Ohio State President Ted Carter Jr. stepped down Monday after confessing to an "inappropriate relationship" with a woman who sought the university's help with her business.
The New York Post reported that Carter told the board of trustees he "made a mistake in allowing inappropriate access to Ohio State leadership," then tendered his resignation.
He did not elaborate on the circumstances. The woman has not been publicly identified.
Carter, 66, led the nation's sixth-largest university for just over two years. He earned $1.5 million per year for the privilege. As recently as August, the board of trustees approved a 4.5% merit raise, bringing his base salary to $1.2 million along with a $400,000 bonus.
That investment aged poorly.
Chairman John W. Zeiger confirmed the board had no advance warning. In a letter responding to Carter's resignation, he wrote that the board "was surprised and disappointed to learn of" the relationship. His response was measured but not warm:
"We respect your decision and appreciate your cooperation in supporting an orderly leadership transition. Thank you for your service to Ohio State, I wish both you and Lynda the very best in the future."
Carter, for his part, framed the exit on his own terms. He said he resigned voluntarily and noted he was leaving with Lynda, his wife of nearly 45 years:
"Lynda and I leave Ohio State with gratitude and appreciation for this wonderful community. It has been an honor to serve as this university's 17th president, and we wish the university ongoing success."
Gratitude and appreciation. The language of a man heading for the exits with as much dignity as the situation permits.
University presidents come and go. Affairs are old news. But the detail that should concern every Ohio State stakeholder isn't the personal conduct. It's the access.
Carter admitted to granting "inappropriate access to Ohio State leadership" to a woman who wanted the university's help with her business. That's not a personal failing contained to a private life.
That's a governance failure at an institution overseeing an $11.5 billion budget. When the president of a major public university opens institutional doors based on a personal relationship, the question isn't just about marital vows.
It's about fiduciary duty, public trust, and whether anyone else benefited from arrangements they shouldn't have.
Carter offered no details. The board, apparently, is only now learning what happened under its own roof. That should trouble Ohio State alumni and taxpayers alike.
Carter filled a vacancy left by the unexplained, mid-contract resignation of President Kristina Johnson. No public accounting was given for that departure either.
Now Carter himself has resigned under a cloud, making this two consecutive Ohio State presidents who left without finishing the job and without giving the university community a straight answer about why.
This is what institutional rot looks like. Not dramatic scandal, but a slow accumulation of opacity. Boards that don't ask hard questions until the answers are already embarrassing. Leaders who collect seven-figure salaries and then vanish with polite farewell statements while the people who fund the institution are left to wonder what actually happened.
The resignation is particularly striking given Carter's background. He graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy, later served as superintendent, and still holds the national record for carrier-arrested landings.
Before Ohio State, he served as president of the University of Nebraska from 2020 to 2023. He and Lynda met during a hockey game at the Naval Academy in 1979, married in 1982, and built a life together that included 20 moves around the world and raising two children, Brittany and Christopher.
Lynda was recognized in university materials as a dedicated military spouse.
None of that is erased. But none of it excuses what happened either. A man who spent decades in military leadership, where accountability is supposed to be non-negotiable, allowed a personal relationship to compromise the integrity of a public institution.
The board now faces another leadership search, its second in a span that should concern anyone who cares about Ohio State's trajectory. Zeiger referenced an "orderly leadership transition," which is board-speak for "we're managing this in real time."
The real test isn't who they hire next. It's whether they demand transparency about what actually happened during Carter's tenure.
Which doors were opened. Which business interests received favorable treatment. Whether the $11.5 billion budget was touched by any of it.
Ohio State's students, faculty, and the taxpayers of Ohio deserve more than polite letters and gracious departures. They deserve answers.
So far, nobody's offering any.
