Editor’s note: In October, Deantrious Mitchell, a sophomore in computer science, told police he was beaten up and cut by about eight white individuals near Clyde Williams Field while he was working as a student security officer. After weeks of intense investigation by local authorities and the FBI, Mitchell admitted that he fabricated the incident. He pleaded guilty to misdemeanor charges of filing a false report and received 100 hours of community service. This is the first time he has spoken to the media since his arrest.

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On the surface, Deantrious Mitchell is an average Iowa State student.

To sit in his dorm room, smelling the familiar Friley Hall scent, one wouldn’t readily know that he was the subject of a racial beating that never happened last semester, the victim turn suspect.

His is a quiet existence. He’s shy. He has no visible scars on his face, no remainders of the cuts he gave himself.

“Everything’s back to normal for me. I really didn’t get much visitors anyway … my work keeps me busy. I speak to my girlfriend quite often, also, but she’s also busy,” he said.

His real story lies in the questions that Mitchell won’t answer. “Tell you this much right now, if you ask me about what I think about the thing that’s going on with The September 29th Movement today: No comment.”

Did he lie about being beaten and cut in a late-at-night racial attack? He says, “Yes,” with a shrug, then, “I guess so.”

The “why” is still unclear. He won’t say.

Just a few short months ago the campus was alive with the buzz of Mitchell’s name. After the dust settled, once the truth came out, some said he was sick. They feared for his safety.

Many were less forgiving.

Either way, Loras Jaeger, director of the Department of Public Safety, said the ISU community can learn some powerful lessons from the fabricated racial beating.

“We, as a university, and part of the Ames community, need to come together more, and develop a sense of community. [We] must be more open to different viewpoints, different ethnic backgrounds and lifestyles if we are, in fact, serious about diversity,” he said.

Jaeger had an example.

“Green Bay [Wis.]. minority [football] players felt welcome in Green Bay. I wish we had that here.”

Kind of quiet

To say the incidents of the past semester are no longer consequential for Mitchell would be a lie. But he would only comment about the little things, the things he said other people did wrong, like some of the facts.

“I grew up in the suburbs of Minneapolis … I kept trying to tell people I don’t live in Waterloo. My mom doesn’t even live there anymore, but they chose not to believe me.”

Mitchell is listed in the ISU phone book as a sophomore in computer science from Waterloo. That’s what was printed in newspaper accounts of his story.

But his media gripes don’t stop there.

“They got what I said, and they turned everything around to make it sound like something else. You realize they only print what they want to print.”

Initial support

ISU President Martin Jischke was among the principal players, one of the many who stood behind Mitchell when he was still believed.

“I was worried about him when it first happened. I was very concerned. I wanted to personally make sure that he was all right. I tried to find out how he was doing. I tried to invite him to come visit. I tried to find out if I could come visit him — that never happened. Initially, I was very, very, concerned. The reports that were in the paper were essentially the reports I was getting, and I was just absolutely shocked and horrified by what had been reported.

Jischke said the tension during the investigation would be hard to match.

“I think at the time it happened it created a level of tension and distress within the university community, generally, and quite specifically, within the community of African-America students. That, I think, is quite regrettable. I wish that part of it hadn’t happened at all. Overwhelmingly it is a sense of sadness for a person that clearly needs some help.”

It isn’t known if Mitchell is receiving the help those involved seem to believe he needs. University policy strictly prevents the release of that information without permission. And Mitchell isn’t talking.

Forgotten?

Mitchell’s story is beginning to fade — for some.

“People didn’t seem to care about him anymore,” said Leonard Bell, a resident assistant in Westgate Hall, and a friend of Mitchell’s. “It seems like they used him for a rallying point. I thought it was exploitation. [Afterward] people acted like he let them down, not as if he needed help.”

But some are still bitter. Some say Mitchell owes something he has yet to offer. He’s never said he’s sorry.

In a physical education course, Mitchell said a group of men stood next to him one day, not knowing who he was, and discussed how he should be “beaten up.”

Jischke doesn’t share that view. He simply said he’s glad Mitchell’s story was fiction. “As sad as I felt, and still feel for Mr. Mitchell, there is a sense of relief that it didn’t happen.”

And as the weather warms, and snow melts, many Iowa State students are continuing on as they did last semester — attending classes, studying at the library. And for the first time in a long time, Mitchell is doing the same. He has a new job, 17 credits and relative silence.