He said, Just be quiet, please, and give me what I want.

He tried to slip his hand into Eve’s panties and she bit his shoulder, hard; she broke the skin, tasted blood. He loosened his grip enough that Eve Quist was able to struggle free and run back to the bonfire to get her friend. The two girls left the party.

Eve told that friend, Lydia Hager, about the incident and said she wanted to call the police. But the two girls had sneaked out of Lydia’s house in order to attend the party and Lydia was afraid of getting in trouble. She begged Eve to forget about it. Lydia knew Stone Cavendish, knew he was off to Dartmouth. Eve, meanwhile, was headed to UVA.

You’ll never have to see him again, Lydia said.

Stone Cavendish categorically denies the accusations; he says he doesn’t remember Eve Quist, but there is something in his eyes, Ursula thinks, that says otherwise. Or maybe what she and everyone else in America are seeing is his incredulity that anyone can just come out of the woodwork, say whatever she wants, and threaten his chance at a seat on the Supreme Court.

The FBI investigates the accusations. The media has a field day.

Eve Quist is attractive, poised, articulate, intelligent, and has nothing to gain from coming forward. In fact, she has everything to lose. She stays resolute and consistent with her story. Not a single detail changes over the dozens of times she tells it. Her husband, William Quist, is an orthopedic surgeon; he tells investigators that Eve related this story to him on their third date. He says he knows the incident has probably haunted Eve in a way that bad things from your past haunt you and although she would never have tracked the guy down, she couldn’t stand by and let him ascend to the highest court in the nation without letting people know that he is—or was—abusive. They aren’t looking to ruin anyone. Eve would like an admission of guilt and an apology from him.

Stone Cavendish provides neither.

Lydia Hager would have been an excellent corroborating witness but she died of breast cancer in 2011. Eve didn’t know anyone else at the party.

The FBI does its due diligence and contacts all the people who were lifeguards in Point Pleasant during the summer of 1983. They find three men and one woman who remember working with Stone, and all four people say they regularly attended bonfires on the beach at which Stone Cavendish was present. The men say they have no idea which night Dr. Quist is referring to. There were so many parties and it was so long ago. The woman, Cindy Piccolo, does claim to remember the evening in question. Cindy Piccolo had been dating Stone Cavendish for most of the summer of 1983 but they had broken up in the middle of August, she said, because Stone wanted to go off to Dartmouth without any lingering attachments. Cindy had still been hung up on him. It was impossible not to be, she said in her statement. He was good-looking, smart, confident, a preppy boarding-school kid who was going to an Ivy League college. Cindy had seen Stone that night talking to a redhead who someone said was a friend of Lydia Hager’s. Cindy had watched them closely. She saw when Stone brought Eve a beer; she watched Stone follow Eve into the dunes. She also claims she saw Eve come out of the dunes alone—Cindy registered relief—and she herself had gone to find Stone. They had ended up making love in the dunes that night.

Does Cindy remember if Eve seemed upset coming out of the dunes?

No, she says. I don’t remember.

Does Cindy remember if Stone had been bitten on the shoulder? Eve Quist says Stone Cavendish was wearing a tank top, so a bite might have been visible.

No, she says. I don’t remember.

Did Cindy hear anybody talking that night or the next day about what happened while Eve and Stone were in the dunes together?

No, she says.

Did Cindy ever see Lydia or Eve again?

No, Cindy says. But I remember the red hair. Eve’s hair. That’s definitely the person he went into the dunes with.

The country is divided: Team Stone and Team Eve.

Jake is Team Eve.

“The guy definitely did it,” he says.

They’re in the kitchen, breakfast time. Jake is making Bess an omelet that she will devour without hesitation. She is wonderfully unselfconscious around food, which Ursula is happy about but also jealous of.

“Agreeing with Dad,” Bess says.

Ursula says nothing. She supposes families all over the country are discussing this very same issue and picking sides, but most of those families do not include a U.S. senator who will be voting on whether or not to confirm the accused to the Supreme Court.

“I have to stay neutral,” she says.

“Oh, come on, Ursula,” Jake says. “You can’t tell me you think he’s innocent?”

“He’s a good judge,” Ursula says. “Smart. His decisions are thoughtful and nuanced. He would be a wonderful addition to the bench.”

“He attacked a girl,” Bess says. “He tried to rape her. You can’t just overlook that because you happen to like the way he adjudicates, Mom, sorry.”

“Allegedly attacked her,” Ursula says. “I don’t think we have enough proof to convict.” She smiles at her daughter. “Sorry.”

Three days later, a second woman comes forward. This woman, Meghan Royce, is a public defender in Broward County, Florida. She says she met Stone Cavendish at a New Year’s Eve party in Miami in 1991. The party was held in a condo in a luxury waterfront building. Royce and Stone struck up a conversation on the balcony, then moved inside to one of the sofas amid the crowd of noisy revelers. Both of them were drinking. Stone eventually suggested they go “somewhere quieter,” so he led Royce back into one of the bedrooms. They started kissing. Royce says that after a little while, Stone worried someone else would come into the room so he suggested they go into the closet. Royce says she agreed, but that once she was in the closet with Cavendish, she started to feel “claustrophobic and uncomfortable.” She tried to leave; she explicitly told Stone she wanted to “get out,” but he laughed and pushed her farther into the closet, back into the hanging clothes. Royce raised her voice, and Stone clapped a hand over her mouth, saying, Just be quiet, we both know why we’re here. Royce says she finally kicked him in the crotch hard enough that he called her a psycho and spit in her face, but he let her go. She left the party almost immediately, but before she left, she told her girlfriend what happened; she says she categorized it as “some guy just tried to date-rape me in the closet,” to which her friend responded, “Thank God you got out, though it’s too bad you’re going to miss midnight.”

That’s the way things were in the early ’90’s, Royce says. I didn’t realize how bad it was until years later.

Stone Cavendish claims he has no memory of meeting Royce. He admits to being in Miami over New Year’s of 1991 with his friend Doug Stiles, but according to Cavendish, they had dinner at a restaurant, then went to a few clubs. He doesn’t remember a party. The girlfriend Royce spoke to about it, Justine Hwang, is an expat living in Mongolia and can’t immediately be reached for comment. No one knows where to find Doug Stiles.

The media does a hit job on Meghan Royce. She’s twice divorced and lost custody of her only son to her ex-husband, who lives in Tampa. The ex-husband, when questioned, said that Meghan has a drinking problem.