Cornell and Calls for Reform

Written by Kyrie Jenkins, Staff Reporter

On Sept. 14, former Cornell student Jane Doe filed a civil lawsuit against Cornell University; the Xi chapter of the Chi Phi Fraternity at the university; all faculty, alumni, and executives who were in charge of supervising and managing the fraternity in 2024; seven members of the Chi Phi Fraternity; and several other parties and organizations that, due to negligence, lack of safety protocols, and failure to follow up on previous reports, allegedly contributed to the inebriation—due to excessive drinking and consumption of ketamine—and alleged gang rape of Doe for over seven hours. This event took place late on Oct. 19, 2024, and carried on into the following morning. Doe, due to encouragement from her friends, reported the incident to campus police on or around Nov. 8 of that same year. Very little action was taken, and the case was never pushed further to court due to “lack of sufficient evidence” and was then closed. However, the lawsuit and resulting public scrutiny prompted the reopening of the criminal investigation. 

         With a very basic description of the case established, let’s discuss some of the issues that the lawsuit itself has brought to light, one of the biggest being sexual assault laws when intoxication is involved. When the case was first presented New York law stated that unless the victim is mentally incapacitated due to involuntary intoxication, consent is still legally capable of being given. Since Jane Doe allegedly stated in her original report that she willingly drank and consumed the ketamine offered to her, the argument is that she was still able to legally consent. This is known as the “voluntary intoxication exclusion,” and, according to a 2022 study in the Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, 21 states had laws that, by their plain language, considered a victim mentally incapacitated because of intoxication only when the intoxication was involuntary. New York legislation has been trying to make changes to this for years, with the lawsuit bringing more pressure and attention to reform, but that doesn’t change the fact that these laws and policies should never have existed in the first place. Why should victims have to prove their intoxication was involuntary before their ability to consent is taken seriously?

         Since this is an ongoing case with updating evidence, I’ll only be sticking to information presented in the 101-page lawsuit, which reports that Doe pushed people and their hands away from her and tried to cover her body when more people entered the room. If someone goes that far to get others to stop touching them, a sensible and logical person could see that consent isn’t being given. In the report, it’s evident that Doe, who was 20 at the time, was already intoxicated upon arriving at the frat house and was subsequently supplied with even more alcohol by one of the defendants, Matthew Ingalls. However, when Ingalls initiated the event that started this assault in the first place—a proposal of a threesome—the lawsuit reports that she was “incapable of consenting to this proposition” due to her drunken state.

         Another issue this case brought to light is the true double standard our society has when it comes to accountability. Of the seven who are alleged to have drugged and raped Doe, only two of them were expelled. The other five were temporarily suspended and given an opportunity to write essays to mitigate their suspensions; however, Cornell has yet to disclose what the essays were about. To put this into perspective, an elementary school child who called someone names or disrespected a teacher would be told to write a note to their parents explaining what they did wrong. Cornell University gave five students, who allegedly subjected a woman to seven hours of degradation and humiliation, the same punishment as five-to-ten-year-olds.

Outside of Cornell, I’ve seen comments and arguments saying, “Think of their futures. These are bright, young men.” So was Jane Doe. How is Doe’s future any less valuable and important than the futures of the people who allegedly raped her until she fell unconscious? If the concern is that seven people are risking a sentence as opposed to one person with trauma, why do people still defend and argue for one man who assaults and rapes several women?

If we don’t draw the line now as classmates, when will we? Is it with coworkers and bosses? Coaches and scout leaders? Friends, boyfriends, spouses? Siblings and parents?  At what point do we hold people accountable? The seven people who allegedly committed the assault itself? The additional 50 frat members in the group chat who might have known, yet said nothing? The executives, faculty, and alumni who had a duty to supervise and monitor the behavior within the Chi Phi house and were ignorant of the safety of a visitor? Cornell University itself, which allegedly knew of previous drug use and assaults but was negligent in warning students of the dangers? How many more people must become Jane Does before we decide to make changes?

Another argument that I’ve seen online is the idea that “it’s not all men” from offended people. My issue isn’t with the wording itself, but with a lack of understanding of why women are so insistent that it is, actually, all men. Let’s look at it from a different perspective: not every gun is loaded with the safety off, but you treat every single one as if it is. The entire premise and idea aren’t that all men WILL hurt women; it’s that all men CAN. Until that uncertainty and fear dissipates, that idea will continue to remain within the subconscious fears of women all over the world.

I’ll explain why the charges themselves should be taken more seriously: according to the Rape, Abuse, & Incest National Network, an American is sexually assaulted or raped every 68 seconds. Additionally, reports of alleged assaults and rapes aren’t just an issue with Cornell; this is an issue with every college campus in America. There is Jane Does at every campus, terrified to tell their stories. Colleges give us talks and make us take training assessments to explain the importance of consent and the safe usage of alcohol and drugs, but that doesn’t cover up the issue that assaults still happen. If a college must force students to undergo training and warn them more than once, it’s already too much of an issue and needs proper legal action. Don’t just make us watch videos and learn statistics. Don’t only remind students of whom they can turn to if they feel unsafe. Colleges have to do more. The only way they can do more is by proving they actually care, taking accountability for negligence, and treating every single complaint that appears as a serious one. The more you prove you actually care about wanting to make a difference, the more likely people are to come forward and seek action. Stop caring about the future of those who committed the crimes, stop defending the honor of fraternities and organizations, and stop pretending an hour-long training tutorial is enough to fix an issue.

And for those who are insistent on finding out the identity of Jane Doe, no matter if it’s to shame her, cause more humiliation, or out of concern, go online to any social media site: you’ll find hundreds, thousands even, of Jane Does begging for their stories to be heard. It doesn’t matter their skin tone, gender, sexuality, age, or nationality; every single one of them is a Jane Doe who was taken advantage of by a friend she thought she could trust. Every voice, every person, is a cry for change that exists all around the world, finally saying, “Enough is enough.”

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