Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Read online

  “OK, I understand, and you’re right. I don’t know all the details about his college tennis career, but do know that after graduating, he stayed on at Cal and go his PhD in Jurisprudence and Social Policy.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a law and society-type program. But, instead of getting a law degree, you get a PhD. Professor Naremore’s area is corporate crime and regulation. He wrote a book about Enron.”

  “Really. That seems interesting.”

  “It’s a very good book. Also, he’s ‘out.’ His partner’s also a professor…in Geography, I think. I know his name,” Jillian grimaced, “just can’t recall it right now. Anyway, they are an amazing couple...a real academic power couple. First, they’re both tall men, and they’re seriously cool…fashionable, just…different. So, Professor Naremore is a tall, good looking African American man, and his partner is a tall, good looking Brit. So, you have these two tall guys, one black, one white, both very stylish, but very different looks: Professor Naremore is ‘California cool,’ and the other guy…Griffiths, his name is Russell Griffiths…he’s cool in a British way. I think they met at Cambridge…Professor Naremore did some sort of a graduate certificate at Cambridge University.”

  “They do seem interesting. And Professor Naremore…he was helpful on your projects?”

  “Very much so, yes. Sometimes, he’s intimidating because he’s so smart…but he’s also really positive, always upbeat.”

  Wes maneuvered the car into a parking space. Then he said, “UC Berkeley. As in The Republic of Berkeley. That’s’ got to be the most liberal place in the US. Did he have any problems when you started working at Tempe PD?”

  “No…not at all…he even wrote a letter of reference for the job at the Research Division. Of course, this was several years ago. He always seemed to be accepting of people who either already were or wanted to go into law enforcement. Justice Studies didn’t get many students like that, but he was always welcoming of students from the Crim program on the downtown campus. They seemed to enjoy his classes, although I imagine it was a challenge…they had to think more abstractly, a lot more theoretically in his classes. I always had a sense that he really liked having people from other departments…he made everyone feel as if his class was the place you needed to be.”

  “Like Mr. Sarsour?”

  Jillian nodded. “Yes, him too...a Business major.”

  “Well, you obviously like Professor Naremore…let’s just hope you don’t have to arrest him.”

  “Wes…”

  It seemed genuinely strange to Jillian to be entering Wilson Hall…something she hadn’t done in a while, yet something she’d done a zillion times. She walked up the steps to the second floor, the door was open—it always was during business hours—and pretty much as always, a couple of students were seated at the cafeteria-style table under the windows, 10 yards in front of her, facing the doorway she’d just entered. They were working together…reading something on an open laptop. They glanced up at her and smiled. Jillian didn’t know them, which wasn’t surprising since she’d graduated more than two years ago, but it still felt…she felt a little homesick. She smiled in return as they lowered their heads back to the screen. She turned toward the left side of the hallway. The Justice Studies faculty filled the left and right halls of the second floor.

  Jillian had emailed Professor Naremore as soon as she and Wes had arrived back at Headquarters. He’d answered quickly—he seemed to live on social media…email, Facebook, now probably Instagram and the rest and, really, all of the above. In her message, she said that she was working on the investigation into Professor Siemens’ death and would appreciate any guidance he could give. He replied that he had a late class that started at 4:50, but could see her at 3pm. She walked over for the meeting, mentally going over what she’d say…and ask.

  Professor Naremore’s office was the fourth on the left, and near the Justice Studies conference room. His windows overlooked West Hall, a vaguely White House-looking building, and the huge green lawn that was a kind of front yard. His office door was open and, almost as if on cue, she saw Professor Russell Griffiths. He was in a visitor’s chair and was seated opposite Professor Naremore, although given her angle of view through the door, she could only see Professor Naremore’s long legs.

  Russell Griffiths took a second to place her, then in his lovely British accent, said, “Ms. Warne, or should I say Detective Sergeant Warne…so good to see you.”

  “Hello Professor Griffiths, what a nice surprise.”

  “That you, Jillian?” Even as she heard the voice, Professor Naremore stood and entered her field of vision. “How you doing?”

  Before she could answer, Professor Griffiths stood and said, “I fear this must be a hello and goodbye…I have to attend a faculty meeting…as one does. Ta.”

  For a brief instant, the two men stood facing one another. They were, as Jillian had told Wes, a study in contrasts. Even though it was 105 outside, Griffiths was wearing a sport coat, light weight, but still a coat, and a tie…a knit tie against a shirt in a subdued plaid. His shoes were tan wingtips. He was of light complexion, although a bit more tan than she remembered—probably the Arizona summer—and his hair was still an unruly mass of light brown. He was clean-shaven.

  Professor Naremore wore very trim blue pants that barely reached his ankles, and a pair of long, bone-colored loafers. His shiny, light grey jacket hung by its loop on a coat rack in the far corner, and a blue and gray plaid pork-pie hat hung from an adjacent loop. His perennial three day growth had morphed into a full beard since she’d last seen him. He still had a shaved head, and small rings in both ears.

  The office was familiar to Jillian. Maybe she hadn’t been there as often as in Carolyn’s, but she’d been here a lot. The same three posters still dominated his walls: Arthur Ashe (she thought about Wes’ short biography of his accomplishments); Martina Navratilova; Billie Jean King…all were signed. Another familiar decoration was positioned in plain view on a book shelve, a plaque from the Crime & Juvenile Delinquency Division of the Society for the Study of Social Problems designating its Outstanding Book Award for Professor Naremore’s book, Deregulatory Misadventure: Enron and the Corporate Crime Scandals of 2002. He called it his ‘tenure’ book.’ There was one change in the office: he now had one of those variable desks that can be raised or lowered; his was in the raised position.

  As the two men hugged briefly, Griffiths asked, “See you at home when your class ends?”

  “Definitely.”

  Griffiths left and Professor Naremore immediately hugged Jillian. She stood on tip toes because of his height. He was nearing 40, but he was physically fit, even athletic. She knew that he still played tennis.

  “So, Jillian, how you been?” he asked as they sat…Jillian in Griffiths’ chair, and Naremore back where he’d been sitting.

  “I’m good. You know, I’m back on campus with ASU PD,” she said, and at the same time displayed her ID…a way of following protocol, but without calling attention to it.

  “Carolyn told me that. I’m glad cause we’ve been wanting to get you back over here.” He made a grand gesture so that ‘over here’ took in everything from Justice Studies to the ASU campus. “But now you’re here and right in the middle of this Nelda Siemens thing. Em em em.” He shook his head as if noting his disbelief or disapproval…something.

  “Yes…we’re pretty certain that Professor Siemens was murdered, and I was hoping you could help me with this.”

  “Be happy to…but I gotta ask, Jillian, how come you’re asking me about this?”

  This was a question that she’d been dreading. On the walk over to Wilson Hall, as she was passing the Social Sciences Building, she decided that this was one of those ‘less is more’ situations, and concluded that a straightforward answer was best.

  “We’ve interviewed a number of people, and seve
ral of them mentioned your name.” She had mentally practiced this answer, but was still nervous, so to hide it, she took a swig from her water bottle.

  “Oh my goodness, Jillian, do I need an alibi?”

  This made her laugh, but she was mid-swallow, which caused her to choke, spewing water like a cartoon character.

  “Sorry to choke you up,“ he laughed. “You gonna be OK?”

  The choking spell ended, and she was left smiling at him. It was a treat to hear his voice, which was melodious, but with just a hint of a Miles Davis rasp at the back.

  “No, Professor Naremore, you don’t need an alibi. I just wanted to talk with someone who could give me the scoop about opposition to the Rand Studies Center…AND about Professor Siemens.”

  “Well, I can certainly do that. Let’s see…where to begin…I supposed we should start with Marx.”

  Jillian chuckled silently, but also knew that he was serious. She remembered from his classes that Professor Naremore usually started any new segment of material with some sort of theoretical grounding.

  “I’m thinking Marx, because, as you’ll remember, the superstructure reflects the mode of production. And in this case, the relevant superstructure institution is Education.” He pronounced the word distinctly: ‘ed-u-cation.’ We are in a neo-liberal phase of late capitalism—a mode of production, economic base, if you will—so we are seeing the decline in state funding to ‘ed-u-cation.’ You know, many of us no longer refer to ASU or similar schools as state universities…we now call them state-assisted universities.”

  Jillian knew better than to interrupt once he got on a theoretic roll, just as she also knew that he’d get to the point…eventually, and that it would be worth the wait. Plus, she had to admit it…this was fun in an intellectual sort of a way. She could even recall the base/superstructure visual that he’d drawn on the board, what he called ‘an architectural metaphor,’ to help the class understand Karl Marx’s theories.

  “Translating this into policy, the state legislature has been cutting funding to ‘ed-u-cation’ for years. In recessionary times, which I guess is understandable, but even when the state is flush…doesn’t matter which. The money we ought to be getting goes to tax cuts for corporations. Which by the way does not improve the state’s economy, no matter how much the politicos claims that it does. This kind of talk is just ideological rubbish to justify the redistribution of public monies.”

  Naremore stopped to catch his breath or maybe to change gears…Jillian could almost hear them working. He must have decided where to go next because he continued. “But, it’s ideological in another way, too. Since universities have less money, they’re forced to replace the missing revenue with money from… elsewhere…often, from problematic sources. I don’t blame Davidos for chasing dollars…the dude has no option. The rub is that the money comes with strings, ideological strings. And, of course, ideology and consciousness also reflect the mode of production. So…”

  “You mean, like Rand Studies?”

  “Exactly. I can see that you are still on your game, intellectually, Jillian.” He smiled and gave her a quick applause.

  “Also like the Koch Center, and all the rest. These right-wing outfits want in the university. It gives them legitimacy—they can say ‘so-n’ so’ is an ASU prof…or a prof at some other U. So they have standing when they say the bogus stuff they say. It’s just part of the right-wing effort to make inroads into the university.”

  “You mean so that universities are not so liberal?”

  “Not so much that…actually, universities aren’t all that liberal. Professors get grants from the government and foundations—some even do research for the CIA—and usually the parameters from the funding institutions reflect the state and other powerful interests. No, this is a way for the right to control the intellectual discourse. Let me be very clear about this, Jillian…universities are under siege.” He emphasized each of these last words by slapping the back of his right hand into his left palm.

  “Man, there’s a whole genre of books about how capitalism is altering universities. From the Koch’s and the Rand’s, and including this business about the egregious indebtedness of former college students, which is because the government AND even some universities steer students to loans from private lenders…at high rates of interest. Then, after they graduate, if the students have a hard time repaying, the lenders mess with them…with help from state governments. And now, you’ve got the US Department of Ed-U-Cation doing its best to undermine any attempt to forgive any of the indebtedness…even when they owe private degree mills that have gone under.”

  Jillian leaned forward to ask something, but he kept talking. “Except in the U.K. There’s a group led by scholars at Oxford that are fighting back, and with some success against the privatization of universities.”

  “So, don’t US professors model what’s going on in the U.K.?”

  He was quiet for a few seconds. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the power of Oxford’s place in ed-u-cation, or maybe there’s just more solidarity over there. “Whatever…when you read these books about the situation in the U.S., it’s like ‘Game Over,’ man. Maybe US administrators just aren’t willing to bite the hand that feeds them. You know, Florida State dealt with this several years ago…the Koch Brothers were on campus creating a department or center…don’t remember which…anyhow, the university tried to have it both ways, to take their money AND to exert some control over the professors who were hired. In the end, they capitulated. I guess once you drink the Kool-Aid…there’s no going back.”

  “OK, I got it, but back to Professor Siemens and the Rand Studies Center.”

  “Davidos needs money, and outfits like the Rand people are offering it. Remember, Ayn Rand wasn’t just a novelist, she was a purveyor of a very distinct, pro-capitalist ideology. I think that’s why she’s so “in” with all of the Republicans in D.C. and in some state legislatures, and of course in the corporate community. They read her drivel and love it…she gives them a justification, ideologically and ethically, for the vulture capitalism they espouse.”

  “And here at ASU?”

  “Well, the grant money was out there and several people went for it. I opposed it…so did some others in the faculty senate, but they steam-rolled right over us. Then, they had their little search, and Siemens got the nod.”

  “Some of the people we’ve interviewed said that the issue wasn’t especially Professor Siemens, as much as it was the very presence of such a program. Do you agree?”

  “Nope…it was both. Siemens was a real piece of work. Met her a couple of times. She’s smart, but she’s also the worst kind of ideologue. She’s an apologist for vulture capitalism, and she’s a racist to boot. Oh, she tries to hide it behind the usual meritocracy argument, but it the same ‘ole-same-ole’—color-blind racism. There’ve been complaints from students of color…from faculty of color, too.”

  “So, given this, you know, the feelings against her personally and also against her Center, do you think that caused someone to murder her?” As she asked, Jillian again thought of Professor Siemens’ multiple head wounds.

  “I don’t have an answer for you on that one, Jillian. But I will say this…the battle lines are being drawn. And, it’s not just universities that are under attack…it’s a lot of institutions. We’re seeing the same thing in states where there’s a move to make judicial elections more partisan. Long time ago, there was a movement—it was successful—that said politics have no place in choosing judges. But here again…law is also a part of the superstructure so it’s gonna reflect the mode of production. And one way to maintain corporatist-friendly laws is to elect judges who’ll uphold them. So, with the ascendency of the right, there’s a move to list the political affiliation of judges so that PACs can target the ones they don’t like, get them defeated, and replace them with their lackeys.

  Jillian was frustrated
because Professor Naremore wasn’t answering her questions. She didn’t know if he was just holding forth—which he often did—or was dodging her questions. But, from experience, she knew she could get him back on point. It just might take a while.

  “Is this what you’re working on now…judicial elections?”

  “No, I’m still into regulation. I’m finishing-up a book that I’m calling, Corporate Crime Redux: Deregulation, Criminality and the Great Recession of 2008. It’s a sequel to my Enron book.” He smiled, either happy about the working title or about calling it a sequel. “The project here is to show how laws and regulations that were enacted to protect us after the great depression were eroded…and how this deregulation facilitated the great recession that started in 2008.”

  “How’s it coming?”

  “It’s coming. I’m in a writing support group…some colleagues in Justice Studies, some in Women and Gender Studies—you know, Jillian, ‘it takes a village.’ Anyway, I’ve finished a good draft of the book and I’m into revisions now.”

  “Do you have a publisher?” Jillian had learned as a grad student to think about such matters.

  “Well, NYU Press has expressed some interest. They published my Enron book in their Alternative Crim Series. We’ll see.”

  Jillian posed her next question as carefully as possible. “So, given your work and also how you’ve described Professor Siemens’ views, I assume that she would really be opposed to your perspective. You said you’d met her…did you guys ever have any…run-ins?”

  Jillian could see him tense-up. He stared, not so much at her as off to her side. Then he refocused his attention on her. “We definitely had run-ins…so let me tell you about some in print. OK, I’d written an article that attacked the deregulatory movement, and I drew what-was-to-me the obvious link between deregulatory efforts, right-wing think tanks, and the growing presence of these organizations in academe. Siemens retaliated with a paper that appeared in an edited volume published by some right-wing press…including the claim that universities are anti-business. Except, what made this paper different from her usual screed was that it contained an ad hominem attack...on me.”