Innocence
Page 27
Chapter 27
That first fall at Old State was the best of times and the worst of times, to quote a cliché. That first attack was just the beginning. Unfortunately, there would be more. Soon, coeds were walking in tight groups, peering over their shoulders. The trees shedding their leaves struck skeletal poses in the night that seemed so sinister now, as if their knurled limbs were reaching out to grab us. And in the rustles of dead leaves, we heard the footsteps of would-be attackers around every twist and turn of the sidewalks crisscrossing our sprawling campus.
The place where we flocked to flower into adulthood – a once nurturing place of safety and learning, along with plenty of fun, friends and abandon -- had grown cold and uninviting. Only the closest of male friends could be trusted. Others were cast with a suspicious eye. Some women became afraid to be alone with anyone they didn’t know well and trust completely. Alas, alcohol, always the alcohol, would be the great equalizer in this. Even in these troubled times – perhaps, most especially in such times – we students still sought it out. We craved release and relief from worry. The rapes made us want and need this all the more. So we partied on amid our fear. And a self-fulfilling prophecy would come to pass.
Namely, there would always be a target for the attacker who had no conscience. An unlucky woman need only forget herself and her where-abouts for one unfortunate moment, and another crime statistic would be notched in the books. And more fear, worry and foreboding would be heaped upon our campus, sinking deeply and unsettlingly into all of our hearts.
Sure, police were crawling everywhere. Their presence was a comfort. But in a strange way, it also elevated the rapist in stature. As days turned into weeks, and one attack turned into four, the unknown subject’s ability to elude capture turned him into a mythic creature of horror. He became every young woman’s ugly, evil, deflowering boogeyman. And soon, very soon, there was the inevitable talk of a serial rapist at work.
Against this fearful and oppressive backdrop, we fought back, each in our own way.
Amanda Livingston led the feminist cause at the college newspaper. Her writings were just beginning to shake loose the first stories of victims. They reached out anonymously from pseudonymous email accounts with their stories. But Amanda was clashing with her new editor, the whip-smart but totally infuriating Brandon Jacobs. The fighting would intensify as Amanda pushed harder and harder for her story.
But the sparks between the pair of hard-bitten, completely committed pair of college journalists held the potential for more. For between Amanda and Jacobs, there was grudging respect, for sure. Professional admiration would come in time. But was there also an undeniable attraction? Perhaps, even the beginnings of romance on those long nights in the newsroom when Amanda and Brandon would be the only two left at their desks?
Only time – and the college rape story – would tell.
Overall, and over all of us, a dread had descended in that late fall. I had gotten calls and lectures from my law enforcement father. He needn’t have bothered. We were all being careful, to the point of paranoia.
But this was still college. And Homecoming Weekend was upon us. All the tension and fear only increased our need to blow off steam. The venue for this would be the legendary party of Phi Beta. Sonya insisted that all of us be there. Of course, she had her eye on just one person, the frat’s newest member, Josh Elliot.
The late October air had turned cold as we walked in a group toward Frat Row. The Five of us were as tight as ever, even if Amanda really didn’t want to go. A frat party just didn’t live up to her higher-brow British sensibilities. And the frat frivolity would lure her away from her professor-lover, her newspaper editor-tormentor and the rape story that had consumed her. But Amanda was a friend and a member of the Five, first and foremost. She would not have missed this.
None of it would.
And it would prove to be the worst decision of our college careers.