“Before you worry, none of my family knew anything about this until a week or so ago. I didn’t want them to know because I was afraid they’d tell you before I could take care of it.”
I could read Tami’s mind. She thought I was an idiot for trying to be the white knight and fix everything. I was on a short rope before she hanged me.
“I talked to my security head, Fritz, about what Megan had told me. He confirmed that my initial impulse to make Brandon disappear wasn’t a good idea. I’ve held that plan in the back of my mind from the start. If things don’t work out so he’s punished, it still may happen,” I admitted.
“David!” Tami and my mom both said at the same time.
“Sorry, but it’s a fact. I’ll make sure Brandon’s never able to do this again,” I said, looking at the two of them. “Fritz turned out to be the right person to go to. He has experience in security matters and friends who know how to get things done. He and they helped me get background on Brandon.
“Brandon didn’t leave Harvard voluntarily. Two women with connections accused him of rape. They didn’t have enough proof to get him arrested but had enough pull to get him removed. I expect the university didn’t want the scandal.
“We turned up other instances where Brandon was allegedly involved in rapes. No one had connected the dots to see he was a person of interest in multiple cases. In a handful of cases, they collected rape kits, but they never processed them. If they had, his DNA would have shown up, and they would have discovered they had a serial rapist in their midst,” I said.
“Why weren’t they processed? Rape is a serious crime,” Alan said.
“Rape is considered a violent crime. The rape kits didn’t get processed for various reasons. With these girls, they each voluntarily went to a party. At the party, they got drunk, and some took drugs. They woke up and found they’d had sex. Being drunk means no consent, but if that were the rule, then half of all college hookups would be questionable,” I said.
“That sounds familiar,” Tami said.
“Brandon, at some point, figured it out and started to use drugs to get the results he wanted. Serial rapists are responsible for the majority of rapes on college campuses,” I said and then sat back down.
“Once I had the police reports, I reached out to Bev Mass, Harper’s mom. She’s the Cook County State’s Attorney. Once I convinced her that Brandon was a possible serial rapist, she contacted her counterpart in Middlesex County, Massachusetts, where Harvard is located. The Middlesex DA had the Cambridge police look into it.
“I paid to have the rape kits processed to speed things up. I don’t believe they took me seriously until the same DNA from two or three men showed up consistently,” I said.
“Did they take Brandon’s DNA to compare it?” Tami asked.
“Not at first. I figured it should be easy: drag his ass in and take a sample. Unfortunately, it seems that even criminals have rights. The good news was that the police started to investigate and run down leads. Bev explained that they needed to do that so that Brandon couldn’t point the finger at anyone else.
“Honestly, I got tired of waiting. I talked to Bev about how we could get Brandon’s DNA. I even offered to let him bleed on my shirt, but she said that wouldn’t work. They didn’t want him getting off on a technicality, and she told me that the chain of custody was critical.
“That’s when I reached out to Detective Kitchens, who’s local, to see if he could help. He contacted Bev and the people out east and offered his assistance. He collected Brandon’s garbage, and they found matching DNA. That must have been enough for them to issue arrest and search warrants. Brandon is currently in jail, awaiting extradition to Massachusetts.
“During their search, they found twenty journals detailing his activities. I understand he outlined what he did to the two of you in one of them,” I said.
“So, why are you finally telling us this now?” Alan asked.
“Because the press will know he’s arrested and it’ll be in tomorrow’s news. I wanted to tell you before you saw it and put it together,” I said, and then became quiet.
Uncle John took over from there; he was a trained child psychologist. Dad, Peggy, and I were sent to my apartment. I made myself a plate of food, grabbed a platter of cinnamon rolls, and left so everyone could talk. Tami was quietly crying as what Brandon had done to her began to sink in. Alan was strangely silent.
◊◊◊
When we got upstairs, Peggy turned my coffee table into a dining table so I could eat. I heated water for a pot of tea and found plates for the rolls.
“You’ll have to be patient with Tami and Alan. They’re going to be angry and want to lash out. You’re an easy target right now,” Dad said.
“Yes, and all the things I’ve said to both of them don’t help. I have some stuff to atone for,” I admitted.
“I would hope they realize how much you care after all you did to get him arrested,” Peggy said.
“You would think so, but don’t count on it for now,” Dad said.
