It would be great if the lacrosse case were "D-E-A-D, dead," as one particularly excited Towerview columnist put it. After all, I certainly never thought we'd still be talking about it nearly two years after the fact.
But the case is not dead, not at Duke and certainly not in Durham, where the wrongly indicted players are seeking tens of millions in compensation for their grief.
Here on campus, three unindicted players have filed suit against just about every top administrator at this University-including President Richard Brodhead-and if officials cannot reach a settlement or have the case dismissed, we could all be facing a years-long deposition and discovery phase followed by a trial.
Which brings us to the question at hand: Why won't this case just die?
The answer is the Brodhead administration's heavy reliance on out-of-court settlements to placate defendant after defendant, including former men's lacrosse coach Mike Pressler, the three indicted players and Kyle Dowd, the former lacrosse player who was (allegedly) the victim of grade retaliation.
Unsurprisingly, the University has steadfastly refused to disclose how much money Duke paid to make these suits go away along with any other terms of the settlements, so it's hard to say how much cash we've spent.
What's worse, even though this legal strategy has kept Brodhead and Board of Trustees Chair Bob Steel out of the witness chair thus far, it has been accompanied by few meaningful policy and personnel changes. That mix of wealth, arrogance and stubbornness practically guaranteed that others connected with the case would file new lawsuits, and Ryan McFadyen, Matt Wilson and Breck Archer could be just the first of many litigants to come.
At this juncture, there are increasingly legitimate questions about how much longer Duke can continue paying would-be defendants off, along with whether we should be doing this at all. What is clear, however, is that the most recent lawsuit filed on behalf of three unindicted players demonstrates how spectacularly Duke's attempts to gain "closure" while avoiding additional exposure have failed.
Indeed, attorney Bob Ekstrand's 379-page complaint details an elaborate conspiracy allegedly perpetrated by defendants associated with Duke, the city of Durham and DNA Security (the lab that omitted key information about male DNA found on Crystal Mangum during her rape exam) "to violate the statutory and constitutional rights of Duke University students." Ekstrand's charges have not been proven in court, but his detailed and highly credible accounts should demolish the idea that Duke officials can achieve "closure" without accountability.
In particular, Ekstrand offers damning new allegations about the "Zero-Tolerance for Duke Students Policy" that was jointly operated by Duke officials and Durham police officers to cut down on partying, noise and alcohol violations in the neighborhoods surrounding East Campus during the 2005-2006 school year.
When I spoke with Vice President for Public Affairs and Government Relations John Burness last August about the constitutional implications of that policy-indeed, it is unlawful to selectively target one group of people with what Ekstrand calls "disproportionate enforcement of the criminal laws" in this country-Burness emphasized to me that police have "discretion" in making arrests, and that the zero-tolerance policy simply encouraged officers to use their discretion to target certain partying-related offenses.
Ekstrand, by contrast, contends that the zero-tolerance policy actually "suspend[ed] patrol officers' discretion to warn or otherwise not charge an offense involving Duke students." Ekstrand also reveals that Duke police participated in a series of unlawful and abusive raids staged by Alcohol Law Enforcement agents in Fall 2005, and that administrators were aware of increasing levels of physical violence being used against students by Durham police in the months leading up to March 2006.
That Duke's only public response to these dangerous trends was to "expand the jurisdictional scope of the University's disciplinary system to reach... petty offenses committed off-campus" and to allegedly allow Director of Judicial Affairs Stephen Bryan to appoint himself "investigator, prosecutor and judge in all... cases. In Judicial Board hearings, Bryan would remain in the room during the panel's deliberations on punishment," speaks to systematic and deeply troubling failures of policy and leadership that precipitated the lacrosse case.
Furthermore, Ekstrand's account of administrators' often-disgraceful responses to the events of March and April 2006 and the highly suspicious circumstances surrounding the suspension of all three plaintiffs makes it seem highly likely that the current push to "move on" will only provoke more legal action. Whether or not Ekstrand's clients deserve compensation for their ordeals beyond the limited reimbursement the University has already offered is debatable.
But for those of us who'd like the lacrosse case to actually be over someday, let's hope that this suit can force administrators to dramatically readjust their approach to the scandal's aftermath and embrace meaningful change. Because if they do not, there is a good chance that these legal battles will stretch for many years to come.
Indeed, I once hoped we'd be done talking about the controversy by the time I graduate this May. Now I just pray I won't have to hear about it at my five-year reunion.
Kristin Butler is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every Tuesday.
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