse victim who’d poured scalding water down her husband’s back while he was trying to choke her. The DA’s office had conceded the abuse, but pressed forward with charges due to the extreme nature of the man’s injuries. After a jury acquitted the woman, Shane urged the husband into a domestic offenders program and advised him against further contact with his wife. Theo counted Shane as one of the good guys.
“Shane, how in the world are you?”
In his late forties, he was six-four at least, thin and wearing a suit that looked two sizes too large on his round shoulders. His offered hand was free of calluses but strong just the same. “Doing just fine, Theo. Great to see you again.”
“I read about your promotion—Senior District Attorney. Congratulations.”
“You stick around long enough, the other guys die off. They have to kick you upstairs eventually.” He followed her gesture to one of the wingback chairs and, gentleman that he was, waited for her to sit. “Our office has been following your case with considerable interest. I suspect you know that…and that you’ve been expecting me.”
“Let’s just say I was hoping someone would come around wanting to know more. That video was pretty compelling, wasn’t it?”
“I’ll say. And I’m betting you have a copy that isn’t blurred.” He crossed an ankle over his knee and continued in a Southern drawl that was obviously born and bred. “Don’t suppose you’d be interested in telling us how you acquired it.”
“Does it matter?”
“Mmm…not really, I guess. We’d still have to corroborate its origin and authenticity to know whether it’s been edited to show something that never actually occurred…as some have suggested.”
Theo had heard that theory bandied about on sports talk radio but gave it no credence. The man who posted the video never meant for it to be seen by millions of people. “I’m willing to share the evidence that led us to believe Ruben Vargas was the person behind the camera. With your ability to subpoena the contents of a private social media group accessible only by members of Harwood’s basketball team, I’m betting you’d be able to confirm that. It’s also likely Vargas was the one who supplied Hayley Burkhart with a drugged drink.”
He nodded along as she spoke. Theo knew what he already was thinking—if Vargas hadn’t physically participated in the rape, he might be a candidate for a plea bargain in which he testified against the others. Letting him off easy would be an outrage, especially if he’d been responsible for rendering her unconscious.
“And I can show you a copy of the receipt for Hayley Burkhart’s rape kit. I’ll also provide a physical description of the campus officer who collected it
from the student health center. You’ll need that, since his signature isn’t legible and you won’t have any other way of knowing who it was. For what it’s worth, that kit may or may not be held in evidence at the Harwood police station. Our private sources tell us it’s presently unaccounted for.”
“That would be very bad news for a potential criminal investigation.”
“Unless you’re trying to prove obstruction of justice. Then it’s a pretty clear case. I’m telling you, there’s a lot of blame to go around.”
He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips together. “Hypothetically speaking, I might be persuaded to look into whether or not certain individuals acted as accessories after the fact. But I’ll be honest with you, Theo. What I’m really after is those boys who assaulted that young woman. If that video holds up as evidence, it’s easily enough for a sexual battery conviction.”
“Sexual battery!” She felt the blood of rage rush to her face, and almost leaped from her chair. “Christ, Shane. That’s a misdemeanor. Twelve months max. What they did to Hayley was straight-up rape.”
He shook his head. “I agree with you but I’m not sure it’ll fly. Physical contact without her consent, yes. But the rape statute says ‘forcible and against her will.’ We can’t prove either one.”
“That’s such bullshit.”
Thanks to Jalinda’s research, the relevant case law was top of mind. “
Dorsey
says neither substantial violence nor vigorous resistance is required if force is otherwise found. Did it look to you like Hayley Burkhart invited those men to join a rape line? Or did they force themselves on her?”
“You know it’s not that simple. If we overreach, all it takes is one juror to sink us. And those guys’ll walk.”
“Not if you turn around and try them again. You can do that over and over if there’s a hung jury. I guarantee you’re never going to get an acquittal.”
The oldest emotional trick in the book would be to ask if he’d settle for misdemeanor charges if it had been his daughter instead of Hayley. But then Shane knew all the old tricks too and would manage his detachment with cool logic.
“Whereas if I had a rape kit that showed this young woman was drugged,” he went on, “well, that might be a game changer. We’re talking an extra five to fifteen years for illegal possession and administering of Schedule II narcotics. I’d probably only get one of them for that though.”
She appealed next to his territorial nature, a common theme across jurisdictions. “I might as well take this to the US Attorney…try to get them to file felony charges against all of them for drug-facilitated rape. The video and that sadistic photo they left on Hayley’s phone might net the full sentence of twenty years.”
He held up a hand. “Not so fast. I want to try this case, Theo. I’m just looking for the best outcome. All I’m saying is we’ll know more when we get the rape kit.”
Unless the rape kit was missing. “You may not need it if all you’re looking for is drugs. Check with the coroner’s office. They should have hair samples from the autopsy. Test them for GHB.”
Gamma-Hydroxybutyric acid was the most common date rape drug on campuses, and it was detectable in hair strands even months after use. The fact that it also was used to enhance athletic performance made it the likely culprit in this case.
“Good, that’s a plan…I can do that this afternoon. And you can bet I’ll be talking to these young men. Their friends too. Somebody’s bound to know something. It’s my experience that when push comes to shove, everybody’s first instinct is to save their own hide. But it would help me a lot if I knew where to start. Somebody on the inside…like the one who gave you this video.”
Theo wasn’t convinced anyone besides Michael’s boyfriend, Gavin Sandifor, would turn on the others, and she couldn’t give him up. That didn’t mean Shane wouldn’t get to him eventually if he interviewed all the players. Harwood only carried sixteen on its roster. “I already told you—start with Ruben Vargas. I’ll have my paralegal send over a copy of our evidence this afternoon.” Minus Gavin’s confirmation, of course.
Shane stood and pushed his hands in his pockets. “We’re on the same side, Theo. It’s good for both of us if we’re sharing information, ’cause if I convene a grand jury and don’t get an indictment, it’s gonna sink your case. No rape means no responsibility for wrongful death.”
Walking him to the door, she replied, “Come on, we both know you’ll get an indictment if you want it.”
“But will I get a conviction?”
“I have faith in you. But I can’t help you any more than I already have. Not right now, anyway.” Though the possibility of seeing Frazier, Caldwell, Watson and Vargas arrested and charged was worth going back to Michael and Gavin to ask if they were willing to cooperate with Shane if she vouched for him. Especially since he had subpoena power and could compel their testimony anyway.
She’d lost her window for calling out the US Attorney’s office through the media, shaming them for not taking up the case. But now that the DA’s office had responded, at least she could hope for a criminal conviction on rape charges if her wrongful death case went down the tubes.
* * *
With her phone tucked under her chin, Celia turned out the light in her office and closed the door behind her, twisting the knob to be sure it had locked. “I can talk to Michael again if you need me to, but you’d probably have better luck if you went straight to Gavin—cut out the middlemen. Once he realizes the DA’s going to track him down eventually, he might decide to come forward on his own.”
“I could probably get Shane to meet with him off the record,” Theo said. “But no matter what, it’s good news, right? The DA’s going to do the dirty work. In my book, that’s a reason to celebrate. How about dinner on my terrace again? I’ll make it worth your while.”
Celia groaned. She could honestly say she wasn’t looking forward to going home to an empty house, but a voice in her head warned her not to let her feelings for Theo—no matter how strong—tempt her away from her school duties, especially since the higher-ups probably were waiting patiently for a screwup. “I can’t, Theo. I want to, but I’ve got lots of work to do. If I bear down during the week, I won’t have to feel guilty about playing on the weekend.”
“Spoilsport. My calendar says that’s only a couple of days from now.” Which meant Wednesday.
“How about Thursday? That’ll give us an early start.”
“You can’t see me but I’m pouting.” With a garbled voice, Theo added, “My lower lip is sticking out so far I can’t talk plain.”
“You’re officially nuts. Call me later. We’ll talk about that crazy calendar of yours.”
On the way out, she stopped by the administrative office to check her mail. Conference announcements, calls for papers. And another sealed envelope from her boss.
She hadn’t seen Andrew since the case was filed and had no idea how he felt about her involvement. She wanted to think he’d be supportive—Hayley was one of their brightest and most talented students, after all—but he was forced by his position to straddle the line between administration and faculty. With a quick glance she noted the lights were out in his office. He’d already gone for the day or was in a meeting in another part of campus.
Her hands trembling slightly, she slid her finger through the seal. A one-page letter congratulating her on her promotion.
In reviewing our spring production budgets for the past several years, I find a disturbing pattern of diminishing support. As the celebration of stage performance is an integral component of our departmental mission…
She was stunned by the amount he’d awarded for next spring’s performance, the most she’d ever received. Plenty for scenery and props, costumes, marketing and advertising. Best of all, he’d authorized enough to secure the rights for a modern musical.
The letter was dated several days ago, but well after the news broke that she was cooperating with a lawsuit against the university. This couldn’t possibly have happened if the administration was out to get her.
Or maybe they were, and Andrew was using his discretionary budget to push back against them on her behalf. Nearly all of the academic departments resented the special treatment afforded athletics. The men’s basketball coach was the highest-paid employee at the university, making four times as much as a Nobel Prize-winning professor of chemistry.