In 2004, I was hired for the first time as an expert witness in a hazing death. Based on my experience advising fraternities and sororities, along with my research on these groups and career as an emerging leader in academia, the legal team thought I had expertise that would complement their legal training.
That case proved to be just the beginning. Over the ensuing decades, I have worked over two dozen hazing cases and been asked to work on another two dozen. I worked on the tragic case of two women who died pledging Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority in the early 2000s, and the high-profile death of a band drum major at Florida A&M University in 2011.
When the news of 20-year-old Southern University and A&M College student Caleb Wilson’s death was first reported at the end of February, my instincts were activated.
After a while, you start to see patterns develop. I look for artifacts that show these patterns, aided now by social media’s historical record. I closely examine depositions. And I look at the ages of the accused.
When the news of 20-year-old Southern University and A&M College student Caleb Wilson’s death was first reported at the end of February, my instincts were activated. According to reports, the young man was pledging Omega Psi Phi fraternity, but ended up dumped at a nearby hospital by a group of men who claimed he had been injured playing basketball. Staff at the hospital called the police, who later told reporters Wilson died “as a direct result of a hazing incident where he was punched in the chest multiple times.”
The circumstances reminded me of the 1994 death of Michael Davis at Southeast Missouri State. His Kappa Alpha Psi “brothers” only called 911 the next morning, when they found him unresponsive with a greenish black liquid coming from his mouth. The official story, which quickly fell apart, was that Davis had been hurt playing football. In reality, Davis had been brutally beaten to death.
The first person arrested in Caleb Wilson’s case, an undergraduate student, was listed as 23. Several days later, a 25-year-old student was also arrested. The final suspect is a 28-year-old graduate student who, according to reports, served as Wilson’s dean of pledges.
I was not surprised. Rather, this awful tragedy reaffirms for me a consistent problem in Black Greek-lettered undergraduate organizations. I worked a hazing case in 2006 in which a young man almost died after drinking excessive amounts of water. The ringleader in that tragedy was 28 years old. And the whole time I was thinking, “Why is this guy even involved in an undergraduate activity?” Indeed, I’ve examined several years of cases where at least one of the suspects arrested was in the 24- to 30-year-old range. I call these individuals “extended adolescents,” and they pose a particularly alarming risk to college campus safety.
In Wilson’s case, it seems two of the suspects were still undergraduate students. But I’ve often found extended adolescents to be graduated undergraduates or grad students, unemployed or underemployed. They are extending their adolescence through their presence on campus.
This group has become a serious problem for Black fraternities and sororities. They are often invisible. They may be too old to be in the undergraduate chapter, and the official leaders of the organizations may not know them. They have not matured enough to engage with their adult peers and instead cling to their “old head” status and seek the respect of younger students.
They remind me of Peter Pan, the boy who wouldn’t grow up, leading their lost boy pledges down a potentially deadly path.
Campus leaders, chapter advisors and national organizations must often and openly signal that extended adolescents have no place leading, officially or unofficially, undergraduate chapters. Their presence on campus is a warning signal. Administrators ignore it at their peril.
Higher education must also work with high schools and middle schools to begin routine anti-hazing campaigns all year round. And despite the many horror stories, many high school students come to college having already experienced hazing. Schools should partner with groups like the Ad Council to make sure anti-hazing messages are as routine as warnings about drugs and alcohol.
On Friday, Caleb Wilson will be honored on the Southern University campus with a celebration of life. “He was a bright light in Jaguar Nation, a dedicated scholar, and a proud member of the world-renowned Human Jukebox,” school Chancellor John K. Pierre said in a statement. “Caleb Wilson’s kindness, passion, and unwavering spirit left a lasting impact on all who had the privilege of knowing him. As we mourn this tremendous loss, we also come together to celebrate his life and legacy with his family.”
Wilson’s friends and family will also likely be wondering what justice looks like in this case. Louisiana has one of the toughest hazing laws in the nation, a change enacted after the hazing death of a young man named Max Gruver in 2017. That means that if found guilty, the suspects in Wilson’s killing will likely be punished to the maximum extent possible. They should become the new poster boys for what happens when these rituals turn deadly.
We still do not have all the facts in Wilson’s case, but what we do know still feels all too familiar. At an anti-hazing presentation I gave in 2011, this appeared on a slide: “If these people (extended adolescents) are at sessions, you are in danger — they kill people.” Almost 15 years later, I fear that statement is unfortunately still true.
