No Right to Remain Silent



No Right to Remain Silent: The Tragedy at Virginia Tech
by Lucinda Roy. New York: Harmony Books, 2009.

Reviewed by Ted Odenwald

tedodenwaldvatechinside The massacre of 32 members of the Virginia Tech campus community on April 16, 2007 is one of the greatest tragedies in the history of American education. Dr. Lucinda Roy, an English professor at the university, gives a chilling account of the events of that horrific day, the events leading up to it, and the fallout. Her account is filled with compassion for the victims and their families as well as for the entire “Hokie” community—all devastated by the brutal actions of Seung-Hui Cho, the shooter.
Dr. Roy’s book is a loud cry, intended to break through the strange recurrent silence that has engulfed the tragedy. For years silence had been a primary weapon used by Cho, reflecting his inability to deal with the world around him. He had been diagnosed as using “mutism,” a willful withdrawal into an angry, sometimes sinister silence—a refusal to communicate. This behavior, though apparently treated by professionals, carried over into his life at Virginia Tech, where he frequently isolated himself from his peers. In meetings with faculty members, he spoke barely above a whisper. While the mutism was not necessarily an indication of the extreme behavior that was to follow, it was a warning that the student needed special attention; but no warning was issued upon his acceptance to the University.
About 18 months before the shooting, as Chairperson of the English Department, Dr. Roy was proactive in dealing with Cho, who had caused discomfort for another teacher and classmates with his bizarre behavior and writings in poetry class. Knowing that the administration would not allow a student to be forced from a class—rather the instructor was expected to control unusual behavior, remaining silent about disturbances—Dr. Roy voluntarily worked one-on-one for months with him. She describes how she led Cho through a number of exercises in poetry, including a creative piece in which he described himself in terms reflecting his isolation, depression, and anger. Repeatedly Dr. Roy asked this troubled student to seek assistance in the university’s counseling center, and repeatedly she attempted to alert workers within the center that there was a student who appeared to be greatly troubled. But university policy concerning rights to privacy prevented anyone from taking action until the student himself broke his silence and sought help.
Shortly after the shootings, Dr. Roy appeared in a long interview with the news media, presenting what she knew about the shooter and what she knew about his history at Virginia Tech. She had not sought media attention; the media had sought her. Nevertheless, her speaking out was apparently viewed as a breach of protocol. The school’s administration appeared nervous; it was under fire because of its failure to react immediately to the first two killings, which occurred in a dormitory several minutes before the mass shooting, and it was obviously embarrassed that it had harbored a severely disturbed individual within its community. The administration appears to have ordered a “battening down of the hatches,” a silencing of all members of the faculty and staff except for official spokespersons. Dr. Roy suggests that she became an outcast because of her having broken an order before it had actually been issued either directly or indirectly.
Even during the proceedings of the Governor’s Panel to investigate the massacre, Dr. Roy was chagrined to find that her school maintained a wall of silence about many key issues, relying upon the right to privacy as justification for this policy. Court orders eventually broke through that wall, but still key issues remained unspoken. For example, there were no records available regarding Cho’s alleged counseling sessions at the university center. The records were missing. In fact, just a few weeks ago, in response to a court order, the former head of the center searched for and discovered Cho’s file in his home.
Dr. Roy hopes that her book will help to prevent another tragedy. Not intending to affix responsibility, she asks that the school—all schools—look at their policies for identifying individuals who pose a risk to themselves and to their peers. She calls for an openness in terms of the individual student backgrounds. Certainly, there were many warning signs in Cho’s youth that should have been addressed by Admissions and at the very least directed toward a proactive counseling service. She calls for direct communication between faculty and counseling services, so that early action could be taken in the case of a student at risk.
Dr. Roy wondered if Cho had received any treatment at the counseling center. The recent release of files does not reveal that his situation or condition was considered to be potentially dangerous. This conclusion corroborates Dr. Roy’s suspicion that any chance that the center had to assist the student had been hampered by the administration’s narrow interpretation of privacy laws. But rather than blame, Dr. Roy begs that the system listen to teachers and students who express concern about an individual’s abnormal behavior; she seeks easier access to records that could hold keys to dangerous behavior. She advocates more proactive involvement by university faculties and administration to intervene in potentially critical cases.
If in fact attempts were made to Dr. Roy, these were directed at the wrong person; she is a courageous, dedicated, educator who believes that remaining silent is a great wrong that will leave the door open for future tragedies. Her pain at having witnessed a stage in the deterioration of young person, her frustration at having her many warnings concerning that student’s behavior go unheeded, and her anger at being treated as a pariah for speaking out –all of these feelings give this book great power.
tedTed Odenwald and his wife, Shirley have lived in Oakland for 39 years. He taught HS English at Glen Rock High School for all of those years plus one more. Now he is enjoying time spent with his family, singing in the North Jersey Chorus and quenching his wanderlust. Ted is also the Worship Leader at the Ramapo Valley Baptist Church in Oakland.