The Mega Fart

I just do not understand teenage boys.
Case in point...
 On a recent  junior high school choir field trip I was a chaperon and experienced a “OMG-I-can’t-believe-that-just-happened” moment.
  The boys were allowed to sit in the auditorium while other choirs took the stage for competition. We chaperons had the idea that we could monitor the boys better if they were sitting in rows in front of us. Of course the boys all sat in the back row, so we shuffled them out of it and moved them forward. 
 The plan was for we three adults to sit on either end of the row and one in the middle to watch over our charges. 
 As the last boy exited the row, I maneuvered my way down the last row to take up my perch at the far end when I was stopped cold by the worst smell in the history of the Earth.
 A fart.
 Now, this wasn’t just any fart.
 It wasn’t just a little patch of gas. 
 No, this fart was a tsunami of nasty that had the potential to kill. It was so bad that if it could be bottled into a bio-weapon, anyone holding the cork could take over the planet.
 My eyes watered, my hands covered my face and I was getting light headed from lack of oxygen. Mercifully my feet began to move backward sending me out of the row in search of breathable air. 
 The boys began to notice the smell and stared coughing and gagging and waving their hands around to dissipate the stench. (Like that was gonna help.) The other chaperons noticed and began to retreat covering their noses. Heck, if a skunk was there it would have vacated the area.
  It was so bad, no one would claim it. I was with a group of 13 and 14 year old boys and none of them claimed it! You would think a fart of this magnitude would be something an eight grade boy would be proud of. Nope, not this time. It was so bad, ownership was abandoned.
  I looked around for the guilty party, but the boys were stoic. None of them ratted out the actual culprit. I guess the boys knew who was the owner, but they were not sharing with the chaperons.
 I know girls are capable of passing gas, but girls would hint as to who was responsible. They wouldn’t say a name, but they would stare at the person responsible and then people would know. 
 Not the boys. The boys stuck together. They protected their fellow brother with an unspoken united front of silence.  I’m sure high fives and back pats were passed out at a later time, but in that moment solidarity ruled.
 I couldn't understand it. Why not out the culprit?  I wanted to know who did it. Not because I could do anything could be done about a normal bodily function, but for self preservation.
 I wanted to avoid the line of fire in case of a secondary attack.