The rooms Ohio State uses for student conduct and Title IX sexual misconduct hearings are small. Tucked away on the fifth floor of Lincoln Tower, each room is adorned only with chairs, a conference table and a wall-mounted monitor.

That monitor is sometimes used to stream in witnesses and parties or to examine evidence.

According to the Ohio State Student Conduct website, hearings are designed to be “informal.” They are not meant to replace criminal or civil resolutions and are not meant to mimic them. But the victims and survivors The Lantern spoke with overwhelmingly disagreed — several of their assaulters had attorneys at their side, who wrote expert questions and crafted answers for them on notebook paper.

Lisa Radochonski, a May 2020 graduate who was sexually assaulted in October 2017, said her advocate from Ohio State’s Sexual Civility and Empowerment unit — a former center for victims and survivors of sexual violence that was disbanded in June 2018 for failing to report 57 potential felonies — told her not to bring a lawyer to the hearing.

“They said it would hinder the process instead of benefitting me throughout the hearing,” Radochonski said. “Because ‘the process the school goes through is just so much different than the judicial system.’”

Yet when she walked into the room for the hearing, Radochonski said her rapist had a lawyer sitting next to him.

And minutes later, Radochonski would have to stare directly into the eyes of the man who assaulted her at a fraternity annex following a night of drinking in 2017 — answering a slate of questions he’d ask her through his attorney.

The same held true for Ashley Yong, a graduate student in higher education and student affairs who was sexually assaulted in September 2019. Just two weeks before her hearing in June 2020, Yong said she discovered that her perpetrator had hired a lawyer at the beginning of the investigation.

“I was like, ‘Oh, my God, he has a lawyer.’ And I was like, panic mode level 100 because I didn’t even reach out to have an advocate with me or anyone in the room,” Yong said.

If Yong’s hearing took place just two months later, a slew of changes to Title IX policy would have required the university to appoint an adviser to conduct cross-examination of Yong’s perpetrator on her behalf, according to Molly Peirano, interim Title IX coordinator at Ohio State.

“We agree with much of the guidance that is more ideal, for lack of a better word, to have a third party asking those questions, but prior to the regulations, there wasn’t the statement that said an institution must provide that adviser,” Peirano said.

Because each woman who spoke with The Lantern had hearings that took place prior to Aug. 14, 2020 — the date former U.S. Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos’ federal Title IX regulations went into effect — many of the policies, such as parties’ direct cross-examination of each other and the availability of a four-person panel university conduct board, no longer exist.

Despite the new policies that are largely favored by the women who spoke to The Lantern and the larger community of anti-sexual violence activists, some things remain the same, such as the fear that often accompanies victims and survivors who must stare down their perpetrator and present their story in front of a resolutions officer in a court-like setting.

“I know that the university claims that this is not a legal process, but we can’t ignore the fact that it essentially simulates a courtroom, and many of the proceedings mirror courtroom and criminal justice system proceedings,” Yong said.

The basics 

The rules of engagement for all student conduct hearings — and especially Title IX hearings — are strict. Each party will deliver an opening statement, followed by the interviewing and cross-examination of witnesses, the interviewing and cross-examination of parties, and closing statements.

It is a process that victims and survivors are told can take all day, but usually no more than a few hours, depending on the case. Armed with an adviser and a box of tissues, victims and survivors must sit mere feet and bodies away from their assaulters, or otherwise video conference via Zoom, with their face on a wall-mounted monitor for the entire room to see.

Conference Room A on the fifth floor of Lincoln Tower houses a conference table and chairs.

Christian Harsa | Asst. Photo Editor

But, as several women told The Lantern, preparation for — and impact of — the hearing begins long before the day. 

It begins tentatively during the investigation, with the tacit or explicit expectation that it will result in a hearing. It begins more formally when the perpetrator files the Charge and Process form declaring they will not take responsibility for the charges.

It begins most earnestly when the victim or survivor receives the hearing packet: the compilation of party interviews, witness interviews and any text messages, emails, medical records, photos, videos or other evidence either party submits — the majority of which was collected during the investigation process. They are instructed to neither copy nor share any included information and will lose access to the packet after the hearing.

The hearing packet, which can range from a few dozen to more than 100 pages, is used as a guide by those presiding over the hearing to determine whether there is “a preponderance of evidence” that a violation of the Code of Student Conduct has occurred.

Similar to the standard of evidence used in civil court proceedings, the preponderance of evidence standard requires the plaintiff — in this case, the victim or survivor — to demonstrate it is more likely than not the defendant is guilty, Baum said.

Under DeVos’ Title IX regulations, universities are able to choose between preponderance of the evidence and clear and convincing evidence, a more stringent standard, for determining responsibility in sexual misconduct cases. Ohio State announced in August it would continue to use the former standard.

Who determines Title IX policies and protocol?

Many of the policies adhered to by Ohio State’s Office of Institutional Equity, including the standard of evidence used in hearings established by former President Barack Obama’s administration in 2014, come from recommendations made by the U.S. Department of Education, Baum said.

Each presidential administration brings a different Department of Education, Baum said, and thus may offer unique recommendations to universities receiving federal aid based on their own interpretation of Title IX law.

According to Baum, there are different types of recommendations a Department of Education may choose to implement: regulations, “dear colleague letters” and administrative decisions — all with varying levels of legal force. 

Regulations hold the highest level of legal force, yet the drawback is that it can take several years before a regulation is established into law, Baum said. 

“The great thing about regulations from the point of view of people who adopt them is that once they’re adopted, then the same elaborate process is necessary to change them,” Baum said.

Ohio State’s university sexual misconduct policy paperwork sits on the conference table.

Christian Harsa | Asst. Photo Editor

Syreeta Palackdharry, a fourth-year in women’s, gender and sexuality studies who was sexually assaulted in front of her home in June 2018, said she decided to remain silent during her hearing, instead opting to present her opening statement via large note cards that she held up for the room to see.

In her opening statement Palackdharry provided to The Lantern verbatim, she introduced herself and provided a general overview of the impact of her assault, including stepping down as president of her student organization and quitting her role as a diving coach at McCorkle Aquatic Pavilion.

“This investigation has been hell for me — so much so that at one point I planned every detail of my funeral. I don’t want to be here; I don’t want to keep participating in this process, nor do I want to be involved in any lawsuit that may follow. And for those reasons, I’ve decided to remain silent today. I’ve given my story over and over again. My words haven’t been enough, but maybe my silence will be,” Palackdharry displayed via note cards during her hearing.

Syreeta Palackdharry holds a recreated note card she made for her opening statement.

Christian Harsa | Asst. Photo Editor

Like the victim or survivor, the perpetrator also presents an opening statement. For Palackdharry, that meant enduring listening to her perpetrator “essentially read [them] his resume” while priding himself on the tight-knit friendships and familial relationships he held with women in his life in attempts to prove his innocence, Palackdharry said.

Cross-examination

After each party presents its opening statement, parties will interview and conduct cross-examinations of any witnesses to the case, the victim or survivor, and the perpetrator.

It is the opportunity for either party to build their case and prove whether there is a preponderance of evidence that a violation of the university’s sexual misconduct policies occurred. Evidence is presented, witnesses are questioned, and most notably, the opposing party’s recollection of events can be challenged through cross-examination.

In accordance with the latest Title IX regulations from the Department of Education, Ohio State’s current sexual misconduct policy prohibits parties from directly questioning each other during cross-examination — all questions must be filtered through advisers or the hearing officer.

Cross-examinations of witnesses, the victims, and the perpetrators happened at this conference room table.

Christian Harsa | Asst. Photo Editor

Peirano said the university cannot limit who either party selects as its adviser, but for students who do not have advisers during the investigation process, the university must provide one for the hearing. But that wasn’t always the case.

In fact, from late 2018 until DeVos’ Title IX regulations went into effect Aug. 14, 2020, the university’s policy required the exact opposite.

“A party’s advisor or other support person is a silent and non-participating presence to observe and provide support for the party,” Ohio State’s interim sexual misconduct policy from November 2019 states.

This meant Yong and Palackdharry had to endure direct questioning by their assaulters.

Even though parties must be given the opportunity to question each other, they do not have to participate. For Palackdharry, that meant telling the board she would not answer any of her rapist’s questions. She said she had offered enough to the case — she supplied all of the evidence in the 100-page packet, aside from her rapist’s page of interview notes.

Palackdharry said her perpetrator and his lawyer complained that her not answering questions was unfair, triggering a two-hour break while the hearing officer tried striking a compromise. During the break, one of the board members fell asleep and another complained about end-of-semester grading they needed to get done, she said.

Ultimately, Palackdharry’s rapist was allowed to read the questions he would have asked her. 

“I am so glad I did not answer these questions,” Palackdharry said.

A lot of those questions, she said, were “nitpicky.” Several others asked about her previous experiences with sexual abuse. She said it took him 20 minutes to read them all, and after he did, he refused to participate in the rest of the hearing — including the board’s questioning of him.

“He got through not just an eight-hour hearing, but a 10-month investigation without answering a single question about what happened that night,” Palackdharry said.

For the women whose assaulters could question them only through a third party, the questions weren’t any less difficult.

Prior to the end of 2018, parties’ cross-examination was slightly less direct; Radochonski said her rapist would ask his question aloud, then the hearing officer would either rephrase or repeat the question verbatim for her to answer.

Under current policy, before a party answers any questions received during an interview or cross-examination, Peirano said the resolutions officer presiding over the case must determine whether the question is relevant. If the officer finds a question to be irrelevant, the officer must explain their decision to exclude the question.

What is deemed relevant, however, is unclear.

Syreeta Palackdharry holds a recreated note card she made for her opening statement.

Christian Harsa | Asst. Photo Editor

And even though Palackdharry didn’t ask questions during her university conduct board hearing, she said she wasn’t given that option either. It was only presented to her rapist, several hours into the hearing, after he grew frustrated she would not answer his questions, she said. 

Peirano could ultimately not provide an explanation for why the women The Lantern spoke with were told direct cross-examination was the only choice.

When determining which individuals to serve as a university-appointed adviser, Peirano said the Office of Institutional Equity selects from a pool of volunteers from across the university. Applicants are interviewed to determine whether they can abide by Title IX’s expectations and understand their role as the adviser, she said.

“Are they able to serve both complainants and respondents? Can they assist in what we’re asking them to do? Because their role really is to ask questions on the behalf of the party, and so we wanted to make sure that it was folks who understood that was their role,” Peirano said.

Once a slate of advisers is selected, Peirano said they will be trained in order to best understand their own responsibilities and the general policies and operations of a Title IX hearing.

Peirano said the Office of Institutional Equity recently hired a director of resolutions and two resolutions officers — two positions that hadn’t existed before — as it moved away from a four-person university conduct board to a single resolutions officer. Before, a resolutions officer could also act as an investigative officer or serve in another Title IX role, whereas now, their main responsibility is to preside over hearings, Peirano said.

With the new resolutions officer system, Peirano said the officers are subject to national trainings and preparation from the Office of Institutional Equity to best adhere to Title IX’s policies, practices and expectations.

When a resolutions officer makes a determination on a question’s relevance to the case, Peirano said there are many things to consider, as a question deemed relevant in one case may be irrelevant in another.

“Sometimes there does have to be discussion about, you know, ‘How is this relevant? Are you using it to help make a specific point? Are you trying to show a pattern?’ And so it can vary,” she said.

To help facilitate the determination of relevancy, Peirano said resolutions officers use an “Ask, Pause, Move Forward” model. Once a question is asked by either party, the resolutions officer will pause and analyze the question’s relevancy.

“If there’s no concerns, you can move forward,” Peirano said.

Prior to new Title IX regulations from the U.S. Department of Education adopted by Ohio State on Aug. 14, 2020, victims and survivors were questioned directly by their perpetrators. Current policies require a third party to conduct cross-examinations.

Marcy Paredes | For The Lantern

To gather more evidence and testimonies during the hearing, witnesses from either party are also questioned and cross-examined.

For Palackdharry, that meant her mom, a close friend and a detective from the Bexley Police Department who initially handled her case were all questioned by her perpetrator.

Palackdharry said the detective’s responses to her rapist’s questions prompted her at that moment to lose “all faith in police.” 

“[The detective] might as well have just straight up said that he didn’t believe me,” Palackdharry said. “He pointed out that it was very convenient that I ran an anti-sexual violence student org and commented on the fact that I waited a little over a day to go get my rape kit done.”

Palackdharry said a seed of doubt seemed to have been planted in the detective’s mind when he came to speak with her in the emergency room, where she went to undergo a forensic exam after the assault. 

In response to one of her perpetrator’s questions, the detective said he could not understand how Palackdharry, so soon after being assaulted, was laughing momentarily at the hospital.

She said she was attempting to make a joke to lighten the mood.

Tammy Moore, a clinical social worker and co-owner of the Ohio Institute for Trauma and Wellness, said laughing after trauma is a common response. People laugh for several reasons, she said, whether it be to relieve stress or extreme fear or to express disbelief at one’s own survival.

Survivors, like many of the women who spoke to The Lantern, often face a laundry list of questions in attempts to understand why they acted the way they did — questions victims and survivors can’t always easily answer, Moore said.

“The truth is, you find me 1,000 survivors, and I’ll find you 1,000 different responses, especially under the pressure of a forensic exam, especially after having something traumatic happen,” Moore said.

When Palackdharry’s mother was called in as a witness, Palackdharry’s rapist asked her about the type of birth control Palackdharry used.

“I can’t believe that [the hearing officer] allowed that,” Palackdharry said.

Her perpetrator also asked her mom about Palackdharry’s previous experiences with sexual assault — a question that Palackdharry said Kellie Brennan, former Title IX coordinator, told her would not be permitted during the hearing as it had no relevance.

The hearing officer assigned to Palackdharry’s case deemed the question relevant.

After her perpetrator asked her close friend and her mom about her mental health diagnoses and whether she has a history of lying to them, Palackdharry decided to break her silence. She asked her hearing officer how she determined the questions to be relevant, which forced the officer to reevaluate her perpetrator’s questions.

“She eventually did shut it down,” Palackdharry said. “But I’m floored that it took getting to that point for her to shut it down.”

When a person undergoes a traumatic event, Moore said the brain’s prefrontal cortex — the “thinking brain” — is under-activated, making it nearly impossible for a person to freely choose what their next course of action will be. She said the brain “automatically responds” to the danger in what it evaluates as the safest way.

“We like to blame victims or say, ‘You didn’t seem afraid’ or ‘You didn’t do anything?’ or ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone?’ or ‘Were you exhibiting this behavior before?’” Moore said.

After an assault, Moore said many victims and survivors are incapable of remembering key details of the event — whether it was midnight or 2 a.m., or if the perpetrator was 5-foot-8 or 6-foot-2 — as the body’s “fear response” takes over and inhibits one’s ability to recall details based on the five senses.

Palackdharry, for example, said her perpetrator attempted to use the fact that her timeframe of the assault was about 40 minutes off as evidence that she was lying.

Moore said the lengthy list of questions a victim or survivor is asked not only results from an inability to understand the psychology behind trauma responses, it’s also rooted in the devaluation and “systemic oppression” of women in society.

Radochonski said she felt her perpetrator’s testimony was taken more seriously than hers because she openly admitted to being intoxicated during the assault. She said she believed the hearing officer allowed many of the questions she wouldn’t think would be asked — about her sexual history, her mental health, her relationships after the assault — because of a fundamental misunderstanding of how victims and survivors act.

“If you want to paint the victim of sexual assault, I think a lot of people generally have what they should look like,” Radochonski said. “So like, very timid, scared to have sex, never want to go out, just those very stereotypical attributes you would give to someone who has gone through a sexual assault, when in reality, that just isn’t the case for all victims of sexual assault.”

Although Yong said she tried to muster the courage to start writing the questions she would ask her perpetrator weeks before the hearing, she couldn’t bring herself to do it until the night before. 

“It was such a daunting process. And it was exhausting,” Yong said. “Even the thought of having to read over everything and to prepare answers as if I was a lawyer was exhausting.”

Prior to drafting her list of questions to ask her perpetrator, Yong said she consulted an attorney on the phone who helped prepare her for what she might expect during the hearing. 

Ultimately, the attorney advised Yong that the hearing officer would look for consistency in her story, credibility, specific violations to university sexual misconduct policies and “signs that a reasonable person” watching the misconduct would know she didn’t consent.

The attorney also suggested Yong pull information from the hearing packet while questioning her perpetrator, as the packet includes notes from the interviews of the perpetrator, as well as the survivor and witnesses, conducted by a Title IX investigator during the investigation phase of the case. 

For instance, Yong said her perpetrator reportedly told the investigator that he asked her on numerous occasions to kiss him, despite Yong telling him no.

Using the information from her perpetrator’s previous interviews, Yong, during the hearing, asked him: “Is it true that [in] your interview that you asked to kiss me as many times as you could, despite me telling you no?” 

The attorney Yong consulted also advised her to ask questions that could demonstrate how her perpetrator violated Ohio State’s sexual misconduct policies, including the university’s definitions of sexual violence, in order to strengthen her case before the hearing officer, Yong wrote in a compilation of hearing notes she provided to The Lantern.

“Go back to the policy as much as you can when preparing your statements and questions so you don’t get sidetracked by things in his statement that are upsetting but don’t help your case,” the attorney told Yong.

Radochonski also referenced specific comments her perpetrator made during his interview with the Title IX investigator. She provided The Lantern with the questions she asked during the hearing.

In a question directed at her perpetrator, Radochonski noted: “On page 123 of the investigation file, you say, and I quote, ‘Lisa’s eyes showed that she wanted more.’ Can you explain what this means and what this looks like?”

Radochonski said her perpetrator clarified, claiming he witnessed her eyes rapidly moving back and forth, her eyelashes “fluttering.” 

“So, I was blinking?” Radochonski responded.

“How does this display consent-seeking language, as consent-seeking language is a verbal yes from a partner that is not under the influence of alcohol, drugs, or coercion?”

Closing statement

The final section of the hearing, similar to a courtroom trial, invites both parties to summarize their cases and make final remarks. For many victims and survivors, such as Radochonski, it is a chance to lay bare the physical and emotional impact their assault had on them.

Radochonski started working on her impact statement four months before the hearing, when she decided to report the assault to the university. By the time she presented it to her rapist and the hearing officer, it was 18 pages long.

Her closing statement ended with a plea to the university — urging the hearing officer, “for the sake of the safety of women” at Ohio State, to be “conscientious and thorough” in the decision making regarding the outcome of her hearing. 

“I do not have anything to lose because I have already lost everything. You took everything away from me,” Radochonski wrote to her perpetrator. “I was at the bottom, and I was ready to die. All I have left is the truth.”

Conference Room A on the fifth floor of Lincoln Tower is where the hearings took place.

Christian Harsa | Asst. Photo Editor

y the time Radochonski left the hearing room on the fifth floor of Lincoln Tower, it was 1 a.m. She had a final exam the next day, and she was tired.

She had spent 13 hours answering questions about her sex life, mental health and her sexual assault. She had spent several months submitting evidence: text messages with her friends before and after her assault, a phone-generated map of where she walked that night, a receipt for the emergency contraception she purchased, her hospitalization records, diagnoses and emails with her therapist.

“I would like to think that they have an unbiased, fair process, but I don’t think that they do,” Radochonski said. “I mean, again, I know no one was there that night. And I know on that night, it was just a ‘he said, she said’ situation, which, OK, I understand that. But also, why would I be hospitalized for suicidal ideation, why would I be self-harming, why would I be so stressed if this didn’t happen the way I said it did?”

In student conduct cases, the respondent — the perpetrator — isn’t found “guilty” or “not guilty.” Rather, they are found “responsible” or “not responsible” for the charges against them. 

Radochonski’s rapist was charged with endangering behavior, defined by Ohio State’s Code of Student Conduct as “taking or threatening action that endangers the safety, physical or mental health, or life of any person, or creates a reasonable fear of such action.” He was also charged with sexual harassment and nonconsensual sexual intercourse — the old sexual misconduct policy’s term for rape.

The hearing officer found Radochonski’s perpetrator responsible for one of three charges he faced: endangering behavior. He was found not responsible for neither sexual harassment nor nonconsensual sexual intercourse. 

With the two-hour break, Palackdharry’s hearing lasted eight hours. Aside from giving her silent open statement in the hearing room, Palackdharry spent those hours watching her perpetrator’s face on a screen from another room, having chosen to Zoom into the hearing.

A few weeks later, Palackdharry got a phone call from the hearing officer asking her to come into her office. The board’s decision was ready.

“Do you want me to tell you what it says, or do you want to read it yourself?” the hearing officer asked Palackdharry.

Palackdharry told her to read it for her. She was scared, she said.

The hearing officer told Palackdharry her rapist was found not responsible for nonconsensual sexual intercourse, nonconsensual sexual contact and endangering behavior.

When Yong logged out of the Zoom at the end of her hearing, she was also tired. During the three or four hours the hearing took, Yong said she was hypervigilant to every aspect of her perpetrator: his voice, his facial expressions, how he reacted to things she said. She hadn’t seen his face in nearly 10 months.

Although the cards seemed stacked against her — he had a lawyer, she had to ask him questions and endure his questions addressed to her — Yong said she came out of it less scared than she entered.

“Even though it was an emotional process, it was liberating to be able to tell my story in this formal way to people that had to sit there and listen, to be able to even say to him, honestly,” Yong said. “I had to hold space for the tension of that being both really intimidating and scary, but also extremely empowering.”

About two months after her hearing, Yong received the outcome letter for her case.

Her perpetrator was found not responsible for neither nonconsensual sexual contact nor nonconsensual sexual intercouse.

To this day, Yong said she is still angry and upset about the outcome of her hearing, but she “came to peace” with the decision after realizing she was up against a system that is not “survivor-friendly.”

“What I had to come to terms with and really grapple with is that I’m operating within a system that works against survivors,” Yong said. “And even if my hearing officer personally felt like she believed me, she is also operating with it within a system that works against survivors.”

In an ideal world, Yong said she wished she could have had more autonomy during the hearing — like the ability to decide whether she or an adviser would conduct the cross-examination.

While reading the outcome letter, Yong said her eyes skimmed to the part including her perpetrator’s charges, or in this case, lack thereof. She said she couldn’t bring herself to read the entire letter.

“Someday I probably will,” she said. “But probably after years of aggressive therapy.”