Chapter 23: Monday, Nov. 20

In which we learn about the principle of undue temptation and the parasites that feed on society's vulnerabilities.

By Alfred Alcorn

Aug 27, 2001 | Prejudice, as the Reverend Lopes has remarked, is like excrement: we tend to think of our own as less offensive than that of others. I try to keep Alfie 's dictum in mind when it comes to my feelings regarding members of the legal profession. Not all lawyers, to be sure. When I catch myself wanting to send the whole lot of them to the wall, I stop and recall the good ones I have known. Not many, actually, but a few. I tell myself that it may be something genetic, something over which they have little or no control. I remind myself that, in the past, members of the de Ratour family have married lawyers or even gone to law school. But that was at a time when it was considered something of an honor to join the profession.

I bring this up because of what happened today when I finally met with the principals of the date rape case that came before the Subcommittee on Appropriateness. After several futile calls, I informed them each that I was assisting the Seaboard Police Department in a matter that their case could have a bearing on, and that our conversations would be off the record and strictly confidential. Pulling one of my own teeth would have been easier.

Ms. Spronger told me they would have to consult "their" attorney, a use of the plural possessive I didn't pick up on immediately. I increased the pressure at that point, letting them know my requests to see them sprang from the Ossmann-Woodley case, now considered a murder investigation, and involved some urgency.

My action constitutes a transgression of the rules of the Subcommittee. Indeed, the whole point of that body is to avoid involvement with the police or the legal system unless absolutely necessary in conflicts between members of the community. I didn't really cavil with myself on the point. If these young people had been exposed, however inadvertently, to some kind of potion being concocted in the Lab, then we had to find out about it immediately. Still, I was somewhat surprised to learn that a lawyer had become involved, that the rules had already been bent if not broken.

It perplexed me even more that they insisted on meeting me together. For my purposes it made little difference except that important information can be garnered from the differences that inevitably arise in separate accounts of the same incident.

At the appointed time, I made my way over to Sigmund Library, a modern, faceless building of gray granite that exudes an air of futility. We met in the Rex Room, named for a donor, I'm sure, as there seemed to be donor plaques on everything. The room is one of those small, nondescript spaces that all libraries seem to provide and which few people seem to use.

You can imagine my surprise when Mr. Jones and Ms. Spronger arrived in the company of Ariel Dearth. I could not completely conceal my chagrin at seeing the ubiquitous lawyer, but I dissembled my reaction enough to get through the obligatory introductions and handshakes. Mr. Jones wore chinos and a short-sleeved, open-collared jersey, and I could not but remark again on the musculature of his arms and shoulders. Ms. Spronger sported denim over-alls, and for a moment I thought she might be a member of the maintenance staff. Mr. Dearth wore a contentious expression and one of those tweed hunting jackets with a leather patch at the shoulder, fitting attire for a predator, when you think about it.

"Are you their counsel?" I asked after we, the mobile, had sat down at a stark table and after Mr. Jones had pulled his wheelchair up.

He appeared to think my question over, perhaps consulting the lawyer within. "I am," he said.

"In what capacity?"

"We're suing the University," Ms. Spronger announced.

"Bobba..." Mr. Dearth started.

She bridled. "Just because we've hired you doesn't mean I've like given up my First Amendment rights."

Mr. Dearth nodded perfunctorily and turned to me. "I want to ask you, Mr. de Ratour, what gives you the right to threaten my clients with a police investigation?"

"Because, Mr. Dearth, it's a fact, not a threat."

"And you know it's strictly against the rules of the Subcommittee for any member to contact disputants privately without the consent of the Chair."

I had to suppress a laugh. "You mean you had the consent of the Chair to solicit these good people as clients?"

"That's privileged information."

"I'm sure it is." I turned to the disputants. "Are the grounds on which you plan to sue the University also privileged information?"

"We..." Mr. Jones started.

"That's privileged," Mr. Dearth said.

"We're victims of an institution that like created a working atmosphere in which people like want to rape one another." Ms. Spronger spoke with what seemed like pride.

"Ms. Spronger..." Mr. Dearth twitched his nose in frustration.

"How much are you suing the University for?" I asked.

Next Page: "Have you no shame, sir?"

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