“We have. Briefly. How do you know him again?”
“I don’t. Not personally. I work with a woman whose daughter went to school with him. I’ve heard plenty of stories. Enough to know he was a huge problem.”
I made a note and sized her up. “The last time we spoke, you implied that you knew your husband was on the committee that was formed to decide Jesse’s fate at the university after he was charged with drug possession and distribution.”
“Yes.”
“You also claimed you were unaware of how he voted.”
I watched her closely for a reaction but got none.
“And?” she eventually said.
“And that was a lie. According to your husband’s TA, you made quite a scene on campus when you found out.”
Fatemeh shrugged noncommittally. “Navid was an idiot. Jesse should have been shown the door long before the drug issue came to light.”
“You recognize Jesse, but you didn’t know him personally.”
“He had a reputation. We’ve covered that.”
It didn’t answer my question, but I moved on. “Would you say he was popular?”
“Yes, but for all the wrong reasons.”
I pushed the photographs of Ford and Malik closer. “And these two?”
Fatemeh seemed reluctant to break eye contact but looked down for a longer inspection than the first time. “They aren’t familiar.”
“Are you sure you don’t recognize them? They were friends of Jesse’s. I’m led to believe they hung out together a few years back.”
“I’m not a professor, Detective. I don’t spend regular time on campus.”
“Did Navid talk about Jesse?”
“On occasion.”
“Did they spend time together?”
“I have no idea. I wasn’t Navid’s keeper.”
I tapped Malik’s picture. “Shortly before Jesse was expelled, this guy was on trial for sexual assault against a minor. Landed an acquittal. Lucky bastard. Did you hear about any of that?”
Something dark flashed in Fatemeh’s eyes. A quiet rage I felt reflected in my core. “I didn’t,” she spat.
“Funny how these things get buried. He was a law student. No recourse. Yeah, fine, he was acquitted, but still. Why didn’t the rumors tarnish his reputation? Why are guys like this left unpunished? I have a hard time believing he’s innocent.” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong. Who knows?”
Fatemeh wouldn’t look at the pictures and seemed to be hanging onto control by a thread, nostrils flaring, hands balled into fists.
I held her hot stare, silently coaxing her to say what was on her mind—wishing I could tell her what was on mine. She didn’t speak, so I gave a little push.
“It’s hard to feel sorry for men like Jesse and Malik, isn’t it?”
Nothing.
“Feels like they got what they deserved.”
No response.
