The evidence was all hearsay. The accused were not permitted to cross-examine the complaining witness. The accused were not even permitted to know the identity of the complaining witness. The Sixth Amendment and its various invocations were conspicuously absent from the hearing.

And the trial took place right here, on the University of Wisconsin campus.

There was nothing extraordinary about this Sunday afternoon proceeding — it was just another day in the world of the UW Greek system's judicial board. A fraternity was brought up on various alcohol-related charges and three students — including this writer — represented the house before a body comprised entirely of people claiming membership in other campus fraternities. A UW employee sat quietly in the background, unofficially overseeing the whole ordeal.

On this particular Sunday, no verdict would be rendered. The proceeding, after the conclusion of the formal hearing, was punted to a later date. The rules wouldn't change for that follow-up meeting, but at least a hearsay witness would be present — on this Sunday, not even that arrangement existed; the hearsay evidence was presented merely through a written report.

It is troubling to grasp the potential harms fraternities and sororities can commit on this campus. Fake IDs, drugs and hazing make for a vicious cocktail and rarely does a semester go by that a story doesn't emerge from some American university about a fraternity pledge who never lived to see his initiation day. There can be little question but that rules are needed and a judicial body is wholly necessary for the UW Greek community. But if fraternities and sororities are not to be above the law, then how can the court of judgment justify such status for itself?

It seems patently ludicrous to apply the Constitution of the United States of America to a fraternity on Langdon Street. But consider the chain of impact. The Constitution — and its various amendments — is binding on every state in the union. Wisconsin is one such state. UW is a public university and, ergo, a wing of the state. The Greek system is formally associated with the school on various levels — even if just for the right to enter floats in the homecoming parade. Proceedings were held in a university building with a school employee present.

And so it is tough to see where along the line the Sixth Amendment can be so easily discarded. But what is perhaps even tougher yet is to understand why a judicial proceeding — even if not legally bound by federal or state law — would chose to so wantonly ignore the very spirit of those laws that make this country great.

The Greek system, long before it was perceived as a haven of partying, was meant to teach leadership to young men and women. Roles on a fraternal judicial board would surely be included in this education. And so one must wonder why the UW Greek community would want so badly for its judicial rules of procedure to deviate from those that so closely govern all formidable hearings in the United States.

The entire situation is so terribly absurd as to actually rival the hyperbolic cinematic adventures of Delta Tau Chi and Faber College's own judicial board. "Animal House," of course, famously portrays a judicial proceeding that ends with a fraternity member rising, launching into a ridiculous monologue and then proclaiming "Well, you can do whatever you want to us, but we're not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth the United States of America," as he joins his cohorts in marching out of the proceeding while humming the "Star Spangled Banner."

For the characters of "Animal House," it was absurd. But by the time suggestions of due process were practically laughed away that Sunday at UW, it didn't seem quite so absurd to contemplate moving toward the door and paying my respects to Francis Scott Key.

I almost wish I had.

Mac VerStandig ([email protected]), editor in chief of The Badger Herald and a member of the UW Greek community, is a senior majoring in rhetoric.