Book: Wild Justice

R >> Ruth M. Sprague >> Wild Justice




"We wanted to wait until the students left, of course.
They've been pestering us with petitions in support of her and we
sure don't want them around during her hearing. Also everyone
wants to leave as soon as possible for summer vacations, Jonathan.
We want this mess cleaned up before we leave."

"Well, my station for the grand march is west campus. Yours?"
Fully garbed in medieval academic splendor, Jonathan paused by the open door.

"My department forms up in front of the library. See you next week."

"Right."

The two men left the office together then separated at the
founder's statue to reach their appointed destinations.

What a farce, ruminated Jonathan as he made his way between
the colorful plantings bordering the walk. Shakespeare would
have loved it. Much ado about nothing and a tempest in a teapot.
What a hoot, making all this fuss about seven student feedback forms.
Nobody ever pays any attention to them yet suddenly they are so important.

Hard to figure a valid reason for such violent reactions from the Vee.
Just a couple of years ago, Professor Beand was convicted of child molestation.
He was suspended for a few months but they took him right back with no loss
of pay or position.

And then there was that dean in the History Department who
altered faculty promotion papers. Nothing happened to him.
I remember one of the Vee's saying at that time that he shouldn't
be disciplined for it because other faculty had done far worse things
and were not punished. That's sure true. I remember several incidents
involving students, alcohol, drugs. . .all swept quietly under the rug.

It's obvious what is going on here. Lyle needs to pull the
chestnuts out of the fire for those two new faculty he took on so
they can be reappointed and tenured. If he can pin some of their
negative critiques on Diana Trenchant, he can argue that all the
years of bad critiques are suspect and nullify them.

And, of course, Henry and the rest are going along with it
out of revenge--they are just plain pissed off because they
couldn't win her over with snob appeal. She scorned them,
their exalted positions and their offerings. That's it, I bet
anything that's it. Silently apologizing to William Congrave,
Jonathan paraphrased, "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned
nor Hell more fury than a good 'ol boy scorned." The medical student
that wrote the open letter to The Pope was right--this hearing is
an administrative gang bang.

Jonathan was soon joined by others in brightly colored or
richly black gowns. Peacocked with the educational badge each
had attained and crowned with a mortar board which got its name
from a board used by masons to hold cement. How appropriate that
it is worn on the head.

Commencement--a colorful, glorious grouping traditioned by time.
All nicely covering the decay and tarnish of some of its stewards.





THE HEARING - DAY 1



Chapter 4


"The hearing? Oh yes, that is being held in this room right
here," advised Lorraine Debeau, head custodian of Howard Hall.

Diana Trenchant and her witnesses had arrived early. One of
the witnesses asked Lorraine where the group might wait.

"There are two rooms I was told to open. This is the best one
right opposite the hearing room," she offered, walking ahead of them
into the room, proud as a general leading the troops to battle.
I'll give you guys the best one since you are here first
and because of what you are doing."

As she turned to leave the room, she put her hand on Trenchant's shoulder.
"Hey, good luck. You know, you are the only person that ever tried to help
us custodians get a fair shake. When you were head of the Staff Association,
you made those guys in administration treat us decent."

The six witnesses and Trenchant spread themselves out comfortably
on the plush sofas and soft rug as individual preference dictated.
Good feelings washed over them, mixed with pride and determination.
It was as if their cause, their righteous quest, had been anointed
by a high priestess.

"It's nice to have friends in high places," commented Andrea,
looking around appreciatively. They were in a large, rectangular
room outfitted as a lounge. At the front facing the entrance hall,
the walls gave way to glass, so it was something like being in a fish bowl.
Someone suggested shutting the curtains but Helen objected.

"No, don't. I want to watch for them to come in. I'm going to
take their pictures."

There was general laughter at this and Andrea slapped her on the back,
"go gittum, Helen."

Roz advised the other witnesses not to be intimidated by the panel.
"Hey, I've known most of them for years and they are no better than we are."
She had held a full time job at Belmont for nearly two years. Roz had been
around and was no spring chicken so the group nodded and took comfort from her.

She, like some of the other witnesses, was also taking courses in
the nursing school. One of these courses was taught by Diana Trenchant.

"Look, here they come now," Helen yelled as a group
of men came into the hall through the open front door.
She grabbed her camera and shot out of the room.

One of the men broke from the group and came into the witness room
saying loudly, "Who are you and what are you doing in here?
This room is reserved."

"We were told this was a witness room and we are witnesses,"
said Roz, flatly. "Who are you?"

Glaring at Roz and throwing his entire body into an intimidating pose,
the man said angrily, "I am the Academic Vice President, Henry Tarbuck,
and I reserved this room for the university witnesses."

"That's OK then," said Roz cheerfully and completely
unimpressed. "We are university witnesses.

Diana stepped forward. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, it's you. You were supposed to go to a room upstairs."

"We asked and we were directed here," interjected Roz.
Smiling up at Henry innocently, she continued in a child's
sing-song voice, "finders, keepers."

"Well. We'll see about that," was the disgruntled, graceless retort.

As he turned to leave Trenchant stopped him. "I have requested
an open hearing which you have denied me. I again ask that
the hearing be open."

"No, absolutely not. The hearing is closed."

"A closed hearing is to protect the rights of the accused.
As the accused, I waive that consideration and again request
that the hearing be open and that any person who wishes may attend."

"No." The Vee closed the door of the witness room behind him
with a indignant slam.

"Now there's a sweetheart," murmured Roz. "Hey, did you guys
notice we got our own phone in here?

An obviously annoyed Henry Tarbuck sought out the custodian,
Lorraine. "I ordered that downstairs room to be held for the
university's witnesses," he barked at her.

"Not me, you didn't. I was told to open two rooms for the
hearing witnesses. That's all." Lorraine, all four feet of her
bristling, stood up on her toes and duplicated the Vee's tone,
jaw to jaw.

Always outmatched when encountering any female who did not
smile, cringe, grovel or otherwise conform to his `typing',
Henry turned away from her and fumed his way to the hall phone booth.

Reaching his secretary, his tone took on the whine of a young boy.
"Lynn, something terrible has happened. That woman took the good room,
the one with the good chairs and the telephone. I'm using the booth
in the hall! How could this happen?"

"I don't know, Henry. I told the custodian over there to reserve
the two rooms as you directed me. I don't recall that you gave me specific
instructions as to which room was for which group."

"I assumed th. . ."

Henry broke off as he caught sight of the dean and two medical school
faculty coming in the door. "I'll get back to you and get this
straightened out. Got to go.

"Right this way, gentlemen. We've had a slight mix up in
the waiting rooms and I apologize in advance for any inconvenience
it may cause. I'm going to have a phone put in soonest and some
decent chairs!" Still talking, Henry led the men upstairs.

Downstairs, Helen returned from a self appointed scouting mission,
breathless and amused. "Oh," she panted, "you should see the room they have.
It's a lecture hall--hard chairs and blackboards all around.
We sure lucked out by getting here first."

"We sure did but our luck was in having Lorraine as
custodian in charge. Obviously, we were supposed to get
the upstairs one and I'll bet you dollars to donuts that
it's been bugged," asserted Roz.

Helen had recovered her breath by now and readily agreed.
"Yeah, I bet. You know that Vee, Jimbo, was so threatening.
I took his picture and he came right up to me and demanded
to know my name and what I was doing there and. . ."

"Oh, he's a pain in the ass all the time," Roz interrupted.
"He was bad enough when he was chair of NERD but now that they
kicked him up to a Vee, he's insufferable. Drinks like a fish.
Did you tell him?"

Helen laughed. "No, I just yelled, `Press', at him and got
the hell out of there.

"Just a moment ago, outside, I got a good shot of three guys
that were just coming in. I think one of them was Dean Broadhurst.
One of the guys with him saw me and covered his face--
just like you see the crooks do on TV when they're taken to court."

James, the one male witness, came in with Jean and Andrea.
They were laden with Dunkin' Donut bags, coffee cups, milk and soda.

It was well past the time set for the commencement of the
hearing and the six women and one man good naturedly sat down
to await the pleasure of the Vee. Noblesse oblige never had
functioned at Belmont and they didn't expect it to start now.

Upstairs, things were gradually getting sorted out. Harried custodians
had removed or stacked most of the student chairs and brought in
plush seats. A phone had been located trailing a long,
snake-like extension cord that stretched out the door and back
along the hall to the office it had been liberated from.

The university caterers had brought in a coffee, tea and Danish
service which was in the process of being depleted by the
administration's witnesses. Henry Tarbuck worked the room,
spreading ersatz charm like a bee pollinating from flower to flower.




Chapter 5


The door to the hallway opened suddenly and Henry strode in.
He looked at Diana Trenchant and gestured toward the hearing room.
"We're ready for you now," he announced with all the smarmy triumph
of an interrogator leading the way to the torture chamber.

The accused stood up. In silence, the seven witnesses
grouped around hugging her and each other. The Vee watched,
disgust thick as mildew around a neglected sauna, covering his face.

Disengaging, Trenchant started for the door.

"Here, take this with you just in case you lose your
perspective and need to find it," urged James. He shoved
an 8 x 10 inch piece of white cardboard into her hand.

On it, printed in large letters, was the legend:
BEAM ME UP SCOTTY. THERE'S NO INTELLIGENT LIFE DOWN HERE!

The hearing room was about 30 feet square with no outside windows.
The front, facing the hallway contained the door. The rest of
the front wall was glass, similar to the neighboring witness room,
but here the curtains were tightly closed as if the room was ashamed
to reveal what was to take place inside.

A large table nearly filled the room, and seated along the
far side of it, nearest the front of the room, sat four members
of the hearing panel. At the head of the table, with his back
to the blinded glass wall, Henry had enthroned himself.

Diana was curtly directed to a seat also on the far side
of the table at the back of the room. There were several
chairs between her and the panel.

Across the table from the panel sat Janet Parks, the court reporter,
with her back to the door. She was accessorized with a recording machine
beside her and a backup tape recorder on the table.

Janet, as her profession demanded, tended to fade into the woodwork.
Dress and manner were subdued to the point where she became
nearly invisible--but not to Diana. She saw kindly eyes surrounded
by a round face that wanted to be jolly and laughing. She saw a possible
relief from the dominant accusing eyes. Not an advocate perhaps,
but at least neutrality.

An empty chair sat drawn up to the table beside Janet and there
was another empty chair further down the table opposite Trenchant.

The entire setup of the room was intentionally
choreographed to promote psychological terrorism.
Diana Trenchant and her witnesses would be interrogated
by the panel while sitting in the chair beside
the court stenographer directly across from the panel.

The administration's accusers would sit in the chair
which was directly across the table from Diana Trenchant.
Except for when she would be testifying, Diana was seated
at the place most distant from the door.

Alone.

Diana Trenchant sat down in the assigned seat and arranged
her note pad and documents for easy access. For the moment,
the panel was huddled together whispering so she took the time
to organize her thoughts and chill out the mounting apprehension.

Here she was, sixty years old, twenty five of those working
at Belmont, with never even as much as a traffic ticket citation,
facing a university hearing panel. Here she was--accused of forging
seven student feedback forms. The lump in her stomach and the one
in her throat were trying to join together and drag the rest of her
down into a black, empty tunnel of fear. Resisting the pull,
she looked around the hearing room and met the eyes of the stenographer
who smiled at her encouragingly.

Janet Parks had attended many hearings. Her job was to
faithfully record every spoken word on her transcription machine.
Most of the time, she plied her trade in the courts but
occasionally she was called out into the private sector.
She had seen a lot of people on trial and her observant eyes
took in every detail.

The configuration of the hearing room had not been lost on
her so when she met the eyes of the accused, Diana Trenchant,
she felt a tug of sympathy. She noted Diana's pale, drawn features
and erect bearing. Here was a woman, thought Janet, who would
never use makeup or any other cover up. She has such a direct,
honest look it's hard to believe that she is the one in trouble
here. As Diana's eyes returned to her notes, Janet looked at her
more closely. Not terribly well groomed, she thought, noting the
slacks with casual blouse and jacket. Janet recalled that Diana
was wearing jogging shoes when she walked in. Obviously, she
wore her cloths for comfort, not for adornment. Janet continued
her inventory: mousy brown hair--no style, blue eyes.
Tired blue eyes. Lots of wrinkles, those badges that life
awarded to survivors. Must be pushing along into the sixties.
Wonder what she sounds like. Hope she's not one of those squeaky kind.
Oh, oh, the head cheese is about to start--get ready.

Henry Tarbuck consulting his notes then stated that the dean had accused
Diana Trenchant of creating and submitting fictitious student feedback forms.

"Responding to the dean's charge, this committee was formed
and I will now introduce them. On the end is Mr. Frank Anuse,
director of the Informational Studies Unit."

The Vee looked fondly at Frank who nodded his bald head in acknowledgement.
A tall gangling bean-pole of a man. His head, devoid of any sort of
demarcation between face and pate, appeared to float above his body
like some sort of alien spacecraft.

They had gotten together over drinks the day before and decided
that they would play good cop, bad cop at the hearing. He,
as chair, would affect neutrality while Frank could go after
Diana and her witnesses hammer and tongs.

If anyone on this hearing panel was more anxious than himself
to smash this woman, it was Frank, mused Henry. He had good reason.
It was about three years ago that. . .

Affirmative Action Officer, Kevin Goodman, sat in his office
reading a letter that had just come in the campus mail.

Kevin, a black, realized that he had been awarded this
position because of his permanent tan. He had thought when
he agreed to take the office that he truly would be allowed
to enforce federal mandates.

Now, two years into it, the bubble had long since burst.
His office was there, it appeared, only to satisfy the law that
such an office be maintained. However, deans and directors of
departments seldom did as he directed and if he went to the Pope,
well, he found out pretty quickly that did no good.

He was actively seeking another appointment at a more enlightened
and humane university. Enough was enough, but while he was still here,
he would do the best he could or was allowed to do.

He smoothed the pages of the letter flat and reached for the phone.

"Professor Anuse? Kevin Goodman here. Affirmative Action Office."

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"I have a complaint regarding your hiring process that I'd
like to discuss with you at your earliest convenience."

"Now's fine. What's the problem?"

"It's alleged that you will not interview or otherwise consider
males for positions in your division," Kevin said, carefully.

"Can't interview or consider anyone who doesn't apply for a position, can I.
Shit! Men just aren't interested in the jobs in my unit."

Kevin blinked and cleared his throat. "Ah, well, I called
the personnel office and they informed me that they had sent
you a file of a male for the last two positions you posted.
I was told that you did not interview him."

"Could be, I suppose. Probably he didn't qualify."

"Personnel says that he is very well qualified."

Frank Anuse made a face at the telephone. The supercilious
bastard, he thought. Who is he to check up on my hiring?

"They do, huh."

Frank's predilection for hiring only women, preferably young,
was well known throughout Belmont. He laughingly referred to himself
as the sheik and the girls as his harem in conversations
with his male colleagues. His girls referred to him as Jack the Ripper.
Turnover in his department, in all senses of the word, was active.

"Yes," Kevin continued. "In light of this complaint, my office will have to
review the records of all of your hiring for the past two years. Would you
please have this material ready for my assistant to pick up tomorrow?"
Kevin spoke firmly, looking down at his crossed fingers.

"All those files? Christ, you think I've got nothing better to do than. . .
Who in the hell made this complaint, anyway?"

"The letter came from the chair of the Staff Association,
Diana Trenchant. Evidently several complaints have been
brought to her attention."

"She can go to Hell and you too, for that matter.
What business is it of yours who I hire?"

"Federal law prohibits discriminatory hiring practices.
This university has to comply to receive federal grants.
My job is to see that the university is in compliance."

"Bull, everyone knows that just applies to women and
spa. . ., er, minorities."

"That is incorrect, Mr. Anuse. Anti-discrimination laws apply
to anyone who is being discriminated against. Please have those
files ready for pick-up," said Kevin and firmly hung up the phone.

Frank looked at the phone for a beat and then walloped it
to get a dial tone. He punched in the number for Mark Rogers,
the university attorney.

Reaching his party, he said, "Mark, what do you know about
the bitch chairing the Staff Association?"




Chapter 6


. . ."and sitting next to Ed is Esther Rondell, agriculture."

Frank beamed at Esther who simpered in return. A large woman,
Esther wore her white hair in an old fashioned pug at the back.
She had been at Belmont longer than anyone could remember.
She dressed conservatively and was always on university committees.

Esther was at the forefront of every woman's movement on campus.
She was quick to rush to any woman's defense and agree that yes,
they were badly treated. This allowed her a podium to broadcast
how badly she was used by the university. With all her experience,
with all her hard work, she was shafted at every turn, was her cry.

Any serious group of women who might band together to effect change
were usually derailed by her and the administration loved it.
An unsuspecting woman who confided in her thinking she was a fellow
sufferer found to her sorrow that Esther was only out for Esther.
Any confidence given her was nearly always violated. This queen bee
just shrugged and stung them to death.

A cinch, thought Henry.

"Then Professor Jane Astori, physical therapy."

Beside Esther, tiny Jane appeared almost doll-like,
even though she was only a little shorter than average.
Her blond hair was worn long and fastened with a barrette at the back.
It swished like a horse's tail whenever she moved her head.

At 42, she had attained her goal of becoming a professor
and now had her sights on the department chair. She was
adept at playing the system. A political pro.

"Last, but not least, here beside me, is Annette Pringle,
zoology," finished Henry.

Annette nodded in recognition of the introduction and then
turned her eyes again to the stack of papers in front of her.
She was scared. It was her first committee assignment since
her appointment as assistant professor at Belmont and she didn't
want to be here. Everything was wrong about this hearing.
It was plain as could be that Trenchant was being railroaded.
Nobody at Belmont ever considered student feedback forms
anything more than an exercise in futility.

What a nothing, inconsequential charge--yet here she was with
the rest of the panel who all appeared to think this was the
most serious crime since the Holocaust.

Annette hadn't dared to refuse Henry's request after the
way the Vee had questioned her. He had come unannounced to her
office to ask her to serve on this hearing panel. He explained
to her how important serving on university committees could be
and how they beefed up a curriculum vita.

Then, right out of the blue, apropos of nothing he had said,
"I understand you and your friend, Joan, live together."
It could have been just an innocent remark, but Annette,
with years of suspicion and threats to remember, didn't think so.
He knows, she thought and the thought stuck in her throat and choked
her with fear. Her weak protests that she really didn't think
she had experience enough yet to qualify for the panel had been
swept aside and here she was.

Henry's thoughts were similar. He smiled in triumph.
It really paid to check people out carefully. You could find out
the damndest things. Things people were afraid of getting out.
Things Henry could used to control them.

Still smiling, he turned to the papers before him and in rapid order,
introduced into evidence, Medical School Dean Broadhurst's letter of charges,
a memo from the Chairman of NERD, Dr. Lyle Stone, and the two files containing
the material sent out from Belmont to the document examiners.

"These are the items," the Academic Vice President and Chair
of the hearing panel committee asserted, holding up the files,
"that the hearing is about."

"We will commence by having the university's witnesses sworn
in by the court stenographer. The committee will then examine
each of the witness, then the accused may cross examine them.

"After all our witnesses have testified, Trenchant may
examine her witnesses and the committee will cross.
Are there any questions?"

"Yes." Diana said firmly. "You have said that the witness
are to be sworn by the court stenographer and I have no
objection to that. However, I want it in the record that I was
told both by the ombudsman and by you, Mr. Chairperson, that this
would be a typical administrative hearing and that witnesses are
generally not sworn. When they are, it is done by one of the
hearing committee.

"I was further told that recording of the hearing would be by
tape recorder. I find that neither of these two things are true.

"In addition, I want it recorded that I have requested several
times that this hearing be open, and the chair has refused.
The Attorney General's Office has asked to be allowed to send
an observer to this hearing. Their request was denied,
but they were promised a complete transcript of it."

"OK," Henry brushed aside Diana's observations as if they were
of no import, and continued, "we'll call our first witness."
Henry rose and went to get the Lyle Stone, chair of the
Nutrition, Embryology and Radiology Department--NERD.

Lyle was seated directly opposite Trenchant and was sworn
by the stenographer. Under questioning from the committee,
he gave his name and position.

Dr. Lyle Stone was a man totally driven by ambition.
He treated people on two levels. If he needed something from you,
he was most decent, even kindly; if not, he ignored you.

Quick to anger, he rarely checked facts. He took good care
of himself, and at the age of 58, he regularly worked out
at the gym and was seldom sick.

He was, however, short. Shorter than the average man, he tried
to make up the height with bluster. This gave him not only a Banty
rooster approach to life but also may have been why he resembled one.

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