CHAPTER 88: THE TRIAL BEGINS

Alex stepped into the inquiry chamber, the weight of the place pressing down before he’d even taken his seat.

The dark mahogany panels stretched up the walls, portraits of past presidents glaring down with the kind of judgment only oil paint could preserve.

Crystal chandeliers spilled golden light over polished tables arranged in a rigid U-shape, as if the room itself had been designed to make the accused feel small.

His eyes went first to William and Brad. They sat opposite him, injuries wrapped and displayed like props.

William shifted his sling a little too carefully, while Brad winced just enough to be seen.

Their pale, nervous expressions carried the right amount of fragility, but to Alex it looked rehearsed... two actors performing victimhood for an audience.

Behind them sat Marcus, flanked by Tyler and Robert. Marcus’s gaze met his for a fleeting second, smug and steady, before sliding away.

They had planted themselves in the front row like loyal witnesses, their presence calculated to lend weight to the story Alex already knew was coming.

Nearby, faculty members like Tisha and other administrative staff filled the gallery, eyes attentive, pens poised over notepads.

Their presence added another layer of scrutiny, an institutional audience watching every shift in posture, every falter in tone.

Finally, Alex’s gaze landed at the head of the chamber. President Gerald Pierce sat in the center like a monarch on borrowed time, silver hair immaculate, glasses catching the light with every subtle movement.

Authority clung to him the way dust clung to the portraits above... old, entrenched, difficult to shake off.

To Pierce’s right sat Dr. Miranda Whitman, sharp-eyed and unreadable.

She looked less like a colleague than a counterweight... someone who wouldn’t let Pierce’s words stand unchallenged.

The rest of the panel carried equal seniority:

Dr. Harold Brennan, Vice President for Student Services and longtime ally of Pierce;

Dr. Vivian Carlisle, Vice President for Faculty Development; and Alaric Langford, Vice President for Administrative Affairs.

Thick folders lay open before them, evidence stacked neatly, their faces neutral but alert.

Alex straightened as he took his seat between Mike and Danny.

Danny’s hands were clenched tight on the table, his jaw rigid, while Mike’s eyes flicked across the panel like he was calculating odds.

Alex forced himself into stillness, posture perfect, gaze steady. He would not give Marcus the satisfaction of seeing nerves.

***

"Distinguished panel members, faculty colleagues, and students," Pierce began, his tone carrying both gravitas and paternal concern.

"We convene this formal inquiry to address a matter that strikes at the very heart of what we stand for as an academic institution."

He paused, allowing his words to settle, his gaze sweeping across the chamber with the practiced rhythm of a seasoned administrator.

"Violence perpetrated against our students... regardless of where it occurs... represents an assault on the principles of civilized discourse and scholarly pursuit that have defined this institution for over a century."

Pierce’s voice grew stronger, more resonant, carrying the weight of institutional tradition.

"The brutal assault that occurred on our very campus grounds yesterday was not merely an attack on two individual students, but an attack on the safety and security that every member of our academic community has the right to expect."

Miranda watched Pierce’s performance with professional interest, noting how he positioned himself not just as an administrator, but as the guardian of the university’s moral authority extending beyond campus boundaries.

"Today," Pierce continued, his voice taking on the cadence of a sermon.

"We will examine evidence of premeditated violence carried out by students who believed their athletic prowess granted them license to hunt down and brutalize their classmates near the campus ground."

Pierce consulted his notes with careful deliberation. "Our first witnesses are the young men who suffered this coordinated assault. William Thompson and Brad Martinez, please approach."

William and Brad rose from their table with obvious difficulty, their injuries on full display as they made their way to the witness chair.

The symbolism was clear... they were not just testifying, but performing their victimhood for maximum impact.

He settled into the chair first, adjusting the microphone awkwardly due to his sling.

"William," Pierce began gently, "please tell us what happened yesterday morning."

"Brad and I were coming toward campus around 8:00 AM," William said, his voice steady but carrying undertones of remembered fear.

"We had just parked and were walking up from the lot when a car pulled across the lane ahead of us, cutting us off."

He paused, swallowing hard. "The doors opened, and three figures stepped out. They weren’t just passing by... they were waiting for us."

Brad leaned forward, wincing as the movement pulled at his wrapped ribs. "At first, we thought maybe it was a coincidence. Students drive in and out all the time. But the way they parked... right in front of us, blocking the way... made it clear they’d come for us."

"Can you identify these individuals?" Pierce prompted.

William nodded reluctantly. "It was definitely Alex, Danny, and Mike."

A murmur rippled through the chamber. Pierce let it settle before gesturing for William to continue.

William’s voice shook slightly as he recounted the moment. "Alex was holding something... we couldn’t see it clearly at first, but when they started toward us, we realized it was a baseball bat."

"They surrounded us right there in the lot," He said, his voice shrinking into something smaller, more vulnerable.

"Alex started yelling about betrayal, about how we’d embarrassed his team during the football match, about how we needed to learn what happened to traitors."

Pierce leaned forward with encouraging concern. "Can you recall his exact words?"

"He said..." William paused, as if the memory was too painful to continue. "He said, ’You thought you could humiliate us in front of the whole school and just walk away? Time to learn what happens to backstabbers.’"

William’s voice trembled. "Danny Morrison... he was laughing."

He shook his head, disbelief etched on his face. "Laughing like a psychopath... while his friend stood there threatening us with a weapon."

Brad leaned forward, voice cracking. "He kept saying things like ’payback time,’ and asking if we really thought we could betray our own classmates without consequences."

"Mike wasn’t saying much," William added, "but he was smiling. This cold, calculating smile, like he was enjoying our fear."

Pierce’s voice carried both sympathy and righteous indignation. "And then what occurred?"

"I tried to apologize," William said, tears gathering in his eyes. "I told them it was just competitive spirit getting out of hand. That we hadn’t meant any real harm to their team."

His voice broke slightly. "But Alex wouldn’t listen. He said... and I’ll never forget these words... ’We saw your faces when you threw that game. You looked right at us while you betrayed everyone who trusted you. Now we want you to see our faces while we teach you about loyalty.’"

Brad nodded vigorously, his wrapped ribs clearly causing pain. "That’s when they attacked us. Alex with the bat, Danny and Mike with their fists and feet. They broke the windshield of a parked car when we tried to use it for cover, then they came after us directly."

"We tried to run..." William’s voice trembled as he spoke. "But they cornered us back in the alley. The beating... it felt endless, maybe ten minutes, but felt like an hour."

"They kept shouting about payback, saying this is what happens to traitors, making sure everyone knew what happens to anyone who crosses their team."

Both young men sat back, their testimony delivered with devastating emotional impact.

The chamber remained silent, the weight of their specific, detailed account settling over the assembled crowd like a heavy blanket.