We all knew that guy in high school.

We all knew that guy in high school.
 
The one with the upstanding pedigree from the great family. The one who everyone expected to run for public office or take over a major company. The one who did well in classes but also used a significant amount of charisma on his way to the top of academic standings. The one who earned the A and greased enough smiles out of people that it became an A+.
 
He was the guy who was at the right party every weekend. He was the slightly more respectable version of his best friend, who was the louder and more intimidating character of the two. The best friend was the one who would openly mock anyone not pretty or athletic enough to be part of their crowd.
 
The friend was the one who often seemed more threatening. More open about his disdain for others. That guy you knew, on the other hand, he was quieter in his disdain. Kept it couched, hidden in layers of smug laughter and jokes that would only happen behind people’s backs.
 
He was the guy who got black-out drunk at plenty of parties, just like everyone else in his circle of friends did. The guy who had plenty of girls interested in him.
 
He had enough respectable girlfriends and friends who were girls that you never thought he’d let his power, his high school success, lead him into forcing himself onto a girl at a party and holding his hand over her mouth. You didn’t think he’d do that—at least not right away.
 
But then you heard the rumors circling school the day after that big party. You couldn’t take them as cardinal truth—they were just rumors, after all—but enough of the details matched up that a fairly clear picture could be painted. The guy had a little too much to drink. His friend, the one who never had a problem mocking others or forcing his body into places it wasn’t wanted, was somehow involved. They disappeared into a room. A girl left the party crying, telling her friends the guy forced himself on her.
 
You watched the guy more closely in class that day. You saw the way he aggressively pushed to get what he wanted from his friend group, from teachers. He was a person used to having his way. A person used to being told he was right. Strong. Better than everyone else.
 
It was easy, then, to see how the power could become too much. How it could have taken over. You believed the rumors, unequivocally. But it didn’t matter. The girl never said anything, because who would have believed her? People would have interrogated her, not him. Her motives, her drinking habits, her promiscuity. She would have been slut-shamed and treated like an outcast for the rest of her high school career. No, it wasn’t worth it. Of course she doesn’t say anything. You didn’t blame her.
 
We all knew that guy in high school.
 
Today, you see him on TV. He is surrounded by a circle of other men who were also that guy in their own high schools. That circle will continue to put him and other men just like him in power over and over again. That circle that will forever excuse what happened that night at that party. It must be excused. If it is not, then every man in that circle is at risk. All of them are at risk to be seen for who they are when the lights are off and the doors are closed and the only witness is their best friend.
 
You realize that the majority of your country’s leaders are that guy you knew in high school.
 
Suddenly, you are more afraid than you have ever been.