Free The Professor by Robert Bailey Page A

before him, twisting his head in confusion.
    “Professor,” the man said, his voice lacking its usual joviality.
    “Jamo?”
    “Members of the board,” Dean Lambert said, walking over and grasping Jameson’s hand. “I trust you have all met the university’s new attorney, Jameson Tyler.”
    Tom kept his eyes on Jameson, who continued to stare back at Tom despite shaking the dean’s hand. Jameson put his hand out for Tom to shake, but Tom didn’t move.
    “What are you doing here?” Tom asked, his voice a low growl.
    “Like I told you yesterday, I had to be up here anyway for a couple of meetings ,and this is one of them,” Jameson said, slapping Tom on the arm and walking down the table, squeezing shoulders, shaking hands, and kissing the lone female board member, Barbara Bostic, on the cheek before joining the dean at the head of the table.
    “Well, it’s good to see everyone,” Jameson said. “Now please sit down.”
    Everyone did as they were told but Tom. He continued to stand bolt upright and glared at his friend.
    “Please, Professor, sit down.”
    “As I told the dean, I’d prefer to stand.”
    Jameson didn’t blink or show any outward emotion. He crossed his legs and gazed back at Tom. “OK, Professor. Let’s get on with this.”
    “I’d like that very much,” Tom said. What in the hell is going on? Why didn’t he mention this yesterday?
    “The board,” Jameson began, looking around the room and then back at Tom, “per my recommendation, has decided to reprimand you for the incident involving trial team member Rick Drake. The board, along with thousands of other people, has watched the video of your altercation with Drake and finds that you acted inappropriately when you grabbed his arm and jerked him around.”
    Tom again felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He couldn’t believe it.
    “As a result of the incident with Drake and another, more personal matter, the board has decided to put a reprimand in your personnel file and has chosen to allow you to remain on the faculty only if you will agree to work under certain conditions.”
    Tom remained silent. He would hear it all before he commented.
    “Condition number one,” Jameson continued. “You will work under a zero tolerance policy. One more incident in any way similar to the Rick Drake altercation and you will be terminated immediately.” Jameson paused, looking at Tom, who glared back.
    “Condition number two. You will be supervised by another member of the faculty during your classes and during trial team practices and tournaments. Bill Stewart, the other Evidence professor, has volunteered for the job, and he will begin his surveillance effective tomorrow.”
    Tom almost laughed. He and Bill Stewart had a hate-hate relationship, which Jameson knew because Tom had told him. So much, I’ve told him . . .
    “Condition three. You will sign the apology that Dean Lambert provided you on Monday and tender it to this board before we leave this meeting today.” Jameson paused. “The board met last night to discuss this plan and it passed by majority vote. If you do not agree to work under these conditions, then it will have no choice but to terminate you.”
    “Last night?” Tom asked, his voice incredulous. The words felt like acid on his tongue. “ Before or after you judged our mock trial?”
    Jameson poured himself a glass of water and took a sip, not answering the question. The board members sat stoically in their seats. Tom ran his eyes down the table, and only one of them met his gaze. William Rufus Cole. The oldest member of the board looked at him with sad, angry eyes and slowly stood.
    “There’s something I want to say,” Rufus said, his voice gruff.
    Jameson smiled. “By all means, Rufus.”
    “I think the Professor is entitled to know that not everyone here agrees with this decision.” Rufus Cole paused and cleared his throat. “The vote of the board was five to four. I was one of the four. It should