A 32-year-old Los Angeles lawyer once honored by the Obama White House as a champion against campus sexual assault now faces six felony counts for allegedly beating, stalking, and silencing his own girlfriend over the course of a year.
Los Angeles County prosecutors filed a criminal complaint on July 20 charging Cody McDavis, a former Division I basketball player turned corporate attorney, with three felony counts of inflicting corporal injury on his girlfriend, two felony counts of stalking, and one felony count of attempting to stop her from pursuing prosecution. Three additional misdemeanor counts allege he violated a protective order. Bail was recommended at $550,000, and the complaint was filed in Los Angeles County Superior Court.
The alleged conduct spanned nearly a full year, from July 2025 through June 2026. Prosecutors say McDavis "willfully, maliciously, and repeatedly" followed and harassed the unnamed woman, leaving her in fear for the safety of herself and her immediate family. The charge of obstructing prosecution, attempting to prevent the victim from reporting him, adds a layer of alleged control that goes beyond physical violence.
McDavis, who stands 6-foot-8 and works as an associate at the Los Angeles office of the law firm Vedder Price, built a public career around the very cause he now stands accused of violating. His arraignment is scheduled for September 2.
McDavis's fall is steep because the perch was so high. The Obama-Biden administration launched its "It's On Us" campaign in 2014 to combat sexual assault on college campuses, and McDavis became one of the initiative's most visible male advocates. The White House awarded him a Champion of Change distinction for that work.
In 2019, McDavis was named a Solidarity Honoree at the Voices of Solidarity event, a ceremony that recognized men who stand against gender-based violence and serve as allies to survivors. That same year, he launched a Change.org petition calling on the Power Five Conference commissioners, the most influential conferences in the NCAA, to ban student-athletes with a history of violence. The petition gathered more than 280,000 signatures.
Sports Illustrated profiled him under the headline "Cody McDavis Fighting to See Change in the NCAA Sexual Assault Policy." He worked alongside Brenda Tracy, a survivor and advocate, to develop what became known as the "Tracy Rule," a policy framework aimed at keeping violent athletes off college rosters. Individual schools adopted versions of it voluntarily, though the NCAA itself never made it mandatory.
McDavis's own words from the 2019 Voices of Solidarity event now read like an indictment drafted by his future self:
"The women in here who are doing this incredible work are told and told and told we want to hear your voice, but when you start talking, you get shoved down."
He continued: "That makes me sick, I can't stand that." Addressing Tracy directly, he added: "You are a survivor, and what you say matters and we should be listening." Those statements, made from a stage to applause, now sit alongside a felony charge alleging he tried to stop his own girlfriend from speaking to authorities.
His petition language was equally direct. "My name is Cody McDavis. I am a former Division I student-athlete and the prevalence of sexual violence in college athletics makes me sick," he wrote. "That's why I'm calling on the Power Five Conference Commissioners... to immediately ban student-athletes with a history of violence." He played basketball at the University of Northern Colorado and later studied law at UCLA before joining Vedder Price. The Obama administration's willingness to elevate him as a face of its campus-safety messaging gave his advocacy national reach.
The complaint does not describe a single outburst. Nine counts spanning a year suggest prosecutors believe the abuse was sustained and deliberate. Three separate felony charges for corporal injury indicate multiple alleged episodes of physical violence against the same victim. Two stalking charges point to a pattern of pursuit and harassment. And the charge for obstructing prosecution, a felony in its own right, alleges McDavis actively worked to keep the system from learning what was happening.
The three misdemeanor counts for violating a protective order mean a court had already intervened to keep McDavis away from the woman, and prosecutors allege he disregarded that order more than once. The recommended bail of $550,000 reflects the severity prosecutors attach to the case.
McDavis has retained Shawn Holley, a prominent defense attorney whose past clients include Kanye West, Justin Bieber, and Lindsay Lohan. Holley was also a member of O.J. Simpson's defense team. She did not respond to a request for comment. Vedder Price likewise did not respond. Whether the firm has taken any employment action against McDavis remains unknown.
The case raises uncomfortable questions about the vetting behind high-profile advocacy campaigns. The Obama administration's "It's On Us" initiative was built on the premise that male allies could change campus culture. McDavis was held up as proof of concept, a tall, telegenic former athlete who spoke passionately about listening to women and holding violent men accountable. The Obama era produced other figures whose public credentials did not survive contact with their private conduct.
McDavis spent years arguing that institutions, the NCAA, university athletic departments, conference commissioners, were failing to police violent behavior in their ranks. He demanded that organizations screen out bad actors and hold them to account before, not after, the damage was done. The system he championed was one of zero tolerance.
Now the question is whether any of the institutions that elevated him will say a word. The NCAA never adopted his Tracy Rule. The White House that gave him its Champion of Change award moved on years ago. Sports Illustrated ran his profile. Voices of Solidarity put him on stage. None of these organizations have been reported as commenting on the charges.
This is a familiar pattern in advocacy politics. The credential becomes the shield. A man who campaigns loudly enough against a particular wrong earns a presumption of virtue that can deflect scrutiny for years. The louder the advocacy, the wider the gap between the public image and any private reality, and the harder it becomes for anyone inside that world to ask hard questions without being accused of undermining the cause.
It is not unique to the left. But the left's institutional machinery, the White House ceremonies, the petition platforms, the magazine profiles, the solidarity galas, is especially good at manufacturing moral authority and especially reluctant to revoke it. McDavis collected every credential that ecosystem offers. Whether those credentials delayed accountability is a question worth asking.
The unnamed victim, meanwhile, endured what prosecutors describe as a yearlong campaign of violence, harassment, and intimidation, allegedly at the hands of a man the country had been told was one of the good ones.
Several open questions remain. Whether McDavis has been formally arrested or was charged via summons is not stated in the complaint. The specific incidents prosecutors rely on within the July 2025 to June 2026 window have not been publicly detailed. And Holley, his high-profile attorney, has not yet offered any public defense of her client. The arraignment on September 2 will be the first courtroom test of the case.
The broader record of figures connected to the Obama orbit facing scrutiny for private conduct continues to grow, though each case stands on its own facts. McDavis's case will rise or fall on the evidence Los Angeles prosecutors present. But the contrast between his public persona and the allegations in the complaint is already complete.
When a man builds a career telling the country to believe women and hold abusers accountable, the country is entitled to take him at his word, starting with the charges on his own docket.