Chapter Eleven
“What exactly happened from the beginning?” Albert Lloyd asked his son, coming back from his office into the living room where Keith, was watching TV. He had instructed him to sit in the house and avoid all contact with the outside world, both physical and electronic.
The morning and afternoon had been desperately quiet. He couldn’t get a whole of any information that would lead him to find out more about Alyson Crawford or his son’s involvement. His only source into the elite circle, a friend from Law School, didn’t have any information for him. There was no sensational media coverage as he expected. The only positive piece of information he found was the suspect who was held for questioning was released from jail without bail.
The silence added with the discovery that there were currently no suspects in custody exasperated his fear. He had asked his son repeatedly to recount everything that had happened three times already. Each time paying attention to see if there are any inconsistencies in the story.
“Dad, we went over it so many times already.”
“I know. Do it again. Everything you remember.” Either his son was the complete liar or he wasn’t finding any holes in the story.
“I got there. Changed my clothes…”
“Did anyone see you do that?”
“No, I was in a bathroom stall. Alone. There was no one there when I went inside. When I left, there were a couple of guys in masks there. They kind of ignored me. I slipped out quickly and went back into the darkness.”
“How many people there?”
“About a fifty?”
“And no one knew you out right?”
“Dad, I am telling you no one cares about other people. Everyone is there for the same thing. It is either go or no-go. Pretty simple. No questions asked.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw them, dad. I walked around in the dark for a long time observing what everyone was doing. When I was working with the caterer, we all had to leave before the real thing started. So I didn’t know what was happening at first…”
“And what were the signals?”
“The whole room walking around, there was no interaction. Then, someone walks over to another and bows forward, like as if they were greeting a royalty. If the other person nods back in return, it is like saying yes. If they don’t bow, it is a no. I saw some of them were nodding to say no, too. It is pretty formal. Like they are pretending to role play some kind of tradition.”
“How do you know these signs to be true?”
“I followed them. You tell me to observe everything around me all the time. That is exactly what I did. Some would go and dance with each other. Or, they go to any number of sofas or side rooms… It was pretty wild… Had I know it was gonna be like that, I would never have gone.”
“What did you think it was then?”
“I don’t know. This was crazy. A few times, I did the bow to test and got to dance with a couple of girls. It was like a formal dance. Like Waltz and Foxtrot. Keeping the body posture straight and everything else.”
“So you are absolutely sure no one noticed who you were.”
“Definitely. There was no talking the whole time. It was all signaling with body language. The longer I stayed in there, I could start to make out who some of the people were by just looking at their gait. You could tell initially they try to modify their posture as they walked around, but over time, after a few drinks, it was like they forgot to pretend and went back to themselves.”
“Dancing? That was all you did?”
“Dad, you are embarrassing me…”
“It is either you are embarrassed here or before a court full of other people. You have your choice, Keith.” Albert had decided not to tell his son about the release of the primary suspect. He didn’t want his son to be nervous. He wanted to get all the facts and ensure there were no loopholes that could be exploited to get to his son. It was as if all his legal career had been preparing him for such a day where he would come to the rescue of his son. He had a fatherly pride in admiring Keith for venturing into an unknown world and carefully making observations to take advantage of opportunities that were presented to him.
“Two girls. One of them pretty much insisted I touch her. Like pulling my hand where she wanted me to touch her. I was pretty nervous. Thought everyone was watching me. But soon realized no one was even looking in my direction. Everyone was busy doing their own thing. So, I kind of got excited and did the girl pretty good. She kissed me on the mask when we were done. Like a pretty satisfied kiss. Then, I kind of felt bold and went after the girl I wanted. She said no. Then, another girl came from behind me and kind of pulled me aside. I swear I thought they had discovered who I was. I was so shaking, but she bowed to me and led me to the same spot where I was with the other girl. Asked me to do the same thing I did with the other girl. It looked like word had gotten around between the girls. This time, I took it slow and kind of enjoyed it myself, too.”
Keith stalled for a moment to make sure his father was following him. He was revealing more details about the night than he had done so in the previous recounting. Growing up, he had always been encouraged to speak his mind.
“I mean, I was already in over my head by this point. But the party was just starting. It was like nonstop dancing and hooking up. It kept going. I mean, one after another. There were like these wastebaskets filled with used condoms. Unless it was doing things by hand, I noticed, the procedure was always the guy stands and lets the girl put on a condom on the guy before proceeding forward. Just like that. You are pulled to the side. You drop your pants, and you are ready to go. No kissing. No talking. Just sex. I mean it was the craziest thing ever. It seemed like none of the girls were wearing panties. It was like straight to the point. Then, on to the next one after discarding the condom into the waste basket. Some girls wanted you to hold them some places…”
“Alright. I get the point,” Albert stopped. He had never heard of such wild orgies being organized at universities. Sure he had heard about fraternities and sororities at large state colleges that are consistently ranked at the top of Playboy’s best party schools. But Harvard?
