Personal Foul

Alison Jennings and her parents

On the hard, wooden benches at the back of the Federal 10th Circuit Court of Appeals in Denver, Colorado, Alison Jennings sits straight-faced and composed, her blond hair pulled tightly into a ponytail. The 27-year-old has gotten good at holding her breath emotionally, just enough to keep herself together over the past years of court dates and hearings like this one in early May, 2004.

"I'm not as nervous this time," Alison says, "because I don't have to speak." It will be her attorney who will present the oral argument that his client's civil rights were violated when the City of Stillwater Oklahoma and its police department failed to properly investigate and bring charges against four Oklahoma State University (OSU) football players that Alison said gang raped her at a party in 1999.

Alison whispers with her attorney and then turns to her parents seated a row back to tell them that their case came up last on docket, which means about a three hour wait. Deborah and Phil Jennings register no surprise or annoyance at this news -- waiting for the opportunity to plead their daughter's case is something they know well.

"The good thing," Deborah says in a hushed voice about the limited time allotted to the attorneys to speak before the judges, "is that when you are the last one they usually let you go beyond your ten minutes."

But even that seems like grossly inadequate time to explain a sexual assault case so misconstrued that Phil concedes that their story could be the formula for a perfect made-for-TV movie: A small college town with a big football program, star players accused of rape, the good-ol'-boys network, destroyed evidence, and a victim left in the lurch. But here in Colorado, with its endless string of sex scandals from the Air Force Academy to Kobe Bryant to University of Colorado Buffalos, this plot-line has become almost too cliché for the local media to take notice. Victims' rights advocates and local law groups, however, see a different story, one about the interplay between athletes, violence, sex, and the culture that enables them.

The Roster

Marcellus Rivers now plays for the New York Giants and Alvin Porter plays for the Cincinatti Bengals, but on the night of Nov, 21 1999 they were in a bedroom with fellow OSU football teammates J.B. Flowers and Evan Howell, and 22-year-old sophomore Alison Jennings. In the hallway, Alison's roommate was furiously attempting to get into the room, but the door was blocked. Finally able to get in, Alison's roommate immediately took her to the hospital, where for seven hours Alison's statement was taken, along with a blood sample and a rape kit. Between the physical pain and the sobbing, Alison went home, showered and that afternoon, still having not slept, went to the Stillwater police department.

The OSU Cowboys are big business in Stillwater, not only economically for the city, but for the social framework of the community. Detective Robert Buzzard, for example, went to OSU on a baseball scholarship. As the police liaison to the athletic department, Buzzard was the officer who earlier in the year had given this same group of football players a lecture on how to avoid rape situations.

A lot was riding on the Big 12 team, especially with the biggest game of the year coming up. When Alison walked into the headquarters, she could already feel hushed comments and stares of officers. They asked her to write a statement. At no time, Alison says, was she advised of her rights, that she should see a rape-crisis councilor, or that one even existed. "Nobody ever told me what I could do," she says.

Then Detective Buzzard began what Alison says felt like an interrogation rather than an interview. Alison says Buzzard began the interview by saying he didn't believe her. She was told that witnesses at the party were not corroborating her story. It turns out the only witnesses that Buzzard was talking about were the four players themselves, who had already been interviewed by police at the coach's office. Unlike Alison's interview, none of these were taped. Told she didn't have a case, the traumatized student was then encouraged by police to sign a waiver of prosecution, which would prevent any criminal charges to ever be filed against her accused rapists.