She’d had nothing to drink. It was obvious that Dade had a couple of beers at least, but she hadn’t thought he was too drunk to work on the speech. He had let her go afterward with the warning that if she told anyone, no one would believe it was rape, and he would smear her name all over cam pus.
The statements of the Rape Crisis counselor and the hospital nurse are predictably supportive. They were al ready preprogrammed to believe Robin and accordingly interpreted her every act and emotion as consistent with someone who had been raped. It crosses my mind that by the time she went to the police she may have convinced herself that Dade had raped her. Consensual sex became an act of force. If people can convince themselves they’ve been kidnapped by aliens and then returned safely to earth, concocting a rape story and then believing it should be a simple enough task for a college girl who has all night to dream it up.
My stomach growls, letting me know it is already past noon. I walk across College Avenue to a Burger King and order a Whopper. I sit next to a window in relative peace, mulling over the possibilities of what actually happened. Robin could easily be telling the truth; yet, for all I know, this could be the tenth lie she’s told this year.
It would be nice to know what her credibility level is.
How do I find out about her? Dade may or may not be much help. I doubt if he spends a lot of time at the Chi Omega House. Sarah must know a dozen kids who are at least aware of Robin’s reputation if she doesn’t already know it. I get up and call her from the pay phone and leave a message on her machine that I’m in town. It should be an interesting conversation if I ever get hold of her. I got your letter and think you’ve lost your mind.
Typically, a no-win situation with my daughter. She won’t be satisfied with anything short of total surrender.
I pick up a copy of the Democrat-Gazette and see an article in the second section on Dade’s hearing. So much for confidentiality. WAR will probably hold a rally out side the Union calling for Dade’s castration, I think gloomily. Yet how could I expect that information to re main a secret? I myself told Dade to tell the coaches.
Suddenly, it hits me that Coach Carter would make a perfect character witness for Dade at the hearing. Even if the faculty and student members of the “J” Board pretend that it’s no big deal for the Razorback football coach to appear before them, it would be, and some of them will be influenced whether they admit it or not. If Carter had a losing record, it might be a different story, but the Hogs for the first time in years are now ranked in the top ten, thanks to the win over Tennessee. There can’t be five people on the campus who don’t know about the game this weekend with number one ranked Alabama.
Back at the Ozark, I call Carter’s office and am told by his secretary that he is in a meeting. Undoubtedly he is with his assistant coaches drawing up a game plan for the Crimson Tide. The best time to get him, I realize, is late at night. I leave my name and number and say it is important.
Then I call the Cunninghams collect and report on the upcoming hearing. Roy, who takes the call in his store, asks the same question as his son: Is Dade going to be kicked out of school? I assure him, without the slightest evidence to back me up, that his son is in no danger of
being separated from the campus. I know he and Lucy will be talking to Dade before Friday, and any lack of confidence I convey to them will get back to Dade. Acting in effect as his own lawyer at the hearing, Dade must not panic. I promise to let them know as soon as we get a decision and hang up, knowing how helpless they both must feel.
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.”
