He found Dr. Sanford's number and pressed call. This time she picked up. Marlon. Her voice was alert, calm, like she had been waiting for this call specifically.
I saw the videos last night. I've been expecting to hear from you. Tell me everything, from the beginning. Leave nothing out. Marlon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and he started talking.
Thursday morning arrived cold and gray. Marlon put on his best clothes, dark slacks, a button-down shirt, his good shoes. Not because he wanted to impress Graham Willox, because his father had taught him that when a system tries to make you look small, you walk in looking like exactly what you are. Dr. Sanford met him in the hallway outside the Dean of Students office at 9:45.
She was dressed sharply, blazer, reading glasses on her face instead of her head, a leather portfolio tucked under her arm. She had spent Wednesday evening briefing Marlon on exactly what to expect inside that room, and he had listened to every word. She stopped him before he reached the door. Remember, she said quietly, they are going to be reasonable sounding. They are going to nod and listen, and use words like fairness and process.
Don't let the language fool you. She looked at him steadily. You know what happened on that lawn. Don't let them reframe it. Marlon nodded once.
I'll be right here, she said. He pushed the door open and went in alone. Dean Graham Willix was already seated behind his desk. Silver-haired, tan, wearing a suit that cost more than Marlon's first semester of textbooks. He had the practiced warmth of a man who had delivered bad news to hundreds of young people and learned over decades how to make it sound like he was doing them a favor.
Beside him sat a younger man in a gray suit who introduced himself only as representing the university's legal counsel. No name, just a title. Just a suit. Marlon. Willix gestured to the chair across from him like he was welcoming a guest into his home.
Thank you for coming in. Please, sit down. Marlon sat. He placed his folder on his knee and kept his hands still. Willix folded his hands on the desk.
I want you to know this office takes all conduct matters seriously. We are committed to a fair and thorough process for everyone involved. Everyone. Marlon noted that word carefully. I'd like to see the complaint, Marlon said, and the evidence submitted against me.
Willix nodded to the legal counsel who slid a single printed page across the desk. On it was a still image, a screenshot from a video. Marlon looked at it and felt his stomach drop with cold recognition. It showed him standing over Bryce Helton on the grass. That was it.