With her headphones in place so no one who happened by her office could hear what she was watching, Celia followed the live streaming feed from the morning news program. This was the third such interview of the morning, an anchorwoman speaking via satellite to Theo in her downtown office.
Theo had filed her case against Harwood the day before. Once again at the entrance gate, she’d held a press conference alleging the university had created a hostile learning environment for female students, that it had been negligent in its enforcement of laws against sexual assault, and that threats of SLAPP suits alleging defamation had produced a chilling effect on the free speech rights of victims and on the reporting of such crimes.
“What’s different this time?” the anchorwoman asked.
“The suit we filed last summer involving a video that showed Harwood basketball players sexually assaulting an unconscious woman was a wrongful death case. Their victim suffered mental distress, not only from the rape…” Theo appeared to appreciate the chance to recount Hayley’s heartbreaking story, but she moved quickly to the merits of the new lawsuit. “As we were investigating that case, we came upon a disturbing pattern of treatment of Harwood’s female students who reported being sexually assaulted. As with Ms. Burkhart, their charges were pushed aside. We’re not talking just one or two cases here, Sandra.”
Theo went on to cite publicly available statistics, concluding with the fact that no male student at Harwood had been criminally charged with rape on campus over the past six years. The period coincided with Earl Gupton and Norman Tuttle assuming their respective leadership roles.
To Celia, it was the strongest argument yet for Gupton and Tuttle to be fired.
She barely heard the knock as the door opened simultaneously. Kay Crylak, her forehead wrinkled in a deep frown, entered and closed the door as Celia closed her laptop and removed the headphones.
“Hey, what’s up? Is everything okay?”
“It’s okay right now, but it probably won’t be by the end of the day.” Kay was dressed in a black and orange track suit with the Harwood softball emblem on the chest, as though she’d come directly from the playing field. She took a chair and tugged a business card from her wallet. “Remember when I showed you this? It’s that attorney I’m supposed to call if one of my gals gets into trouble with the cops.”
She recalled during their lunch over the summer Kay had told her the campus police intervened when one of her players stole a bicycle. “Is one of your girls in trouble again?”
“What? No, I’m talking about me.” She got up and started pacing, her shoes squeaking on the marble floor each time she turned. “That case they filed yesterday…all those girls who said they were raped and the school didn’t do anything about it. I called Theo Constantine’s office and made an appointment for one thirty this afternoon. I’m gonna tell her about the AD’s special arrangement with the cops…how this lawyer, this Austin Thompson,
Esquire
”—her voice dripped with sarcasm at his title—“is all buddy-buddy with the cops and makes everything magically disappear.”
Celia was stunned by the about-face. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who’d castigated her over her involvement with Hayley’s case. “You can’t be serious. You’re talking career suicide. It won’t matter if you’re right. Harwood will find a way to get rid of you. You know it as well as I do.”
Whirling around, Kay threw her hands up in the air. “If that happens, I’ll live with it. I was looking for a job when I found this one. What I can’t live with anymore is being part of this conspiracy. Going along to get along. It’s time I stood up to ’em like you.”
“Except I’m not involved in this case, Kay. What I did for Hayley Burkhart was because she was my student.”
“But I’m involved in this one. Do you know I have my own Wikipedia page? Says I’m the women’s softball coach at Harwood. Born in Ocala, played college ball at Florida State. Here’s my record, blah blah blah. One of these days, somebody’s gonna go in there and add a paragraph about all the coaches implicated in this mess. I’m deciding right now what I want it to say—that I came forward and told the truth.”
* * *
Theo pressed her phone to her ear as a car squealed around the corner in the parking deck attached to the US District Court. “Don’t worry about this, Jordan. It’s just a routine suppression hearing…a gag order. For some reason, it annoys them when I go on TV and tell the world what terrible people they are. I’ll put out a memo tonight and let everyone know where we stand.”
She’d expected Harwood’s quick response this go-around, since they probably intended to recycle their legal arguments from the first case. Furthermore, she wasn’t surprised to find James Somers waiting in chambers to argue the university’s case.
“You’re persistent, Theo. I’ll give you that,” he said curtly. He wasn’t amused this time—he was annoyed. “Though one would think you’d get eventually tired of tilting at windmills.”
“Not so much. I do a lot of cardio,” she deadpanned. Despite the outcome of the Burkhart case, her courtroom confidence was soaring, since after all, she’d beaten Somers on their last outing—the motion to dismiss the wrongful death case.
The case had been assigned to The Honorable Leon Diggs, an African-American federal judge in his late fifties with a reputation for being difficult to read. Theo had once appeared in his court and found herself frustrated that she couldn’t determine if her strategy was effective.
Without looking up from his desk, Judge Diggs flatly read the motion to suppress aloud and called on Somers to state his case.
“Thank you, Your Honor. Before we get to that, I’d like to begin by pointing out that those responsible for the atrocious behaviors upon which this case is based are individuals who are currently facing criminal charges in district court. The civil aspects of this case were settled confidentially after the plaintiff fired Ms. Constantine as his attorney when it became evident to him she was representing her own vindictive, publicity-seeking biases, and not his legal interests. That she would refile this case is evidence of more grandstanding on her part.”
Diggs looked over his glasses at Theo. “Is he correct, counselor?”
“I’m not sure, Your Honor. To which criminal and civil cases does Mr. Somers refer?”
Her question forced Somers to recite the details of Hayley’s case for the court reporter’s transcript. Without intending to, he supplied a fresh summary that bolstered her current claim.
“And how is it you know, Mr. Somers, why the plaintiff fired Ms. Constantine?”
“I served as lead attorney in the settlement negotiations, Your Honor.”
“But you just said those terms were confidential. You understand you can’t claim that and use the plaintiff’s position in this court to strengthen your case?” His question was obviously rhetorical, as he turned to Theo without waiting for a reply. “What say you, Ms. Constantine? Are you attempting to get a second bite at the apple in the federal courts?”
“No, Your Honor, not at all. Neither the victim in that case nor her surviving family members are plaintiffs in this complaint. It is quite possible however that we will introduce the horrific circumstances of that particular crime—the
atrocious
crime to which Mr. Somers just referred—and the egregious coverup as evidence of a pattern of disregard of the wellbeing of Harwood University’s female rape victims leading us to allege a hostile learning environment.”
“Satisfied, Mr. Somers? I believe I am.”
It was tough to imagine Somers getting embarrassed, so the reddening of his ears was likely a sign he was agitated. He traced his notes with his finger as if struggling to find his place. “The defense also questions whether the federal court is the appropriate venue for this case. All of the actions cited by the plaintiffs are alleged to have taken place in the state of Georgia. As such, concerns regarding equal protection might best be addressed via interpretation of the state constitution.”
Theo didn’t wait to be called on. “Diversity of citizenship, Your Honor. Six of our plaintiffs hold driver’s licenses from other states. The federal court is the proper venue for interstate litigation.”
“You are correct, counselor.” He looked to Somers and drolly asked, “Your suppression motion…I assume that’s why we’re here. Do you plan to address that today?”
It was hard to rein in her optimism at the way Diggs was dressing down Somers with nearly every remark. He usually wasn’t so overt in his distaste for counsel. Clearly, Somers had pushed a button by coming in unprepared.
“Your Honor, plaintiff’s counsel called a press conference yesterday to announce these inflammatory charges.” He then rattled off a log of all the TV, radio and other news interview shows she’d given since the story broke, and cited case law about how extrajudicial statements to the media could materially prejudice a potential trial. The words were familiar, and when he listed the sports talk shows, the reason became clear—in his haste to prepare, he’d lifted the argument verbatim from the suppression motion for the Burkhart case.
Theo was operating at a clear advantage, since she’d had weeks to prepare for motions she knew would be filed. “Your Honor, once again defense counsel has confused this case with
Lipscomb v. Frazier, et al
. I’ve done no interviews with sports talk shows, as this case—unlike
Lipscomb
—does not name Harwood athletes as defendants. Regarding the substantive issues in his argument, Harwood University has unfettered access to contemporary media outlets, and thus numerous opportunities to portray itself as an upstanding institution. During the
Lipscomb
proceedings, a gag order resulted in Harwood University increasing the number of positive image ads in local press outlets by four hundred percent. Such an imbalance clearly favored the defendants.”
It had been Jalinda’s idea to scour the media for that data, which Theo then presented in chart form to both Diggs and Somers.
“More importantly, we ask the court to consider the fact that secrecy—in particular, the extraordinary efforts by the defendant to suppress allegations of sexual assault on its campus—is at the heart of plaintiffs’ case. The secrecy at Harwood has created a culture that allows these assaults to proliferate. A suppression order would not only support that culture, it would restrict the constitutional rights of victims to speak critically of its effects.”
She had no idea if her argument was resonating, as Diggs seemed to be absorbed in the media report she’d presented. Without making eye contact with anyone, he leaned toward the court reporter and said, “Let the record show this is a properly filed case that meets the requisites for federal court. In light of plaintiff’s evidence that Harwood University engaged in an uptick in image advertising while under a suppression order, likely to enhance its standing should it find its case in court, I reject defense’s motion for a suppression order. Counsel is advised to proceed with caution as such an order may be imposed at any time.”
With every word, Somers sank deeper into his chair, the arrogance fading from his face.
Theo didn’t really care about the gag order, as she had no more bookings for interviews. She cared only about getting to trial and winning her case.
* * *
Celia straightened her back against the plush upholstered chair. A work-study coed had delivered a glass of ice water and left her to wait outside Earl Gupton’s office a half hour earlier. This was his meeting, not hers, and she had little doubt what he wanted to discuss.
The fresh spate of allegations had sent shockwaves through the university, sparking online flame wars in the comments section of the
Daily Hornet
and an impromptu protest by several dozen students—male and female—in front of the administration building. Celia was gratified to see so many rising up on behalf of the victims. At the same time, it was sickening proof of how the celebration of a basketball trophy had smothered the outrage over Hayley’s rape and suicide. An “attention-seeking drama queen” so conveniently dismissed. People only told themselves what they wanted to hear.
By now, Theo had probably spoken with Kay. Confirmation of the athletic department’s tactics would help prove part of the conspiracy, but even Celia knew the administration would try to distance itself from what they’d label a “rogue” practice undertaken in secret by minor operators. Ban the attorney from campus, suspend an assistant coach or two—all fixed.
It was Sonya Walsh, Harwood’s general counsel, who opened Gupton’s door and invited her in. Gupton was waiting in the sitting area of his office with none other than board of trustees chair Norman Tuttle. Déjà vu all over again.
“How wonderful to see you again, Celia,” Gupton said, his enthusiasm embarrassingly forced. Last time she was in here, she was Dr. Perone. “You remember Chairman Tuttle.”
“Of course.” She shook hands cordially. Ignoring Gupton’s offer of a seat on the sofa, she took the armchair at the end of the coffee table so as not to feel surrounded.
“So sorry to keep you waiting. The three of us have been brainstorming some ideas for letting the women on campus know we’re behind them one hundred percent. Sonya reminded me earlier about our meeting last spring. As I recall, you were concerned about the university’s response to an unfortunate incident on campus, one the courts are looking into right now. I wondered if you had any ideas for what we could do to meet this issue head on. Sexual assault on campus, I mean. We want our female students to feel safe.”
It took a conscious effort to keep her jaw from dropping. Clearly Harwood’s legal team had made note of the fact that Theo’s new complaint included no mention of their threats to her if she went public with the allegations. They’d mistakenly concluded she was now on their side, grateful for her plum course assignments and generous theater budget.
“Sorry, I should have asked how your semester was going,” Gupton said. “Andrew tells me we’re in for quite a treat next spring.
Spamalot
.”
That answered the question about whether her department head was part of the payola scheme to buy her silence. A dismal, disappointing revelation.