‘Their Lives Are Ruined’

In the nine years since her son was pummeled to death in the dark on a frozen field by members of the fraternity he was eager to join, Lianne Kowiak has become one of the nation’s most tireless anti-hazing activists.

She’s traveled the country, urging lawmakers to pass anti-hazing legislation. She’s pleaded with college officials to take on more responsibility for a problem that has killed at least 49 students since 2005.

But the conversations that have been the most wrenching, she says, are the ones she has with young men who are either in or considering joining a fraternity.

She talks about how eager her son, Harrison, 19, was to have the “full college experience” at Lenoir-Rhyne University, where he was on golf and academic scholarships. Joining a fraternity was part of that. She recounts how he was repeatedly knocked down by students who outweighed him by 100 pounds, and how no one called for help until it was too late.

“I’ve had mothers ask me how I can work with fraternities,” she says. “My answer is, How else are they going to learn?”

Authorities are starting to crack down. Members of a fraternity at Baruch College, part of the City University of New York, were criminally charged after the 2013 death of a pledge, Chun Hsien Deng. Eighteen members of a Pennsylvania State University fraternity face criminal charges for failing to help a pledge, Timothy Piazza, who died in February after being pressured to drink potentially lethal amounts of alcohol and then falling down stairs.

Ms. Kowiak talked with The Chronicle about what has and hasn’t changed in the years she’s devoted to fighting hazing.

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What led you to decide to dedicate much of your life to exposing the dangers of hazing?

Initially there’s grief, then sadness, and then anger that so many innocent lives are being lost. I was working at the time and was able to bury myself in my work. But one day, I was sitting at my kitchen table and I was just frustrated. It wasn’t right. Harrison’s life was taken way too early. I didn’t want his death to be in vain.

What did you do next?

When I started doing research, I learned that if this had happened in Florida, it would have been a felony. In North Carolina, it was a misdemeanor, so they just got a slap on the wrist. I wanted to do what I could to make the laws stronger. My county representative recommended I speak with a congresswoman in Miami, Frederica Wilson, who had talked about introducing a national anti-hazing bill. She was kind enough to invite me and our daughter, Emma, to appear with her at a Capitol Hill news conference. But that bill, which would have denied financial aid to students who haze, was never introduced after a powerful fraternity lobby convinced her it would be unfair and hurt Greek life.

When criminal charges were brought in connection with recent hazing-related deaths, both at Baruch College and at Penn State, did you see this as a positive development?

I hesitate to use the word “positive” when talking about this, because for the people being charged, their lives are ruined. But nothing is going to happen if there aren’t strong laws in place.

What allies have you had in this fight?

Sadly, in this journey I’ve met other moms who have lost a child to hazing. Every time I see Timothy Piazza’s photo, my heart sinks. When I heard his parents and brother being interviewed, the emotions and words coming out of their mouths were so similar to what I was thinking and feeling at the time.

Pam Champion [whose son, Robert, died in 2011 during a hazing ritual at Florida A&M University] and I and other mothers used to get together on monthly conference calls. A group of us went to Washington to meet with Arne Duncan, who was then secretary of education. We were hoping they’d be open to doing a kind of public-service announcement for hazing the way they did for bullying. Arne Duncan said he would get a group together, but then he left, and it didn’t go beyond that.

Can you talk about the idea of medical amnesty, in which students are assured they won’t get in trouble if they call for help, even if they’ve been drinking under age?

I don’t think many people know about it. That message has to be driven even stronger. But even if they don’t worry about being charged, students are still afraid to speak up because of the backlash they might face from the fraternity. I know students who have spoken up against hazing, and they do get harassed and bullied for taking a stand.

What about the idea some people have raised of delaying fraternity rush until, say, junior year?

That’s not a bad idea. Kids’ brains are more mature by then. Freshman year, they’re still trying to get their feet wet and learn the ins and outs of college, and they’re more susceptible to peer pressure.

What gives you hope that people are finally becoming aware of the dangers?

I think my greatest comfort is being able to speak to groups in high school or college, both here in Tampa and around the country. A fraternity at the University of Texas at Austin invited me to speak because they had a very large pledge class, and they wanted me to be like a pre-emptive strike. I applaud them for doing that.

Another small fraternity was having its first convention in Raleigh. It might have only been 20 people — but some drove from Delaware or Chicago to hear me speak. The effort they made to hear Harrison’s story was encouraging. I’ve had students come up to me after I speak to say, My mom doesn’t have to worry because I won’t be a part of or a witness to hazing. That’s where there’s been progress.

What do you tell audiences?

I use examples of what hazing is and what forms it takes, whether it’s force-feeding alcohol, making pledges ingest disgusting substances, or physical abuse. I go into detail about Harrison’s story. I tell them about what happened that night, what happened after that. I don’t hold anything back.

We talk about alternative team-building activities they might consider, like the Balanced Man project, where they do activities that foster teamwork and camaraderie and equal relationships — anything that gets away from some of these harmful traditions. There’s this whole mind-set that, We went through it, and now we’re going to take it out on the next class.

What are some of your biggest frustrations?

Everyone knows that Hell Week exists, but everyone looks the other way and points fingers at everyone else. In Harrison’s case, this practice of “running the gantlet” had been going on year after year.

When Timothy was killed, Penn State took the position that it’s not their culpability, because they don’t own the house, and it happened off campus. I don’t accept that. They need to take responsibility for their students who chose Penn State for reasons that might include sports or Greek life. A lot of wealthy alumni belonged to fraternities, and maybe they don’t want to bite the hand that feeds them.

These chapters need leadership, whether it’s through the national headquarters or alumni. The nationals say the chapter signed a form saying no hazing, but anyone can sign a form. Someone has to follow up to be sure it isn’t happening.

After the tragedy, we learned about the activities our son was subjected to. One situation was where he was blindfolded and taken to a bridge. They threw a heavy rock off the bridge and said that was your brother and you have to jump in and rescue him. They pulled him back at the last minute and said, “One thing you’ve learned is that you do what you’re told. The second is that your brothers always have your back.” These are the kinds of psychological mind games they’re playing on them.

I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to send your daughter, who was 10 when her brother died, off to college this year.

My daughter’s a freshman in college, and she has been asked if she wanted to join a sorority. She has no interest. She’s wise beyond her years because of what she’s been through.

Nothing is going to bring my son back. I think about him every day, and when my daughter went off to college, she missed him. He would have been there to give her tips and guidance. We have to go on and live our lives. You want to help others, but you get to the point where you’re emotionally drained. It’s unsettling to the heart and conjures up a lot of memories. But if I can in any way impact two or five or 100 people, it will be time well spent.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Katherine Mangan writes about community colleges, completion efforts, and job training, as well as other topics in daily news. Follow her on Twitter @KatherineMangan, or email her at katherine.mangan@chronicle.com.