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Leaked Cornell 7 Defendant Testimony

Armageddon Prose's Photo
by Armageddon Prose
Friday, Oct 09, 2026 - 11:31

Originally published via Armageddon Prose:

Leaked court filings, obtained exclusively by Armageddon Prose, shed new light on the dark events on that October 2024 night at the Chi Phi frat house. What follows is an excerpt from a recent deposition of Defendant #3:

In the early morning of October 20, 2024, at approximately 1:15 a.m., through the “fog of the K-hole [Defendant #3] had fallen into,” [Defendant #3] could make out the “silhouette of a hulking figure” who had appeared in his doorway.

“Who’s there?” [Defendant #3] called out.

“I think you know, my little pork dumpling,” [Defendant #3] recalls [Jane Doe] answering.

“Please, I’m tired,” [Defendant #3] replied.

“It’s time,” [Jane Doe] said, according to [Defendant #3].

“What do you want?” [Defendant #3] gasped, looking for any hope of escape as [Jane Doe] blocked the only exit.

“I’m in no mood to be toyed with, you surly little gook. You know exactly what I’m here for,” [Jane Doe’s] booming voice called out from the doorway, “a full octave at least below [Defendant #3’s].”

“No, what… please, I’m scared… I don’t know what you want,” [Defendant #3’s]

“Don’t you pull your ‘confused Chinaman’ routine with me. Jing jong jing jong, oh, me no speaky Engrish,“ [Jane Doe] continued in a mock Asian accent.

At this time, [Defendant #3] reported that a “sadistic smile” had grown on her face.

“You see these pythons?” [Jane Doe] asked, flexing the silhouette of her “considerable biceps” “through the darkness of the moonlit night.” “Do you want these mommies around your throat?”

“No, please,” [Defendant #3] protested, utterly confused.

“Then whip it out!”

“Whip what out? Please…”

“The key and that little egg-roll you’re smuggling underneath those tightey-whiteys,” [Jane Doe] demanded. “It’s clobbering time!”

The door then closed as [Jane Doe] advanced on [Defendant #3] — “slowly, methodically, menacingly” — as he lay prone in the bed, still at this time “struggling to come to terms with reality through the mists of the K-hole.”

Slowly, [Defendant #3] claims, [Jane Doe’s] red hair came into focus in the pale moonlight, along with her “bloodshot red eyes.”

“Petrified in terror,” [Defendant #3] could make out several items dangling from a utility belt around her waist — a truncheon, a cattle prod, and zip ties.

“It’s a full moon out,” [Defendant #3] recalls [Jane Doe] saying as she let out a “howl” that “shook [Defendant #3] to his core.”

At this time, [Defendant #3] reports sobbing quietly as he sprinkled a line of the “key [ketamine] onto his flaccid member.”

“Get it harder, you little pussy!” [Defendant #3] recalls [Jane Doe] yelling as he struggled to achieve a full erection.

At one point during the encounter, [Jane Doe], after ingesting a line of ketamine off of [Defendant #3’s] penis, “apropos of nothing,” suddenly exclaimed “This is Sparta!,” apparently a reference to the film 300, and then delivered a front kick to [Defendant #3’s] abdomen, triggering “immense pain” and sending him into “a brief period of unconsciousness.”

When [Defendant #3] came to, [Jane Doe’s] demeanor had abruptly changed, and she apologized for what she described as a “minor sperg-out.”

“It happens sometimes,” [Jane Doe] explained. “Especially since I’m on the gear. Just wild mood swings.”

“But you know I love my little fortune cookie,” [Jane Doe] added, in apparent to [Defendant #3].

After a brief period of silence, [Jane Doe] told [Defendant #3] that “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Please no more surprises,” pleaded [Defendant #3]

“Somebody’s hungry,” [Jane Doe] said.

“Please no,” said [Defendant #3] again. ([Defendant #3] reports using this phrase multiple times during this interaction.)

“Do you know who’s hungry?” [Jane Doe] asked.

“Please, no,” [Defendant #3] reiterated.

“Black Daddy is hungry,” [Jane Doe] said, brandishing the truncheon and “waving it menacingly” at [Defendant #3].

[Defendant #3] then describes entering a “dissociative state” and an “out-of-body experience” in which he watched [Jane Doe] sodomize him with the truncheon in various positions.

[Defendant #3] doesn’t recall more from that moment, except that at one stage in the sodomization [Jane Doe] demanded that he “lick that sweat off my veiny pythons while I peg you, you dirty pig,” in apparent reference to her arms.

What [Defendant #3] describes as “probably several minutes later,” he regained his sense of self in a pool of his own sweat, urine, blood, and vomit.

[Defendant #3’s] final recollection that evening was of [Jane Doe] assuming several bodybuilding poses,” “flexing her engorged muscles over his limp body,” just before [Jane Doe] “disappeared into the night almost as quickly as she had come.”

[Defendant #3] fell back into slumber, “totally exhausted and confused.”

When [Defendant #3] awoke the following morning at approximately 10:45 a.m., he texted [Jane Doe]: “What happened? I’m so sore. I think you punctured my lung. There’s blood everywhere. I’m leaking.”

“At the end of the day, none of the sexual stuff was illegal,” [Jane Doe] texted back, followed by a heart emoji.

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Benjamin Bartee, author of Broken English Teacher: Notes From Exile (now available in paperback), is an independent Bangkok-based American journalist with opposable thumbs.

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