The College Rape Guide

Chapter 1

Not a how-to guide, but a few thousand words of caution to the unwary. Jo McDonald was not a virgin. She and her boyfriend enjoyed sex during her junior and senior years of high school.

But now she is a freshman in the third week of studies at a large Eastern university, far from her Omaha home. Campus rape is all too common and often goes unreported. The time between the beginning of classes and Thanksgiving is designated the Red Zone by campus officials, the time when freshmen girls are most vulnerable. Drugs or alcohol is generally involved.

Jo is a grey-green eyed brunette, 5-7 and weighing in at just over 125 pounds. A frailer specimen would have been heavily challenged to stand up to the punishment she took.

The event took place at the Jocks and Plocks House, or simply JP, a fraternity, its Greek letters lost in the mist. George Plock is (he was still alive at this writing) a fraternity man who goes through life as a fraternity man. Something of an intellectual genius himself, he made it his business to see that the house jocks were balanced by brainier candidates, thus the name.

Enter now one of the Plocks – Tim Blake, Jo’s friend from Omaha who invited her to attend the JP party. A junior at the school, Tim’s interests range from math and accounting to computer science. Tim is something of a nerd or geek or whatever term is currently in vogue. He and Jo are good friends, not lovers. Tim might be a true virgin.

I, Tim, will tell you the story as I know it of what happened that night. First let me say some will tell you that I am a virgin. Not true. I was personally debauched by a couple of girls some time ago. They not only took pleasure in doing it and thought it was also a great joke, but they also took turns. I am not as dumb in that way as some think. I knew exactly what they were doing. Unfortunately, they eventually caught on.

On the night in question, that of the Jocks and Plocks party. Jo made the mistake of having a drink or two before she joined the party. Also, she doubtless was not the only sweet freshman coed exposed to unwelcome sex that night. Most male students were aware of the so called Red Zone and the opportunity it presented. However, in her case it was a bit overdone.

She came alone at my invitation. I did see her in the main dancing area. She was doing something favored at that time which included grinding one’s body against a partner, thought by some to be a prelude to sex. Obviously she had already had more than her share of alcohol and she was never in want for another drink.

Then I noted her absent from the room and guessed the next, although not the crash landing.

Whether she had sex with the first jock willingly, I knoweth not. But she says she was forced and others were in the room. Two others mounted her on the narrow bed and when the forth came along things were a bit messy. I was told he pulled her into a crouch position and used her for oral sex, although by that time she had no memory of it. There is not an actual count of who and how many others abused her in one way or another in that room.

My total count for the evening is twelve, or as she and I have named them, The JP Twelve.

She was somehow revived and more or less walked to the pool hall area. There bent over a table, a crowd watched and made bawdy comments as three jocks banged her from the rear. Each taking a turn. Sorry to say I was among that group, but failed to protest.

The attackers seemed set to outdo one another in banging her hard against the table. It was a mixed crowd and ultimately three girls from her dorm took over and managed to return her to that dorm, attempting to revive her. She was dazed and threw up more than once. They called the sheriff.

A deputy sergeant showed up, the girls helped her into his car and he drove her to the hospital. The trip took just over twenty minutes and Jo stopped the car and threw up twice.

I am told she was almost raving in the emergency room. She resisted the nurse with the rape kit, but eventually submitted. It is not a pretty process. The process includes rectal, vaginal, vulva and cervical swabs. There are also photos taken of your private parts plus dye injected into your vagina. Not exactly a day at the beach.

The deputy reported that he was told there were internal abrasions and heavy inflammation. The nurse concluded that Jo had suffered forceful sexual assault. Hospital reports surmised at the time of the initial encounter her alcohol level was about twice what is thought to be legally drunk. The sergeant said he tried to comfort her by saying the school would provide all the support she needed. This would prove to be nebulous pie in a cloudy sky.

Chapter 2

Once word spread on campus that she was asking academic authorities to punish the guilty a subtle tsunami of anger enveloped her. The shunning was almost stunning. One of her roommates moved out immediately. Nasty notes to the campus slut were stuck to her dorm door. There was a reluctance to associate with her in any way. But cutting remarks she could easily overhear were made in her presence. She imagined there was a competition for who might be the snarkier.

On the fourth day after the incident, her hearing was schedule late in the afternoon and she spotted her Omaha friend, Tim, the ultimate founder of the fiasco. She asked him to accompany her to a bench near the Student Union and he complied.

Once seated, she asked, You don’t mind being seen with me, do you? Her tone was not the friendliest.

Of course not, Jo.

You were there, weren’t you? In the pool room.

I regret to say I was.

And you didn’t try to help me?

I’d been drinking too, Jo. You’ve gotta believe me. You weren’t there.

Where was I?

I don’t know. In the clouds, maybe.

But my body was there.

Yes, your body was there and being badly abused. There was finally intervention.

By three girls. Not by you.

I’m a Plock not a jock. You’ve doubtless learned the football team is almost sacred. Also, upper classmen wait for this Red Zone with some relish. There were probably several what you might call rapes on campus that same night.

What you might call rapes, she repeated icily. What else might you call them?

You were drinking and the word is you were asking for it.

I was asked to be gang banged and sent to the emergency room? To whom did I apply?

Tim was deadly serious when he said, My failure to act will haunt me for the rest of my life, Jo. I suppose I’m a born coward. You have to know that George Plock was, or is, he’s alive on an island somewhere, or maybe in a New York condo, anyway he did the jock-Plock thing, delicate balance between jocks and brains. I’m supposed to be a brain.

Possibly it needs a recharge.

In the house we help one another, although sometimes it seems like an uneasy truce. But then someone will speak up and remind of the good thing we have going.

Like group sex with an unwilling victim?

No. No, we profit by getting to know the jocks, like a psychological study and they profit by us doing their class work.

You do their work? Jo asked in some disgust.

We try to help them, but generally it’s a matter of us doing the actual work and attempting to explain to them what we have done. They get by.

Jo frowned and observed, That’s almost unbelievable.

That’s collegiate life, Jo. Now you had a choice after the horrible incident.

Yes, go to the cops and let the local DA deal with it, report to campus authorities, or keep my mouth shut. In which case I would still have been branded as a campus slut and had plenty of brief dating opportunities, usually without my briefs. So later this afternoon I have my so called hearing.

You’re apprehensive?

Damn right. That sacred football team is also a money cow.

Tim nodded in agreement. One of the players, a senior, has already raked in an early signing bonus. Maybe in the millions.

Jo’s ears perked up? Which one?

Victor Arias. Tim spoke without thinking of Jo’s sudden curiosity, but the wheels did begin to turn.

One of the rapists?

Tim thought for a moment, then said, Yes.

At the pool table?

Tim nodded in agreement and wondered what was going through Jo’s mind.

Consider this, Tim, Jo spoke with deadly seriousness. You and I are in this together. You and I are good longtime friends from Omaha. Not just college buddies. You invited me to that party, left me unescorted, drinking too much, fully realizing we were in the Red Zone when everyone should have been on high alert. Do you agree?

Of course I do, Jo. We are the best of friends.

So I want you to secretly keep your ears open and using what you know now and what you will learn, to make a list of everyone even remotely involved in that attack on me. Even the ones who might have held me down while others violated me. And I know that happened. We can separate the sheep from the goats later. Agreed?

Tim replied instantly. Of course, Jo. It’s the least I can do. You have a right to know your attackers. And I will keep it quiet. He smiled and nodded knowingly. You know what might happen to me if I didn’t?

I can guess and it wouldn’t be pretty.

Later that day, the hearing was pro forma. The three member panel had failed to even get the results of the rape kit. They had interviewed several football players and heard a series of bizarre accounts of what had happened. There had been a locker room meeting prior to their testimony. More than one accused Jo of inviting oral sex.

After several attempts to tell her story and being interrupted when she attempted to answer questions, Jo simply gave up. In her mind it was like the trilogy from hell. There was no sympathy, or understanding. The panel’s attitude was, she was asking for it and got what she deserved.

In an attempt at transparency, the panel posted their findings on line. The jocks and Plocks involved, there had been both, were admonished not to approach or talk with Jo. Four of them were given what amounted to community service to be overseen by the physical education department, the remainder, including Jo, were told to attend to their studies and sin no more.

The following day, Jo called the sheriff’s department and asked to meet with the sergeant who had taken her to the emergency room. This would be no problem. The campus was his normal beat and he often hung out with the campus cops.

They agreed to meet at a coffee shop just off campus. Once there, the sergeant suggested they go for a drive in his squad car. Jo thought this was a bit suspicious, but agreed. She had been brutally raped once, maybe he had the same thing in mind. But he had the look of a middle aged family man.

They drove through the countryside, bordering ripening fields of corn and wood lots. He pulled in at a small park bordering a stream. It was vacant save for a solitary fisherman in a folding chair.

I thought it best if we weren’t seen together, the sergeant said. There seems to be general agreement that you were asking for sex that night at the JP house and got more than you bargained for. You’ve had your campus hearing and it played out as expected. What now? You want to file charges? The sergeant was all business and fixed her with a typical cop-like gaze.

You think I’m the campus slut, or just one of many?

I think you’ve got some growing up to do. I’ve seen you kids on campus have sex in the bushes, under the football stands, in parked cars and even in dorm doorways. You name it, I’ve seen it. It puts me in mind of those Roman orgies I’ve heard of.

But forced sex?

Well, that’s something else, the sergeant agreed.

Do you have a daughter?

Damn right. She’s my little princess. The sergeant looked away toward the river. The fisherman didn’t seem to be having much luck. Probably forgot to bait the hook. Four noisy crows flew over the park and landed in a grove of tall trees across the water.

Do you think that I might have been someone’s little princess?

The officer was thoughtful, finally nodding in agreement. Of course. What do you want with me?

I want the rape kit and the DNA results. I know you took DNA from everyone you thought might be involved. There was at least the thought of prosecution.

We generally defer to the campus authorities at the student’s request. You had your day before that makeshift panel. The results are often the same.

That is nothing happens.

Particularly if football players are involved. You know the town and gown bit. The entire area is behind the team.

I would like to know my predators. Prosecution or no prosecution.

I took you to the emergency room. Stopped on the way to let you throw up. Tried to treat you with every courtesy. And still trying at this meeting. So, can I trust you?

Confidentiality? Of course. My word probably isn’t worth much at this juncture, but you have it.

What you seek is available. And could be introduced in court. But it would not usually be passed out to an individual regardless of how they were involved. If you will meet me at that coffee shop during the low period in the afternoon, say three O’clock, we’ll take another drive together. You see the car, you get in the car.

Agreed. Thank you sergeant. I count you among my friends, one of my few friends. He dropped Jo off at the edge of campus and wished her