Gideon - 04 - Illegal Motion (18 page)

Resigned to a sickening long-distance bill, I call Clan and ask him for some names of kids at the university who might know something about Robin.

“Doesn’t Brenda have some friends who have kids up here who are sorority types?” I ask. Brenda, not Clan, had family money in the beginning of the marriage. She has always struck me as the kind of woman who still goes up for alumnae weekends and bores the girls to death.

“I need to get the inside skinny on the girl and I can’t get my own daughter to do any of my legwork for me.”

“Brenda and I haven’t spoken to each other for weeks,” Clan laughs.

“What else is new?” I say half seriously. I never know how to take Clan on the subject of his marriage. He and Brenda appear to me to have a terrible relationship, but seem determined to outlast each other. He has me on the speakerphone. I hear a crackling sound. As usual, he must be eating something and needs both hands. If he doesn’t die of heart disease, nobody should.

“Hell, I know a couple of kids who are up there,” Clan says.

“Want me to call ‘em and see if they’ll talk to you?”

Bless Dan’s soul. Of course, he owes me for taking on his prostitute.

“If you would,” I say sincerely, “I’d be grateful. Dade’s got a university administrative hearing Friday, and it’d be nice to find out

that the victim was a known pathological liar. Apparently, they’ll let in the worst gossip imaginable. You ought to be up here. This is your kind of law practice.”

Clan snickers appreciatively.

“What’s your number?

I’ll call you back when I hear something.”

I tell him and get off the phone. It’s my dime. While I am working on some questions that Dade can ask of Robin and her witnesses, I get a call from Carter’s secretary telling me to hold on for him. Normally, I can’t stand people who are too self-important to make their own calls, but I make an exception for Carter. We need him too bad.

“Carter,” he barks.

“Is this Page?”

“Coach,” I plunge in, “we need your help at the hearing.

I’d like for you to be a character witness for Dade.

As you know, they could kick him out of school, not just off the team.”

For an instant I think I’ve lost the connection, but Carter comes back on after a moment and says, “I’ll have to think about it. They’re scorching my butt over this.”

I don’t doubt it.

“You’re getting a lot of support, too, though” I guess, although my actual knowledge is limited to the two letters in the paper.

“Some,” he admits.

“But I haven’t exactly made myself popular with the university bigwigs. A lot of ‘em wanted me to suspend Dade the rest of the season. It’s not just pressure. I’ve had some calls from administrators who sincerely believe he shouldn’t be playing until he’s had his trial. Hell, my own wife thinks I did the wrong thing.”

This confession is alarming. If it gets out that Carter is having second thoughts, Dade won’t have a chance.

“I’ve finally gotten the statements of the witnesses if you want to see them,” I tell him, trying not to sound as if I’m begging

“I’m even more convinced now that Dade didn’t do anything the girl didn’t want done. She corroborates everything Dade told you except for the alleged rape it self. It’s just her word against his. Her roommate sure doesn’t help her, and the nurse and the Rape Crisis woman just say what you’d expect. What you said at that press conference last week is truer today than when you said it. He shouldn’t be punished until he’s had his day in court.”

“Bring the statements by in an envelope and drop ‘em off with my secretary,” Carter instructs.

“I suspect we both want this kept confidential, so I’ll burn ‘em when I’m through.”

“I’ll get them to you in the next hour,” I promise. I hang up, wondering how cynical Carter’s decision to keep Dade on the team really was. Maybe, down deep, there’s a little bleeding-heart lawyer trying to get out.

Somehow, I doubt it. Coaches at this level know the public wants only one thing and that’s to win.

As I look through the Yellow Pages to find a copy place, the phone rings. It is Sarah.

“I got your letter, babe,” I say carefully.

“It was interesting.”

“Dad!” she yells into my ear.

“I blew your mind! You can admit it. Have you thought about what I asked you to do?”

Anxious to drop off the statements, I plead a standard excuse.

“You mean withdraw? I haven’t had time, but I will.”

“At least come to the rally tonight, okay?” Sarah says.

“You’ve got to hear Paula. Even if you don’t agree with her, I think you’ll be impressed. It’s at seven in front of the Student Union.”

“I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off getting ready for this hearing on Friday,” I explain, trying not to sound irritated.

“But if I can come, I’ll drop by” “It’s the last one being permitted on campus this week,” Sarah says.

“There’s a rumor that Robin is going to speak.”

“Be identified publicly?” I ask, skeptical.

“I thought she had quit cheerleading because of all the trauma.”

“She probably felt ashamed,” Sarah says, “until someone explained that it was Dade who ought to feel too ashamed to show his face in public. That’s what our society does to women.”

Maybe I will come after all.

“Are you sure you did the right thing in quitting?” I ask, unable to keep my mouth shut.

“You really seemed to enjoy it.”

“Absolutely,” Sarah assures me.

“I was willingly participating in my own exploitation.”

For God’s sake!

“What do you mean?” I ask, knowing I don’t want to hear this answer.

“For example,” Sarah says earnestly, “women who act in pornography films are often physically and emotionally coerced into it. They don’t have a choice. I have a choice in whether I should take part in a spectacle that glorifies violence, the passivity of women, and male dominance.”

And all this time I thought it was just a game. Why did I think the University of Arkansas was a safe place for her? First, it’s blacks in the Delta, now it’s women—what next? But I am living proof a person can get into trouble up here. Except my trouble was more traditional. Too much Southern Comfort, too many girls, and not enough elbow grease.

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk about all this,” I say, “when you come home Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving weekend,” Sarah says promptly, “I want us to drive over to Bear Creek and talk to Dade’s great-grandmother if she’s still alive. I know you say it’s gossip that your grandfather had a child by her, but I want us to check it out.”

How did this conversation get so quickly out of control What has gotten into her head?

“That’s fifty-year old gutter talk,” I say, knowing the hold on my temper is going.

“The last thing that poor old woman needs is to be stirred up.”

“Then I’ll go myself.”

“You will not!” I yell, horrified. I can just see Sarah running from house to house telling my old classmates she’s looking for one of our relatives.

“Dad, I’ve got to go,” she says.

“I’m almost late for work. We’ll talk about this later.”

Great. I don’t know who is worse Professor Birdbath or Paula Crawford.

“Okay,” I say, suddenly feeling weary.

“Maybe we can have dinner one night. I’ll call you.”

“I love you. Daddy.”

“I love you, too, babe,” I say, grateful for small favors.

by the time I pull onto the campus for the WAR rally (a little late, so Sarah, if I see her, won’t be as likely to introduce me to anyone my mind keeps playing a tape of me being called up to debate one of the speakers), I am feeling better. It has been a profitable afternoon. Besides getting the statements dropped off, I now have free office space. Barton has taken pity on me and graciously offered the free use of his library while I am working on the case in Fayetteville. I even have my own key. After an hour’s wait at Memorial Hospital I found out that the nurse who examined Robin is on vacation this week and won’t be at the hearing Friday. I’ve also learned that this board does not have the power to subpoena witnesses.

Bliss Young, the lawyer who had tried to tell me how the “J” Board worked last week, was willing to cover much of the same ground for me again, and this time I actually listened. If for some reason Robin chooses not to appear, they can’t make her. Additionally, Young told me to re member that I could advise Dade to challenge any of the board for bias. Members have recused themselves from hearing a case once they have been forced to admit they have too many connections with one of the parties. Finally Young told me that while the matter is being ap pealed, all action is stayed, which means Dade plays in the Alabama game, even if they issue a decision as soon as we finish the hearing. That should cheer him up considerably

If I worried about being singled out, I shouldn’t have.

There must be close to six or seven hundred people gathered in front of the Student Union. I am amazed. Any other time on this campus you’d only find this kind of enthusiasm for a pep rally. Doesn’t anyone remember the Hogs are playing Alabama this week? When we played Texas while I was in school, the campus was in a frenzy the whole week before the game. I do not see Sarah as I try to make myself inconspicuous at the edge of the crowd. To blend in a little better, I have taken off my tie and have worn a sports coat. The weather is cool and dry perfect football weather. The women are mostly in jeans and sweatshirts (there don’t seem to be many sorority types here), but the crowd seems to be about a quarter male, many of whom are professor types, though not many my age. Inevitably, there are a couple of TV cam eras and several reporters.

The speaker, a blond woman with a short haircut, who is wearing jeans and tennis shoes (despite my best intentions, I can’t help wondering if she’s a lesbian Sarah would drive a spike in my eye if I admitted this to her), is exhorting the crowd to write or call the university administration to expel Dade. “… He has been charged by the state of Arkansas with a crime of violence, and yet de spite having full authority to remove him immediately if the safety of other individuals is at stake, the university allows him to remain on campus. Why? Because the University of Arkansas doesn’t care about what happens to women if there’s an important athletic contest at stake.

This is the reality of where women are in this state, in the South, in this nation which gives only lip service to the notion of equality..

..”

As she harangues the crowd (impressively, I concede her delivery is appealing and well paced despite the scratchy sound system), I tell a male nearby that I just arrived and don’t know who the speaker is.

“Paula Crawford,” he whispers.

“She’s a law student.”

My mouth flies open. What happened to her hair? Is Sarah going to chop off her beautiful, thick, curly mane, too? Why do they do this? It’s a form of mutilation, as far as I’m concerned. I turn back to Ms. Crawford, who hasn’t paused for breath.

“It is a question of our values as human beings. A woman cries that she has been raped, and no one at the school takes her seriously. But we take football seriously at this school and we take basketball seriously at this school, and if anything jeopardizes the well-being of those sports, another part of the administration acts very quickly, indeed. The first official response on this campus that was taken after Robin Perry said she was raped came from the athletics department, which says volumes about what we value at this university

.. .”

As she talks, I look in vain for Sarah. She must be here, but it is too dark and crowded to see her. I wonder if she is going to speak. Surely not. On the other hand, who better than a recent convert? Suddenly, Robin Perry is being introduced, and the crowd, which had been standing in rapt attention, bursts into applause. “… enormous amount of courage for her to be here tonight and come forward publicly,” Paula Crawford is saying. I can’t see anyone on the stage, and then a tall, blond girl appears on the steps beside Paula. Thin, but obviously attractive even at this distance, she is wearing stone chino pants and one of those classy barn jackets I’ve seen on some of the wealthier-looking white students. Robin has the physical grace of a model. Though Dade has described her as a good speaker, tonight, not unsurprisingly, she seems al most too shy and nervous to do more than nod at the crowd. Finally, she manages to say, “I want to thank everybody for their support. I can’t tell you how many other girls have told me that they have been a victim of date rape since this has occurred. It is a crime that most girls still do not talk about, but it happens much more frequently than we are aware. Thank you for being here” As the crowd claps enthusiastically, Paula whispers into her ear. Robin shakes her head and disappears into the crowd off to the left. Paula resumes talking, and then introduces another girl who begins to talk about rape statistics, and with her droning, whining voice she immediately loses the crowd’s interest. I am worried now that I will be spotted by a reporter I recognize and decide it is time for me to leave.

Back in my room, I leave a message for Dade on his answering machine that he should bring his friends to Barton’s law office, and I read off his address. He picks up just as I am hanging up. He sounds anxious again, and tells me that he can’t find Eddie Stiles and hasn’t found anything out about Robin Perry that I don’t already know.

I reassure him that Eddie Stiles is not an essential witness Friday and ask him to keep trying to find out any thing about Robin.

“How was practice?” I ask, trying to calm him a bit.

“It was hard to concentrate at first,” he says, “but I got into it.”

I tell him he will be playing in the Alabama game, which has the desired effect of pepping him up a bit. I wish I could tell him that all he had to worry about was playing football, but I can’t. Somehow, I’m supposed to turn this boy into a lawyer between now and Friday morning. How ridiculous! I’m not even going to try.

“I

went to the WAR rally tonight,” I tell him, “and saw Robin for the first time. She’s pretty, all right.”