Page 118 of Wild Escape

I asked her several more questions and had her repeat everything she told me a few times to check consistency.

Her story never changed once.

"I need to know everybody who was with you on the boat the night that Cheyenne drowned.”

Once Lauren started talking, she didn't stop. She kept telling me more and more information. I had plenty enough to make arrests. With her sworn affidavit, I had a warrant in no time.

60

With a warrant in hand, we stormed the Theta house.

Let me tell you, there were a lot of terrified faces.

It took some doing, but the girls finally told us which room was Rachel's. We searched the place and confiscated her laptop, tablet, and other devices.

Rachel was still in the hospital in a coma.

Lauren had told me the password to Rachel's laptop and her cell phone. I sat at Rachel’s desk in her bedroom and accessed the device, then searched for the abusive videos.

Lauren had told me what directory they would be in. They were all in a folder named Study Guides. Meticulously arranged and chronicled, subfolders sorted everything by incoming pledge class and date. Within those subfolders, each file was labeled with the participant’s name and the date of occurrence.

Rachel was pretty OCD about this kind of thing. Her room was organized to perfection. Everything in its place. It was quaint and cozy, with pastel walls and homey appointments. There was a large flatscreen display, plenty of jewelry, and a wardrobe beyond the means of most college students.

I clicked on a random folder and viewed one of the video clips. Indeed, it contained an explicit act between an older gentleman and a young coed who was blindfolded and tied to the bed. Many of these encounters had happened here at the sorority house. There were some videos that had been taken in a hotel room or some other place. The potential new members were forced to set up hidden cameras to capture the events. The scope of it was mind-boggling.

The text chain between Rachel and Jenna was damning.

The two had coordinated the whole endeavor. There was a clear electronic trail.

Deputies arrested Kendall.

Somebody must have called Jenna because she showed up at the sorority house. In a blustery voice, she asked, "What is going on here?"

"Jenna Miller, you're under arrest for human trafficking, compelling prostitution, extortion, blackmail, and a host of other felonies. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

The girls shrieked with horror and looked on with slack jaws.

"I’ve done no such thing,” Jenna said, puffing up. “Where are you getting your information from?”

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back. You're under arrest. If you fail to do so, you will be resisting. You don't want to resist."

Jenna cringed and swallowed hard. She complied, and I ratcheted the cuffs around her wrists.

"You have the right to remain silent…”

I escorted her out of the house and stuffed her into the back of a patrol car.

Deputies bagged and tagged the evidence. We returned to the station, logged everything in, and I filled out an after-action report.

After Jenna had time to stew in the interrogation room, I took a seat across from her. Those tawny eyes blazed into me.

"I'm not sure how you could think I had some involvement in something like this," she said, like the notion was absurd.

"Save it. I’ve seen the videos and read the texts between you and Rachel.”

"I want a lawyer."

I shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's not going to do you any good. Not with the evidence we have."