Will what happened at Georgetown Prep stay there?

To the uninitiated, Georgetown Preparatory School feels less like a high school than a well-heeled liberal arts college. The 93acre campus in the North Bethesda, Md., suburb of the nation’s capital boasts a state-of-the-art athletic center, a nine-hole golf course and its own gift shop. Gardeners crisscross the grounds on carts.

This is where U.S. Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh spent most of his teen years. And exactly what happened one summer night during that time has become a question that threatens to unravel his chances of joining the nation’s highest court.

Multiple accounts from 1980s-era classmates depict an alcohol-soaked party culture among the close-knit network of single-sex, mostly Roman Catholic private schools in the country’s wealthiest state.

At raucous house parties and drunken beach vacations, boys from Georgetown Prep and other all-male academies would meet up with students from nearby all-girl private schools like Stone Ridge, Holy Cross, Georgetown Visitation and the non-sectarian HoltonArms School. Binge drinking was a routine part of the social scene, with minimal adult supervision.

California college professor Christine Blasey Ford, a 1984 graduate of HoltonArms, has accused Kavanaugh, who graduated Georgetown Prep in 1983, of pinning her down in a locked bedroom and groping her during a drunken house party when she was about 15 and he was about 17.

As details of the allegation emerged, a video clip from a 2015 speech Kavanaugh made at Catholic University’s law school circulated online, prompting some to view the comments in a more disturbing context. In the speech, Kavanaugh referenced some old friends and jokingly referred to an unofficial motto at his alma mater. its 120,000 residents survived the horror of the storm — which snapped telephone poles and sent trees into bedrooms — to find that the roads leading into the port city were flooded, leaving it an island with almost no electricity that no one could get into or out of.

Ice became their most precious commodity, traded like cash, and Gray, a handyman, took a temporary job hauling bags of it to cars that stretched for blocks for days.

Now, finally, far fewer cars are waiting.

“The emergency, the adrenaline, is wearing off,” says Gray. “Now we’re all just exhausted.”