We respond as backup to an officer from the Madison Police Department. We find the girl lying in some overgrown brush near Dayton Street. She looks terrible. Her friends left her. The guys she met at the house party just canââ?¬â?¢t handle her anymore. They look afraid. Neither guy knows who she is. When asked her last name, she incessantly tries to spell the name of her dormââ?¬â?spelling it S-e-l-e-e-e-r-i. Her head leans back. Gazing at the stars vapidly, her mirth turns to sorrow. Her eyes look lifeless. She smiles. Succumbing to some unseen, but tacitly understood, pain she lurches forward. Only her wavering arms keep her from kissing dirt.
Office of Strategic Communication