Rotten to the Corps: A Question of Justice at Texas A&M

The drinking continued at The Exchange. Leah and her boyfriend, Reid Ashton, argued in her bedroom. Zach sat in a love seat and slipped on a pair of Leah's sunglasses. Katherine stepped outside to make a phone call.

About 3 a.m., Eddie Helle and his friend Steven Ramirez, both members of the Corps of Cadets, arrived at the apartment. Eddie grabbed a bar stool and sat down.

"Why are you wearing girls' sunglasses," he asked Zach. "Are you gay?"

Zach said no.

"Well, remind me not to sit next to you," Eddie said.

"Okay, that's cool."

"Are you sure you're not gay?"

"Hey man, I don't think you really know me," Zach said.

The mood in the apartment had turned tense, and Katherine grabbed her brother and took him outside. Eddie came back and told Steven they should leave.

Zach stood from the love seat. "I think that would be a real good idea," he said.

Eddie rushed Zach and a fight started. Punches were thrown and the two men grappled, slamming against a wall. A clock fell and smashed on the carpet. Katherine grabbed at Eddie and Zach but was thrown to the ground. The men tumbled and landed between the love seat and a coffee table­.

Steven lifted Zach and pinned him prostrate on the couch. Zach struggled to free himself, rubbing the skin from his elbows and forearms. Eddie hit Zach until he screamed. The left side of his face caved in.

"Chill the fuck out!" Zach yelled. "Look at my fucking face!"

Leah and Katherine pleaded for the men to stop. Eddie stepped back, then Steven. Blood covered the love seat. Eddie and Steven walked out the front door and headed back to the Corps dormitory.

Zach was taken to the emergency room at the College Station Medical Center. He had a concussion, a broken nose and "blowout" of the bones that held his left eyeball in place.

John Corcoran, Zach's father, received the call several hours later. He raced to College Station from Corpus Christi to find Zach at a friend's home. Zach was unconscious, and almost unrecognizable to his father.

John Corcoran stayed with Zach in College Station for more than a week while he recovered. Trisha Corcoran, Zach's mother, joined the family as well. One day, they talked while Zach rested in bed. His father asked, "What do you want us to do?"

"If anything, I don't want those guys to ever wear a ring from A&M," Zach said.

John understood. He attended A&M and had been a member of the Corps. He had sent all three of his sons to College Station. He wore his own Aggie ring with pride.

Those feelings have changed.

Two years have passed since the fight and the Corcorans feel they have seen no justice from Texas A&M University or the Brazos County criminal justice system. They have received few answers as to why Helle and Ramirez have walked away from two prosecutions with no punishment.

John Corcoran believes the two cadets have been protected by the university and the "Aggie network" that he says runs the justice system in Bryan and College Station. He now hopes to find any answers as to why the truth has been hidden from his family.

Zach has little faith any answers will come. He says it hurts to see the way his father has nearly fallen apart since the fight. Zach never believed in "the system" or in justice. He knows the way power and influence works, he says, and in College Station, the Corps rules.

"They protect their own," Zach says. "That's okay, but not against civilians. The enemy, sure, but not against a damn college student."
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Early in his career, as a young oil and gas driller, John Corcoran was riding through New Mexico in a rental car with several potential business partners on a scouting trip for well sites. One of the men in the backseat, who was from New Mexico, knew that John Corcoran and the driver were recent grads from Texas A&M. He decided to break the ice with an Aggie joke.

The driver responded, "You know what's bruised and bloody and dumped on the side of the road? The next son of a bitch in this car who tells an Aggie joke."

No one laughed, and John understood. He had spent six years at Texas A&M and four years in the Corps. He rose to the rank of commanding officer of a battalion. He was named to the Ross Volunteers, a unit that acts as honor guard for the governor of Texas. He also served on the Ross Volunteers Firing Squad, a high honor in the Corps of Cadets.

"When I was there, that was a big deal," John says.

Now John has a comfortable life in Corpus Christi. He keeps a large corner office on the 20th floor of the Wells Fargo building in downtown, where he likes to watch storms develop and roll across the bay.

He built his oil and gas company into a success, buying land and drilling, waging on which wells would pay big.

As John raised his family and built his business, Texas A&M was always at the forefront. He relied on a large network of other A&M grads he met while earning two degrees in the petroleum engineering department. He took his three sons to numerous A&M football games, eventually buying season tickets in the end zone. John named the family dog "Aggie."

Three decades after John Corcoran left A&M, Zach, John's middle son, prepared for college. There was only one choice for Zach.

"Growing up, I remember my dad always had on his A&M ring," Zach says. "I always thought, 'I'm going to have one of those one day.' I thought that was the coolest thing."

But Zach never wanted to follow his father and join the Corps. When John Corcoran went to A&M, the Corps had a membership of about 6,000. When Zach entered the university in 2002, the numbers had dropped to about 2,000, despite a total student enrollment that had swelled to more than 40,000. Today, Corps membership remains around 1,800.

"On campus, people perceive the Corps as an easy way to get in the school," Zach says. "They're not respected, in that sense."

Colonel Rick Mallahan, a retired Air Force officer, has held one of the top positions in the Corps for the last seven years. Mallahan says that recruiting has become a challenge, and the group has made an effort to style itself into a student organization, rather than a military ­operation.

"Most freshmen, we'll take them," Mallahan says. "Our biggest challenge is getting them accepted into the university."

Students with relatives who were in the Corps account for about half of the group's membership. A large number of cadets also come from high school ROTC programs, Future Farmers of America or 4-H programs.

The Corps still has strong military roots. Juniors and seniors are eligible to sign a contract with any branch of the military, and, upon graduation, will enter as officers. About 40 percent of cadets currently in the Corps have signed military contracts.

According to Mallahan, the Corps loses about 100 cadets each year for academic reasons, but he says discipline is rarely a ­problem.

"Our standards mirror the university. Same rules apply, same sanctions apply," Mallahan says. "If you fight, you'll be in trouble."

The biggest trouble for the Corps has been hazing. About ten years ago, the Fish Drill Team, a competitive drill unit within the Corps, was banned from the university after students reported being hazed to the point of assault.

One student was forced to do push-ups while older cadets smashed his hands with a rifle. Other Drill Team members had their faces rubbed with abrasive pads and their lips twisted hard enough to draw blood. One student was given a knife and told to cut himself.

In 2003, 77 cadets who were members of the Parsons Mounted Cavalry were accused of hazing and expelled from A&M. That decision was later overturned when six of the cadets sued the university, arguing that the school's disciplinary hearings violated their legal rights.

The county attorney refused to file any criminal charges against the cadets, and a district judge ordered the university to reverse its punishment, reinstate the students and pay about $350,000 in legal fees.

Hearing similar stories dampened Zach's interest in joining the Corps. He believes the fight with Helle and Ramirez was caused by aggressiveness instilled through Corps hazing rituals.

"They're going to go take it out on someone else, because they can't go take it out on someone inside the Corps," Zach says. "You hurt your own, then you're in trouble."
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The investigation into the fight began almost immediately. John Corcoran received a call from Carol Binzer, the Dean of Student Life, informing him that the university would look into assault charges against Helle and Ramirez.

That was big news to John. Since the fight occurred at an off-campus apartment, the university didn't have an obligation to do anything. But Binzer decided that the fight warranted an investigation.

John brought his neighbor and attorney, David Bonilla, to College Station to represent Zach. John also contacted Lane Thibodeaux, a criminal attorney in College Station, for advice.

Thibo­deaux told him not to expect anything from the university, especially considering the case involved the Corps.

When Helle and Ramirez received word they would be investigated, they hired attorney Jody Mask.

Mask is a 1996 graduate of Texas A&M and former member of the Corps. He served in the Parsons Mounted Cavalry and worked on the Aggie Bonfire during his junior and senior years.

Mask later attended law school at the University of Houston, and he is still active in the A&M community. He often speaks to groups of cadets' parents, and he once was the keynote speaker at an event at Kyle Field.

Mask refused to allow his clients to discuss the case with the Houston Press.

"Not that my clients have anything to hide," Mask says. "They suffered too. My boys have suffered like you would not believe."

According to Mask, both Helle and Ramirez lost weight and allowed their grades to drop after the fight. They endured constant anxiety, Mask says, from the fear of criminal prosecution and punishment from the university.

The hearings started several months after the fight. The university was represented by several faculty and staff, including ­Mallahan.

During the hearings, Helle and Zach each argued that the other threw the first punch. Both testified that they tried to defuse the situation and stop the fight before it ­happened.

Mallahan asked Zach, "Were you starting to get aggressive to Eddie? Did you feel like you were being aggressive?"

"I'm a really laid-back person," Zach responded. "I was being very calm and I was not being aggressive."

"Especially after you drank a lot?"

"No, I'm not a mean drunk at all," Zach said. "I don't get in fights. You ask anybody about me, I'm one of somebody's most laid-back friends."

"Do you feel that Eddie was trying to engage in a fight," asked Laura Boren, a university representative.

"Exactly," Zach said. "No doubt."

Mallahan said to Helle, "It appears like you kind of did the right thing at first, but when you had the intention to leave, why did you come back?"

"Sir, I came back to get my buddy," Helle said. "That's when he made the comment, 'Yeah, y'all better leave.' I think my pride got the best of me."

Zach told the panel about the pain the fight had caused his family, and the permanent damage he sustained to his eyesight.

"And while these kids were out playing their football," Zach said, "I was stuck isolated in my bed in excruciating pain."

Helle attempted to sway the panel as well.

"I've learned that the smallest little comment may, something so small may turn into such a big deal," Helle said. "I just know that I'll never get in a situation like this again because I've just gone through so much."

The university eventually found Helle and Ramirez guilty of physical abuse, along with several other violations of school code. The Corcorans stayed on campus until the punishment for the cadets was decided.

When the hearing concluded, Boren told the Corcorans that Helle and Ramirez had been suspended from the university for one semester and kicked out of the Corps. Furthermore, Helle and Ramirez were to make an effort to pay Zach's medical bills — which had grown to nearly $60,000 — before they could return to the university. And when they were allowed back on campus, the cadets were ordered to stay 50 feet away from Zach.

John Corcoran was thrilled, and for a short time, he was confident that the university he loved had done the right thing.
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Months later, the sanctions against Helle and Ramirez disappeared.

Zach had missed the majority of the fall semester after the fight. He moved back to Corpus Christi to recover and had two surgeries to repair the bones in his face. He lost 30 percent of the movement of his eyes — permanent damage — and constantly had to wear an eye patch until another surgery could fix his double vision.

One day on campus, after Zach had returned to A&M, he saw Ramirez walking through the student recreation center. Shocked, Zach approached the cadet and asked him why he was there.

"He told me that all the sanctions against him and Helle had gone away," Zach says.

Zach called his father to tell him the news. John Corcoran had his attorney begin writing letters to the university to find out how and why the punishment had been reversed.

University officials, who had spoken to John Corcoran about the case, including Binzer and Boren, explained that they could no longer discuss anything concerning Helle or Ramirez. The main contact at A&M became Jerry Brown, a university ­attorney.

Brown only confirmed that the sanctions had been dismissed. He offered no explanation, and said that he could not discuss the case due to guidelines established by the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act, a federal law designed to protect students' privacy.