Chapter 33 Lila
Lila
I was eating lunch in my office while grading exams when Professor Galloway poked his head in my doorway.
“Something is happening out in the faculty parking lot!”
I didn’t really want to stop what I was doing, but Galloway rarely looked that excited. So I got up and followed him down the hall to the faculty lounge, which overlooked the parking lot. Four professors were already pressed against the glass.
I found a spot next to them and gawked. In the parking lot down below, six students—all women—were vandalizing a silver BMW. The tires were already slashed, and they were now covering the car with spray paint.
“Geez,” I said. “Whose car is that? Which professor?”
“Not a professor,” someone mentioned. “A student. Joshua Davenport.”
“Why is his car in the faculty parking lot?”
“Because,” Galloway answered, “Davenport is the University golden boy who gets whatever he wants.”
“Until now,” another professor muttered.
“Why are we all just watching this happen?” I demanded.
The three other professors next to Galloway looked sideways at me.
“He has a reputation,” one of them said.
“Records women he bangs without their knowledge, then posts the videos online,” another added.
“And always blurs himself out. Until now.” The professor held up her phone.
I opened my phone and took it off Do Not Disturb. I quickly saw the campus-wide emergency text that went out fifteen minutes ago.
“Oh my God,” I said.
Joshua Davenport came running out of a nearby building like a heat-seeking missile. The cluster of women threw down their spray paint and took off in all directions. Davenport followed one of them for a few feet, then turned and surveyed the damage to his expensive car.
“Everyone knew about this but me?” I asked. “Why didn’t anyone do something before now? Revenge porn is illegal in Tennessee.”
“They were only rumors,” Galloway said. “The man in the videos has always been blurred out, along with any identifying information in the room.”
“Yet everyone knew it was him?” I demanded.
Galloway shrugged. “Like I said, Davenport is the University golden boy. He’s untouchable unless the evidence is bullet proof. Which, it appears, it now is.”
“Glad someone finally stepped in and outed him,” another female professor said.
I examined the photos on my phone and said, “This will never hold up in court if it was obtained illegally.”
“This isn’t a court of law,” Galloway said. “It’s the court of public opinion. And the press is already arriving.” He pointed to a news van that was pulling into the parking lot.
The female professor turned to us and cocked her head. “An argument could be made that Davenport surrendered his expectation of privacy by posting the original videos to the internet. It depends on the judge, but…”
“Alternatively,” Galloway mused, “the police could use this new evidence as probable cause to get a warrant for his dorm room.”
“And his iCloud account,” the other professor agreed.
While they discussed the legal ramifications of all of this, I stared down at the star basketball player standing by his ruined car. A name and a face had popped into my mind the moment I saw what was happening.
Camden.
Cam had Davenport’s student athlete page up on his laptop the day he showed me his screen. He said he was working on some big project related to hacking. And he had once left my class by telling me that he had to go deal with a basketball player.
All the pieces fit into place. He was the one who did this.
For the rest of the day, it was tough to think about anything other than the Davenport scandal. It was the hot gossip on campus, and everyone in my afternoon classes were whispering about it. Apparently, the size of Davenport’s manhood was the primary topic. Specifically, its inadequacy.
“His roommate must have gotten sick of his shit,” one guy said to another on the way out of my final class.
“Nah, I bet it was one of the women,” the other guy argued. “Poetic justice. Getting their revenge.”
“Then how’d they get all the videos?” the first guy said.
“I don’t know.”
But I knew both of them were wrong.
I didn’t want to text Cam about it. I wanted to ask him in person, so I could see his reaction. Just like a detective bringing in a suspect for questioning.
I used the faculty network to look up Cam’s schedule, then walked across campus to intercept him as he left his last class of the day. But when the door opened and the students poured out, Cam wasn’t one of them.
“He was a no-show,” the professor told me. “Which isn’t like Camden. He’s usually on his laptop during class, but his attendance is almost perfect.”
Since it was Friday, I went to the bar after work. Brock was busy for the first half hour, but after making my second drink, he had enough time to hang out at my end of the bar.
“Yeah, it’s crazy,” he said when I brought up Davenport. “But we all knew about it. One of the assistant basketball coaches told me he’s a scumbag. Glad karma finally caught up to him.”
“Me too,” I said. “So, are you going to tell me what plans you and Jace have for me tomorrow night?”
“Mmm. I don’t think so.”
“You seem to be enjoying taunting me,” I pointed out.
“That’s because I am!” he replied with a grin, hurrying down to the other end of the bar to help a new customer.
I was bored, so I texted Jace to see if he was coming over tonight.
Jace: I’m out with my Army buddy. He got into a fight with his wife about the nursery decorations. It might be a long night.
Me: BOO!
Jace: This is probably for the best. I want to save my energy for tomorrow night.
Me: Describe what you and Brock are going to do to me.
Jace: I don’t think so. You’ll just have to wait to find out!
Me: DOUBLE-BOO!
Brock made his drinks strong, and I found myself with a healthy buzz when I eventually winked at him and said goodbye. I was in that weird middle ground where I didn’t trust myself to drive, but I wasn’t downright drunk.
Rather than calling an Uber, I decided to take a walk around campus to give myself a little time to sober up. It was a cool February evening, and the wind was pleasant rather than biting.
The University had released a statement that it took revenge porn very seriously, and that Davenport would be suspended while they investigated further.
On the edge of campus, I passed by a few sorority houses.
They were all throwing parties tonight—it seemed like everyone was celebrating the demise of Joshua Davenport.
I had never been a victim of revenge porn, but I’d known women who were.
It was so terribly unfair that women were judged harshly for having sex with someone, while men were lauded for it.
Seeing Davenport ridiculed for what he had done was such a pleasant turn of events.
Like Galloway had said, students like Davenport were usually bulletproof.
Eventually, I realized I was walking past the Gershwin Dormitory. That’s where Cam lived, according to the student information I’d looked up earlier. Room 204, which I happened to remember because it was the same number as the class he was in: Criminology 204, Computer Crime.
Some students were walking inside, scanning their student IDs at the door to get in.
I wonder what Cam’s doing right now.
Indulging in a rare impulse, I jogged forward and followed them inside.