The Girl Who Cried Rape

“Remember the tale of the boy who cried ‘wolf’? This time, nobody will believe you.”

“Dr. Carlson, you must do something for me!”
The Social Sciences professor stared coldly at the girl seated across his desk. He shook his head. “Miss Taylor, I’ve been trying to do something for you all semester long, but you haven’t been responding. You’ve cut classes and when you have shown up you’ve been inattentive. When I’ve called on you to participate you’ve looked – well – annoyed that I bothered you. Your homework has been shoddy. From what I hear, the only activity you seem to have excelled in is gymnastics. It’s good to develop your physical skills, but you’re here in college primarily to improve your mind. I’ve warned you repeatedly, Miss Taylor, and now it’s too late. You’ve failed the class and that’s that.”
“If you fail me I can’t graduate!”
“I did not fail you, you failed yourself. You can stay another semester and put some effort into it.”
The girl started to protest some more, but the professor raised a dismissive hand. “Your failing grade stands, Miss Taylor. Good night.” He didn’t even say, “I’m sorry,” because he wasn’t. Dr. Carlson had little patience with students who tried to slide through his class with minimal effort. That’s not what he was there for and it wasn’t what they were there for.
Marsha rose and her imploring look was quickly replaced with one of disgust. “You’re a dried-up little jerk pretending to be a man. I bet you haven’t gotten it up in years!” She strode out, slamming the office door behind her.
Carlson was thunderstruck. No student had ever talked to him like that before. Despite his recognition that the insult had been rendered by an immature, lazy girl and therefore should not be taken seriously, he felt hurt and angry. This was largely due to the fact that her arrow had struck its mark. He had not gotten it up in years – at least not with a companion. His wife had left him ten years ago, when he was 38, and the shock of her earlier professed love turned to contempt prevented him from entrusting himself to another woman.
Nevertheless, he was not totally the stereotype of the wimpy, bookish professor. He kept his spare body in good shape by jogging every morning and playing handball three times a week. He also took an aikido martial arts class every Friday evening.
And he was not impervious to the attractions of the female sex. Every weekday he faced classes made up in part of attractive young women, many of them dressed – or nearly undressed – in clothes designed to show off their long legs and full young breasts. He had heard that some of the male faculty members enjoyed affairs – or at least one-night stands – with some of their students, who either had crushes on them or were hoping to improve their grades by putting out.
Carlson had not availed himself of these opportunities, one possible reason being that the opportunities had not come his way. His imperious manner was repellant to students and faculty alike.
After Marsha Taylor flounced out of his office, he wondered what he would have done if the girl had offered herself to him in exchange for a passing grade. She was certainly attractive, with long dark hair, brilliant white teeth, and a very good figure. Carlson fantasized briefly on what it would be like to use his power over her scholastic records to enjoy her luscious body.
Then he shrugged, drove home in his van, fixed dinner, read for a while, and went to bed.
At 1:10 a.m. the police came to his apartment and arrested him for the abduction and rape of Marsha Taylor. He spent the rest of the night in a jail cell, after refusing to answer questions put to him by his interrogators. Later he was able to obtain the services of a criminal attorney, Robert Wallace.
“I don’t understand how she was able to completely fabricate such a story and have me thrown in jail as a result. Don’t I have any rights?”
“You’re here because Marsha Taylor told a credible story. She said you accosted her in the college parking lot after she had left your office, forced her into your van, tied her up, drove to a secluded part of Riverton Park, and raped her repeatedly.”
“These are total lies! How did she say I forced her to get into my van?”
“She said you threatened her with a gun.”
“A gun? That’s ridiculous! I have never owned a gun!”
“And she said that after you raped her, you threatened to kill her if she went to the police. Then you let her out of the van and drove away. She also said that when she was in your office you offered to give her a passing grade if she would go to bed with you, and she refused.”
“More lies!