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Wild Justice

by Ruth M. Sprague

Wild Justice-Ruth M. Sprague Copyright @1993 TX 3 608 425

August, 1994  [Etext #152]


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Wild Justice

by Ruth M. Sprague

Wild Justice-Ruth M. Sprague Copyright @1993 TX 3 608 425






Wild Justice

by Ruth M. Sprague




Wild Justice-Ruth M. Sprague Copyright @1993 TX 3 608 425




BACK COVER

The court and the EEOC said sex discrimination!

Belmont U. terminated her anyway!


Belmont University had always looked upon faculty misdeeds such as
child molestation, sexual harassment or record falsification with
a tolerant if not blind eye.  Strange then that the entire
administration mobilized to aim its big guns at Professor
Diana Trenchant--or was it?

The inner workings of administrative jingoism are exposed
as a popular teacher is given a termination hearing where the
presiding officer is the accuser, the prosecutor and the judge,
and the testimony in her defense is ignored.

"WILD JUSTICE chronicles the outrages of one woman's
experience with an engaging mix of humor and indignation.
The use of fictitious names underscores how the problems
are systemic and not merely rooted in the particular persons
involved in this `witch hunt'.  I hope it will be widely read--
both for its own sake and to encourage the kind of struggle
that redirects higher education to serve the people and social justice,
however wild!"

Professor Willard Miller, University of Vermont.


COPYRIGHT PAGE


Published by T'Wanda Books, P.O.B. 1227, Peralta, NM 87042

Copyright @ 1993 by Ruth M. Sprague

Cover artist: David O'Vitt

1. Publisher's Cataloging In Publication Data

2. Sprague, Ruth M.

3. Wild Justice

4. 1. Fiction. 2. Sex discrimination.
3. University policy and procedures. 4. Feminists.

5. LC#: 93-060721

6. ISBN 1-883889-05-7 Softcover



AUTHOR'S NOTE


It is no accident that women continue to earn less than men.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the testosterone temples
of academia.  Here, the ceiling is made of plexiglass.

Although more women are allowed in the classrooms and even into
the board rooms, decisions are still made in the men's rooms.

More women obtain advanced degrees and achieve faculty positions,
but few are allowed into the highest administrative positions.
Rather, they are found in greatest numbers in the lower paying,
most labor intensive positions.

Civil Rights laws connecting compliance with federal grants are
blatantly ignored or creatively circumvented by many institutes
of higher learning.  The courts and the EEOC, weakened to the point
of extinction by the regressive administrations of the eighties,
are about as effective as warm spit in enforcing compliance.


Using the double edged sword of coercion and harassment,
these institutions of "higher learning" continue to maintain their
status quo.  This book portrays a few of the artifices they employ.
Characters, descriptions and locations are fictional, created from
the right side of the author's brain.




DEDICATION




In fondest memory of


LEAH RUTH DENTON,


this book is dedicated to all


WOMANKIND AND HER SUPPORTERS


who refuse to accept the definitions and limitations

imposed by ancient conquerors.





ABOUT THE AUTHOR



Ruth M. Sprague, Ph.D., a native Vermonter known to hundreds
of her former students as Dr. Ruth, is retired after many years
teaching nursing and medical students.


She has published several scientific papers, teaching tutorials
and one novel, VERMONT TALES FOR FOOLS AND OTHER LOVERS.




"Revenge is a kind of wild justice." --Francis Bacon





WILD JUSTICE

by

Ruth M. Sprague




Foreplay


"You can't be serious," exclaimed Diana Trenchant,
leaning toward the man sitting behind the desk.  "Incredible!
Why on earth would I want to fill out and turn in student feedback
forms in my own course?  All of my semester student evaluations
have been excellent."

Dr. Lyle Stone, Chairman of the Nutrition, Embryology and
Radiology Department, relished the power of his position
as fervently as he detested the acronym, NERD, that had been
irreparably attached to it.  He passed a small pile of forms
across his desk to Diana.  "Obviously you wanted to cause harm
to the two other instructors in the course," he replied smugly.
His expression and demeanor suggested a small boy torturing a bug
and extracting the utmost enjoyment out of it.

"Harm them?"  Dr. Trenchant laughed scornfully and sat back
in her chair scanning the evaluation forms.  "You claim I wrote
these five which are derogatory toward them and the course.  Five!
Over two years and hundreds of feedback forms?  How could there be
any harm attributed to these particular forms when you know that
both of those instructors have consistently received derogatory
evaluations from the students since they started teaching the course?"
Diana held the offending papers out in demonstration toward Lyle,
indignation rampant in her gesture.  Lyle ignored her question
and picked up two other papers from his desk which he handed
to Diana saying accusingly, "Besides those five, here are copies
of two you also wrote concerning the nutrition course.  Together,
these constitute repeated acts of dishonesty which are grounds for
termination for cause.  "However. . ." Lyle tried for a kindly expression
and failed, "we are prepared to forget these charges if you resign."

"Oh, that's the game, is it?  No way.  I'm going to talk to
the faculty ombudsman about this and find out what steps to take,"
returned Diana, hotly, rising from her chair and starting toward the door.

"You can't."  As Diana turned back to look at him, Lyle continued
with some desperation, "You have no recourse, no appeal.
The entire academic council have met and decided already
on this course of action.  If you do not resign on your own,
you will be terminated."

"But not without a hearing certainly--according to the faculty handbook.
Or are you suspending those rights along with my access to the ombudsman?"
Grabbing up the copies of the forms, Diana left the room.

As the door closed behind her, Lyle reached for the phone
and dialed with considerable agitation.  "Henry, she won't resign.
She's gone to see Jonathan and intends to make a public mess of it,"
he babbled hysterically.

"Calm yourself, Lyle.  I've already spoken to Jonathan and if it
comes to a hearing, well--don't forget, I select the hearing panel
and chair it.  Her public mess be damned, all our hearings are closed
to the public.  Get a grip and stop blubbering."




GIVE THE DEVIL HER DUE


Chapter 1


It was going to be a perfect June day.  Already a cloudless, azure sky,
promising no hint of rain, arched over a shimmering campus.
All shades of green were represented and so was every color
in the flowers that lined the walks and burst forth from the beds.
In perfect compliment, the lovely old brick and stone buildings
sat around the campus, complaisant and secure, full of pride and tradition.

The library building, squat and solid, redolent with the collected tomes
of the ages, stood as a testament to humanity's progress.  Works of ancient
poets and philosophers, sinners and saints filled the shelves co-mingling
with the more recent and modern books.  Here were the records of man's
highest achievements and his inhumanity to man but as yet, this building
cataloged few, if any, records of woman's highest achievements and man's
in-humanity to woman.  The former being seldom recorded or remembered;
the latter too usual and customary to remark upon.

Whistling softly to himself, Jonathan Bambridge, Professor,
Ph.D, Faculty Ombudsman left the sidewalk and entered the
administration building.  He proceeded directly to the Vice
President's office and entered through a door already open.

"Jonathan, good of you to come on such short notice," greeted
the Academic VP, waving Jonathan toward the inner office.

One wall of the office was devoted to `art'.  The entire grouping
reminded Jonathan of different aspects of the same road-kill.

"On a day like this, it is a pleasure, Henry.  Looks like
the weather is cooperating for graduation this year."

"Well, it's about time.  Two years in a row we've been
rained out.  Drop your bag, grab a cup of coffee and sit down."

Henry Tarbuck, Academic Vice President picked up his own cup
from his desk and went to the conference chairs arranged for
conversation in the office alcove.  From here he eyed Jonathan
reflectively.  Good man, he thought.  Saved us a batch of trouble
by coming to me right off.

Tarbuck adjusted his six foot two, rather heavy-set frame
more comfortably in the chair.  Young for his position, barely
in his thirties, he directed seasoned professors twice his age
and experience.  This along with his imposing height and bulk
had caused some resentment but Henry just ignored it.

As first assistant to the president of Belmont University,
he reveled in power and position and firmly believed that those
that can, do (like him) and those that can't, teach (like faculty).

He covered this attitude with a hearty, down-to-earth,
back slapping manner that fooled no one but himself.

Bambridge joined him in the alcove, holding his coffee cup out
ahead of him like an offering.  "Damn good coffee, Henry.
Must have made it yourself."

At fifty-five, Henry Bambridge figured he'd seen it all and
most of the fight had gone out of him.  Physically, he was the
opposite of Tarbuck, slight in build and not quite five ten but
looked shorter.  His features were finely drawn, almost feminine
in contrast to the dark, craggy, nearly simian countenance of Tarbuck.

"Let's get down to it."  Henry Tarbuck radiated impatience as visible
as the steam rising from newly deposited excrement on a frosty day.
For a time, the men went over the schedule of events slated for the hearing.

"Everything seems to be in order," Jonathan suggested.

"Right, it's a go.  I want to tell you, Jonathan, you've done
a damn fine job so far."  Henry gestured expansively.  "By advising
Diana Trenchant to attend her termination hearing without an attorney,
you saved us all a great deal of trouble."

The ombudsman acknowledged the compliment with a nod.
Jonathan knew his job was to provide just such a service to
the administration.  He understood that the ombudsman's function
was ostensibly created to provide the faculty with a neutral source
to handle complaints.  Most times the illusion of impartiality
was well maintained, but the reality of the position was otherwise--
it was the administration's ear and eye on the faculty.

"Just followed your suggestion," Jonathan replied, preening
self-consciously.  Feeling himself in the good graces of the VP,
he continued.  "What's the story here, Henry?  Why is this being
handled so harshly?  Her transgression is fairly innocuous and I'm
surprised it's even coming to a hearing panel.  Why not slap her
down or suspend her?  Hell, it would be less trouble to retire her,
she's been here nearly twenty-five years!"

Henry twitched with ill-concealed indignation for an instant
then answered calmly but with some passion, "Between you and me,
Jonathan, the bitch needs a taking down.  You know how we've
adjusted to federal and state mandates that women be accepted,
even encouraged to work and matriculate here.

"All in all, it hasn't been a bad deal for us.  Sure, we've had to
raise some salaries but, well, give the devil her due, most women
do seem to work hard and get a lot accomplished.  They are usually
fairly easy to control.  Most are scared stupid of being called
a lesbian and petrified at the thought that this accusation might
be spread around among people they know.  Or, if they are married
and obviously straight, plant the suggestion that it might get around
that they are promiscuous.  It turns them to jelly every time."

Henry laughed delightedly as he stood up and assumed a lecturer's pose,
unwittingly mimicking the profession he disparaged.  As he warmed to his
subject, he walked back and forth across the office, adding punctuation
to his lecture with his body.  Jonathan watched him intently.

"Then there are the most enjoyable ones.  They're on the make
for any man who is looking for an easy lay.  They trade their
ass for any glory that may fall their way through association.
As workers, most aren't worth shit but they do as they're told.
Have to watch them though because if someone higher than you in the
pecking, or ha ha, pecker order, comes along, they leave you cold.

"Now, so-called liberated professionals, feminists, may become a focus
for women's groups on campus.  They get a name for being champions
of women's causes.  However, jerk their chain and they are a hodgepodge
of insecurities.  They have worked so hard to attain their position
and the prestige and power that goes with it, that they are our best
allies against women's movements and demands for equal wages, in short,
any kind of problem we may encounter."

"How can that be, Henry?"  Jonathan was finding the impromptu lecture
not only informative, but very interesting.

"We just put them on committees or hearing panels such as the one
coming up.  In appearance, we are being fair by having women represented,
not just women, but women who are vocal regarding their movement.
Actually, because they want so much for themselves, they are easy
as hell to buy.  We provide perks that make them feel important.
They get invited to presidential teas, trustee cocktail parties--
anything that puffs them up, makes them feel good--that's the carrot.

"The committee chair lets them know how to vote and how well pleased
their dean will be with them and voila!  Believe me, they well know
how bad it can get if they fall out of favor with the boss.
If this isn't convincing, just indicate to them that they can be
made to appear mentally unstable or morally deviant--that's the stick.

"Very few women fight back or quit a committee even if they become
uncomfortable with what it is doing.  Most just keep their heads down
and hope nobody finds out how they voted.  I've appointed three women
to the Trenchant hearing panel.  Two of them are younger women hot
to trot up the academic success ladder which I just happen to be holding."
Henry paused, preening himself with obvious relish.

Eager for more of this fascinating information, Jonathan queried,
"What about Diana Trenchant?  She doesn't appear concerned that
everyone would know she committed a crime.  She refused to quietly
resign claiming that the accusations are false and apparently
is going to put on a defense at the hearing."

"Defense!  Ha!  It won't amount to bug dust.  I chose the panel
and I shall chair the panel and the panel will vote to terminate her."
Henry was becoming very agitated.  His pacing was now fast and choppy.

"She's one of those trouble makers who do so well in their
job that it's hard to find a reason to get rid of them.
It is vital that we hold this hearing and terminate her.
We must provide an example."  Turning back toward the table,
Henry started to shuffle the papers busily.  "We've gone over
most everything in the handbook on procedure and as far as I can see,
everything is proper.  What do you think?"

Jonathan, who was holding a copy of the faculty handbook and
studying the tip of his left shoe, shook his head in agreement.
"It all appears to be absolutely correct so far."

"Fine.  Now I'll expect you to be available during the hearing
in the waiting room.  This is just for appearance, for extra insurance.
Things have a way of getting screwed up where she's concerned."

Hoping to reopen the informative flood gates with a  smattering
of devil's advocate, Jonathan observed slyly, "You know, Henry,
her personnel file was rather impressive.  She appeared to have been
an capable technician, an excellent teacher and received high
performance evaluations.  No complaints for being late or absent
from work, no reports of drink or drugs. . ."

Again the VP became agitated.  This time he grabbed his cup
and went to the coffee maker.   "She gets people stirred up.
That's where problems arise from--those unexpected, unknown
sources.  No administrator can prepare for those kind of events.
For instance, a few years ago a student under her influence
embarrassed Jimbo Jones--he was NERD chair before Lyle--and put
the department in an uproar. . ."


Jimbo Jones, chairman, six NERD faculty members
and two graduate student Teaching Assistants occupied
the conference room at the weekly departmental meeting.

Over the general murmuring and grumbling of a discontented faculty,
Peter, the departmental mouth said, "We ought to get a higher
percentage raise, Jimbo.  Every year you tell us the same thing.
Times are tough, the legislature won't spring for a decent appropriation.
The dean can't. . ."

"I know that and I've been thinking how I could cut the
roster and have a little more to share among the rest of us.
If you agree, I think it's time we let Diana Trenchant go.
Last year I had to give her a whopping raise while the rest of us
had to settle for the usual 3%, and Ted at the Affirmative Action Office
says we've got to give her more again this year and then still more
until she catches up to or surpasses Fred's paycheck.

"Of course, it means that you will have to share Fred, our only
other technician, do your own research or get a grant and hire
your own technician."

Most of the people in the room moved uncomfortably in
their chairs looking down at the floor or out the window.
Looking anywhere but at each other or Jimbo.

"It's settled then, we let her go?"  Jimbo broke the silence.
"No one opposes? All right then, it's. . .

"I don't know too much about these things," came a hesitant
voice from the back of the group.  Everyone turned around to look
at the young graduate student, Holly Preston, who had spoken.

In a voice getting stronger all the time, she continued,
"As I say, I don't know much about this, but I thought when
someone was fired that there had to be cause.  That is, that they
were not doing their job properly or whatever.

"Since I've been in the department, I have been impressed
with Diana Trenchant's hard work and knowledge.  I've gone
to her often for help.  What reason will you give for firing her,
Dr. Jones?"

A taut silence descended upon the room like a malignant fog.
Then, an angry, red-faced Jimbo Jones glared at Holly, declared the
action tabled and adjourned the meeting.  The NERD faculty Judas goats
shuffled out sheepishly, having been well and truly sheared by a lamb.




Chapter 2


VP Henry Tarbuck closed the file folder then shifted his bulk
to place it on a nearby table.  His expensive chair started to
groan in protest then as if remembering how much it cost,
only murmured quietly.  "We must be careful that this hearing gives
all the appearances of being completely fair, especially after
the disaster in Lyle's office."

Jonathan leaned forward and deposited his now empty cup on the
stand beside him.  "Yes, I heard about Lyle bungling that one.
First he yelled at her so loudly that the secretaries in the outer
office left in embarrassment and then was stupid enough to tell her
in front of witnesses that the hearing panel was only a formality
and that she would be terminated anyway."

The VP shrugged, obviously irritated.  "Admittedly, he pushed
too hard.  It came as a shock to him that she would refuse his
demand that she resign.  He lost his cool and tried to bully her
into it.  He's new to this, taking over as he did such a relatively
short time ago from Jimbo."

"Well it does appear that he had problems with her.  I do see
that she appears to have a propensity for causing discomfort,
but other women, and men too for that matter, have been troublesome.
Why the excessive anger toward her?"

"First off, Jonathan, the anger is not excessive, it is justified,"
Henry retorted testily.  "Yes, we've had critics, annoying critics,
but when we offered them some redress, they were grateful.  She,
on the other hand, considered every concession we made as
`a day late and a dollar short'--utterly maddening!
And what really frosts everyone's ass is that she is just
as recalcitrant when she argues on behalf of someone else.
Who the hell is she to care if someone feels unfairly treated by us?"

"Well, of course I'm still using the only frame of reference
that I have which is her personnel file and from what I can see she
was as much `sinned against as sinner'."

"That might have some validity up to the point where she openly
and publicly challenged the president of this university,"
retorted Henry waving the file he was holding in Jonathan's
face for emphasis, "but not anymore."

"You mean she picked on The Pope, Henry?"




Chapter 3


John T. Pope had been president of Belmont University for
nearly twelve years.  Because of his belief in his own
infallibility, he soon became referred to as The Pope.
He greatly increased the senior administrative staff
which now occupied one whole wing of the administration building.
This wing was known as the Vatican and when a person spoke of
kissing the Pope's ring, it was well understood what part
of the Pope's anatomy they were referring to.  The slew
of vice presidents, associate vp's and assistant vp's
around the president were soon called the Vee's.  Most people
believed Vee was short for vice president but insiders knew
it really stood for vestigial virgins.

He located the personnel office close by the Vatican.  It was
the administration's muscle and the buffer between it and the
so-called support staff.  Patterned after the military, it was
directed by, and key positions held by former military men.
The military analogy persists throughout the university structure.
Upper administration and faculty are designated as officers.

In order to insure staff cooperation, President Pope
had created a company union called the Staff Association.
To keep tabs on the members, he appointed the director
of personnel an ex-officio member.  The current director,
Greg Harrison, attended every meeting, answered questions,
directed staff activities and channeled them into acceptable areas.


"Yes, I do," Henry continued glowering.  "A year after Trenchant
got on the Staff Association, she was elected its chair and that body
turned from being a very convenient rubber stamp into a cohesive,
confrontational group of people.  She was reelected unanimously
for a second term and during those two years she managed to upset
nearly everybody in the Vatican--especially, The Pope.  It seems,
from what I was told when I was appointed academic vp, that during
this time a great deal of energy was directed toward damage control.

"Nothing worked with her.  All the tried and true methods of threat
or blandishment had no affect.  She didn't seem to notice
or understand that if she played ball she would become more
important than the staff she represented.

"She and the Staff Association encouraged the rest of the
staff to bring problems to their office.  We had almost daily calls
from the Attorney General's Office because she advised women to
make complaints if they were discriminated against or harassed.
She even boxed in Mark, the university attorney, and just four
years ago, she made a shambles of personnel by kicking Greg,
the director, out of the Staff Association.

"And that's not all.  Under her direction, the Staff Association
started to by-pass personnel altogether.  They investigated several
grievances and represented the grievers they felt were abused by the system.

"They started a staff newsletter to inform everyone about their rights--
especially concerning sex discrimination and sexual harassment.
The staff was told to stay away from the affirmative action office,
which was described as a tool of the personnel department,
and take their complaints directly to the Attorney General--
they even printed her phone number, for Christ's sake. . . .
"Trenchant and a committee met with a federal EEOC investigator.
He was presented with a list of staff and faculty positions
with a notation of the total number and how many were held by women.
The investigator was here to make sure the university was in compliance
for a million dollar federal research grant."

Surprise suffused Jonathan's face.  "How did she get that information, Henry?
I thought that was one of our better kept secrets."

The Vee exploded.  "We were exceedingly careful never to publish
anything like that.  Members of the Staff Association went through
the campus directory to compile the list.  Took a lot of time,
but they kept at it."

"Sonofabitch!"

"Yeah," agreed Henry.  Lyle gave her a faculty appointment to get
her out of staff politics.  He had her teaching every semester with
the hope that she'd be too busy to cause anymore trouble.
Next thing we know, she's threatening to sue the NERD for plagiarism.
You know the rest and we have just time enough to get ready.
Use the facilities if you need to."  He pointed in the direction
of an adjoining washroom, then opened a closet door and removed his cap
and gown which he laid across the table.  Jonathan opened the case
he had brought with him.

As both men donned their robes, Jonathan asked, "why is the
Trenchant hearing being held so soon after graduation?"

"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.

"How did you become aware of the issue that this panel is investigating?"
Henry continued.

Lyle testified that two years previously, Dr. Randy Fecesi
had come to him with two medical student feedback forms which he
had found.  "Students are required to fill out and bring to the
NERD office a questionnaire type form that critiqued each of the
faculty in each course and the course itself," he explained. . .


Student Feedback Forms were initiated at Belmont in the
middle sixties.  They were designed to allow the students to
evaluate faculty and courses in response to student demand
that they have a voice in their education.  Although the professors
of each course at Belmont routinely handed the forms out and
collected them, they were never taken seriously by any department
or dean unless they were uniformly derogatory to a course
or professor and sometimes, even then, they were ignored.

Mostly, they were treated as a joke by the departments and
a lost cause by the students who never saw any changes made as
a result of their suggestions.  The joke was propagated further
when some wag arbitrarily added MUR between the S and FF,
creating the adjusted acronym, SmurFF, from Student Feedback
Form.  From that time on, the forms were printed on blue paper.


". . .Randy said that he had found a SmurFF for the radiology
course this year and one from last year that didn't look right
to him.  He and Dr. Heathson, who teach the course, wanted me
to send them for handwriting analysis because he thought they
had been written by Trenchant."

Lyle went on to explain at some length that Dr. Randy Fecesi
and Dr. Ian Heathson were young faculty who were trying very hard
to make the radiology course more modern and sophisticated.
These efforts, he asserted, were thwarted by Trenchant and there
was controversy and conflict because of her. . .


When Lyle Stone succeeded Jimbo Jones as head of NERD, he brought
his post doc, Ian Heathson with him.  No one on the NERD faculty
was consulted and all of them were very upset that they were given
no voice in a faculty selection.  They soon learned that Ian was
a special friend of their chairperson and quickly discovered
that it was not wise to criticize him in any way.

Ian was a real nice, friendly fellow, fairly adept at his
research specialty, nutrition (which was also Lyle's) but
lacking knowledge and understanding of radiology.

Lyle put him in charge of the radiology course given to the
freshmen medical students.  This act was similar to throwing a
child into the water and expecting it to learn to swim.

Diana had taught the lab portion of this course for several years.
Ian didn't learn very quickly.  He tried, you have to give him that,
but he was way out of his depth.  The students, as kindly as possible,
turned thumbs down on him.  Not only that, but on their SMurFF's,
they were highly critical of the lecture portion of the course,
which Ian conducted, while praising Trenchant and the laboratory,
especially the laboratory manual which she had written.

The manual had been written out of desperation by Trenchant
on her home computer.  Over the years, the radiology lab manual
had degenerated into such a mess that it was difficult to use
and impossible to understand--especially when most of the pages
were unreadable.  This was before the department obtained
a copying machine and still used the old fashioned stencils.

So Diana wrote and illustrated an entirely new manual and
she registered the copyright on it.  She offered this finished
manual to Ian at no charge for use in the course and he grabbed
it like the drowning man he was.  The students had made their
disgust well known to him and he realized that he did not have
the knowledge or experience to produce an adequate laboratory
manual in Radiology.

Things got better in the course.  Ian was improving in his
knowledge and lecturing.  There was excellent cooperation between
him and Trenchant.  That is, until Randy Fecesi was brought in.

Randy came with perhaps even less ability in radiology than Ian,
but where the students were sympathetic toward Ian, they were
pissed off by Randy.  The SmurFFs they wrote concerning him were not kind.
Many reprimanded him for things he had said in lectures which were contrary
to what the students read in textbooks.  Hurt, angry and unable to get at
the students, he turned on Trenchant.  At first, Ian tried to stay neutral
but eventually, Randy convinced him that the course must be reorganized
and they had to start by redoing the laboratory manual.

His solution was to change the only part of the course that really worked!




Chapter 7


"Now what did you do with these SmurFFs that Dr Fecesi brought you?"
questioned Henry.

"At first, I just thought about them.  Then I took them to
Jimbo Jones who was chair of the department before me.

"I thought he might have some idea of what should be done
and he, of course, knew Trenchant since she had been
in the department during his tenure as chair."

Lyle continued, shifting in his chair so he appeared taller.
"Jimbo immediately took them to Mark Rogers who is the
university attorney and Mark sent them out for analysis.

"I looked through other SmurFFs and picked out a couple
that seemed strange, that didn't seem to me to be what students
would write, and Jimbo found a couple in the nursing course
and all those were sent out to the examiner.

"The document examiners reported that, to the best of their knowledge,
Trenchant had written the SmurFFs we had sent them so I went to you,
Henry, to the administration, and it was decided that I meet with her
and give her an opportunity to resign.  When she refused, I wrote
the dean and he initiated the termination for cause action."

Henry appeared pleased, consulted his notes and asked if Lyle
could explain Trenchant's conduct.

Certainly, Lyle would be happy to.  His eagerness to answer this
question lent strength to a skeletal system already overtaxed
with maintaining a taller posture.

"It had to do with the problems in the radiology course.
Ian and Randy were trying to make the course better.  She fought
them on everything and finally she quit the course--said it was
too much along with her other teaching responsibilities.
It was about a year ago that. . ."


Randy called another meeting to discuss the Radiology course changes.
Ian attended reluctantly.  He was not convinced but Randy swept him along
and Randy had Lyle's approval.  All Ian had was a poor track record
teaching the course.

Randy delineated the changes he was going to make in the manual.
The first one was that Trenchant's name would not appear on it.
Instead, it would be the product of the course directors, Ian and Randy.

He was quietly and firmly told by Trenchant that he did not have
her permission to make any changes.  The manual was copyrighted
by her and would stay that way.  He had the option to either
use it or not, but he could not change it as he was indicating.
As for legitimate suggestions or ideas, she would certainly,
as always, welcome constructive criticism and make the necessary
changes herself.

This was not an arbitrary determination by Trenchant.  Her manual was
written expressly to teach a circumscribed area of the course.
It did not pretend to be otherwise.  Even though more emphasis
was to be given to recent developments in the field, the radiology
course must still devote a great deal of time to the basics.
This was because the students had to be prepared for the courses to follow.

Randy announced that he would use what he wanted, as he wanted
and the meeting broke up.

The accused was busy in her office when Lyle burst through the door
in his customary manner of no manners.

"What do you mean telling Randy and Ian that they could
not use the manual and make the changes they want in it?"
He yelled at her, continuing with threats of what would
or might happen if she didn't do as she was directed.

When Trenchant was finally given a chance to answer, she told him
simply that the manual was copyrighted and that she had told
Ian and Randy that they were free to use it or not as they chose.
They were not to edit it or change the authorship, however.

When his browbeating failed to move her, he left.
Within the hour, Jimbo accosted her in much the same manner.

Becoming a Vee had not changed Jimbo.  He was still unable
or unwilling to govern his temper.

"You cannot claim copyright to the radiology manual because it
is illegal and the university will sue you and put you in jail."

After he had stopped yelling, Trenchant told him the same
thing she had told the others.

He left and went into Lyle's office where they were joined
by Ian and Randy.

It was decided that they would retype the radiology manual
using as much of it as they wanted.  "To hell with that
trouble-making broad," was the decision of the assistant vice
president for academic affairs of Belmont University.
This was done.  Without permission, they used large portions
of the manual in the fall radiology course, giving no credit
to its author.

Diana was not the only author so honored.  In the manual,
and in other material that these men put together to teach
the radiology course, complete excerpts were taken verbatim
from four standard radiology texts.  No source was cited.
No author was credited.  Also, an entire atlas on radiology
was photographed.  Several copies of these photographs
were made and put out in the lab with absolutely no credit
given to its authors or publisher.

At least one medical student was incensed by this.
He or she wrote to the publisher anonymously.

The accused learned through the student grapevine
that the department got into serious trouble
because of this and that Dean Broadhurst was furious.

Lyle blamed Trenchant for blowing the whistle, conveniently
forgetting that it was a student who had written the letters.




Chapter 8


Lyle droned on and on with a litany of sins attributed to
Diana Trenchant, carefully circling the truth.  "Whatever problem
the department had, she was usually responsible," he asserted.
The folds of paper falling from the court stenographer's machine
stacked higher and higher.  Janet was beginning to look very tired.

The `suspect SmurFFs' were introduced and Lyle identified them.
"Yes," he intoned, "When I spoke to Trenchant and told her she had
the option to resign and nothing further would be said or done to her,
I gave her all of the handwriting evidence, all of these SmurFFs,
at that time."

Now, Henry allowed questions from the rest of the committee
who started to slowly wake up after enduring Lyle's long and
repetitious testimony.  Nearly 20 minutes was spent answering
their inane questions regarding how many courses were involved
and who found the `suspect' critiques.  Most of their questions
had been answered previously in the material given them--
the dean's letter and Lyle's memo.

Esther, however, alertly noticed that some of the SmurFFs
in question had no dates and inquired how these could be said
to come from a certain year.

The answer given was a model of obfuscation.  Lyle replied,
"The critiques from those two years came in a packet to me from
Randy and Ian.  Those were the years that Trenchant was indeed
involved in teaching this course."

Satisfied with the answer apparently, Esther questioned
why one of the suspect SmurFFs had a note stapled to it.

Diana sat up in her chair.  This was a question she wanted answered.

Lyle replied that it was a note from Trenchant and that he had stapled it
to the evaluation prior to sending it off to the handwriting analyst.

None of them questioned why a note in Trenchant's handwriting was made
a part of the document that the analysts were to analyze for authorship.

Annette wondered if she understood correctly.  Did Lyle
say that he kept all of the critiques in his office?

When Lyle answered yes, she asked how it would be
possible for Diana to submit falsified ones.

The silence in the room was deafening.  Janet, lifting her
hands from the keys, massaged her fingers, the suggestion
of a smile floated mischievously over her face.

Panel member Anuse finally came to the rescue with a cuing
question and a long discussion ensued as to how SmurFFs were
handled in the department and what happened to them.

Many of the answers give by Lyle were false.  Diana made a note of these.

The chair now looked expectantly at Professor Jane Astori.
So far things had gone very well.  Everyone had been on cue
and except for those two surprise questions. . .well, they were
fielded quite adeptly.  His chest expanded with pride in his ability
to bring this thing to a smooth conclusion.  Now it was time for
Jane to ask the questions that would delineate the magnitude
of this crime.  That would certainly figure in the Attorney
General's evaluation of the hearing.

"Since all of the comments on the suspect SmurFFs refer to Randy,"
Jane began, "I'd like the details of how this could impact on Ian."

Well, Jane had come through all right.  A little too direct
for comfort but then, she hadn't the gift of subtlety that he,
Henry, had acquired.  At any rate, Lyle was well prepared and
the gates opened and the Ian story poured forth.  How hard he
had worked at the course.  What it had cost him in research
time and time away from loved ones.

In answer to further questions from Jane, he covered everything.
All the trips to the dean's office in Ian's behalf.  He emphasized
that the disparaging student critiques suddenly got better when Trenchant
was no longer in the course.

Over and over, he stressed that it was all the faultfinding
SmurFFs that were coming in that were the problem.  What was
the reason for it?

He, Lyle, felt that Ian was doing a fine job.  Well, the situation
had caused them many a sleepless night.  And on and on. . .

Several times Jane tried with her questions to bring Lyle back
to saying how the SmurFFs in question, the ones he thought Diana
had written, hurt Ian.  Henry had impressed on her that it was
important that Lyle be given the opportunity to link the harm
caused by Trenchant to Ian as well as Randy.

Whatever the reason, Lyle was acting awfully dense, she thought,
or else he thinks it's vital to get all this other stuff in first.
I've certainly given him the question often enough, let someone else try.
She put down her notes, leaned back in her chair and nodded to Henry
that she was finished.

Frank Anuse took over the questioning.  He wanted to know the reason
that Ian's SmurFFs got better when Trenchant was not in the course.

"Well, you see, these suspect SmurFFs in those packets there,
these few are just the tip of the iceberg.  Diana Trenchant,
during the years she was in the course, influenced the students
to write bad evaluations about Randy and Ian."

There it was.  Stark and real.  Diana was not just accused
of creating SmurFFs--she was accused of witchcraft.

Jane jerked upright in her chair and stared at Lyle aghast.
Was he really accusing Diana of that level of control over
medical students?  Preposterous--one woman, all by herself,
had influenced hundreds of medical students over a period of years
to do as she dictated.  There's more to this than I've been told. . .
this isn't about forging seven SmurFFs.  What on earth is going on here,
she pondered. . .

Finally, Henry noticed Janet who had been trying to get his
attention for some time.  "We'll take a ten minute recess
and when we come back, Trenchant may cross examine Dr. Stone.
You may leave the room.  I'll summon you when we are ready,"
he ordered, taking in Janet and Diana with the same disdainful glance.

The committee huddled and Lyle Stone joined them.  So much for impartiality.

Janet and Diana left, both breathing an audible sigh of relief
as the door shut behind them.  Stopping at the soft drink dispenser,
the court reporter glanced around carefully then said sotto voce,
"What a farce.  Unbelievable."




Chapter 9


The ten-minute break had stretched to twenty before Henry
and the panel finished going over their notes to make sure they
had brought out everything that Mark, the university attorney,
had advised.

Diana and Janet were called back and Diana began the
cross examination of her department chair, Lyle Stone.

She asked him first to confirm a sentence written in his
memo to the dean and which he had testified to before the break.

"Yes," Lyle answered, "I did write in the memo to the dean
and also testified that I gave you all of the documents used
in the handwriting analysis."

Diana held up several sheets of paper from the evidence packet
on the table.  "I have found documents dated nearly twenty years ago
in this material the committee has introduced as that sent to the document
examiners.  These were not in the material that you gave me.
So your assertion that I was given all of the documents is incorrect."

Henry searched quickly through his copy of the evidence
that had been sent to the document examiners as standards.
Good God, he thought.  What is this creature doing?
Come on Lyle, don't let her get the best of you.

Ah, much better, Henry observed happily to himself as Lyle
started tap dancing around her question.  Instead of yes or no,
he would repeat at length some of his previous testimony with
added embellishments and avoid answering.

By persistent questioning, Diana established that he had stapled
her brief note to one of the `suspect' SmurFFs before it was sent
out for analysis.  But it was like pulling teeth.  He kept reiterating
that it was stapled to a `suspect' evaluation, so it would not get lost.

Patiently, she repeated her question, finally wearing him down.
"Were the document examiners given this evaluation with the note
stapled on it as one of the `fictitious' critiques?"

"Yes, they identified that critique as having been written by you."

"No distinction between the note and the critique was given them--
according to their report, is that correct?"

"I guess so, yes."

Using a sketch of the NERD office, Trenchant ran Lyle back
through his previous testimony of how the blank critiques,
the SmurFFs, were given out, how they were collected
and what happened to them afterwards.

From her intimate knowledge of the operation, she was able to
reveal most of the lies he had told of this process when the
committee was questioning him.

Jane was listening carefully.  Slowly, there evolved the information
that this whole evaluation process was sloppy and unreliable.
That it had indeed, been this way for years.  Given that,
she thought, how could he claim that such a high reliance
was put on SmurFFs when assessing faculty for reappointment?

Lyle admitted that students had scant desire to complete SmurFFs.
They considered it a useless effort since little or no attention
had been paid in the past to their comments.

"To force compliance," he explained, "students were told
that unless their name had been checked off on a list in
the secretaries' office, they could not receive their grade
for the course from the dean's office.  Most students bring
in completed evaluation forms, place them in the box provided
and check off their names.  Some merely come in and check off
their names, eschewing the forms," he finally admitted
with obvious reluctance.


This certainly puts a different light on things, Jane noted
as she jotted down the information being squeezed out of Lyle
by Diana.  She carefully registered in neat script:

    1. That the blank SmurFFs were left out in the open for days,
    sometimes weeks so any body could have had access to them

    2. That the completed SmurFFs left in the box, supposedly by
    radiology students, were separated and given to each instructor;
    the course critiques went to Ian and Randy

    3. No tabulation of the number of critiques was carried out

    4. Anyone could come in (etc.)

    5. Since the critique form  (etc.)

    6. Most of the submitted critiques were not dated


The accused was left out of course planning meetings when
Ian and Randy met with Lyle, contrary to what he had just
told the committee.

None of the documents he had sent to the analysts contained
anything detrimental to Ian Heathson, as claimed in his memo
to the dean.  She re-read what he'd written in the memo,
"These fictitious student critiques were very detrimental
and personally injurious to two junior faculty members."

Under Trenchant's quietly relentless cross examination, Lyle
became flustered.  First he claimed that perhaps his language had
not been perfect in that phrase but what he meant was that,
"manipulation of critiques in general would be detrimental
to any faculty member."

Trying to bring him to the point, Trenchant read from
a signed, dated student critique that had not been deemed
`suspicious' by Lyle.  It had been submitted during the same
period as the `questioned' critiques.

"Quote:  `I think Randy needs to be more than one page ahead
of the class in understanding the material.  How can you teach
what you do not know?  I was also offended by the so-called
anthropological function' (he gave) `of the female breasts.
I am familiar with some of the literature which support the
statement in the handouts,' (in a lecture, Randy had emphasized
that the primary function of the female breast was to attract a
mate) `but was not aware that THE NAKED APE, PENTHOUSE MAGAZINE,
PLAYBOY MAGAZINE and so forth were regarded as competent medical
school publications.  The underlying tragedy of this incident
is that it demonstrates the ease with which non-scientific
hypothesis are disseminated without any thought.  This, I think,
is a poor reflection on the department and the faculty.'  Unquote."

Diana continued, "This is what I would call personally
injurious but I do not see this student critique among
the `suspicious' ones--the ones sent out for analysis."

Henry started to sweat along with Lyle who was becoming
increasingly uncomfortable, his tone hostile.  He dodged
and refused to answer directly a question asking if he always
sent suspicious critiques for handwriting analysis, claiming
that in this case, one of his junior faculty had asked him to.

Jane picked up on an item of special importance, and extremely
relevant, underlining it several times on her note pad.
Because of the negligent handling of the critique process,
there was no authentic chain of custody maintained!  In addition,
neither the SmurFFs alluded to as `suspicious' nor the so-called
handwriting standards were ever authenticated.

According to the testimony she had just heard, each  of the
so-called `suspicious' critiques had been discovered when the
finder was alone.  Furthermore, Lyle could give no proof that
any of the `suspicious' SmurFFs he claimed were found,
had ever been placed in the return box provided for the students.
In fact, except for the few critiques that were signed,
there was no evidence that any of the nearly two hundred
uncontested critiques relating to the radiology course were
even submitted by the radiology students!

Jane was simply astounded.  In all of Lyle's testimony, he had
offered no witnesses or evidence that could confirm his testimony
that students had been manipulated by the accused.  Witchcraft
was insinuated, but never proven.

Henry was rapidly becoming unglued.  Noting Lyle's declining control
and fearing an incipient outburst, Henry interrupted and declared
that they would now take a lunch break.  How could that idiot sit there
and let himself give away that kind of detail on how SmurFFs were handled
in his department?  Henry knew that this was having a deleterious effect
on the panel and he knew that he'd better set things straight while
there was still a chance to cover up.




Chapter 10


Lunch was catered in the upstairs witness room as the prosecution,
Henry and the panel, huddled to socialize and discuss the morning events.

Henry and Frank Anuse excused themselves after the meal and adjourned
to the men's room to plan strategy.  "We can't say too much to the women
now with the other witnesses around but when we get back, you take Esther
out somewhere and I'll handle Jane.  Annette's no threat, we'll forget her.
Anyhow, explain how all that bullshit about the chain of custody doesn't have
any bearing at all.  Everything rests on the document examiner's evidence.
Nothing else counts.  Got it?"

"No problem, Henry.  I'll set her straight,"  Anuse said reassuringly.
"Christ, Diana really stuck it to Lyle, didn't she?"

The defense huddled too.  They went as a group to the nearby cafeteria.
Everyone took the trouble to keep the conversation light and encouraging.
They were convulsed at the reaction of the court stenographer which Diana
related to them.

"She's probably attended a great many hearings," offered Helen.
"What happens in the cloistered halls of Belmont U. would be a bit
foreign to her."

Even though it was practically certain by now that
they would not be needed to testify until the next day,
they all elected to stay.  "Hey," Roz insisted, "we want
to be here for you and each other.  It's bad enough
that you have to face them alone in that hearing room."

"You guys are the best, you know that?"  Diana said, fondly.
"After the hours spent in that room its such a relief to hear
human voices again."


When the hearing resumed, Henry cautioned Diana about taking
too much time and to stick to the issues.  We are only here
to listen to information directly concerning whether you forged
those SmurFFs in question.  You have wasted too much of our
valuable time talking about non-related issues."

And you, you pompous old windbag, encouraged that witness,
Lyle Stone to go on and on for hours on unrelated issues
yourself, thought Janet, sneaking a quick, compassionate look at
Diana and flexing her fingers in preparation for the next words.

Diana almost snorted aloud at Henry's admonition.  Composing herself,
she said, "I'm finished with my cross examination of Lyle."

Frank Anuse immediately asked, "Lyle, if it is demonstrated
that a faculty member falsified information concerning another
faculty member using SmurFFs, do you consider that to be amoral
and unprofessional?"

"Yes.  We are assuming that honesty must prevail among peers
and co-workers."

"That's all for now."

"I have just a couple of questions on recross," corrected Trenchant.

Henry, caught with his mouth open about to hastily dismiss Lyle
glared malevolently at her.

She smiled back at him then turned to Lyle and asked if
he insisted that all faculty be honest.

He avoided a direct answer.  "Well, no one thinks dishonesty
is a good thing, at least I don't think anybody does."

"I just wondered why you didn't take similar action,
that is report to the vice president and bring charges,
when the recent blatant plagiarism of Ian and Randy
was brought to your attention," Diana said.

Henry, forgetting his assumed role as neutral, quickly snapped off,
"we really must keep the testimony on the issue."

Diana smiled grimly.  "Thank you.  I'm finished."

Henry quickly excused Lyle and announced that the next witness
would be the document examiner and rose to get her.

After the door closed behind him, the room was quiet.
Its occupants sitting in silent contemplation.




Chapter 11


Something had to be done.  The group gathered in the
conference room were all in agreement on that--but what?
The problem was two-fold: what to do about the possibility that
Trenchant would bring a plagiarism suit against the department,
and how to wipe out years of bad SmurFFs for Ian and Randy.

"You realize that we could just get rid of her by invoking
the clause in her contract that designates she's first in
the department fired if the department has financial problems?"

"That wouldn't help much, she could still sue for plagiarism.
If we fired her, even justifiably, the papers would play
the plagiarism stuff up."

"There is another way--by discrediting her first and making
the student evaluations invalid."

"How!"

"During my last trip to New York, I heard about some special
services that were available."

"Special services?  You mean a hit man?  That wouldn't help
the evaluations."

"No.  Something else, entirely.  Give me a few weeks and then
follow through with what you are presented with.  It may be expensive,
though.  Can I count on some help in that direction?" 

"No problem.  You come through on this and we'll give you
all the help you want."

The others present nodded in agreement and the meeting ended.

He could hear the phone ringing in Anderson's office.  Ah,
there he was.  "Andy, no names, please.  I'm on the office phone.
You recognize my voice?

"Yeah, sure.  How they hanging?"

"Remember our conversation where you told me about the special services guy?

"Yeah."

"Can you put me in touch with him?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, later."


He got to the appointed restaurant early and asked for
the booth reserved for Smith as he had been instructed.
It was amazing how those New York City taxi drivers knew
a hole in the wall place like this.

Soon, he was joined by a well dressed, obviously well
educated man who ordered drinks for both of them.

"I understand that you have need of our services.
How may we be of help?"

"I need to have some papers forged.  It has to be a foolproof
forgery that will not be exposed if the papers are examined
by a handwriting analyst."

"That will be expensive, but not impossible.  We charge by
the number of words and the number of papers or documents
you need."  The price of each was then given.

"Whew, that is steep."

"Yes it is.  But you want foolproof.  Ordinary forgers
are a dime a dozen, but we employ only the most expert.
These are people who are trained in document examination.
They know what a document examiner looks for and what tips
them off to call something a forgery.  For example,
if a person is trying to disguise his or her handwriting,
they make it bigger, wider, smaller or larger.

"Our forgers, as trained document examiners, look for unique
or individualistic handwriting characteristics and make sure
these are included in their forgeries.  They first find all the
characteristics, even the microscopic ones, of the individual's
handwriting just as a document examiner does.  Then they utilize
this knowledge in making a foolproof forgery.

"All this takes time, of course."

"How do you recruit these people?  I should think it would
be difficult since they work fairly exclusively for attorneys
or police, don't they?"

"Well, I certainly can't share our methods but I will remind
you that money talks.  These people are paid very well for what
they do and they know they are protected.  I hope you are not
so naive that you believe all lawyers and cops are honest!

"They are easy to recruit because they may have worked for years
for very little.  That's why to get the best, you have to pay for it."

"OK, here's what I need.  I was hoping to have a dozen or
so of the following messages copied onto these blue forms,
but I'm going to have to settle for these three short ones.
"I understand from the man that introduced us that this will
never be traced back to me?"

"Correct.  I am only a broker.  I do nothing criminal--you do
nothing criminal.  The forger never sees either you or me.
Someone else takes the material to her or him.  That's another
thing that makes our service so excellent.  I will use a former
document examiner who is the same sex and about the same age
as the person you want blamed for these documents.

"Now, the first thing we need is as many examples of this
individual's handwriting and printing that you can get your hands on.
We want originals, not copies.  However, be sure you make copies
since you will not get the originals back.  They will be,
`consumed' perhaps is the best word for it, in the forgery process.
Most commercial document examiners will accept copies of
standards to work from and this is to our, and your, advantage.
You might get one sharp enough to be suspicious if given enough
original standards to compare with our forgeries."

The waiter never came back to bother them.  They sat in the
secluded booth and planned out the three documents to be.


A few weeks later. . ."Mr. Smith?  Yes, thank you for returning
my call so promptly.  Yes, the merchandise was as you represented.
The professionals have authenticated it."  He listened briefly,
then said, "We are going to need two more.  I neglected dates
on the previous order and we have to show repetition of this practice.

"All right.  I'll meet you there in one hour with the accessories
and balance of payment for the previous order."

After hanging up the phone, he opened his briefcase and extracted
a small packet of bright blue, Belmont Student Feedback Forms
and a sheet with the typewritten messages that had been created
to be forged onto them.  He looked to see that the rest of the
contents were in place, then returned everything to the briefcase
and left the room carrying it.


The document examiner was seated, sworn and proceeded to give
her qualifications which were concerned with her training,
the number of years in the profession and clients.

Alice Stebbins was quite short.  Her features gave her age
as around fifty and holding.  She dressed severely, in browns
and blacks which made her look perky and birdlike.  Peering at
the hearing panel over her half glasses enhanced the bird image,
but it was destroyed when she opened her mouth.

Her voice, far from a peep-peep one might expect, was deep
and strong.  She had learned well that when one was giving
expert testimony, one presented a confident, assured bearing.

Further questions from the chair led her through the
evidence and she readily identified all but two of the
seven `suspicious' critiques as being written by Trenchant.
Her language was laced with the correctness of one accustomed
to giving court appearances.  She prefaced much of her
testimony with the caveat, `in my opinion'.  Her attitude
of selfassuredness belied this qualification.

"Also, in my opinion, those two most probably were written by her.
Certainty was not possible since they contained printing and I was
not given enough or recent enough exemplars of Dr. Trenchant's printing."

Using two large easels, she demonstrated various letters
and combination of letters photographed and enlarged from
the standards or exemplars and from the `suspect' documents.

This kind of testimony was familiar to Janet.  She faithfully
recorded the words being spoken and knew that standards or
exemplars are writing and printing that are authenticated.
That is, that are definitely established to be written or
printed by the person in question.  Customarily, they are
taken in the presence of the document examiner so the
examiner can swear to their authenticity.

Using these visual aids, the document examiner pointed out
the similarities existing in the way the letters were
formed--making her case that the documents in question,
the `suspect' SmurFFs, had indeed been written by Trenchant.

Clearly, her presentation was well done and the panel was
most engrossed and fascinated by the process she delineated.

The panel was eager to question her further.  Like most professionals,
they were deeply interested in a discipline they knew very little about.

"Is handwriting analysis reliable?"  Anuse knew what her answer would be
and wanted to pin this down first, but the question backfired on him.

"Yes," she answered confidently.

The panel hassled her for specifics.  These were researchers
who were consistently challenged to prove or disprove their own
theories and then defend them.  Statistics were their life.

"How have you measured your success rate, what percent of
the time have you been right?"  They questioned.

"In other words, have the courts accepted my qualifications?"

"No, not qualifications--evaluations.  How many times are
you right and how many times are you wrong?"

"It isn't looked at that way.  The judge or jury
look at the whole case, not just your presentation."

"I understand that the courts allow your testimony.
I want to know the percentage of error in your analysis,"
asked Jane Astori, leaning forward.

"None."

"None?  Has this ever been calculated?" demanded Esther Rondell.

"No.  But there is research going on."

Jane and Esther looked at each other in blank astonishment
and then back at the document examiner, disdain and disbelief
fighting each other for expression on their faces.

Attempting to save the situation, Anuse asked if the courts
accepted handwriting analysis to be as accurate as fingerprints.

Her answer dripped confidence.  "Yes."

Janet sensed that the women on the panel were not about to let
this polite exchange continue.  The very forces at work over
the eons that compelled women to defer to men, rewarded them
for fearlessly attacking other women.  The confident, assertive
demeanor manifested by the analyst would not have been questioned
coming from a man, but they would not let a woman get away with it.

She knew from countless demonstrations she had witnessed
that women may band together at times with the force of a mob
to attack another woman.  This behavior was and is still produced
by the same motivation.  Men in power foster it and reward it.

Esther began the attack.  "There are many letters on the display
you have shown that are very different from the standards.
The T's look very different."

"What T?"

"Those." Pointing, "those T's have a straight. . ."

"Certainly some letters will be different, but with my training,
I am able to see similarities you are missing," Alice Stebbins replied,
confident of her own superiority.  "If there is a large sample of writing
you may be able to see differences in each letter.  The samples given me
were so small that this was not the case, however, I did have enough
material to compare with the unique handwriting characteristics shown
in Dr. Trenchant's standards to make a positive identification."

"How consistently do other document examiners agree with you
or agree with one another?"  This from Annette.

"I don't know."

"Do handwriting examiners oppose each other in court?"

"I don't know that.  I suppose you could find anyone to do anything.
Assuming that there are two document examiners, it would depend upon
which one makes the most persuasive argument."

"I see," Jane's smile was victorious.  "It's not a question of being
correct in your analysis as much as your ability to make a jury think so."

Henry hurriedly asked loudly, "I understand you are court qualified.
What do you mean by that?"

"Every time I have gone into court, my qualifications have been
accepted by the court.  I have never been denied.  That is what is meant."

The chair indicated to Trenchant that she might ask questions
of the document examiner.

First, Trenchant confirmed all of the documents given the examiner
and again made the point that many of these had not been given her
before the hearing as had been sworn to by Lyle and also written
in a letter to her by the chair.

She next established that all of the exemplars that the analyst
worked from were copies.  Continuing her questioning of the witness,
she asked, "You must be aware that people in your profession
pretty much insist on seeing original standards?"

Alice dodged adroitly.  "I saw the originals of the questioned documents."

Trenchant pursued.  "But only copies of the standards."

Alice allowed, "correct," to escape between clenched teeth.

"You have been testifying throughout saying that I wrote
the standards you used.  I put it to you.  Is this something
you were told, or do you know of your own knowledge that I wrote
those standards you used to compare with `suspect' SmurFFs?"

"What was that?"  Anuse interrupted.

"I'll ask the question again.  Please let the witness answer.
Specifically, did I write those standards in front of you so
you know positively that they were written by me."

"No.  I assumed that the exemplars that I was given were
authentic exemplars or standards of your own writing."

"Just as you assumed that I wrote the questioned documents?"

Diana paused just long enough for that to sink in, then asked,
"It has been pointed out that some of us see many dissimilarities
in the exhibit you have shown us.  Don't these carry any weight?"

"If, in my opinion, the similarities outweigh the dissimilarities,
or vice-versa, that would be the basis for my opinion,"  Alice answered,
then forcefully added, "my opinion is based on training, not assumptions."

"Thank you very much, Ms Stebbins.  I'm glad that we clarified
that the standards were assumptions."

Anuse promptly went into a damage control frenzy trying to
destroy the point made that the exemplars were not authenticated. 
He would probably have succeeded had not the examiner been so haughty,
so confident.  At least three of the panel were not convinced by her testimony.

Janet chuckled to herself.  She didn't particularly like the fact
that many women never figured out their intolerance of their own sex,
but she was delighted to see anything working in Diana's favor.
Evidence was evidence and courts made it clear that you couldn't
manufacture it.  Evidence had to be proven authentic.  She knew
that a judge would throw this case against Diana right out
on the testimony of this document examiner.

There was a delay while Alice Stebbins was escorted out.
During this time, Janet rested her fingers and recanted her
previous thought.  Actually, she amended, it would never have
gotten this far.  It would have stopped back when it became
obvious that there was no chain of custody established for the
seven `suspect' SmurFFs.




Chapter 12


Henry called the dean of the medical school, Sam Broadhurst, MD,
and asked him to identify himself and his position at Belmont
for the record, as the witness before him had done.

The dean was a swarthy complected, strongly built individual.
At 52, his reputation as a ruthless administrator was well known.
Just as well known was his reputation for fairness.  Where he
was faulted was the way he backed up, no matter what,
the medical school chairmen (there were no women)
who along with him were called `The Boy's Club'
by the rest of the medical school faculty.

The Boy's Club often went on retreat.  At these meetings,
held in luxurious surroundings, policies and plans were decided
and everyone fell into line, or else.  There were those among
the faculty that believed that Sam Broadhurst demanded from
the chairs, and took himself, an oath in blood.  This was because
they invariably backed each other up publicly even though privately,
they didn't.

Henry knew that the dean was not happy with the way the
Trenchant situation had been handled.  The dean was royally
pissed that Lyle had gone over his head to Mark and himself
instead of keeping the matter in the medical school and dealing
with it there.  He was further incensed that they had decided to
charge Diana and terminate her before he was even apprised that
the situation existed.  By the time he was brought into the process,
it was to late for him to do anything but go along with it.

So Henry wasn't surprised when the dean made it quite clear
that he was not consulted until the central administration had
already decided to terminate Diana.  This was so obvious that
everyone in the room realized that he was just doing his job
within the system but that didn't mean that he liked it.

Having thus vented his spleen about the way the affair had
been handled, Dean Broadhurst clearly and forcibly added his
opinion to that of Lyle's in almost a carbon copy of Lyle's
relevant testimony.  Clearly and succinctly without the wandering,
self serving side trips taken by Lyle, the dean cast the party line
with all the skill of the accomplished angler he was.

All right.  Well done, thought Henry, with transparent relief.
At least things were going all right thus far with this witness.

Esther took over the questioning and asked, "Would five or six
SmurFF critiques out of around 200 have enough weight to influence
your process of evaluating faculty performance in a course?"

The dean sidestepped, "The ones in question were pretty damning comments."

Esther persisted, "Have you seen the other evaluations?  I mean the ones
that are believed to be authentic student feedbacks?"

Here Dean Broadhurst intentionally contradicted Lyle's testimony.
"No.  The student comments are summarized by the department secretaries
and I see the summaries.  There is also a summary of the positive
and negative comments and a summary of the numerical evaluation."

Jane looked at Henry to see his reaction.  She remembered that Lyle had
testified that all the SmurFFs were given to, and reviewed by, the dean.

Perhaps, Sam Broadhurst thought to himself, it is all I can do for her.
The panel has the information, if they choose to hear it.  If there was
manipulation of the evaluation process, it wasn't a product of five
`suspicious' ones out of some two hundred that were considered valid.

Statistically, the evidence stunk and he knew it.  He also
knew a lot more.  Two of his children had gone through the
medical school when Diana taught in the radiology laboratory.
The dean remembered the many occasions he had seen fit to
compliment Trenchant on her teaching, saying that he was giving
her this critique first-hand from one or the other of his children.

Perhaps, thought the dean, if witchcraft was the real charge,
the panel would insist that it be proven.

Or maybe not.  The administration appeared to be out for blood
and he was sure that Lyle was still licking the wounds
of a few short months ago. . .

He had Lyle on the carpet.  He had summarily called him down
to his office to read him the riot act.

"Here are the letters I've received from three top publishers
of medical texts.  Each one of them protests the plagiarism
that a medical student told them your people have committed
in preparing course material.

"I went to the radiology lab after I received the first
letter and talked to some students.  Although no one wanted
to admit to contacting the publishers, they did show me the areas
in their manual and notes that had been copied directly from
different texts without citation.

"They also showed me the notebooks filled with diagrams that
had been copied from a published atlas.  Again, nowhere in the
book was there any mention of, or credit given, to the source.
Hell, your guys didn't even get permission to photograph the material!"

The dean continued telling Lyle that quite a sum of money would
have to change hands with the publishers to keep this thing quiet.

"It must be her," Lyle whined when he could get a word in.
"She must have put the students up to writing the publishers."
The dean knew who he meant.  Lyle was a chronic complainer.
"Did Trenchant put your boys up to plagiarism too?" ridiculed
the dean.  "I understood from you that she was no longer
in the radiology course."

"She's not, but the students from previous years have told
this year's students about her and they all go to her when
they don't understand something.

"She's really a menace to Randy and Ian.  One day she even
got a classroom and held a review just before an exam.
I got wind of it and sent Ann Biggot to audit.  Ann said that most
of the radiology class showed up.  The students told Ann afterwards
that they had been the ones to ask for the review.

"Now you know how that must have hurt Ian's feelings.  His reviews were
only attended by a handful of the students and no one came to Randy's."

"You should be able to handle a situation like that.
Tell her to stop it if you think it undermines your faculty."

Lyle was not a happy camper.  He left, enraged.  As soon as
he reached his office, he called for Ian.

"Ian, I know you've got a lecture in a few minutes so I'll
be brief.  After the lecture, I want you to tell the students
that they must not consult Diana anymore because she is not
involved in teaching radiology and is much too busy to be bothered.

Also, you lay it on the line about your job.  You tell them that
unless your critiques improve, you are out.  Work on their feelings.
Most of the students like you and would hate to have you lose your job
on account of them.

"After you finish that, you and Randy get in here.  I want
to talk to you both about that lab material you plagiarized."


When the panel had finished its brief examination of the dean,
Diana simply said, "I have no questions."  She understood the
constraints he was under and appreciated how much he had tried,
in spite of them, to help.  He had given the panel some
vital information.  The question was, did they hear it? 
Dean Broadhurst was excused and the next witness was called.




Chapter 13


Randy Fecesi sat in the witness chair and raised his hand
for the oath with alacrity.  He was going to enjoy this.

A wispy, rather nondescript person, his main aim in life
apparently was to live up to his name.  He sported a crew cut
which bristled, much like his ever present bad temper,
above bright beady eyes which were forever darting around
undressing every female in sight.

Although he had some talent in research, having received
a sizable grant, his conceit and arrogance got in the way
of establishing a rapport with students.  It also prevented him
from really understanding how very little he knew about radiology.

Henry had spent a great deal of time with Randy preparing him
for today.  It had been a harrowing ordeal.  Perhaps the actual
testifying would be more harrowing, Henry thought as he nervously
reviewed to himself what he had learned about Randy from Lyle.

Randy had come to Belmont from a college in Ohio having
sufficiently outstayed his welcome there.  As is true in most
college administrations, faculty sexual misconduct was
considered mere professorial peccadillo and was studiously
overlooked.  If a woman student appeared to be on the verge
of making a fuss, administrators had a remedy called
`The Grievance Procedure'.  Administrative personnel talked to
the woman and were able to subtly or directly lead her to understand
that problems would arise in her matriculation if she persisted
with charges of sexual harassment or rape.

If this didn't work, a brief investigation identified her
friends and she was appraised of situations that might
affect them should she remain recalcitrant.  Most didn't.

This was all done under the aegis of Academic Freedom, mused Henry.
The principle of academic freedom evolved years ago.  It sheltered
serious scholars from the whims and avarice of the shifting politicians
and their politics.  Now it was made better use of.  We administrators
use it as a tool to circumvent trouble.  Nearly all institutions, battling
the emergence of women and other minorities into the collegiate arena,
use it to maintain the status quo and rightfully so, Henry decided.
Academic freedom was used to shield the many ways we avoid compliance
with both federal and state laws.  If we opened ourself to public scrutiny,
we'd never get anything done.

Universities are, were and should be a law unto themselves.
They can tolerate only those who are willing to make sometimes
painful compromises.  Those who could not, and were compelled to
fight for so-called human rights and the original meaning of
Academic Freedom, soon left or were not reappointed.

Randy Fecesi was, despite his foibles, a prime commodity.
He was funded.  This made him much sought after since colleges
were looking to capture research dollars.  There was good reason
for this, Henry noted.  Because it paid better, colleges and
universities had stopped putting the emphasis on teaching
and instead, looked for research potential.  This meant that
candidates for a tenure-track position were not looked at
for their teaching experience but for their ability to
bring in research dollars.

Competition was fierce among these institutes of higher
learning and much was done to attract suitable candidates.
Headhunting became a profitable business in academia.

For the last ten years, teaching had taken a back seat at Belmont.
Crowded classrooms attested to the lack of adequate teaching space.
Much of the space formerly assigned as classrooms had been rebuilt
into laboratories.  At the medical school, prospective recruits
were lured by promises of plenty of laboratory space, unremitting
stroking and very light teaching duties.

The reality was that once the entrant was hired, adulation ceased.
For Randy, this was a problem.  In addition, he hadn't even tried to clean
up his act and Lyle did nothing except encourage him to be pond scum,
thought Henry.  Randy expected the medical students to worship him
and instead they found him appalling because of his lack of expertise
in the subject he taught and for his repeated, haughty demonstration of it.

Having his way with women took a beating too.  Usually, he ignored
any female who didn't fit his image of perfect enough for him to notice.
However, if he needed something, he would approach these females
in a sexual manner and was usually rebuffed.

Since Lyle had already established Trenchant as the whipping girl
of the department, Randy readily fell in with this designation
and laid all his problems at her door.  When she refused to photograph
the pictures in a radiology atlas, he was furious.  He ran to Lyle
and claimed that she was obstructing his efforts to modernize the course.
He neglected to tell Lyle that she had said she would be willing to do it
if the publisher gave written permission.

Lyle, of course, encouraged him to proceed with his innovations
and just ignore her.  Randy took this to mean that he had carte blanche
and it led to his plagiarizing her laboratory manual as well as
the published texts and atlas of other authors.

Henry brought his attention back to the hearing just as Jane was
asking Randy to explain how he had found the `suspicious' critiques.

He answered, leaning forward toward her in his eagerness and excitement,
"In looking through the student critiques I found these that didn't seem
to be right.  That is, the comments were not expressed the way
a medical student would.

"I also saw that the handwriting was different.  Not the way
students write but like the handwriting of old people.
So then I went back and looked through other years
for similar handwriting."   He explained that he, Randy,
had found all three SmurFFs which he had brought to Lyle
and asked that they be sent to a document examiner
because he thought these were written by Trenchant.

Responding to a very leading question from Anuse, Randy agreed,
"Yes, these evaluations had been very harmful to me in that
they tended to undermine my confidence in my ability to teach
radiology and could affect my reappointment."

Esther broke in, "Five evaluations out of nearly 200?"

"Well most of the 200 were pretty bad."  Suddenly realizing
how this sounded, he quickly amended, "You see, it was the kind
of comments that tipped me off that they were not real student
feedbacks.  They didn't sound the same.  She was making these
kinds of comments to the students--exerting influence on them
to write the derogatory remarks.  That's what was undermining
my confidence."

Anuse brought him sharply back out of harm's way by asking
if there had been trouble between him and Trenchant.

This opened a floodgate of accusation and crocodillian remorse.
He had no idea why she would be so resentful of him since
he had gone out of his way to be nice to her.  "Once, I even
complimented her on the cute sweater she was wearing.
Instead of acting normally, she complimented me on my cute shirt.
Go figure!"

Pressed to answer what he thought might be her reason to
sabotage him with fictitious student evaluations, he lost it.
Although he had been carefully coached by both the chairman of NERD
and the university attorney, all that training went out the window.
The mask slipped and his answer was pure, vitriolic, undiluted,
vintage Randy.

Perhaps it was because he sensed a kindred spirit in Frank Anuse.
"Well," sneered Randy, "you know broads, they get crazier than ever
at that age and. . ."

Oh, God, thought Henry and nearly shouted, "It's getting late,"
over the rest of what Randy was about to say.  "This would be
a good time to adjourn for the day.  All right?"

He glanced around quickly, stood up and was halfway to the door
before anyone could disagree.  Damned idiot, he thought to himself.
He'd see to it that this boy got a talking to and had his priorities
straight as well as his head before he came back the next day.


Henry kept his bad mood at bay with difficulty during the drive home
by thinking only of his comfortable chair and a huge drink. . .or two
before dinner.  He had just entered the door and placed his briefcase
on the hall table when his wife's voice floated down the stairs,
jarring the hell out of him.

"That you, Henry?  Hurry up now and get dressed,
we're due at the Bakers in half an hour."

Henry groaned.  "Not tonight, shit!"  Then almost immediately,
he recollected that the Bakers were giving a party and it was
most important that he be present.  No help for it, he'd have to
bite the bullet.  Casting a fond look at his Lazy Boy as he passed
the entrance to the living room, he ascended the stairs feeling like
a doomed man mounting a scaffold.

"You look like death warmed over," his wife, Kate, announced caustically,
as she met him at the top of the stairs.

You're no raving beauty yourself, Henry thought.  Kate was
an athletic, slender woman of forty-two.  She neither thought
herself beautiful or required that others did.  Henry often
lamented the fact that with all the money they had, she could
afford to go to one of the many body shops and get some or all
of her sagging flesh lifted, but Kate opted to live naturally and
age gracefully.  He was continually after her to at least wear
makeup but she adamantly refused.

When they were married, Henry didn't mind the over a decade
age difference between them.  Kate was an exciting woman--
an exciting, rich woman.  Her money had been the deciding factor
in asking her to marry him and it was one reason he stayed married
to her.  The other was that he basked in the prestige her place
in society lavished on him.

"Go on in and get your shower and hurry up.  We're going to
be late as it is."

"Oh, hell, it doesn't matter if we're a bit late for this.
Everyone understands that I'm really busy with this damned hearing,"
Henry grumbled as he made his way to the ornate bathroom.

When he entered his bedroom a few minutes later wrapped in
a towel, Kate called through the connecting door from her room
to ask how the hearing was going.  Her innocent question brought
the whole disgusting mess back, along with the foul humor that
went along with it.

Henry set down heavily on his bed.  "What a day.  You wouldn't believe
the absolute stupidity of that NERD chairman and his little boy bad, Fecesi.
You'd think after all the trouble they took to have this hearing take place
that they would at least be prepared.  But no, Lyle couldn't even remember
how many Smurffs were involved--two or three.  As if that wasn't bad enough,
he let that damned woman, Trenchant, tie him up in knots on cross examination.

"Then Fecesi testified.  He's the guy that actually found these
suspicious SmurFFs and I was told that he'd been well coached.
Mark and Lyle both had gone over and over his testimony with him.
The trouble is, the guy is the pits.  A horny, crass bastard
if I ever saw one.  He put on a world class demonstration
of constipation of the brain and diarrhea of the mouth.
If I hadn't adjourned the hearing when I did, there's no telling
what else would have come out of that foul throat of his.

"Now, add to all of that, those stupid broads on the panel
got teed-off at the document examiner and apparently aren't
convinced now that Trenchant wrote those evaluations at all.
The only one I can depend on is Frank Anuse."  Henry buried
his head in his lap and massaged it with both hands.

Kate looked at him without pity.  "Serves you right. You and the rest
of those sanctimonious bastards trying to railroad that woman.
Seven SmurFFs, for God's sake--it's a greater crime to spit on the grass.

"As for Fecesi, he's got his brains in his crotch just like
the rest of you.  The only difference is that he doesn't
pretend otherwise--he's a little too direct for you, isn't he?

"Since this whole thing started, I've had more people ask
me what the real reason is for going after Diana Trenchant
because they just can't believe the SmurFF crap.
Everyone on campus knows the SmurFFs are a joke.
Nobody, but nobody takes them seriously."

Henry defended himself vigorously.  "Well, it is serious and
the SmurFF thing is not all there is to it.  That woman has been
using her influence over the past three or four years to injure
the other faculty in the radiology course,"  Henry defended
himself vigorously.

"Influence?  A lecturer with influence?  Who did she influence,
the dean?  The Pope?"

"No.  The students.  That's why these guys in the course
were so hurt by all this.  Their yearly evaluation by the
students--nearly all the student feedback for them,
and the course they directed, were really bad.
And, it's her fault.  She manipulated the students
to write those bad critiques."

"Pshaw.  She manipulated medical students?  Since when?
You know, Henry, you can't have it both ways.  You claim that
your witnesses are stupid and loathsome, then blame Trenchant
when the medical students agree with you."

"You just don't understand.  She had a chance to resign
and didn't take it.  Now I'm the one in charge of giving her
a fair hearing and I'm not getting any cooperation from
the very people who want to get rid of her."

"Fair hearing, Henry?  At Belmont, that's a contradiction
in terms and you know it.  Hurry up and get dressed.
I'll get the car and meet you out front."





THE HEARING - DAY 2



Chapter 14


All of her witnesses were waiting in a high state of
excitement when Diana reached Howard Hall the next morning.

"Roz came in early," she was told.  "She wanted to be sure
we got this room again today."

Roz brushed aside the praise, "Hey teach, I've got some
great news.  The rest of the class is kicking in to make up
for what we lose in wages by attending the hearing."

Diana was delighted.  The fact that many of her witnesses
were losing time at work to help her had caused a nagging
pain of remorse.  Already, most of them had lost a day's pay
just sitting around waiting to testify yesterday. 
While her witnesses occupied themselves in various ways--
studying, reading or conversing quietly, Diana sat down on the couch,
closed her eyes and sought to compose herself.  Even though the panel
had instructed her to be there at nine with all her witnesses,
one never knew when the hearing would reconvene.

Good news indeed.  What great people these were, she thought.
When the whole mess happened, this class of some two hundred
nutrition students had rounded up hundreds of signatures for
petitions sent to Lyle, Sam and the Pope.  Many of the students
had gone to them in person to plead for justice.

Although most of the students were in the nursing school,
some came from the colleges of agriculture, arts and science
and special education.  Collectively, they had filled out
and filed more nominations for me to be named Teacher Of The Year
than had ever been received before for one teacher.  They were
devastated when the committee receiving these nominations
threw them in the wastebasket, following the instructions
of Henry Tarbuck.

Then there were some that went as a group to beg help from
the `Minority VP'--Dan Field.  Dan talks a good game against
discrimination and even pretends to speak for the black community.
He's a brilliant, fascinating lecturer, a perennial favorite
with the students.  They considered him to be the most impartial,
open-minded administrator they had ever known.  His feet of clay
surprisingly revealed when he washed his hands of the students pleas
and sided with the administration, telling the students who
petitioned him for help that I am a criminal.  At least the blacks
on campus weren't surprised by this.  They had long ago discovered
he was not only a smart cookie, he was an oreo.

But, Diana mused on gratefully, Dan was the exception.  Many pleaded
on my behalf.  Someone once said that all it takes to stop evil
is for one good man to speak up and many good men, and women, did just that.
They spoke up for justice and fair play.  They argued with administration
officials, citing example after example of male faculty misconduct
over the years that had gone nearly unnoticed and never punished.

They asserted that a witch hunt would hurt the Belmont image
and reflect badly on all who worked there.  They all knew what
a farce the SmurFFs had always been and all this fuss over seven?
Sure, evaluations were used at times by administrators as justification
for not reappointing a faculty member, but even then, there had to be
a preponderance of negative evaluations.

It was of no avail.  The administration was adamant.  So much for wise
sayings but the fact that some people did try was heartwarming, Diana thought.

Roz broke her revere, gently.  "It's time, Diana."


Was it her imagination or was the panel friendlier this morning,
Diana mused as she entered the room and took her seat.
I do believe besides saying good morning, most of them smiled at me.
Maybe things are looking up.

A chastised Randy returned to the witness chair.  He looks
ridden hard and put away wet, thought Diana with amusement.

Responding to a question from Annette, he avowed that,
"The year that Trenchant didn't teach, we rewrote the lab manual.
We didn't use any material from the manual written by Trenchant."

When all on the panel had indicated that they had no more
questions to ask him, Henry asked Diana if she wished to question
the witness.  To himself, he added, God help us if the little
twerp doesn't do what he's been told.  Mark had assured him that
he and Lyle had a good long session with Randy and felt that
he had now seen the light and would behave properly.

"Yes, please.  I'm confused, Randy.  You have said that you
saw one evaluation that appeared to be more directed toward
one year than both years.  You answered that this was one
of the reasons why you thought it was suspicious.

"Now these evaluations have no dates on them.  Is it
not possible that both are from the same year?"

"No."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I don't remember which one was from which year,
but these are from two separate years."

"Did you mark them."

"No.  I picked one out of each year's evaluations."

"But you don't know the specific year each came from?"

"No."

With further questions, Diana established that from the time
the evaluations had been given to Randy, they had not been
safeguarded in any fashion.  Sometimes they were in a file cabinet,
sometimes on a bench or table in his lab.

At least twice, they had left his possession when the secretaries
had called for them to use in tabulating the synopsis for the dean.

It appeared that there was some confusion as to when he took
the `suspicious' documents to Lyle.  "I don't know the exact date.
Certainly after the second year I was in the course--January or February."

"Lyle said it was a year later than that.  He said it was last year,"
pressed Diana.

Interrupting imperiously, Anuse jumped in to lead him with
careful questions in a direction away from that subject.

When he finished, Diana summed up his testimony.  "The `suspect'
evaluations were not dated.   You testified that you didn't know
which one came from which year.  You have no idea if all or any
of the remaining evaluations are authentic, is this all correct?"

Randy nodded glumly.

When Diana again referred to Lyle's testimony that Randy had
brought the critiques to him last year, Anuse again interrupted.
This time Trenchant held her ground and forcefully turned toward him saying,
"Excuse me.  I believe this is my time to examine this witness!"

"Now, Randy, you have stated that none of the material in
my laboratory manual was used by you to create the manual you
used last year when I was not in the course.  Do you want to
change that answer?"

"No."

The accused held up two large manila envelopes, thick with
their contents, saying, "I have here a