Elijah leaned forward.
“What kind of tradition?”
“They had a chair set up in the middle of the room. Ropes. A video camera on a tripod.”
Darius’s hands clenched into fists.
“They tied me to the chair and said I had to prove I belonged at North River. Then they started pouring things on me.”
“What things?” Naomi asked softly.
“Spoiled milk. Rotten eggs. Food that had been sitting in the sun for days. They had buckets of it.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“The whole time they were chanting, ‘Cleanse the outsider.’ Like it was some kind of ritual.”
Naomi’s pen froze over her notepad.
Elijah felt his chest tighten with rage.
“Grant Holloway was there,” Darius continued. “He wasn’t president yet, but he was leading the chant. Trevor Pike filmed everything. They said if I ever told anyone, they’d release the video and claim I begged them to do it.”
“How long did it last?” Elijah asked.
“Two hours.”
The room went still.
“When they finally untied me, I was covered in maggots,” Darius said. “They made me walk back to my dorm like that. Students saw me. Some laughed. Some took pictures.”
“What happened when you reported it?” Naomi asked.
“Dean Bellamy called me into her office the next day. Said she heard about an incident and wanted my side of the story. I told her everything.”
Darius laughed bitterly.
“She said campus culture can be misunderstood. Said boys will be boys. Said maybe I misinterpreted friendly hazing.”
“She blamed you,” Elijah said.
“She said if I kept making accusations, it might look like I couldn’t handle college social life. Said North River had a reputation to protect.”
Darius stared into the camera.
“Then Preston Holloway called my dad.”
Naomi and Elijah exchanged glances.
“What did he say?”
“My dad worked construction for Holloway Development. Fifteen years. Preston told him his son was causing problems at the university. Said it would be unfortunate if family issues affected employee performance.”
The threat was clear.
Stay quiet or your father loses his job.
“So you transferred,” Elijah said.
“Two weeks later. Dad never knew why. I told him I didn’t like North River’s academics.”
Darius rubbed his forehead.
“He still works for Preston Holloway. Still doesn’t know what really happened.”
The call went quiet.
“They’re doing it again, aren’t they?” Darius asked finally.
“Yes,” Elijah said. “They are.”
“Be careful. These people destroy lives for entertainment. They’re not just rich. They’re connected.”
Then Darius leaned closer to the camera.
“But maybe this time is different.”
“Why?” Naomi asked.
“Because he fought back,” Darius said, looking at Elijah. “I never did. I just took it and ran.”
After the call ended, Naomi and Elijah sat in stunned silence.
The corkboard of names and dates suddenly felt heavier.
This was not college pranks.
This was organized abuse.
Naomi’s laptop chimed with a new email.
The sender was listed only as A Friend.
You’re asking the right questions. Here’s what you need to see.
Attached was a video file.
Basement_hazing.mp4.
Naomi looked at Elijah.
“Should we open it?”
Elijah moved behind her chair.
“Open it.”
The screen filled with grainy footage of a concrete basement. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The camera angle suggested someone filming secretly from behind stacked boxes.
Grant Holloway’s voice echoed off bare walls.
“Welcome to Hell Week, pledges.”
Six young men knelt on the filthy floor wearing only underwear. Their faces were streaked with sweat and dirt. Some shook with fear. Others stared at the floor in humiliation.
Trevor Pike stood behind them holding a wooden paddle.
“Crawl,” Grant shouted. “Crawl like the dogs you are.”
The pledges dropped to hands and knees. They crawled across broken glass, spilled beer, and garbage while fraternity brothers laughed and recorded on phones.
Elijah recognized one face immediately.
Caleb Monroe.
The nervous kid from freshman orientation who had asked about study groups and financial aid requirements.
Caleb’s thin frame shook as he crawled through the mess.
“Faster,” Grant shouted.
He kicked Caleb in the ribs. Not hard enough to seriously injure, but hard enough to hurt.
“You think scholarship kids deserve respect? Earn it.”
Trevor raised the paddle and brought it down across another pledge’s back.
The crack echoed through the basement.
The young man cried out but kept crawling.
“This is sick,” Naomi whispered.
Victor, who had joined them at Naomi’s apartment, leaned forward, studying the screen with sharp eyes.
His expression remained calm, but Elijah saw tension in his grandfather’s shoulders.
“Stop it,” Victor said quietly.
Naomi paused the video.
The screen froze on Grant’s laughing face.
“You see something?” Elijah asked.
Victor pointed to the basement wall behind Grant.
“There. The framed photo.”
Naomi zoomed in.
A formal photograph hung on the cement wall, showing two men in expensive suits shaking hands.
Preston Holloway.
Dean Margaret Bellamy.
Below the frame was a small plaque.
North River Athletic Complex Groundbreaking. Major Donor Recognition.
“They’re connected,” Elijah said.
“More than connected,” Victor replied. “That photo is displayed like a trophy in their hazing basement. They are proud of that relationship.”
Naomi stared at the screen.
“This proves everything.”
“We publish tomorrow,” Elijah said. “Let the world see what they do.”
“Wait,” Victor said.
Everyone turned to him.
“What about Caleb?”
Elijah frowned.
“What about him?”
“If you publish this without warning him, he becomes a target. Grant will assume he leaked the video, even if he didn’t.”
Naomi nodded slowly.
“Victor’s right. We need to protect the victims before we expose the abuse.”
“So what do we do?” Elijah asked.
“We talk to Caleb first,” Victor said. “Give him a choice. Let him decide whether he’s ready to stand up or needs more time.”