Wes asked, “And Carla Nagel, the student?”
Ms. Wilson answered, “She said she had another class and didn’t want to miss it. Before she left, though, I got all her information—cell number, email and such, she’s an English major—and I’ve given it to Officer Voss. I hope this is OK, but I didn’t feel as if…honestly, I didn’t know what to do.”
Wes, “No worries, we have her information.” Wes turned to Professor Gilroy. “Professor Gilroy, you called ASU PD?”
“Yes, I did. I was in the departmental offices downstairs when the student came in, looking for Nelda. Then she and Grace left to come up here. I guess I was just swept along with them, although not immediately—I was getting my mail—but then came on up. My office is on this floor as well. I saw Grace come running out of Nelda’s office, obviously shaken. She said Nelda was dead. I didn’t know that she’d already called 911, so I called ASU PD. I’d seen the phone number in the departmental office, and I just reacted.”
Wes again, “When Ms. Wilson went to get Professor Keefer, did you enter Professor Siemens’s office?”
“Oh no, I stayed in the corridor with the student…that’s actually when I called ASU PD. But, no, I didn’t enter her office. Then Jonathan and Grace got back to Nelda’s office, and I heard Grace say that she’d called 911. By then, I think other people heard the commotion and came into the hall to see what was going on.”
Wes asked, “So Professor Gilroy, why you’d come to Professor Siemens’ office?”
“Well, no reason really, as I said, I was just…pulled along,” he said, and shrugged.
Neither professor was especially tall; both were shorter than Wes who was five ten. Of the two, Gilroy was the taller, maybe five eight; Keefer was about five seven, but also looked to be a good ten years younger than Gilroy.
“I see,” Wes said to Gilroy, then turned back to Professor Keefer. “Professor, you’re the chair of the department, do you know if Professor Siemens had any enemies…any issues, any threats against her?”
“Well, no…this was only the start of her second year at ASU. I mean…
Before Keefer could finish his sentence, Gilroy interrupted. “Oh, come on, Jonathan, you know how divided the department was over her hiring.” Then to Wes, “Her hiring was a very divisive issue.”
“How so?”
“Well, she was hired as a part of one of those Ayn Rand Studies grants. The outfit that gave the money wants to revitalize Ayn Rand’s place in academe…as a novelist or an ideologue, I don’t know, maybe both. Gilroy emphasized the word ‘outfit.’ “Anyway, they made grants available to universities that would create Centers for Ayn Rand Studies. ASU applied for one—actually, some Business professors did the deed—and it was funded. That led to an external search for an Ayn Rand scholar to head the Center. Nelda applied and got the job.”
As Gilroy talked, Jillian remembered that this is how she’d heard of Professor Siemens. She’d read a story about her and the Ayn Rand Center in the paper. She caught Wes’ eye, raised her eyebrows and gave a slight nod to let him know that she’d heard this before. He nodded to acknowledge that he understood.
Gilroy, who didn’t appear to have noticed the silent exchange between Jillian and Wes, looked back and forth between Keefer and Wes, and continued talking. “She’d been in English at one of the Seven Sisters, so she wanted a joint appointment in Business AND English. We had a big debate in English about this…”
Keefer interrupted, “I don’t know if it was such a big debate, Billy, and in any case, I don’t see how this could have any bearing on…” he gestured with an open hand down the corridor toward Professor Siemens’ office.
“Trust me, Detective,” Gilroy addressed Wes, “it was a hot potato. Some faculty didn’t want to hire someone just because funding was available to pay for her. Some were opposed to the whole enterprise—this Center—because, let’s face it, these days Ayn Rand has more to do with some sort of pro-business ideology than with the novel.”
“Nevertheless,” Keefer interrupted again, “there was a good deal of support, Nelda was hired to run the Center, and that’s all there is to it. We’ve moved on,” he added, obviously irked at Gilroy.
“I must disagree, Jonathan. This sort of a hire has become all too common in U.S. universities.
“Please, Billy, let’s not air all our dirty linen to the police. I’m sure that given what’s happened…” again, he pointed to Professor Siemens’ office…”the detectives have more pressing issues.”
As he said this, almost as if on cue, the Tempe PD Forensics Unit emerged from the elevator. They headed along the corridor toward the group of six people. They were loaded with equipment, looking like people from outer space. Jillian recognized everyone, and gave a small wave.
As the forensics team was about to enter the office, the other member of the EMS team peeked out, saw them, waved, and then disappeared back into the interior of the office.
The arrival of the Forensics Team signaled the end to the conversation in the corridor. Wes told the English Department people that he would join the Forensics Team in Professor Siemens’ office, and that Detective Sergeant Warne would begin follow-up interviews starting immediately. The English Department personnel shared their office numbers with her.
After the English Department people had dispersed, Wes said to Jillian, “Why don’t you begin with Gilroy. I’ll go with Angel and Forensics. By the way, I’ve heard of Ayn Rand, but remind me why I have…who is she?”
“She was a writer, but her novels were loaded with a lot of economic philosophy. I think she was pretty conservative.” Jillian shrugged. “But that was freshman English, Wes, so…that’s the best I can remember.”
He nodded. “Well, obviously that’s more than I remembered. So, Gilroy…”
She smiled and asked, “Anything in particular that you want from Gilroy?”
“No, just the usual. He did seem to have the most to say about Professor Siemens.”
“Come in,” Gilroy answered her knock. His door was about three-quarters open, enough to say, “I’m in,” but to afford some privacy from people walking by. His front window was also translucent, like the one in Professor Siemens’ office.
“Thanks, Professor Gilroy,” she said as she entered. As Detective Sergeant Webb mentioned, we’ll be conducting follow-up interviews. I’m Detective Sergeant Jillian Warne, and I’m with ASU PD.” Jillian displayed her ID again as she spoke.
“That was quick…so I’m first?” As he answered, he gestured to a chair in front of his desk. He seemed to take some measure of pride in being the first interview subject.
“Yes, you are.” She took the proffered chair.
He carefully scrutinized her identification. “So, Detective Warne, Detective Sergeant Warne,” he corrected himself, “I’ve no doubt that you want to hear more regarding my exchange with Jonathan about Nelda’s hiring…” Before Jillian could answer, he added, “No worries, I’m an open book and I’ll be happy to fill you in on all of our…dirty linen,” he chuckled. “But first, I have to say, you don’t look like a police detective, much less a sergeant. As my students might so inelegantly ask, ‘Sup with that?”
Jillian got this a lot. Sometimes it was amusing, sometimes it was annoying because it could be read as a critique of women police officers being somehow out of place. She wasn’t sure how Professor Gilroy meant it, so she offered what she hoped was a thoughtful answer, but one that left her options in terms of how she handled whatever followed. And, this was the sort of an answer that she’d given before.
“Well, Professor, police officers are a very diverse population, from very old school—maybe that’s a stereotype that you’re more familiar with—to people of all races and ethnicities and age groups. I don’t think there’s any one-size-fits-all way to describe us.”
Gilroy, a bit taken aback, said, “Well spoken,
and point taken. I am to assume then that you’ve been to college?
For some reason, Jillian felt herself getting a little annoyed. ”Yes. Actually, I went to ASU…” she paused for affect…”for both my degrees.” Gilroy again looked surprised, and she continued, “I have my undergrad degree and my MS degree in Justice Studies”
“Well, well. Justice Studies…I thought they a bunch of lefties?”
“Isn’t it interesting that talk of justice is considered somehow to be on the left politically, “she answered. “Even so, there’s no reason that a person couldn’t hold politically left views while also being a police officer. They aren’t mutually exclusive positions.”
Again, Professor Gilroy looked surprised.
Jillian really was getting annoyed now although she couldn’t tell why…if he was simply being condescending because he was an older professor and she was younger, or if he was ‘mansplaining.’ Whatever…she knew that she could use his attitude to get more information about departmental politics. She took control of the conversation and brought the discussion back to the issue at hand. “But, in any case, I’m here to follow-up on the matter of Professor Siemens.”
“Right you are. OK. OK.”
“From your exchange with Professor Keefer a few minutes ago, I take it that there were issues in terms of hiring Professor Siemens? You mentioned the matter of a Center for Ayn Rand Studies?”
“Yes, that’s correct. Incidentally, Detective Warne, ever heard of Ayn Rand?”
“Yes. We read Atlas Shrugged in freshman English.”
“Really…I’m surprised. Who was your professor?”
She thought for a second, then said, “I don’t really remember. I think he was a PhD student.”
“I’m not surprised, but still…”
She added, “I think he was really into dystopian novels. We also read 1984.”
“You are just full of surprises, Detective Warne.”
“Not your stereotype,” she said and had to consciously avoiding rolling her eyes. “Anyway, so tell me about the Ayn Rand grant.”
As she listened, Jillian took-in Professor Gilroy and his office. She estimated his age as in his 50s, Caucasian, salt and pepper hair cut short, but he obviously spent some time styling it, a little gel, she thought, and he must work out and watch his diet because he looked fairly fit. He wore tan slacks, nicer than chinos—she’d notice that in the corridor—and a dark gold shirt, with a tee shirt underneath. He enunciated his words clearly and for affect, and with a slight Southern accent. He seemed to be a man who was used to being taken seriously.
His office was about the same size as Nelda Siemens’ office, but not as tastefully appointed. Everything looked newish, but stock. His office was two corridor turns and about 40 yards or so from hers. On the wall behind one side of his desk was a medium-sized poster of a book cover, Detective as Poet or Poet as Detective? The name under the title was large enough that she could see that he’d written it. Behind the desk on the other side was a large photo of a man who looked familiar, but she couldn’t place. Seeing that photo reminded her that she’d noticed a couple of photos in Professor Siemens’ office: one a woman and one a man. She hadn’t paid them that much attention when she and Wes were surveying the room…the murder scene, she probably should say.
There were two large bookcases along the wall to her left. She’d notice as she entered the room two diplomas—she couldn’t make out the details without staring. On the wall near the office door was another poster blow-up of the cover of what must have been a magazine or a newsletter: Center for the Study of Southern Culture, and a subtitle, Special Issue: Faulkner the Poet. She assumed that Gilroy taught poetry.
“Well, as I said, that organization—actually it was a foundation—anyway, it offered large grants to any universities that would create a Center for Ayn Rand Studies. These days, ASU is chasing the money because the state legislature has reduced our funding, so they applied—again, some professors in Business. And they were successful. As a requirement of the award, a professor had to be designated to head the Center. There was a national search and Nelda was, I suppose, the best candidate. Her Center technically is located in Business because they got the grant, but, given her background, she wanted a joint appointment: Business and English.”
“So, what made her the best candidate, Professor Gilroy?”
“Well, she has a good educational pedigree, and she was at Mount Holyoke and all that.” He said this in a way that made it sound somehow only minimally acceptable. “And, she is a Rand scholar. She’s written a book on Rand’s novels. Actually, two books, I think. As well as several articles on Rand. All were…well received.” He said this in a dismissive way.
“And what did it mean to have such a Center?”
“Most obviously, courses were added to the curriculum, both undergrad and grad, here and in Business; Nelda teaches the English courses. I take it that a part of her duties was to proselytize. She’s supposed to be generating student interest in Rand…honors theses, dissertations…I think the courses that she added to the curriculum were somehow tied to that. I know that she’s in the process of planning a symposium—for spring semester, I think—that would bring in other scholars and create a buzz.”
Gilroy said “buzz” as if this was somehow distasteful. “Someone said that there might be either an edited volume or maybe a special issue of a journal comprised of the conference papers…but of course that’s just table talk.” He seemed on to be on the verge of another comment, but grew quiet, then added, “Now, of course…” He seemed to Jillian to be genuinely reflective. “Detective, do you think that Nelda was murdered?”
“It’s too early to know. That’s the sort of thing that the Forensics people are looking at. Professor, from what you were saying in the corridor earlier, there was some anger about her hiring. Is that correct?”
“Yes, people were far more upset about this than what Jonathan intimated. Some were angry about a donor literally having the power, the monetary where with-all, to create a position. You have to understand, because universities are so desperate for funding, it’s difficult to get new positions, especially in the Humanities. The English Department teaches the entire entry freshman class every year—that’s over eleven thousand students—but new positions are almost nonexistent. We aren’t even guaranteed replacement positions if someone retires or takes a job at another university. So, there’s that. And then, other people just don’t like it that outside organizations with obvious political agendas can affect university hiring. Whether it’s the Rand organization or the Koch Brothers—by the way, they’re here too—lots of faculty just don’t like it. I don’t like it. I don’t have a political bone in my body, but it troubles me.”
“So, this anger against the award, was it directed against her personally? I don’t necessarily mean from you, but what about others?”
“Well, yes, I was against having anything to do with locating the Center in the English Department, and of course that included hiring her as well. Rand may have been a successful novelist, in terms of book sales, but that was a long time ago. She’s not considered to be such an important writer these days. In other words, she hasn’t stood the test of time. However, once Nelda was here, I’ve tried to be civil—she’s a colleague after all, and this is a university. Although I have to say that with Nelda, that’s not always easy. She’s not all that civil herself. She’s quite arrogant.”
“Is this a widely held view of her?”
“It depends. Some people smell a possible career connection and suck-up to her.” He said the words “some people” in a way that made it clear that he had specific people in mind. “Others are more ‘live and let live,’ he said, and made air quotes. “But some, also here in English and in other departments, have been even more vocal, more…I guess you’d say agitated. Some of this was discussed in the Faculty Senate, although that went
nowhere. And, I understand that there was an article submitted to The Chronicle, that’s The Chronicle of Higher Education which is THE outlet for any discussion of universities. My understanding is that the article addressed the specific situation here at ASU, but was about the more general situation in universities, as well.”
“Who wrote the article?”
“Ah…I’m…I haven’t actually seen such an article so maybe I shouldn’t comment further on that. I do know that it has not yet been published. You have to understand, Detective, feelings run high on these matters.”
“I completely understand. I’ll of course interview Ms. Wilson and Professor Keefer, but would you suggest that we chat with others, either your colleagues or professors in other departments?”
“Well…I hate to name names…”
“Professor Gilroy, this isn’t about being a tattle-tale on the playground,” she said, changing her tack. “This may turn out to be a murder investigation. The more accurate our picture is, the better our investigation can proceed.” Then, she changed tack again. “Please, we need your help. After all, you were enough of a stand-up person that you called us to report her death.”
Maybe the compliment appealed to Gilroy’s vanity or maybe it made him see reason…in any case, he said, “You’re right, of course. So, the person in the Faculty Senate who was far and away the most resolute in his opposition to the Rand award, and especially to the Koch Brothers, was Ian Naremore.”
“Ian Naremore…OK.”
“Right, right, you may know him. He’s a Justice Studies professor.”
“Yes, I had classes with him.”
“Well, it is a small world after all. By the way, and I apologize for not remembering—some of my classes are quite large—but Detective Warne, did you ever have classes with me?”
“No, I don’t think so. What do you teach…I assume, given your book cover and the poster on the wall over there, that you teach poetry?
Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Page 2
