Ajay Trikha, 24, is tall, thin and ambitious, with dark hair and a light complexion.
He answers the door to his second-floor room in the Goodall-Wooten private dormitory in a yellow-and-blue-checkered shirt. A window on the east side of the room could afford a good view of the Drag and the leafy campus, if not for the drawn curtains.
Trikha steps into the cold street with a black jacket from Las Vegas. His trips to that city showed him that success is more than wealth and enjoyment. In particular, he said, one must be educated to learn about life. To that end, he aspires to a side of campus far from his cluttered room - the highly-ranked University of Texas School of Law.
Trikha, once vice president of the College Republicans, has been an intern for the governor's office under George W. Bush and current Gov. Rick Perry. In 1998, he managed the UT portion of Bush's presidential campaign. He was personally invited to the state Capitol on one occasion.
Soon, Trikha had his hands full with another branch of state government.
The issue weighs on his mind. He describes himself as a "little man" forced to take on a bureaucratic giant blow-for-blow. He reiterates his grudge continually. He repeats the questions no one has answered to his face:
"Why did they have to single me out?
"Why did UT take this action against me?
"They told me that I was asking unrelated questions [in class], and that thereby, they penalized me on that basis. Do you think that's really fair?"
Martha Selby, associate professor in the Department of Asian Studies, said when Trikha asked a question in her section of ANS 302K last semester, classmates knew what to expect - the same question he had just asked.
His voice was flat and loud and slow, and when he whispered, the words still blared. They stopped Selby mid-lecture. She said she couldn't introduce other students to Indian lore and culture while they rolled their eyes at interruptions.
But Selby didn't want to strain Trikha further - particularly since he had spent years recovering from the car wreck that damaged his memory and speech.
"It was one of those great ethical questions that I hope no other professor at this University has to deal with," Selby said.
She filed a petition with the Dean of Students to bar Trikha from her class.
It would cost Selby her peace of mind. It would cost Trikha his place at the University.
In 1998, Trikha had a 3.8 GPA and no reason to doubt his future. Then one April day in Katy, a driver side collision sent him to a hospital for three weeks.
The recovery took much longer. Trikha returned to the University in 2002. A letter from Dr. M.R. Prabhu informed the Services for Students with Disabilities office that Trikha had received treatment for an "organic mental disorder with dysthymic mood" and suffered "severe physical and short-term memory impairments."
But suspension followed what could have been his successful return to college life. And Trikha's family is left wondering what happened.
"It's so sad. [The University] was helping him so much with his recovery," said his mother, Nancy Trikha. "They have made him like a criminal there."
His sister, Rashmi Trikha-Singh, said the experience made her "disgusted" with her alma mater.
"I think this has discrimination written all over it," she said.
The Dean of Students office laid out its charges against Trikha in October. According to the administrative disposition presented to Trikha, the charges included talking loudly, asking disruptive "unrelated questions" and answering a cell phone during class.
The penalties: Immediate suspension for an indefinite period and probation for one year if readmitted. Trikha signed an administrative disposition, waiving his right to a hearing through Student Judicial Services and accepting the penalties.
By student discipline standards, the punishments were steep for the crime.
In a list of 2002 case outcomes, only students with disciplinary charges including murder, assault, sexual assault or deadly conduct received suspension or worse. Most also had been charged in a district court.
The others charged with violent offenses - one student suspected of assault and three others of property damage - received such lighter penalties as probation, suspension of privileges and restitution.
Non-academic cases such as Trikha's were more likely to result in probation, suspension of privileges and deferred suspension than immediate suspension, according to SJS reports between 1999 and 2002.
An unintended function of campus discipline evidently amplified Trikha's penalty.
Most semesters, UT officials use the student judicial process to remove one or two students whose mental impairments or illnesses lead to violations of University rules, said John Dalton, assistant dean of students.
Last semester, Trikha was one of them.
"It's not our first choice," Dalton said, explaining that student deans in colleges, the Counseling and Mental Health Center and the UT Police Department all may be involved in helping such students before the discipline process is used.
"These are always very difficult cases," Dalton said. "The behavioral issues are very complex and difficult to understand, very difficult to deal with.
"Sometimes I feel like we're very successful in helping the student, and sometimes I really don't know if the outcome is going to be a success or not."
Dalton said mentally impaired students punished by the University for problems related to their disabilities often are suspended indefinitely, pending a positive evaluation from a psychiatrist or psychologist.
Common charges, Dalton said, are disrupting a teaching activity (Trikha's offense) or endangering themselves and others.
Dalton said the University does the best it can to help students without using discipline. He points out that no University rules forbid student judicial hearings from dealing with students who are mentally impaired.
While Trikha waits for a favorable doctor's evaluation, he tempers his outrage with optimism.
He said if the University readmits him next semester, everything will be OK. He can finish out his lower-division hours at Austin Community College, which he considers much easier.
"I just do not want other students to have to go through this," he said.
Selby's complaint to the Dean of Students about Trikha was the beginning of a long unrest.
She didn't want to hurt Trikha. But the more she talked with employees of the Services for Students with Disabilities office, which provided note takers for him, "It became clearer to me that he did not belong in a class like mine."
After her decision, she became Trikha's family's scapegoat, she said. She allegedly received several harassing phone calls from Trikha's mother. Her department received a call she believes was intended to get her fired.
Nancy Trikha does blame Selby for what happened to her son but claims she called Selby only once.
Yet Selby objects to how the University treated Trikha.
She finds one provision of Trikha's punishment especially absurd: If he visits the campus across the street from his dorm window, he could end up in handcuffs.
"I was appalled at the way the University of Texas handled this problem," Selby said. "It was turned into a police issue, and it didn't need to be."
A suspended student must receive written permission from the Dean of Students office to be present on campus. Without permission, he or she risks arrest for criminal trespassing.
After being suspended, Trikha walked on the campus. He was warned of police action if he came back.
Trikha's mother tried to secure permission for Trikha in an e-mail to Stephen S. Janes, associate vice president for student affairs, in December 2003.
"Let him visit campus," she wrote. "He is feeling very sad. ... My son has not done anything wrong; he had a car accident."
Janes replied that Trikha must meet the conditions of his punishment to return.
"We appreciate your patience with policies we must follow, and we regret any inconvenience those policies may create for your family," Janes wrote.
Trikha, who pledged for a prelaw fraternity before he was suspended, talks about a lawsuit as his only chance for justice.
He said he asked a lawyer friend and was told his cause is hopeless.
"It is not worth going against UT because UT has millions of dollars to pay for lawyers, and that really is unfair," Trikha said. "They can essentially bully the students."
Trikha stands on the sidewalk outside the Goodall-Wooten as a lunchtime crowd surrounds his lanky figure. Across the street, the campus gleams in midday light.
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