After I started writing about COVID as a medical student and the Internet was in an uproar, I was called into a conference room. Two deans were waiting.

They told me that, after a woman had given birth—alone, with no family or staff in the room—I had been caught by two nurses, standing silently, staring at her vagina.

The nurses, they said, had told me to leave.

And I, according to the report, had strutted past them and said:

"Isn't the female anatomy beautiful?"

When they said this, my stomach climbed through my chest into my throat.

It was grotesque. It was insane.

I said it hadn’t happened.

The deans looked entirely unconcerned.

I couldn’t understand it.

This was the kind of accusation that could end a career.

If I were him—the dean—I would have expelled the student instantly.

I told him so.

But instead, he said:

“We like to give students more chances to learn.”

Learn what?

How not to silently stare at a woman’s vagina after she gives birth?

What the fuck was happening?

Even more disturbing: he wasn’t just unmoved by the accusation.

He was unmoved when I denied it.

It didn’t matter whether it was true.

The point was that it had been said.

I begged the deans to put the story on paper so I could respond formally, defend myself, confront the rumor.

They wrote a short report—no specifics.

I asked again. They wrote a longer one. Still, no specifics. No record of what I was being accused of.

Then came the flood:

Nonspecific professionalism complaints, from all directions.

No details. No clear wrongdoing. Just murmurs, shadows.

Except for that one story.

I pushed back. Loudly. Vocally.

First a fake complaint.

Then complaints that nobody could explain.

Eventually, I traced the origin of the story to the physician who had allegedly reported it. I asked her directly.

She denied it.

Then she denied it on audio.

Another dean confirmed her denial.

As I neared dismissal, I filed a formal complaint about this and other fabricated reports.

That’s when one of the highest-ranking deans stated—on the record—that the story had, in fact, happened.

Despite the denial. Despite the audio.

That dean was Simon Williams.

The one who first confronted me with the false allegation.

The one who remained totally unmoved.

The one who, when faced with a student in shock and horror, said:

"We like to give students more chances to learn."

But what was I supposed to be learning, Dr. Williams?

How to accept a false accusation of sexual misconduct with grace?

He wasn’t unconcerned because he believed it.

He was unconcerned because truth didn’t matter.

What mattered was peace. Stability. Institutional survival.

And preserving those things meant letting the machine keep grinding, even when it ground people into dust.

It meant never putting anything in writing.

Never investigating.

Never standing up.

That’s how the worst things happen.

Not because of monsters.

But because of men like Dr. Williams: men who present themselves as kind while watching others burn.

Who know what’s happening.

And do nothing but go along.

This is 1% of what happened during my dismissal.

I have so many more stories.

But let me be clear of some things.

While all of this was happening, my deans were leaking details and smearing me to my fellow medical students.

Who then spread them all over social media.

There is an entire Reddit thread dedicated to these smears.

Smears that my deans spread about me.

Wrap your head around that.

Smears that my deans spread about me.

Yes, smears that my DEANS spread about me.

So what do I do?

When my institution not only expels me but tries to reputationally destroy me on the Internet as well?

And even does the same thing in faculty meetings.

Spreads more smears in faculty meetings to my former professors and supervisors.

What do I do when it gets so bad that some professors even lobbied to have my PhD revoked?

These are trusted members of the medical and academic community at Texas Tech.

What do I do when they go scorched Earth?

Against me, a student who trusted them?

Who couldn't fathom that they did what they did, even months after I was expelled?

They dumped all their ammunition, institutionally, reputationally, everywhere they could.

To take down a STUDENT.

At least if there are terrible public smears about me, my word will be registered publicly.

We'll do court too.

I won't let my future be taken away by an institution that went insane.

And if my future is taken away, at least I can fight.

What else am I supposed to do?

Dr. Williams looked me in the eye and called me brilliant.

Compared me to H.L. Mencken.

A month later, he signed the papers that ended my career.

That’s the danger of people who mistake kindness for courage.

My career ended softly, politely, warmly, absolutely.

Tell me: what am I supposed to do?