The Chapel may grace official University promotional materials, but for a few months last spring, one building associated with Duke dominated the national imagination on a scale typically reserved for celebrity murder trials.
Broadcasters shot stand-ups on the lawn. Protesters banged pots and spoke of retribution. Supporters hung posters on its progressively decrepit façade. And every day, parents of prospective Duke students and Durham residents rubbernecked, shaking their heads as they moved on down the road.
The house-a small, white one-story at 610 North Buchanan-has stood vacant since last spring semester, when it became the symbol for the presumed guilt of three lacrosse players.
"This is now a famous house, and not in the best sense of the word. nobody really knows what to do with it at this point," says Guy Solie, president of Trinity Properties, the property management group that used to own the house.
In February 2006, the University announced its $3.7 million purchase of 12 houses and three vacant lots off of East Campus. Most of the properties were popular residential choices, passed down between generations of students who often treated these temporary homes like de facto frat houses. The decision to buy placated Durham residents who had grown frustrated with Duke students' persistent bad off-campus immaturity.
And students reacted-well, like petulant children. In editorials and conversation, they seemed to say, 'That's where we partied... How could you?'
Due to their popularity, many of the houses-including 610 N. Buchanan-had been leased years in advance.
"We have freshmen come up and say, 'I want to be in this house senior year,'" Solie says.
In accordance with property law, Duke promised it would honor any previously signed leases for this academic year. After that, Duke would refurbish the houses and sell them to owners who intended to use the property as their primary residence.
"When Duke bought the properties, we made it clear to everybody that we would honor the leases if they wanted to stay," says Arnold Sell, founder and president of Allenton Management, a group contracted by the University. "But anybody that wanted to get out, they let them out."
"There was a lease [for 610 Buchanan], but because of these circumstances, obviously they didn't want to stay there," he says.
Today, the house is still standing, but no one's home. Dried splatters of brown paint or mud are caked across the door, and the stiff yellowed remnants of masking tape still grip the siding where those posters used to hang.
"We ought to bulldoze the sucker," says one administrator. "I just don't see any value in having it there."
Spell's employees check the house every couple weeks to ensure it's still secure. Other than that, everything in the house is the same as when last year's residents evacuated.
"It's in everybody's best interest that until the case is resolved, nothing gets done with the house," Spell says.
If the case continues to the trial stage, the house could play a pivotal role. Investigators collected samples of biological material from the bathroom before indictments were even issued-that's finished. But defense attorneys may be interested in seeing the size of the bathroom; prosecutors may want to get a feel for the proximity of the other partygoers to the alleged crime site.
So the University is, in effect, waiting to see what happens next.
"At this point, nothing's been decided," says John Burness, senior vice president for public affairs and government relations. ?
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