Creek Trail to their campsite.”
From the comfort of her tiny apartment she sat on the edge of her couch, her elbows resting on her knees, a wet tissue wadded in her hand.
The footage changed to an image of a two-story red brick building with a flat roof. The chrome letters ΘΦΣ hung above the double doors.
A polished female voiceover said, “Theta Phi Sigma, known as Theta Sig, is one of the largest college fraternities with over two hundred and twenty thousand initiated members since its founding in 1859 at the University of Virginia. There are nearly eighty-five hundred active members on over three hundred college campuses throughout the United States and Canada.”
The news report went on to discuss an incident from the 1990s where a pledge was killed at Ohio Wesleyan after being dropped on his head while doing a keg stand, reportedly as part of a hazing ritual. The chapter’s charter was revoked and the national organization paid out an undisclosed sum as part of a settlement.
“ No word from the families of Kelsie McEvoy and Evan Rangel as to whether legal action will be taken against the national organization.”
White letters on a blue screen highlighted a written statement issued by a man named Mark Wessel, identified as Executive Director, Theta Phi Sigma Fraternity, in Indianapolis, Indiana.
It’s always tragic whenever people are killed violently in the prime of their lives. The brothers of Theta Phi Sigma, the Grand Chapter members, and the staff here at our national headquarters, send our deepest condolences to the McEvoy and Rangel families. We will continue to cooperate with the Office of Greek Life at Arizona State, as well the the Arizona Department of Public Safety, in getting to the bottom of this horrific event.
She hit stop , took a breath, then fast forward .
They trudged out of the Department of Public Safety office in a line, down the walkway, hands covering their faces, trying to pass the gauntlet of reporters snapping photos and peppering them with rapid-fire questions. She counted seven of them. A black Suburban was waiting at the curb. They moved swiftly under the direction of their lawyer, a stocky man in a tan suit with black hair, slicked back and glistening, and dark sunglasses. He didn’t look much older than the fraternity members themselves, probably an alum who was offering his services to the chapter for free in exchange for a little camera time.
Once he’d ushered all seven into the Suburban, he stood by the open passenger door and said, “The brothers of the Omega Psi chapter of Theta Phi Sigma Fraternity are saddened by this unfortunate event and are continuing to assist all state and local law enforcement agencies with their investigations.”
He shouldered past two aggressive photographers, palming their lenses out of his face as he slid into the backseat and shut the door. The footage captured the Suburban speeding away from the curb amid the flashing strobes of a dozen cameras.
She pressed pause .
She referenced the photocopy of the composite she’d obtained from the Arizona State University Office of Greek Life. It was laid out on her coffee table, the most current, the years indicating 2002–2003. Eighty-four square headshots of the active members, all wearing the same black sport coat and red tie.
He was the chapter president. His photo was center, top row. Hair short, closely cropped, styled to trendy perfection with some expensive hair product. He wore tapered sideburns and had a jaw like a flathead screwdriver. A car salesman’s smile, perfectly straight white teeth. His skin kissed by the Arizona sun.
She rewinded the footage back to where the seven members were walking out of the DPS office, presumably after giving statements with the aid of their lawyer. She paused on him, jammed in the middle of the line, trying to conceal himself. He looked good in the photo, she had to admit. Not a bad looking guy at all. But on the television screen
From the comfort of her tiny apartment she sat on the edge of her couch, her elbows resting on her knees, a wet tissue wadded in her hand.
The footage changed to an image of a two-story red brick building with a flat roof. The chrome letters ΘΦΣ hung above the double doors.
A polished female voiceover said, “Theta Phi Sigma, known as Theta Sig, is one of the largest college fraternities with over two hundred and twenty thousand initiated members since its founding in 1859 at the University of Virginia. There are nearly eighty-five hundred active members on over three hundred college campuses throughout the United States and Canada.”
The news report went on to discuss an incident from the 1990s where a pledge was killed at Ohio Wesleyan after being dropped on his head while doing a keg stand, reportedly as part of a hazing ritual. The chapter’s charter was revoked and the national organization paid out an undisclosed sum as part of a settlement.
“ No word from the families of Kelsie McEvoy and Evan Rangel as to whether legal action will be taken against the national organization.”
White letters on a blue screen highlighted a written statement issued by a man named Mark Wessel, identified as Executive Director, Theta Phi Sigma Fraternity, in Indianapolis, Indiana.
It’s always tragic whenever people are killed violently in the prime of their lives. The brothers of Theta Phi Sigma, the Grand Chapter members, and the staff here at our national headquarters, send our deepest condolences to the McEvoy and Rangel families. We will continue to cooperate with the Office of Greek Life at Arizona State, as well the the Arizona Department of Public Safety, in getting to the bottom of this horrific event.
She hit stop , took a breath, then fast forward .
They trudged out of the Department of Public Safety office in a line, down the walkway, hands covering their faces, trying to pass the gauntlet of reporters snapping photos and peppering them with rapid-fire questions. She counted seven of them. A black Suburban was waiting at the curb. They moved swiftly under the direction of their lawyer, a stocky man in a tan suit with black hair, slicked back and glistening, and dark sunglasses. He didn’t look much older than the fraternity members themselves, probably an alum who was offering his services to the chapter for free in exchange for a little camera time.
Once he’d ushered all seven into the Suburban, he stood by the open passenger door and said, “The brothers of the Omega Psi chapter of Theta Phi Sigma Fraternity are saddened by this unfortunate event and are continuing to assist all state and local law enforcement agencies with their investigations.”
He shouldered past two aggressive photographers, palming their lenses out of his face as he slid into the backseat and shut the door. The footage captured the Suburban speeding away from the curb amid the flashing strobes of a dozen cameras.
She pressed pause .
She referenced the photocopy of the composite she’d obtained from the Arizona State University Office of Greek Life. It was laid out on her coffee table, the most current, the years indicating 2002–2003. Eighty-four square headshots of the active members, all wearing the same black sport coat and red tie.
He was the chapter president. His photo was center, top row. Hair short, closely cropped, styled to trendy perfection with some expensive hair product. He wore tapered sideburns and had a jaw like a flathead screwdriver. A car salesman’s smile, perfectly straight white teeth. His skin kissed by the Arizona sun.
She rewinded the footage back to where the seven members were walking out of the DPS office, presumably after giving statements with the aid of their lawyer. She paused on him, jammed in the middle of the line, trying to conceal himself. He looked good in the photo, she had to admit. Not a bad looking guy at all. But on the television screen
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