Campus Payback

"Slow down a second, Suzy. You should think hard before you make a final decision. We can try to hide your identity—edit the videos to blur your face and body, distort your voice. But there's always a chance, a good chance actually, that your name will leak to the press. We can expect Brennan to play as dirty as possible."

"Fuck that, Ellen. Fuck blurring and distorting. I'm not guilty about what I did—I'm proud!"

"Yes, you should be proud, Suzy, but think for a minute. You appear naked on those tapes. They show him, you know, uh..."

"Jeez, Ellen," she cut in, "you sound almost like Dean Castor. Like I should be ashamed of my sexuality. But I'm not. I'm not some blushing virgin, and sex is not the crime here. The crime is extortion and abuse of power, and the criminal is Brennan. Plus, let's not pussy-foot around. You and I both know that the hype will be that much bigger if we release the footage raw. No, I say just let the media fires burn. I'm not about to hide from anything I did, or apologize for it either."

She was so different than I had been at that age. Confident, uninhibited, independent-minded. Unconcerned with what other people thought. Perhaps also too naïve, too black-and-white. And maybe a bit too hungry for the spotlight. But be that as it may, it was her life, her decision, and maybe it was the right one for her.

"OK, Suzy, if that's how you want to handle it, I'll back you 100%. Sleep on it, and if you still feel this way tomorrow then we'll lay our trap. Here's what I suggest. Send the recordings of you and Brennan to all the major press outlets, local and national, at one o'clock Eastern Time on Monday. It will dominate social media all afternoon, and be the lead story on the evening broadcasts. At the same time, I'll confront Faith Castor with our evidence, and ensure that the administration comes down firmly on your side. After that, I'll reach out to a few folks I know in the press, and arrange for you and Faith to appear together for sympathetic interviews on the major morning shows. We'll have Brennan in county lockup on charges of extortion and criminal solicitation by Tuesday night."

"Yeah, but Ellen, what about the tape of Dean Castor? Don't you want to bring her down too?"

"Well, Suzy, it is entirely up to you. Let me just say a couple of things. First, if we take on both the eminent professor and the college administration at the same time, then they will have no choice but to circle their wagons and support each other. There's a chance they might both slip away."

So far this was true. Now I fudged a little. "Second, what consequences would Castor likely face? Probably she'd be let go quietly, with a big severance package, and land at some other university in no time." In point of fact, I was quite sure the dean's admission that she had redirected large sums from government research grants into under-the-table payoffs would be enough to land her in jail for a few years too. "So, let me propose an alternative, Suzy. Let's make sure we nail Brennan, while I hold onto the evidence over Castor. Using that evidence, I will not only make sure she cooperates with us, but that she pays in full for enabling so much harassment and abuse. I give you my word."

"Well, OK then. I trust you, Professor Ellen. If you say she'll get what's coming to her, then that's good enough for me."

"Oh yes, Suzy, never fear: she will get every last thing that's coming to her."

* * * * *

On Monday afternoon, promptly at one PM, I exchanged a few final texts with Suzy, and then walked into Dean Castor's office.

"Ellen," the dean said tonelessly. She continued reading over some printouts, not bothering to look up. "You said you wanted to meet to talk about next year's staffing estimates? I'm not sure I can do anything to help you there, the budget is already nailed down." Faith Castor was slim, and attractive, in an all-professional sort of way. She had shoulder-length auburn hair, an elongated oval face, long upturned nose, high cheekbones, and vacant ice-blue eyes. Like me, she was in her late thirties—having made dean at an unprecedently young age, while I still languished as an obscure assistant professor. I knew Brennan's wide-ranging influence had been instrumental in her rise. Now, she was on the fast-track for high university office, and all the compensations and benefits that went with it.

"No, Faith, actually I have something entirely different to discuss, and I suggest you give me your full attention." She glanced up from the papers, not bothering to hide her vague annoyance. "I know Suzy Ruiz told you that Bob Brennan extorted sex from her. Well, you should know that she has it all on video. And, as we speak, she is releasing the recordings to the media. So, I'm going to need a few things from you. I need you and the provost to make an immediate statement, supporting her and condemning Brennan. I need you to fire the man—today. I need you to support us in pressing criminal charges against him, and I need you to clear your schedule for joint media appearances with Suzy over the next week or so."

Faith stared at me for a minute, and then snorted in exasperation. "That stupid girl. So she's got tapes, has she? Well, that's just going to make it worse for her. Any woman filmed having sex will end up as the villain of the piece, no matter what the circumstances. No, I'm afraid you steered her wrong, Ellen—the university is certainly not going to throw over Bob Brennan so lightly. That man has survived worse scandals, as you well know. Now, will you excuse me? I've got some calls to make."

"Well, here's the thing, Faith. Brennan isn't the only one Suzy recorded. We have you on tape as well, admitting to embezzlement and bribery. Now, how we proceed with that evidence is up to you. If you break with Brennan, this very moment, and bring the administration along with you, then I'll sit on those recordings. But if you back him, then we'll take you down too Faith."

The woman stared back at me, a little flustered by this new information, mouth slightly agape. I pressed my advantage, not giving her time to compose herself: "It is conceivable, I'll grant you, that Bob might still wriggle off the hook. But be honest with yourself Faith: there's no way you could escape this. The chancellor would toss you to the wolves in a heartbeat. I reviewed our evidence with a lawyer, and he said you're looking at an easy felony conviction and five to ten years at the state penitentiary. Real career killer, that. And I was just hearing on the radio the other day how high the rate of sexual abuse is in female prisons. I never knew how many male guards they use there. So you've got a big decision to make, and you need to make it right now." I folded my arms and stared at her.

The gears had begun to turn in Faith's head, and, true-to-form, she decided to see if she could buy me off. "Ellen, I know your tenure application is coming up..." Seeing the livid expression on my face, her voice trailed off, mid-sentence.

Then, changing tacks abruptly, she picked up the phone. "Della, get me the provost... Hello, Jerry? Let me cut to the chase. It's about Brennan.... Yes, he's done it again. Dead to rights this time... I know... Yes, it's unsalvageable... I know!... Yes, we already have the contingency plans in place... With cause... Yes, we inserted all the necessary language in his last contract... Ok, so you'll inform the chancellor, and I'll call security and have him escorted from campus... Yes, I know!... Thank you Jerry. I'm sorry it has come to this, but I've made sure we're insulated from all liability... I know!... Bye Jerry."

"There," Faith said, turning to me, "I hope you're happy. Now I'll probably have to lay off fifty researchers." She looked at me for a minute, and then continued. "Well, you got what you wanted, and left me with a shitstorm of an afternoon ahead of me. I assume we're done here?"

"Faith, I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm done with you," I said, slowly and coldly. "If you play ball, you can stay out of prison and keep your job. But you are not innocent in all this, and you are not going to go unpunished."

Faith blinked and lowered her businesslike façade an inch. "What is your angle, Ellen? Why are you doing this? There will always be Brennans in academia—it's just one of the sad facts of life, like cancer, or car wrecks. So why take it out on me? I'm a cog in this machine just like anyone else."

"Do you remember when we met, Faith?" I asked in a flat tone.

She reddened. Suddenly she knew that I knew something. But what did I know—how much? "Um...," she temporized, "it must have been when you came to campus to interview..."

"Try harder, Faith. I think you remember it very well. We first met at that professional conference in New Orleans, back when we were both graduate students ourselves. I was a struggling nobody at Northern-Central State and you were Dr. Brennan's rising star here."

"Oh did we meet way back then?" She affected to think hard about it. "Why, so we did. It had entirely slipped my mind."

"And do you remember anything else about that conference?" I pressed her.

"Well, now that you mention it, Ellen, there was some kind of unpleasantness that involved you, wasn't there? Some kind of scandal? Really, I thought you'd prefer to forget all about it."

"Remind me, what happened?"

"Well, I wasn't there Ellen, I really can't say for sure."

"Spit it out, Faith."

"Well, Ellen, if you insist," she murmured, a catlike expression in her eyes. "What I heard was that you really made a fool of yourself. Specifically, that you got blind drunk in the hotel bar and slept with every man there... There were pictures, you know." I did know. "In fact, I bet some of your distinguished colleagues still have them loaded on their computers..."

"No," she went on, "to be honest, when you applied for the faculty job here, I wasn't at all sure the university should hire you. After what I'd heard about New Orleans, I thought your personality must be a bit, well, unstable... However, you've been a model professor since joining us. And who hasn't done foolish things in their youth? It's all water under the bridge now. I'm sure the rumors were exaggerated..."

"You know, Faith, that's what I thought for a long time too. That somehow I'd lost my mind that night, discarded all common sense and decorum, become a different person. How could I possibly have allowed myself to be used by dozens of men? That just wasn't... me. And yet it had happened. Oh, I didn't remember any of it, of course—because I'd been blind drunk, or so I assumed. But there was no denying that it had happened... Do you know what they did, those men, after they'd had their fun?"

"No." She spoke softly and carefully.

"They just left me there, on a table in the bar. Took my clothes, of course. Trophies, maybe. When the prep staff came in the next morning, they found me there, face down on the table, stark naked, legs spread wide. When they woke me, and I stood up, the semen just poured out of me—I was completely full of it. It's an entirely different experience from when you've just had one man—bet you didn't know that. And I had the stuff in my mouth. Stuck in my hair. Plastered on my face, my breasts, my thighs. Semen everywhere."

I went on. "Oh, and here's another thing you've probably never experienced. It was obvious that no one had forced me—there was never any doubt that I'd been a willing participant in the whole thing. And yet, the next morning, I found I was still sore. It turns out that's another side-effect of having had so many men inside you. I ended up walking bow-legged all day... Not that I could just hobble out of the bar anyway, of course, being naked. The staff didn't have anything I could cover myself with, you see? Nothing larger than dish towels. So, the guy who drew the short straw ran to the hotel desk to get some sheets, while the rest of them just stood there, gawking at me."

"That's horrible," Faith said, apparently genuine.

"Did you know that I tried to deliver my conference paper that same morning?," I asked.

"Mm, I heard..."

"Yes. It was an early session. I didn't have time to shower. I just washed my face, sponged my thighs, and threw on some clothes. When I stood up in front of the audience, there were still globs of semen stuck in my hair. The room was packed, of course. Who knew how many of these guys had fucked me the night before, and how many others had heard about it and were hoping I would give a second performance... Anyway, as I started speaking, someone at the back yelled 'take it off!,' and I lost it. Couldn't handle it. Maybe if I'd been as fearless as Suzy, I could have borne it all. But I wasn't tough like that. Instead, I just burst out in tears and hobbled out of the room."

"Oh, I ..." Clearly she could think of nothing to say that might soften either my personal pain, or my anger.

"New Orleans almost destroyed my career. Because, how could I face my colleagues again, after I had done that? And how could I trust myself? I took a whole year off—just ran home to my parents and tried to hide from the world. But eventually I found my courage again. I got back up, returned to graduate school, held my head high, ignored the sniggers and innuendos, and gritted it out. I knew I had screwed up, but I was determined never to let myself down like that again.

"And you've done very well for yourself, Ellen."

"Did you know Brennan hit on me at that conference? Prior to that night at the bar, I mean. Well, of course you know about it... At the time it was flattering, to have a titan of the profession notice me, even in a slimy way. But he was twice my age, so I blew him off. And then, after everything else happened, I entirely forgot about Brennan's clumsy advances. Instead, I spent the next several years blaming myself, reproaching myself, trying to learn how to trust myself again, always watching myself for the slightest wayward impulse. It was exhausting... So, Faith, can you guess when I finally put two and two together?"

She stared at me like a cornered animal, mute.

"I finally figured it out because of another one of Brennan's scandals, about four years back. You remember it? Of course you do. It was all very Machiavellian. First Brennan pressured student A for sex, but she refused. So then he pressured student B to rufie student A for him. And of course student B refused too. Instead they both submitted complaints against the bastard. And then you covered it all up, like you always do."

"Yes..."

"That's what got the ball rolling in my mind. Since then I've worked with a therapist to try to recover the memories of that incident. It's a painful thing to go back and relive. And I've asked around among colleagues, gingerly, to try to find out what people remember from that night. That hurts too. But finally I pieced it all together... I remember you, now, Faith. You were there that night."

"Well, perhaps Ellen, briefly. As you said, we did bump into each other in New Orleans at some point..."

"You were there, in the bar, at the start of that evening. We were talking. I was drinking a tonic water, and you laughed and said you'd get us both something a little stronger. That's the last clear image I've been able to recover. However, from what I've been able to piece together, the orgy didn't start right away. No—people remembered that I'd been very drunk, but that some other woman had led me off, saying she'd make sure I got back to my room safely. And then, hours later, when I reappeared in the bar, it was clear to the men there that I'd already been, uh, 'partying.' My blouse was hanging open, no bra, no panties. More than one man swore I'd already had sex."

"I really don't know why you want to dredge up those painful memories now, dear."

"So, finally it all made sense. Brennan was frustrated that I'd rebuffed him. He got you, his obedient grad student, to put something in my drink, a narcotic of some kind, and lead me back to his room. Afterwards, you returned me to the bar, stoned and half-naked, for whatever might come next. I'm not entirely sure why you did that—maybe Brennan hoped to cover up his crime that way, or maybe you were jealous that I had caught his eye. But be that as it may, you can see, Faith, that I'm not in the dark anymore. I know what he did—and I know what you did too."

She didn't bother trying to deny it. "I was as much his victim as you were, Ellen. He made me into one of his 'conquests' early on, and there was simply no way I could defy the man. He held all the cards... Anyway, I had no idea what was going to happen in the bar—I never dreamed that every man there would have sex with you. We just wanted to, uh, muddy the waters a little."

"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, Faith? The truth is that plenty of women have reached a line with Brennan that they were unwilling to cross. When you became not just his easy fuck, but also his conspirator, his accomplice, his guardian, you made your bed. And you are going to lie in it."

"You need to stay focused Ellen, Brennan is the villain. And we've got him. You can't imagine how happy I am that that man is going to pay for his sins. Let's work together to take him down."

"Oh, you are going to make sure he goes down hard, Faith. That's your first task, in fact, and if you fail at it, I will see you in prison. But just don't think it's your last task... Now, let's go ahead and make that call to campus security to have him removed. And after that, I think the next call is to law enforcement. I know the university must have some political sway with the sheriff and county prosecutor. I not only want that brute off campus today, but I want to see him frog-marched to jail in handcuffs tomorrow."

* * * * *

CHAPTER 3

* * * * *

Faith Castor did deliver quality work on the first task I had set her. She persuaded the provost and chancellor that the university could still preserve its good name, but only if it made a big spectacle out of taking down Bob Brennan. They, in turn, drew in every political favor they had with the governor, county commissioner, prosecutor, and judge. Brennan was jailed, held without bond as a flight risk, and pressured into a guilty plea for sexual assault and extortion.

Hints had been floated that he would end up at a country-club jail, but then the judge turned around and sent him to the nastiest prison in the state. I took comfort in knowing that not only would Bob Brennan be spending the rest of his life behind bars, but that also, as a soft, white, sexual offender in a maximum security unit, he would no doubt be on the receiving end of other people's dicks from now on. I deplore prison-rape in general terms, but in this specific instance, I could think of nothing more apt.

With the administration's help and backing, meanwhile, Suzy became the hero of the hour. Oh, her tape with Brennan was a top download on every porn site in America, as expected. And yet somehow the shaming and reproach that normally accompany such a public spectacle just rolled off Suzy. Maybe it was simply because of her self-confidence, her force of will.

At any rate, instead of being caricatured as a defiled victim or lewd attention-seeker, Suzy was cheered in the media and on campus as an intrepid fighter for the rights of the downtrodden. It appeared that Suzy wouldn't have to buy her own drink (beer or coffee) for the rest of the year, and that her advisors and fellow students were nothing but supportive. I hadn't dared hope for such an outcome, but I was gratified by it. She was going to be just fine.

Of course, none of this had blunted my appetite for revenge against Faith in the slightest. Yes, revenge—let's call it what it was. I knew, intellectually, that revenge served no purpose; and that it was better, even for the victim herself, if she forgave the perpetrator. The truth was that I simply didn't care. I burned for Faith to suffer the way I had, and knew that I would not be able to rest until she did. Nor can I claim there was anything redeeming about this urge—that I was motivated by any selfless concern over what Faith had done, or might do, to other people. No, this was all about getting even for what she had done to me.