"This is campus police. You need to come out of the building immediately. Elise appeared at the window, her face stre with tears and soot. I'm not coming out until someone listens to me. We're listening, Dr.
Mercer. What do you want to tell us? I want to tell you that Nathan Mercer has been stalking me for 3 years. He burned down my house. He destroyed my career.
And now he's trying to frame me for arson. It was almost impressive the way she could twist reality to make herself the sufferer even while literally setting fires. Dr. Mercer, we can discuss this, but you need to put out the fire and come outside. No, I'm not going anywhere until you arrest Nathan Mercer.
That's when I made a decision that probably wasn't very smart, but felt absolutely necessary. I walked past the security perimeter and up to the building entrance. Mr. Mercer, get back, Detective Callahan shouted. But I was already inside walking up the stairs to Julian's office.
The door was locked, but I could hear Elise inside muttering to herself as she fed more papers to the fire. Elise, I called through the door. It's Nathan. Open up. The muttering stopped.
Go away. I can't do that. You're going to hurt yourself. Good. Maybe then someone will pay attention.
At least everyone's paying attention. The police, the fire department, the university administration. You've got their attention. Now what? Now they arrest you for stalking me.
They're not going to arrest me, Elise, because I didn't stalk you. I didn't burn down your house and I didn't destroy your career. Liar. You destroyed your own career by trying to take credit for work you didn't do. You burned down your own house because you thought it would get you sympathy.
And you're burning Julian's files because you know they contain evidence of your fraud. The door suddenly swung open. Elise stood there disheveled and wildeyed, holding a burning piece of paper. You don't know anything," she screamed. "I know you're scared," I said calmly.
"I know you built your whole identity around being the smart one, the successful one, the one who had it all figured out. And now that's falling apart, and you don't know who you are without it. Shut up. I know you thought if you could just get rid of me, everything would be perfect. You'd have Julian.
You'd have your career. You'd have the life you thought you deserved. I did deserve it. Maybe, but you can't build a life on other people's work, Elise. Eventually, someone's going to ask you to prove you earned what you have. " She stared at me for a long moment, the burning paper forgotten in her hand.
"I hate you," she whispered. "I know, but hating me isn't going to fix your problems. " That's when Detective Callahan appeared behind me along with two campus security officers. "Dr. Mercer," Callahan said gently, "I need you to put down the paper and step away from the fire. " Elise looked around the room at the burning waste basket, at the scattered files, at the faces of the people staring at her through the window. For a moment, I thought she might comply.
Instead, she threw the burning paper at me and ran. She made it about 10 ft before campus security tackled her in the hallway. As they handcuffed her, she kept screaming about conspiracies and frame-ups and how everyone was against her. It was, I realized, probably the most honest thing she'd said in years. The trial made national news, not because the case was particularly complex, but because it had everything the media loved.
Academic fraud, cheating, arson, and a spectacular public meltdown. Court TV covered it gavvel to gavvel. Academic Twitter dissected every piece of evidence. Someone even started a podcast called Dissertation Defense. I testified on the third day.
Steinberg, who was now representing a lease on the arson charges rather than pursuing the discrimination lawsuit, tried his best to paint me as a controlling, vindictive ex-husband who had driven his client to a breakdown. Mr. Mercer, he said during cross-examination, isn't it true that you deliberately humiliated my client at the symposium? I asked her to explain her own research, I replied. If that was humiliating, it's because she couldn't do it.
But you knew she couldn't do it, didn't you? Because you wrote the work she was trying to defend. I wrote most of it. Yes. And you never told anyone about this until the symposium?
That's correct. So you waited 3 years until you could cause maximum damage to her career and reputation? I considered the question carefully. Mr. Steinberg, if your client had taken responsibility for her failures, if she had worked to improve her skills instead of blaming others, if she had shown any remorse for taking credit for work she didn't do, I would never have said anything.
But she didn't do those things. No, instead she accused me of arson, claimed I was stalking her, and tried to convince people that her problems were everyone's fault but her own. So, you decided to destroy her? I decided to let her destroy herself. All I did was provide the opportunity.
The prosecution's case was devastating. They had the phone records showing Alisa's calls to Julian on the night of the fire. They had the gas station receipt with her fingerprints on it. They had security camera footage of her car in the area around the time the fire started. And they had Julian's testimony about her threats and erratic behavior.
But the most damning evidence came from Elise herself. When she took the stand in her own defense, she couldn't resist trying to justify her actions. I was desperate, she said, tears streaming down her face. My career was ruined. The man I loved had abandoned me.
My ex-husband was spreading lies about my work. I felt like I had no choice. No choice but to burn down your house," the prosecutor asked. "I thought I thought if people saw how much I was suffering, they would understand. They would see that Nathan was the real villain.
So, you committed arson to frame your ex-husband? " Steinberg objected, but the damage was done. Elise had just confessed to exactly what the prosecution had accused her of doing. The jury deliberated for less than 2 hours. Guilty on all counts: arson, insurance fraud, and filing false police reports. Judge Harrison sentenced her to 5 years in prison with the possibility of parole after three.
He also ordered her to pay restitution to the insurance company and to undergo psychological counseling. Dr. Mercer, he said before passing sentence. You were given opportunities that many people never receive. You had a PhD from a respected university, a promising career, and people who believed in you.