Editor’s note: much like A Parent’s Story, this is a story of a family’s experience fighting for vindication. A Parent’s Story was told from the perspective of the father of a wrongly accused student. This story is from the perspective of a wrongly accused young man in a different case. He wants to let families know that there is hope if they persevere. Names and identifiable case info have been redacted for their protection. Minimal editing has been performed to preserve the authenticity of the author’s voice.

Recently, I found out that I had won my lawsuit against my old college and gotten my expulsion removed from my permanent record. It was the day that I have dreamed about every single day since I was expelled for sexual assault four years ago . My life was over, or so I thought.

I learned a lot about myself in the past four years, however. I learned that I am much stronger than I ever imagined. I learned that I have enough willpower inside of me to wake up every morning, put my head down, and try to maintain some sense of normalcy when my world is shattering around me. Most importantly, though, I learned that I have fantastic parents who would fight to the death for me, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Before I tell my story, I would just like to say something to everybody else who is going through what I am going through. Don’t let them win. These schools, these girls, these lawyers, EVERYONE will try to beat you down into submission. They want you to quit on life and give up. If you sit there, take it, and don’t fight for yourself and your future, your life really will be over.

I know personally how hard it is, but I promise that if you start going back to a school – any school – and try to get your life back on track, you are stronger than you realize and you can get through this. Even if you can’t win in court, there are schools you can attend that will overlook this. The first step is the hardest, but you have to block it out and persevere, otherwise you really will let your life get ruined by it.

When you think of how much work you’re going to have to put in just to have a somewhat normal life, it’s terrifying. Just take it one day at a time. I know what it’s like to wake up one day and realize that your life is irreversibly changed. I know what it’s like to be so afraid to tell even your closest friends, because it might change the way they look at you forever. I know what it’s like to be so embarrassed that you can’t even talk to your own family about it.

I know how tough it is to even get out of bed most days. It gets better and it gets easier. That, I promise. You just have to want it. And to any parents reading this, I have just one thing to say. Please, please, please do not give up on your son. You have to fight this with him every step of the way.

Nobody else is going to advocate for him. You need to tell him that you’ll find a way through this. You need to reassure him that you’re going to be by his side the entire time. You have to let him know that you still love him, no matter what. You need to push him to get back on track. You cannot let his life get ruined over this. Most importantly, though, you need to tell him that you believe him.

In high school, I was a 4.0 student with a 2300 on my SATs. I was on top of the world and I had my whole life ahead of me. My friends joked that I was “only” going to a top-20 business school instead of the Ivy League they thought I was destined for. Either way, I was not the kind of kid who one would expect to commit a sexual assault. My entire life, I was loved by teachers, coaches, classmates, and even parents. I went off to college on the other side of the country, excited for the best four years of my life. Instead, I was kicking off the worst four years of my life.

Like most other kids in this situation, my story begins with a drunken hookup at a frat party. In October of my freshman year, I left a party because a girl (let’s call her Jane) asked me to take her somewhere more private. I got her verbal consent and we had sex. Multiple people walked in on us, both guys and girls, and nobody stopped what was happening. At one point, the guy whose apartment we were at walked into the bedroom we were in, saw we were having sex on his bed, and then announced it to the party .

Nobody moved a muscle. During the investigation, I pointed this out as a way to show that nobody at the party thought anything wrong was happening, or else they would have acted on it. Regardless of what anybody said they thought, actions speak louder than words, or so I thought.

A month later, however, I found out from the school’s Title IX office that she claimed she did not remember the events in question and I was being investigated for sexual assault. I thought that because I received consent and she had initiated the encounter, I was in the clear. I thought that justice would prevail and this would be looked at for what it was, a drunken hookup that led to some regret in the morning.

Boy, was I wrong. Every single thing that I said was distorted by the investigator into victim-blaming. Even after I won in court, it was still said that I never proved any bias. The investigator was a female rape crisis counselor, who had a master’s degree in women’s studies proudly displayed in her office. You tell me if you think there was any bias there.

The investigation proceeded much like you would expect. My father was there as my advisor, but he was unable to speak and was even threatened to be thrown out by security when he reminded me of something I had told him earlier. Jane was allowed to view all of the evidence before I did, even to the point where I was told there was no new evidence before going home for Christmas break, while she saw the new evidence the day before break started. I was then able to view the evidence almost a month later, when we returned from break.

The male witnesses, who were all members of my fraternity, had their statements mischaracterized. One of the witnesses was even directly called a liar in his interview, although that never made it onto the official record. It was clear that there were two separate stories being told through this process. The male witnesses, and some females, mostly agreed that everyone at the party was drunk, but nobody was so drunk that it stood out to them.

There were about four girls, however, that had a story of Jane being so drunk that she couldn’t stand up, taking at least nine shots in an hour and a half period, and barely even being able to speak. Of course that is not what happened, but they accused all of the guys of collaborating on creating a false narrative, since our stories were all so similar.

Two separate witnesses said that they were worried that I would try to take advantage of Jane all night long, admitted to seeing us in the bedroom together, and then left the party immediately after. In my opinion, if you were worried about your friend being sexually assaulted, you wouldn’t leave the party early and leave her alone with a guy. That’s just me though.

Again, when I pointed this out, it was represented as me passing the blame for what I did onto her friends. Instead, my whole point was that her friends did not act concerned or worried about how drunk she was, so why was I, someone who had just met Jane, expected to know that she was too inebriated to give consent.

Unsurprisingly, I was found to have committed a sexual assault and was expelled from school. My worst fears were realized. My life was over and I had no clue how I was going to put myself back together again.

This is where my parents became angels and put me back on the right path. I withdrew from all of my classes, booked a flight home, packed my things, and said goodbye to all of my friends. It was March of my freshman year. I had no school, no direction, and no future. I thought that I would never be able to move past this.

I saw a therapist for two months, because my parents wanted me to. They thought maybe that would help in some way. I just couldn’t talk about what happened without breaking down into tears, so I never talked about it. After two months of paying $100 an hour to talk about the Red Sox, Tom Brady, the weather, and anything else that wasn’t me getting expelled, I stopped showing up. I told my parents that I thought it was useless and I refused to go see another therapist. I’m still not sure if this was the right move, because I’m pretty sure I was depressed for the next couple of years. I just never wanted to admit it .

After I got expelled, my parents did everything they could to try and get me into a new school. My mom made it her full-time job to research schools that would consider a student with a record like mine. My dad called in as many favors as he could and got me in front of a board member at four different major universities. All four schools were excited about my prospects until they read the decision issued by the Title IX investigator. All four said no shortly afterwards .

Eventually, we decided that community college was the best (only) option at this point, and I picked a school two hours away from my hometown, because I was too ashamed to even chance running into somebody that I knew .

I lived in an apartment by myself for two years and went to community college. I had a 4.0 at that school, which I wasn’t even all that proud of, and graduated with my associate’s. I didn’t even go to graduation, because I still felt like a failure. I applied to 19 four-year schools to transfer to, and I only got into one. I, a kid who hadn’t gotten below an A- since middle school, only got into one school; a small, liberal arts college. Although it was far from where I wanted to be, it was somewhere.

After my mom applied to community college for me, my parents sat me down and told me that the only thing I had to worry about was my grades. They said that if I kept my head down and got good grades, at least I would have a chance. That was the only thing that I still had control over in my life.

While I was going to school, my dad took on the legal fight as a second job and my mom became my dad’s therapist, since they did not want to talk about this with anyone else. Later I found out that my dad didn’t even tell his parents, just his childhood best friend. My mom never even told a soul.

We hired a lawyer starting with the initial appeal of the school’s decision, which we also lost, and then we started going to court. I went to the first court date and, when our writ was rejected, I watched as the lawyers from my school high-fived in the hallway. I cried on the plane ride home and I never went back to court again.

My dad worked tirelessly with our lawyer taking it through three or four different courts. Each time, we lost and appealed, only to also lose that appeal. Finally, my case ended up in front of the [REDACTED] Court of Appeals. A panel of judges agreed that the Title IX investigation was a kangaroo court. They said that it is “fundamentally flawed” to have one investigator act as the prosecutor, judge, jury, and executioner.

Their decision hung on, of all things, the fact that [REDACTED]. Regardless of the why , I only cared about the what . This was an irreversible decision.

These judges gave me my life back.

I will never forget this moment for as long as I live. The other day, I walked downstairs to see my parents hugging and crying. My dad looked over at me and simply said, “We won.” I knew exactly what he meant. I can’t even put into words how I felt when I heard him say that. We all stood there and hugged each other and cried together for half an hour, and it was the greatest moment of my life.

Although I will never get the past four years back, I have options again for the first time since I was in high school. Yes, the degree I’m getting is from a school that is not that great. However, I actually have the option now to get a master’s degree and make up for it. The future is bright again.

I couldn’t have made it through this without my parents. For that, I suppose I’m lucky in some respect. The world beat me down, over and over and over. And my parents were there to help me pick up the pieces. I’ll never be able to thank them enough for that.

So, for any parents out there reading this, please don’t let your son give up. This is going to be harder than you can even imagine for both you and your son, but you can’t just lie down and take it. You have to be strong for your son until he can be strong for himself again. And you have to fight this tooth and nail. You can win in court. It might take a while, but it’s possible. You can’t win if you don’t try, however .

Even if you don’t win in court, or can’t afford to keep fighting it, you can still offer the support and guidance that only parents can. He needs it now more than ever.

And for any guys going through what I’m going through, I have some advice, too. If you just recently got accused, you need to understand that you have to take this very seriously. It’s no joke; this is life-altering. If you’re already out of school, you can’t just sit around. Go to community college. Even if you never get into another four-year school, you can at least get a degree of some kind. With that being said, you can still find schools that will accept you. You just have to work hard and put yourself in the best position you can.

It’s easier for schools to look past this stuff if you have good grades. I hate to say this, but your life is never going to be normal again. You have to come to grips with that and realize that you still have options, even if you think you don’t. I don’t have all of the answers, but what I do know is that you can’t just spend the rest of your life moping around your parents’ house. Even though your life seems like it’s over, you still have another 60+ years left to live. And 50-year-old you will never forgive 20-year-old you for quitting.

Even though it’s a little corny, I always found myself going back to the speech that Rocky Balboa gives his son. You know the one. “It ain’t about how hard you can hit, it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.” I would tell myself that endlessly until I finally believed it. You just have to keep fighting. Although your whole life is crashing down around you, the sun is still going to rise every day. The world isn’t going to stop turning just because you’re going through a really hard time.

Your life is forever changed in a negative way. Whatever plans you had for your future need to be readjusted. But that doesn’t mean your life is over. You can get through this.

I got through this, even though I was ready to quit, too. I sat around my parents’ house and did nothing for the first six months after I was expelled. I thought about committing suicide for the first two years. Every time I drove over a bridge, I wondered how fast I would have to go to break through the barrier. Eventually, things got better. And things will get better for you, too. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

You just have to meet it halfway.

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