I have a story to tell about Mark Judge, Georgetown Prep, and Brett Kavanaugh, but it might not be the one you want to hear.
It also might be too late. The horses have left the barn; the votes are all but counted; the Great Betrayal looms. Where are the men who might have stopped it, the boys I knew at Prep who never would have let this pass? You know who you are. You have sons and daughters, wives and lovers. You went to Prep for longer than I did and knew Brett better than I did. Maybe you don’t think he did what Christine says he did. I can respect that. But you were educated by Jesuits too. How could you not stand up, or quietly put in a call to Brett and lend him encouragement? Just a call: “Brett, wait a minute. You’re my friend. I believe you. But we need to look at this. We need to address it. Publicly, honestly, and slowly.” Friends don’t let friends hedge their way onto the highest court in the land.
I attended Prep from the fall of 1980 through the spring of 1982. Brett Kavanaugh and Mark Judge were one year above me, but I had overlapped with Kavanaugh in junior high; and because Judge and I lived in the same neighborhood, we carpooled to Prep for a year or two. They were both popular boys, and I remember them each with that mixture of fear and fondness that only a 14-year-old boy can feel toward well-liked upperclassmen. There is no question in my mind that Christine Blasey Ford is telling the truth.
I believe her not because I know attacks like the one she describes were regularly happening (I don’t and, for the record, I do not know what happened at the party described by Dr. Ford), or because I have some inside knowledge that Brett Kavanaugh was a sexual assailant (I don’t), or because Prep promoted a culture of drunkenness (it didn’t, though some students did drink and party to excess). Prep was a remarkable school, attended by kind boys, run by good teachers, supported by caring parents. For most of us, the drinking and partying were kept in check by sports, school plays, and studies. But I remember Brett, and Mark even more so, and I am convinced that Dr. Ford is telling the truth because of a very specific detail she shared about the night in question.
Dr. Ford puts Mark Judge in the room. She says he was there, watching, giggling, shouting, until he finally jumped on top of Brett and they all rolled off the bed—allowing Christine room to escape. In her testimony she said that she kept looking over at Judge, hoping he would help: “Mark seemed ambivalent, at times urging Brett on and at times telling him to stop. A couple of times, I made eye contact with Mark and thought he might try to help me, but he did not.” And then she notes that he jumped on the bed twice, the last time toppling them over and allowing her to escape. That’s why I believe her.