Who are ‘The Cornell Seven?’

Editor’s Note: The following article contains discussion of sexual assault. Reader discretion is advised.

It’s a simple question, and it should have a simple answer. Instead, “The Cornell Seven” has become a name of its own. 

Frankly, it sounds more like the name of a boy band than seven individuals accused of sexual assault.

Since a civil lawsuit was filed against seven current and former Cornell students in September, the phrase has appeared across headlines and social media as shorthand for the case. 

According to CBS News, the lawsuit alleges that a Cornell student, referred to as Jane Doe, was drugged and raped at the Chi Phi fraternity house in October 2024. The criminal investigation, which didn’t result in criminal charges at the time, has recently reopened. The defendants have denied the allegations through their attorneys. 

The allegations are serious, and so is the distinction between legal innocence and guilt. But, there is something about “The Cornell Seven” that bothers me. 

It makes the seven people’s names disappear. 

Matthew Inglais. Jonathan Newell. Winston Lee. Gillio Lopes. Diego Sarabia. Scott Norris. Scott Kretzschmar. Those are the seven individuals named as defendants in the civil complaint. 

So why are we calling them “The Cornell Seven?” 

It’s short, memorable and easier to put in a headline than seven names. In a news cycle that moves by the hour, shorthand is useful. However, convenient language is not always harmless language. 

When seven individuals become “The Cornell Seven,” they sound like a single entity, phenomenon and headline. The people involved become secondary to the label we have created for them. 

Individual accountability requires individual attention. That doesn’t mean declaring these individuals guilty. None of the seven have been criminally charged, and the investigation is ongoing. 

The civil lawsuit contains allegations not yet adjudicated. In a statement, the Tompkins County district attorney said the prosecutors are preparing the case for presentation to a grand jury. 

But if we’re going to talk about accountability, we should talk about people. What did each individual allegedly do? What evidence exists against each individual? What did Cornell determine about each individual? 

These questions are harder to ask when seven names become one headline label. There’s a broader problem with the way we talk about cases like this because we often remember the institution before we remember the people involved. Cornell becomes the story. Chi Phi becomes the story. “The Cornell Seven” becomes the story.

Institutions don’t commit individual acts — people do. Although that doesn’t absolve Cornell of responsibility for its own actions. 

According to The Cornell Sun, the university conducted a Title IX investigation after the 2024 allegations. Cornell confirmed that the process resulted in both expulsions and suspensions, although it hasn’t publicly identified which respondents received which sanctions. The Chi Phi chapter was also shut down. 

Yes, institutional decisions deserve scrutiny of their own, but they shouldn’t be interchangeable with the consequences of the individuals involved. 

If we’re going to talk about this case, we should be precise about what is known and what is alleged. Names force that precision. 

A name reminds us that there’s individuals behind the headline. It makes it harder to hide seven people inside a collective label and forces us to ask what happened to the people at the center of the allegations. 

People are more complex than the shorthand names we give their cases for our own convenience. 

Matthew Inglais. Jonathan Newell. Winston Lee. Gillio Lopes. Diego Sarabia. Scott Norris. Scott Kretzschmar. 

Seven names, seven individuals and seven separate questions of what can be established and what accountability, if any, ultimately follows. 

“The Cornell Seven” may be convenient. But when convenience starts replacing specificity in a consequential case like this, we should reconsider the language we use. 

Accountability doesn’t belong to a number. It belongs to people.