On their way out, President Davidos introduced them to John Hawley, who was apparently something akin to his Chief of Staff. Hawley was to be the person through whom Wes and Jillian would stay in contact, seek any assistance, and update the president. They exchange business cards with him.
At first during their walk back to HQ—her second in a matter of hours—Jillian said nothing. She wanted to see what Wes would say about their meeting, especially that last part about the upcoming news conference that President Davidos had sprung on them. Waiting Wes out didn’t work because as soon as they’d turned right onto College Avenue, he asked, “So, what’d you make of our meeting with Number One?”
She laughed, “I was hoping you’d tell me. Before we talk about the obvious—the news conference—I want to know…do you think he’d…investigated us?”
“Well, being a university president…he’s a powerful guy, so…apparently, yeah. He seemed especially interested in you.”
“You noticed? It icked-me-out...like that comment about me transferring over to ASU. I guess he’s technically my boss…although I tend to think of Al as The Chief. You think that was some sort of ‘chain of command’ thing?”
“Well, first of all, you’re absolutely right…Al Rosas is your boss. And second, I think he was just trying to rattle your chain…I wouldn’t worry about it, Jilly.”
“He seems like the kind of guy who’s used to giving orders and having them obeyed….’yes sir,’” she said, and gave a smart salute. “I think he was seriously surprised when you asked him a few questions.”
“Yeah…reminded me of the scene in Get Shorty when Travolta tells Gene Hackman, ‘look at me, I’m the one telling you how it is.’ I think President Davidos is uncomfortable if he is NOT the ‘one telling you like it is.’ Marilyn and I just streamed it last week…she loves that movie…she’s a big Travolta fan…and I love the soundtrack.” Wes started humming Booker T’s Green Onions.
Jillian smiled, then asked, “So, a news conference?”
“Apparently…although that was the first I’d heard about it. You?”
“Me, too. I guess it’s what we were just saying…he wants to be in control.”
“That, and he’s probably worried about all the media attention to a murder on his campus.”
“I think you’re right. A guy who’s on our Task Force works in ASU’s PR Department, and he said the news media are all over this…and of course we saw that crew on campus earlier, and then out front…”
They’d just crossed 5th and, even as she spoke, they could see a news crew leaving a large white van with a TV station logo on its side, and heading to the main entrance to their building. Wes and Jillian veered left and entered through the employees’ gate.
As they entered the building, Wes said, “This is no surprise. A murder isn’t necessarily a big story, but it is if it’s on the ASU campus…AND of a professor. I don’t know if you saw The Republic this morning…but we’re still front page.”
She nodded and added, “The story was on NPR this morning, too…and a national story, not just KJZZ, although it was a KJZZ reporter who did it.”
“I guess Davidos’ news conference is a way for him to try to get out front on this. And pushing our chiefs into holding it makes sense…shows everyone that the police are on the case. But, it also takes some of the pressure off ASU.”
‘So, what do we do?”
“That’s easy, when we get to our office…I text my chief…you text yours…and see what they need from us.”
She nodded, then asked, “And, why later today…that’s really short notice, don’t you think?”
“I imagine the Prez is trying to have the conference done and ready for the six o’clock news…lead story…and all that.”
“OK…” she paused, collecting her thoughts. “But, I did want to bring-up something else…this goes back to our interview…did it seem to you that President Davidos had an almost personal reaction to Professor Siemens’ murder? At a couple of points it seemed like he did.”
Wes paused, too, thinking, then, “Yeah, I thought so…especially when I was going over the results from Forensics. Of course, he did say they were friendly.”
When Jillian was quiet, Wes followed-up, “Did you sense more than friendly friendly?”
“I don’t know…there was just something going on. One thing Grace Wilson said is that Professor Siemens did try to curry favor with higher-ups, and that would obviously include the university president.”
“Running with the big dogs…huh.“
The conversation took them back to their offices. Wes went to his office…Jillian went to hers and they both sent their texts. She also did some work at her computer, then hit the print key.
They reconvened in Wes’ office, and he said “OK, I’m on with the Chief in 30…Al’s coming over, too. I’ll go up and brief them before it’s show time.”
“Me too?’
“No, the Chief said I could handle that…AND, she and Al want you to keep up with our interview schedule—I think you’re on soon with another former prof…right?”
She nodded and he continued, “The news conference is a big event and they want to be prepared, and all that, but at the end of the day, it’s just talk…it doesn’t move our investigation along one iota. Which is why they don’t want it to be too much of a distraction to us. Anyway, the Chief has seen the prelim from Angel…she forwarded a copy to Al…and they just want me to give them the ‘executive summary,’ including the low-down on our meeting with the Prez. Main thing, given the media attention, the clock’s ticking…”
“I have one more question, Wes. That tapestry behind President Davidos’ desk…is that what I’m thinking it is?”
“I don’t want to go all ‘Maltese Falcon,’ but yeah, that was the symbol…the knight was a Templar.”
“What’s with that?”
“I have absolutely no idea.“
“OK…give me just a sec…”
Jillian returned to her office and grabbed the photo she’d printed. She returned to Wes’ office and handed it to him. “For Voss and his team…to show at her condo.”
Wes looked at the photo, looked at Jillian, and said, “Alright.” The photo was of ASU President Jacques Davidos.
Earlier, Jillian had texted Carolyn Patek, her former thesis advisor…she had Carolyn’s numbers in her Contacts—both her office and cell number—but also knew them both by heart. Carolyn had some time at 3:30.
Wes waved goodbye at 2:45, said, “Wish me luck,” and headed upstairs to the Chief’s office. He was carrying his note pad and a larger folder.
At 3:15, Jillian took a long drink from the water fountain and headed toward Wilson Hall. Along the way, she thought about their interview with President Davidos. She told herself not to be paranoid—also Wes’ advice—but he really did seem to be fixated on her, which obviously made no sense.
She also wondered about the press conference. While Wes took it in stride—like most things—she knew that it was a big deal…she could imagine the cameras and the questions. She worried that President Davidos was trying to shift attention to the police to ‘protect the brand’…she laughed, thinking, “Great, I’m starting to think like Cedar Lanning.”
What most concerned her is that how very little Chief McCaslin and Chief Rosas would be able to say…she’d felt that same ‘lack of anything substantive’ when she’d briefed the Task Force. At this stage, she and Wes didn’t have much that you could call ‘definitive.’
“Oh well,” she thought, “there was still a lot of forensic detail that isn’t ‘in,’ especially Professor Siemens’ media information.” She knew this info—once they had it—could make a difference.
She thought, “But enough of this…I need to think about the meeting with Carolyn…and remember, it’s not just a visit, it’s an interview.”
Saying hello to her professors in the MU had been a treat—even though they’d been freaked about Professor Siemens, which she told herself was understandable—and it made Jillian eager to visit Carolyn. Carolyn had helped her so much during graduate school, and Jillian now considered her to be a friend as well as a mentor.
She was from a small city in Texas called New Braunfels. Jillian had never heard of it although Carolyn had said it was near San Antonio. The city had a German heritage, but also was home to many of Czech heritage who migrated to the U.S., especially Texas, during the 19th century. Carolyn proudly referred to them and to herself as ‘Czechans.’ Patek was a Czech name.
Given where Carolyn was from, not surprisingly she did her BA at UT, San Antonio, where she’d had a double major in Sociology and Criminal Justice. She went to UT, Austin for her PhD: Sociology with a minor in Women’s Studies, and had studied with one of the top Sociology of Gender scholars in the U.S. Then, it was on to a post-doc at the University of Michigan, this one in quantitative Sociology. So, from what Jillian could tell, Carolyn was a double threat: qualitative and quantitative Sociology…actually, a triple threat because she’d also taken a one semester sabbatical to study narrative analysis with Professor Michelle Rafter at the American University in D.C. Jillian had once put pencil to paper, and, accounting for her degrees and her time at ASU, figured that Carolyn must be about 38. She also was a single mom; she had an adopted daughter—Alena—who was now maybe seven or eight.
When Jillian was a senior, her staff undergrad advisor had recommended that she should seek out a mentor who was successful, well-respected in the department, and student-oriented. That was Carolyn Patek to a T. ASU had been her first job after the Michigan post-doc, and from what Jillian had heard, she had been a go-getter from the outset…breezing through tenure and promotion, even labeled an ‘exemplar.’ When Jillian moved into the 4+1 program, Carolyn had been the Justice Studies Graduate Director, and actively recruited her into that program. She’d also been the chair on Jillian’s honors thesis. It seemed to Jillian that Carla Nagel had had a very different experience with her honors thesis director.
Since Jillian had graduated with her MS degree, Carolyn had rotated out of the Grad Director position and had been elected Vice President of the ASU Faculty Women’s Association. Jillian wondered if she had known Professor Siemens…she’d ask.
Carolyn had published a lot of articles, many in prestigious journals like Gender & Society. Jillian remembered some of the titles of her publications and the journals they were published in…in a hero worship kind of a-way. She’d seen this in other grad students, too, especially in the PhD program…it was like they were imprinting on their faculty mentor, as if maybe their mentor’s success would somehow rub-off on them. And, best of all, Jillian and Carolyn had the co-authored article in Feminist Criminology.
She knew that Carolyn was working on a book, a project that would propel her toward promotion to full professor. The working title had been: Women and the Culture of Policing. She’d been interviewing women police officers in the higher echelons of administration. And, her general interest in the topic is what prompted the idea for Jillian’s own research. She reminded herself to ask how the book was going.
As she entered Wilson Hall and took the steps to the second floor, Jillian again had that strange sensation of continuity, of having never left. Carolyn’s office was at the far end of the corridor opposite Professor Naremore’s, and also on the opposite side of the building. Her windows looked out across a very wide sidewalk onto the Moeur Buidling. Jillian didn’t know how old Moeur was—maybe the 1940s or even older—but did know that it was an adobe building.
She told herself again as she walked down the hall, “Remember, this is an interview, DS Warne.”
Carolyn’s office door was open…she looked up from something she was reading, smiled, and motioned Jillian in. Again, a gush of memories…how many times had she entered this office with Carolyn looking up from her desk?
Carolyn was around five seven…maybe 130 pounds…fair complexion, but she spent so much time outdoors that her skin always had a rich tan color. Her hair, so dark brown that it looked black, was cut at an angle so that it was longer on the right side of her face than the left…and nicely framed her oval face. She wore glasses only for protection against the computer screen. Jillian knew that she was an avid skier…cross country and downhill. She had a framed photo on her desk: she was atop the slopes somewhere, ski poles ready, with Alena on kid’s skies between her legs, equally ready. Alena was about four in the photo. Carolyn always looked fit, physically and mentally. She was a stylish dresser on her own terms: nice skirt or slacks, usually a sharp jacket or blazer over a mock turtle…never anything frilly. Her light make-up highlighted her tanned skin color. To Jillian, Carolyn epitomized the look of a successful professor…of a mentor and a role model.
Despite the fact that Carolyn’s office was chocked full of furniture and equipment, it always gave-off a welcoming feeling. Her desk, which was placed along the right wall, faced the wall on the left side of the office. There was a small round table toward the right center of the office, almost butting-up against book shelves. The shelves were full…books were even stacked on the front of the shelves. The arrangement looked haphazard—even a little precarious—but on many occasions Jillian and Carolyn had been discussing some book, and, without breaking her train of thought, she’d go directly to the shelf for that book, pull it, and either read a passage to Jillian, or, as likely, loan it to her.
Carolyn moved from behind the desk, flipped on the tea kettle, and hugged Jillian. “I’m so glad you came by. I want to do some catching-up, but first tell me, how’s the new job working out?”
“It’s good…very different from working at Tempe PD…at least it was…you know.”
Out of habit, they both sat at the small round table. “I can’t even imagine what this is like. Obviously, you’ll tell me if I’m crossing any lines, but what’s this all about?”
“Well, we don’t know, although we are working on it. Interviewing witnesses…and now we have the initial forensics report back. Professor Siemens was murdered…in her office in the English building—that’s the former law library…”
“Right, English vacated Language and Literature and went over there. I think the former law school will become the offices for CLASS…College of Liberal Arts and Sciences.”
Jillian nodded. “Apparently she was beaten to death with a paperweight that was…I don’t know…handy.”
“God dog, that’s horrible. Who would do something like that? And why?” Jillian could tell that Carolyn was angry, but also obviously sad…her lower lip trembled as she talked.
“I know…anyway, we’re interviewing everyone we can think of to try to get a sense of who she was...and what was going on in her life? That’s one thing I wanted to ask…did you know her? ASU is a big campus, but I just wondered... Honestly, we’re early into our investigation, and we’re looking for anything that might help…anything at all.”
“Yes, I knew her…not very well. At first, there was all that opposition to her and to the Rand Studies Center…the debate in the Faculty Senate…that kind of thing. I think some of that had died down, although I guess there was still some bad blood out there. My direct interactions with Nelda came at the Faculty Women’s Association meetings. She was usually there and was…active…although I want to say that her participation usually took a different tact from what most others said.”
“In what way?”
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“Well, most faculty women are critical of the treatment of women at ASU…on issues of salaries, time to promotion, and more general issues like service to the departments…a lot of women feel they have to do a disproportionate amount of service in their departments.”
“And Professor Siemens didn’t agree?”
“It was more like…she didn’t care. She said that faculty women tend to present themselves as victims of an unfriendly organization…‘vic-fems’ was the term she used. She argued that instead of painting themselves as victims, women needed to exhibit more agency.” Carolyn seemed to think about this briefly, and then said, “Nelda was a strong woman, no doubt about it…she had no patience for anyone who came across as weak...in any way. I understand her point…it’s just that she tended to overly individualize women’s experience…as if there were no commonalities, which, of course there are…that’s the reason for a Faculty Women’s Association, the idea that women faculty are similarly situated and need to build coalitions...with each other and with other groups that tend to be marginalized.”
Jillian said, “Post-feminism…she was arguing post-feminism.”
Carolyn beamed at Jillian. “Exactly…the idea that the Women’s Movement was successful, the playing field is now equal, and there’s no further need for feminism, thank you very much.” She dusted her hands together to make the point. “Now, it’s up to the individual.”
The kettle clicked. Carolyn grabbed cups, offered Jillian a small assortment of teas, and said, “It’s good to see that you still know your feminist theory, Detective Sergeant Warne. Milk?”
Jillian chose an English tea. Carolyn went to the small fridge under her computer table.
“So, that was Nelda’s view. I understand that sort of thinking, but it’s just so one dimensional. Yes, of course people have agency, but we also live in groups, and our group identities affect how we think. It’s not either or…it’s both and… Anyway, yes, Nelda is the embodiment of post-feminism. So, no surprise, she is really popular on the conservative lecture circuit. Or so Ian tells me…he actually follows her through Facebook and other social media…tracks her lectures.”
Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Page 22
