Theo checked her watch. “That’s only fifteen minutes from now. You blurred the image, right? We can’t let that out there with Hayley’s face.” Though the public wouldn’t be able to see that her eyes were closed, her motionless body and limp arm made it obvious she was passed out.
“Done. Hank left an hour and a half ago to pick up Donald Lipscomb. They’ll meet us there. And I’ve got four of Hayley’s sorority sisters, including Sarah Holcomb, lined up to stand behind us so they can hold the pictures.”
They’d blown up one of Hayley’s publicity head shots and mounted it on foam core board. Young and lovely, she was a compelling victim—a fact Theo was forced to play up in order to win the press’s attention. The second photo showed the Harwood Hornets, all with celebratory smiles as they hoisted their championship trophy. The faces of the three known rapists were circled in red.
But today’s press conference wouldn’t be about rape, but its aftermath. Naming Haley as a suicide victim while releasing the video of her rape was walking a thin line. Should Theo be accused of violating the privacy of a rape victim, she planned to argue the technicality—that no one was being charged with rape.
As they arrived at the entrance to Harwood’s campus, she wrapped up her review of the facts of her case. Their twenty-page written complaint was meticulous, listing forty-three respondents, including three players, two police officers and two supervisors, the chancellor and finally, the entire board of trustees. For good measure, she’d added unknown defendants she might identify through discovery. After each group of defendants, she laid out a detailed accounting of the actions that established their liability for Hayley’s mental distress and subsequent suicide—sexual assault, negligence, and intentional or reckless conduct.
She’d rehearsed a forceful speech similar to the one she planned to give during opening arguments if they made it to trial. Except today, the defendants wouldn’t be there to rebut. It would take the players and university at least a day to digest the complaint, hire attorneys and issue a preliminary response. By that time, the video of the rape would have gone viral with her version of events taking root.
A small crowd had gathered on the corner of Northside and Harwood Boulevard, where four satellite TV trucks were already set up. Hank was standing off to the side with Lipscomb. Jalinda summoned the detective to carry the collapsible podium from her trunk while she handed out the giant photos to the women who waited.
Theo was rushed by a handful of reporters the moment she stepped out of the car. “Will you be announcing a civil suit against the three Harwood basketball players shown in the video assaulting a woman?”
As she strode toward her client, she smoothed a crease in her black silk suit, purchased the day before especially for this appearance. “I’ll be making a statement in about ten minutes, and I promise to take your questions later.”
On Theo’s advice, Lipscomb was wearing a mismatched gray tweed sport jacket with a pale yellow shirt and striped tie. They were going for a humble look. According to Hank, it’s exactly what he’d have worn if left to his own devices.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Lipscomb. Did you have a chance to review my notes?”
He nodded, swallowing nervously. It was easy to think he’d never been part of something so public.
Once she made her announcement, he was to read a short statement concerning his grief over Hayley’s death, and how it was worsened by news of her sexual assault and the university’s deliberate refusal to investigate the matter on her behalf. Theo had coached him over the phone to limit his comments to scripted remarks, and to speak only when she gave him permission to answer reporters’ questions. They couldn’t afford to have him go off the reservation and accidentally say something that undermined their case.
She took the podium precisely at two o’clock, positioning herself so camera operators could frame her with the elaborate gate into Harwood University over her shoulder. The crowd had grown to over a hundred onlookers, about half of whom appeared to be students. “Thank you for coming. I am here today on behalf of Hayley Burkhart, a young woman who took her life on the night of April fifth in her sorority house on the campus of Harwood University. That same night, the Harwood Hornets won the NCAA basketball championship. It is our contention those two events are related.”
She referenced the video that reporters were already buzzing about, briefly describing its contents and confirming it was her firm that had released it to the media in advance of their announcement.
“Today, Constantine and Associates will file a civil complaint in Georgia Superior Court against Matthew Frazier, D’Anthony Caldwell…” She read the names of all individual defendants except the board of trustees. “…on behalf of Donald Lipscomb, who is named by the State of Georgia as the personal representative for the interests of Hayley Burkhart’s mother, her next of kin. We allege the acts committed by the defendants resulted in Hayley Burkhart’s wrongful death. These are the facts as we know them.”
Methodically, she ticked off the chronology of events, beginning with the party at Henderson Hall following the Vanderbilt win on February third. She indicated they were pursuing information on the person who supplied Hayley with a drugged drink, and believed him also to be the one who took the video. Though he wasn’t listed as a defendant in the complaint, she fully expected to add him to the suit once his identity was confirmed.
“We have documented that Hayley Burkhart suffered great mental distress during the period from her assault to her death. For that, we ask the court to award damages for her pain and suffering in the amount of ten million dollars. We ask the court to award an additional five million for her family’s pain and suffering. We believe Harwood University—in particular, its police force, administration and board of trustees—acted with reckless disregard in its failure to deliver due process to Hayley Burkhart in order to preserve not only the assailants’ reputations, but also their eligibility to play collegiate basketball, in order that they might win a national championship for the university. Because of this belief, we ask the court for punitive damages through disgorgement. Harwood University should relinquish all profits from that win, which we estimate to be in excess of thirty million dollars. We contend those are unjust profits derived through unethical conduct.”
There as an audible gasp from the crowd, and a smattering of expletives from within the crowd of students. The usual misogynistic crap—
cunt
,
bitch
,
slut
. Theo paused a beat while the reporters tried to identify the source of the slurs.
“Furthermore, because these actions were undeniably in reckless disregard of Hayley Burkhart’s right to due process, we ask the court to award treble damages on all counts.” That brought their total to one hundred thirty-five million.
Theo introduced Donald Lipscomb and stepped aside as he read his statement.
A small cluster of young men, one of whom was wearing a championship T-shirt, stood to the side of the crowd. Their allegiance to the players was evident from their scowls and head shaking.
“Bitch!” The voice came from someone in the back, and it wasn’t clear if the heckler was referring to Hayley or Theo until he added, “She deserved it.”
Seething with fury, Theo took the podium again when Lipscomb finished, grasping the edges firmly and steeling her voice. “The young men who assaulted Hayley Burkhart felt
entitled
in their roles as basketball players. They were
enabled
by Harwood’s police and administration, and
exempt
from accountability. Whereas Hayley Burkhart was
raped
during what should have been a joyful celebration,
rejected
by those whose job it was to bring those rapists to justice, and
repudiated
for daring to speak out.” She glared deliberately at the young men who’d created the disturbance. “There are those in the crowd who have gathered here today—I’m sure you heard the obscenities they just shouted about Ms. Burkhart…that she somehow
deserved
what happened to her in this heinous video. They represent a mutant strain of humanity that believes a sports trophy is worth more than a woman’s dignity, more than a woman’s life. That attitude is exactly why we’ve filed this suit—to hold Harwood University accountable for the fact that such repugnant views are at home on this campus.”
* * *
Seeing Theo on live TV was getting more and more surreal. She had a special quality the camera picked up and cast out to everyone watching. In Hollywood, they called it star power, an electrifying charisma that would have producers fighting one another to turn her into their branded property. No wonder the press showed up en masse for her staged events.
Only one of the news networks had covered the press conference live. However, it was the lead story on all the local channels at six o’clock, and earned a prominent mention on all the major networks during their evening newscast. Most interesting were the words they used to describe the charges—explosive, shocking, staggering.
More than five hours had passed since the announcement, enough to be certain everyone in Harwood’s administration had read the claim. Celia expected her phone to ring any minute with news of her suspension or a demand for her to appear before the board. So far only Bill Auger had called, assuring he was on call should she need him.
Unable to open page
.
The message on her computer screen confirmed her fears—the blowback had begun. She took a screen shot and forwarded it to Bill. It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence she’d lost access to the university’s server the very day Theo’s lawsuit cited an intimidating meeting with a faculty member who attempted to engage the university’s help. It didn’t matter that her name wasn’t listed in the suit—they knew exactly who’d reported their threats.
If they’d cut off her computer access, there was little doubt they’d locked her out of her campus office too.
Fortunately, she was prepared, if not emotionally then professionally. After tearing herself away from Theo after breakfast the day before, she’d gone to Forbes Hall to gather her personal effects and relevant work materials. Back at home, she’d spent several hours downloading work files and copying twelve years of correspondence to an offline email client.
Her sharp ringtone startled her and she looked at it anxiously, relieved to see Theo’s office number. “Oh, it’s just you. I’ve been sitting here all afternoon waiting to be fired.”
“
Just
me, huh?” Theo chuckled. “So the bloom’s already off the rose.”
“Hardly. You were awesome today. Not that I was surprised, but you kicked even more ass than I expected.”
“It went well. Good turnout. Plus we had some assholes in attendance who made the press even more sympathetic. They took off before anyone could interview them on camera, but look for their sexist taunts to show up in the papers.”
Celia listened with disgust as Theo described the behavior of the young men who’d gathered to heckle her. “I’m not surprised. That creepy mindset’s all over campus.”
“We have to expect reprisals.”
“Oh, they’ve already started. Looks like I’ve been frozen out of my Harwood account. Good thing I downloaded everything last night. Except anyone who writes to me now won’t get a response. It all goes to the ether.”
“Good to know.” Theo already had her gmail address and promised to send a schedule of TV interviews she should watch for. “I’m doing a few of them tonight here from our office, but they won’t air until tomorrow morning. Oh, and I wanted to give you a heads up that I might have to go out of town next weekend for another case.”
“And you said the bloom was off
my
rose. You’re already making plans to sneak off with someone else.”
“You could always come with me. Newport, Rhode Island.
We’ll find a nice B&B.”
Before Celia could accept, she was interrupted by her doorbell, injecting a jolt of anxiety and paranoia. “Uh-oh, somebody’s at my door.” A peek through the window revealed Kay Crylak’s Subaru. “It’s a friend of mine. Looks like she’s heard the news.”
“I’ll let you go. Call me at bedtime. We’ll talk dirty.”
Celia chuckled to herself as she bounded down the stairs for the door.
It wasn’t uncommon for Kay to stop in unannounced. She lived nearby, close enough that they sometimes carpooled to the MARTA stop. Obviously she was coming from her office on campus, since she was dressed in a pantsuit with polished shoes instead of her usual warmup suit and sneakers. But the glower on her face made it clear this wasn’t a social call.
“Did that lawyer send you to pump me for information? Is that what our little lunch was about? I thought we were friends.”
“Whoa! What’s going on?”
Kay stormed past her and whirled around. “I just came from an emergency meeting of the entire athletic department. Coaches, assistant coaches, trainers—every last one of us. They threatened to fire anybody who suggested there was a special arrangement between the campus police and the AD. There was a list going around of people we weren’t supposed to talk to. Lo and behold,
your
name was on it. I’m going to lose my job the minute somebody figures out I know you.”
“That’s bullshit. There
is
a special arrangement between athletes and the cops, but I knew about it before you ever said a word to me. I saw it myself with Hayley. She even handed the cops a video of those guys raping her while she was passed out, and they still didn’t bother to investigate.”
“You expect me to believe it was just a coincidence you sat there all through lunch talking about jocks and their privileges?”
“Think whatever you want, but I wasn’t pumping you for anything.” Suddenly reminded of her thin walls, she lowered her voice. “Besides, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who brought it up. Your girls who were trying to pass algebra? The bicycle thief?”
Kay’s frown gradually eased as she recalled the conversation. “You could have told me you were a witness, Celia. I didn’t have to read it in a memo.”