She explained the nuances of her case as she’d articulated them to Jalinda on the plane. With each argument, their skepticism appeared to fade, though not much.
Sandy raised a finger to inject her point. “As your accountant, I’m going on record to say money-losing cases are not good for our bottom line.”
“I don’t expect a significant drain on our resources. My team is limited to Jalinda and Hank, with input from Philip and Gloria.”
“If we’re playing moneyball here,” Philip said, “I’d like to know what sort of damages you’re seeking. Was Ms. Burkhart on her way to a multimillion-dollar career that her survivors are now deprived of?”
“That’s for you to figure out, but compensatory damages may not be relevant. We’re arguing her complaint was ignored in order to protect Harwood’s prospects for a basketball championship. Therefore, we demand disgorgement of profits.”
His mouth formed a perfect O.
“In an average year, it’s estimated the NCAA champion—especially one from a major conference like the South Ten—enjoys a windfall of at least thirty million dollars from TV rights, ticket sales, merchandising and fundraising. Profits obtained by illegal or unethical acts are considered unjust enrichment, and we want them surrendered.”
Sandy began nodding vigorously. “For that kind of return, we can do this.”
For Theo, it wasn’t about the money. She wanted justice—and change.
* * *
The hardwood floors of Sammy’s Pint held years of Irish ale and celebration. The pub’s late hours and proximity to the community theater made it a favorite watering hole for cast and crew following performances. While Celia didn’t care for the creamy taste of Irish brew, she was a sucker for their turkey reuben sandwich.
She’d come by MARTA, metro Atlanta’s rail system, straight from her lecture, looking every bit the professor in a skirt and blazer. With irony, she remembered wearing this same outfit the day she’d met with Gupton and the others.
The pub was far enough from campus that she wasn’t worried about running into anyone she knew from the university. She still felt silly for having gone to the attorney’s office in costume. In retrospect, it was a wonder Theo Constantine hadn’t dismissed her as a paranoid kook.
But was it paranoia if her fears were real? Sure, there were whistleblower protections even for private institutions, but it wouldn’t be difficult for the university to manufacture other reasons to disrupt her promotion—or even fire her—if they knew she was going behind their back to deliver trouble to their doorstep. While seeing those players punished for what they did to Hayley mattered a great deal, so did keeping her job.
A balding businessman who looked to be in his late forties slid from his barstool and sauntered to her table. “A smile sure would light up that pretty face of yours.”
Even under the best of circumstances, Celia bristled at men who presumed her face was theirs to comment on. But as a trained actor, she’d perfected a cold-hearted glare that usually stopped them in their tracks.
He threw up his hands and backed away. “Sorry…guess it’s your time of the month.”
Too bad Theo Constantine wasn’t here to respond to his sexist remark. Something told Celia that would be a treat to see.
From their brief encounter at the law office, Theo was every bit as impressive as her celebrity profile suggested. It wasn’t only her imposing look. She’d taken command of the conversation from the get-go as if already plotting her legal strategy. It would be thrilling to see her in action in a courtroom…as it had been thrilling to be in the same room with her. Theo Constantine came across as engaging on television, but in person she was captivating. Authoritative, passionate. Though embarrassed to admit it, Celia had found herself starstruck.
Her tall bar table in the back corner afforded a clear view of the pub’s front door. She nursed her chardonnay, needing to make it last in order to justify taking up a table in case Theo was late. She couldn’t order another, or she’d be half-drunk before their meeting ever started.
It was hardly worth choosing a clandestine meeting place, as Theo came through the door wearing an expensive-looking slate-gray business suit and carrying a leather portfolio. Anyone with eyes could guess she was a potent attorney. Or definitely a potent something.
“I halfway expected you to send someone else, Ms. Constantine,” she said as Theo slid onto the opposite stool. “I’m sure your time is valuable.”
“Please call me Theo. And as I recall, you were pretty insistent about speaking only to me.”
They were immediately interrupted by a waitress who took her drink order.
“Whatever she’s having is fine,” Theo said, gesturing toward the glass of white wine. When the waitress left, she folded her hands on the table and looked Celia squarely in the eye. “I’ll cut to the chase, Dr. Perone. I’ve reviewed the material you gave me and done some digging of my own. The circumstances of this case bother me a lot. But as I explained in my office, we aren’t in a position to bring criminal charges against the four young men involved.”
“Four? There were only three in the video.”
“Someone held the camera. In the eyes of the law, if a crime was committed, he too was a participant.”
“
If
a crime was committed? You can’t be serious.”
“Unfortunately, it isn’t officially a crime unless they’re charged. The best way to facilitate that at this point would probably be to convince the DA to get involved, or ask the Department of Justice to look into whether or not these men violated Hayley’s civil rights. As I explained in my office, it’s my experience that neither of those agencies wants to trample on the judgment of local law enforcement except in the most egregious circumstances. To be honest, this very well could meet that threshold, but only if it gains traction and produces enough outrage.”
“You’ve seen the video. It doesn’t get any more outrageous than that.”
They stopped talking long enough for the waitress to deliver the drink. When Theo declined to order food, Celia reluctantly did the same. It wasn’t actually food she wanted, but a chance to discuss the case thoroughly. Now she had to hope Theo wouldn’t zip through her talking points and leave her hanging as she rushed out the door to her next appointment.
“A massive public outcry might make the DOJ more likely to act. For that to happen though, Hayley’s story would need to go viral. Get the news media talking about it, get people signing petitions that put pressure on the authorities. That could work since the men involved are popular public figures. The problem is we can’t stir up the outrage without releasing the video. The question then becomes how cruel that might be to the people who cared about Hayley. The least anyone can do for her now that she’s dead is treat her with the dignity these young men and the university denied her in life.”
An honorable sentiment, but meaningless if it meant the players would go unpunished. “Couldn’t her face be blurred? That’s what they did in the Steubenville rape case.”
“We’d have to do that anyway,” Theo replied. “It’s against the law in Georgia to identify rape victims. The original is still out there though. If the story goes viral, there’s a very good chance it’ll end up posted online somewhere. So before we take a step like that, I want to feel certain it’s in the best interest of justice. We don’t want to exploit someone who’s already been victimized enough.”
Celia knew at that moment she’d made the right decision to take the case to Theo’s firm. They weren’t experts in women’s rights because of law books and legal maneuvering—they led this crusade because they believed in the morality of what they were doing.
“Does that mean you’re going to take this case?”
Theo tightened her lips in what looked like a pained expression. “Yes, but I have to warn you we’re on shaky ground, at least from a legal perspective.”
“How can that be when you have a video of them doing it?”
“Because we’re not charging them with rape. Only the police or district attorney can do that. We’re suing them in civil court for causing Hayley’s death. All of them—the players, the cops, the university administration—everyone who played a role in the rape, or in the decision not to prosecute.”
Everyone who played a role
. Celia couldn’t wait to hear Theo call them out by name in front of a dozen microphones on the steps of Harwood’s administration building.
“I’ll be honest, Celia…this case won’t be easy. But right now it’s been swept under the rug. This gives us a chance to bring it into the light. That’s the key—convincing the public they’ve done something wrong.”
“You mean convincing a jury.”
Theo paused to take a sip of her wine. “We may not have to. You told me what you wanted from this—for the players and the school to be punished. And for Harwood to put policies in place to make sure this never happens again. Remember saying that?”
She did, and at that moment, realized how much of her wanted vengeance for Hayley.
“There are several ways that can happen. Ninety-five percent of civil actions never make it to trial. Most of them end with a financial settlement. Sure, we’ll ask for money, because that’s the only language everybody speaks. But there are other ways to get what we want.”
“For instance?”
“Ah, this is where it gets fun.” Theo leaned back and flashed a cunning smile. “First we make enough noise to get the public outraged. They’ll turn up the heat. If Harwood’s police force doesn’t respond, that could put pressure on the district attorney’s office to step in with their own criminal investigation. Right behind them will be the Department of Justice asking if Hayley’s civil rights were violated. And don’t forget the Department of Education. They’re investigating sexual assault as a Title IX violation at more than a hundred universities right now. I can’t make guarantees, but my gut tells me we can make everyone who had a hand in this pay dearly.”
* * *
It was a boastful claim, but Theo was convinced an aggressive strategy would generate federal interest in the case. The White House had raised the issue of campus rape to prominence with its grant to develop prevention programs at universities across the nation. What better way to show they were serious than to prosecute rapists and pressure schools to get in line?
She was sick and tired of reading about cases like Hayley’s. Young women incapacitated by alcohol or date rape drugs, their bodies assaulted and debased. Some were further humiliated on social media by strangers and even their so-called friends, but the ultimate violation—the cruelest twist of all—came when their cries for justice went unanswered.
“I’ve talked this over with several of my associates, and we all agree wrongful death is the best approach. We name as defendants everyone involved in the chain of events, and we seek damages as well as redress.”
“That would be so freaking awesome!” Celia’s voice rose with excitement, but then her eyes narrowed to a sneer. “As long as redress means hoisting them all up by their…whatever.”
Theo stifled a chuckle. She didn’t dare say she found Celia’s principled rage delightful, a word she’d never used before to describe a client or witness. Googling their bios was standard, but she’d gone so far as to read up on Celia’s scholarly work, and peruse photos from academic conferences and community theater performances.
But this was supposed to be about business.
“Redress means the court would force the university to implement a system that guarantees this won’t happen to any more students who report a sexual assault. There needs to be an ironclad system that allows claims to proceed and victims to appeal to independent agencies. Harwood University is too invested in its reputation—and in this case, its athletics—to police itself. For starters, the campus police officers who failed to investigate this should be fired, along with everyone in the police department who was part of the decision to sweep it under the rug. And there’s no question your chancellor should be forced to step down, as well as the chairman of the board of trustees.”
“So you’re actually going after the administration in court? I figured the scandal alone would force them to resign, and we’d at least get decent people to take over at the top. The main thing is catching the bastards who did this and putting them in jail.”
“All of them did this, Celia. The players, the cops and the brass who glossed over it so it wouldn’t disrupt their national championship. They were more interested in preserving their image so they could fundraise and sell school merchandise.”
Blurting out her first name was a professional slip, but Celia didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were now wide with panic. “Will you have to involve me in this? I mean, you have the video and all. I didn’t really have anything to do with it.”
“But you
are
a key witness. You’re the only one who can testify about taking this issue to the chancellor, about being threatened if you went public. That’s a critical piece of our narrative, the only real piece that implicates the administration in the coverup.”
Celia tipped her head forward and massaged the back of her neck as if chasing away a nervous headache.
“Look, I get why you don’t want to be in the middle of this, why you’d be worried about people seeing you come to my office. It takes courage to bring cases like this against powerful people and institutions. I respect that. That’s how Hayley felt when she pressed her complaint with the police. These were popular basketball players, heroes on campus. It was gutsy.”
That was a sucker punch and she knew it, to borrow one of Philip’s sports metaphors. A little guilt went a long way in getting women to stand up for themselves.
She went on, “The university deprived Hayley of due process. It happens all over the country because our institutions are set up to enable this kind of behavior, to write it off as boys being boys and girls being sluts. It’s not enough to punish one group of ballplayers when this kind of thing impacts women on college campuses all across the country. We have to shut the whole system down at Harwood. That puts every school in America on notice that they’re next if they allow this sort of thing to happen on their watch. And Haley gets more than justice—she gets a legacy.”