A lawsuit involving Cornell University is bringing renewed scrutiny to the question of how much colleges and universities can realistically do to keep students safe from sexual assault, even when criminal prosecutors decline to pursue charges. The case highlights a tension that has persisted on campuses for years: institutions of higher education operate under their own set of legal obligations that exist independently of the criminal justice system.
To understand what is at stake, NPR turned to Baine Kerr, a retired Title IX attorney who built a national reputation litigating precedent-setting civil rights and campus sexual assault cases. Kerr explained that federal law imposes a distinct and wide-ranging set of duties on schools once they become aware of an allegation.
According to Kerr, the moment a university receives notice of a possible sexual assault, it is required to act. That action, he said, must include an investigation conducted in coordination with law enforcement. The key point, however, is what happens when outside authorities choose not to move forward.
If police or prosecutors decide not to take action, Kerr said, the university's obligations do not disappear. The school must still proceed with its own processes. That includes holding hearings and imposing disciplinary measures on anyone found through that process to have committed sexual wrongdoing.
Kerr described these requirements as a "very comprehensive set of requirements," adding that universities are thoroughly aware of what the law demands of them. The framework is not vague or optional, he suggested, but a detailed set of responsibilities that institutions understand well.
One of the most visible of those responsibilities comes before any allegation ever arises. Title IX requires schools to provide orientation programming for incoming freshmen about campus sexual assault. Every new student must attend a session designed to train them in sexual assault prevention, a mandate Kerr pointed to as an example of the law's reach.
Despite those requirements, the underlying problem has not gone away. Asked why campus culture has not shifted enough to reduce the prevalence of sexual assault, Kerr acknowledged that the effort is an ongoing struggle rather than a problem that can be solved once and for all.
Part of the difficulty, he explained, lies in the nature of college communities themselves. Campuses experience constant turnover, with students leaving after four years or fewer and new classes arriving on a regular basis. That churn means each new cohort must be educated and acclimated from scratch, making sustained cultural change an uphill effort.
The Cornell lawsuit fits into this broader landscape of institutions grappling with how to respond when students report assault. Such cases often raise the question of whether existing protocols are sufficient or whether schools need to make concrete changes that would better protect students going forward.
The legal obligations Kerr described exist alongside, not instead of, the criminal process. A university cannot simply defer to prosecutors and consider its job done. Even when charges are never filed, the school remains responsible for investigating, adjudicating, and disciplining conduct that falls under its policies.
That dual-track system can be complicated for everyone involved. Survivors may find that a criminal case ends without accountability, only to face a separate campus process that operates under different standards and procedures. Institutions, meanwhile, must balance their legal duties with the rights of accused students.
Kerr's comments underscore that the pressure on universities does not ease when outside authorities step back. If anything, the absence of criminal action places more weight on the school's own systems. The hearing process and potential disciplinary outcomes become the primary avenue for addressing the allegation.
Prevention efforts remain a central pillar of the Title IX approach. The mandatory freshman orientation sessions represent an attempt to reach students early, before risky situations arise, and to establish expectations about conduct and consent. Whether those sessions meaningfully change behavior is a question that continues to be debated.
The Cornell case, and others like it, may ultimately turn on whether courts find that a university fell short of the responsibilities Kerr outlined. Lawsuits can serve as a mechanism to force institutional changes, from revised investigation procedures to stronger prevention programming.
For now, the larger question remains unresolved: can legal action compel schools to adopt reforms that genuinely make students safer? The answer may depend on how rigorously universities apply the requirements they already have, and whether the constant cycle of new students can be met with education that sticks.
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