If anyone at the school was suspicious about Tom Robinson’s motives when he requested an interview with Tom Jefferson, Anthony Ames, and Billy Bob Anderson, they didn’t show it.
All three received a text midmorning from Ed Seaman, head of the school’s communications office.
Mr. Seaman had spoken to the football players on the second day of practice, explaining to them that all requests for interviews had to be cleared by him. “If someone from your hometown paper calls, that’s fine—but send him to me first,” Mr. Seaman had said. “I will check with your position coach to make sure your academic standing is such that you can do an interview and then we’ll set it up.”
It was too soon for any of the players to have any serious academic issues, and apparently Robinson’s explanation that he wanted to talk to Billy Bob (as not only Jason’s roommate but also the quarterback who had led both of TGP’s touchdown drives), Tom (as Jason’s best friend from New York), and Anthony (as Tom’s roommate and thus Jason’s friend) had worked with Mr. Seaman.
“Mr. Robinson will pick the three of you up in front of the locker room at noon,” Mr. Seaman had written. “He has requested taking you off campus for lunch. He is to have you back here by two o’clock latest. Any problems, contact me.”
Noon was the exact time that Jason was to be discharged from the hospital. Tom knew this because he’d gotten a phone call early that morning from Mr. Roddin, telling him that he and Mrs. Roddin were flying to Richmond. There, they would rent a car and make the drive to the hospital. If all went well, they’d be there well before noon and would be able to spend some time with Jason before he was discharged.
Tom reported this news to Billy Bob and Anthony as they walked from the dorm to the locker room. It was a spectacular morning, the first one since they’d arrived that wasn’t so humid that the air felt too heavy to be moved aside by the simple act of walking.
“This place is kind of pretty when you ain’t weighed down by ninety-degree heat and humidity,” Billy Bob said. “Reminds me of Gadsden—in March.”
Tom Robinson was sitting on one of the benches outside the locker room waiting for them when they arrived. They were five minutes early.
“Reporter’s credo,” he said, answering the question before they asked it. “Never make a source wait.”
“Yeah, we’re pretty tough when it comes to punctuality,” Tom said, laughing.
They walked to the coaches’ parking lot in the back of the building. The only car there was parked in the spot closest to the door, reserved for Bill Stiller, TGP’s athletic director.
“Why in the world would Mr. Stiller be in this morning?” Anthony wondered.
“He’s not in,” Billy Bob said. “Someone just parked in his spot.”
“That would be me,” Robinson said, chirping open the doors with his key.
They headed to Charlottesville, about a twenty-minute drive with no traffic anywhere in sight, to a restaurant called the Biltmore. Teel was waiting in a booth in the back big enough to seat six—or four normal-sized people and Anthony.
They quickly updated Teel on Jason, just as they had done with Robinson in the car.
“If he’s okay, why do you think his parents are coming down?” Teel asked.
“Jewish mother syndrome?” Tom said, smiling—while the others laughed. “Then again, my mom would probably do the same. But I’m guessing Mrs. Roddin flipped out when she heard the word concussion, and had to see her baby boy.”
“Well, he set a record last night that might be tied but will never be broken,” Teel said.
“What’s that?” they all asked pretty much in unison.
“One play, one game saved, one concussion.”
“A real stat-stuffer, my roomie,” Billy Bob said.
They all ordered drinks, and then Tom told the two reporters what Coach Johnson had said about knowing he wasn’t Jason’s roommate.
“Did he know that Billy Bob was his roommate?” Robinson asked. “Two freshman quarterbacks rooming together wouldn’t be that unusual.”
Tom shook his head. “Coach Bobo said, ‘Who’s his roommate?’ He didn’t know it was Billy Bob. He just knew it wasn’t me.”
“Plus, I’m an O-lineman and Tom’s a receiver,” Anthony said. “If they’re rooming us by position, why are we together?”
“Because you do both play the same position,” Billy Bob said. “Black person.”
Teel nodded. “You guys know of any African American player with a white roommate?”
They looked at one another.
“Not off the top of my head,” Tom finally said. “But there’s about eighty guys on the team—about half black and half white. We don’t know all the rooming assignments.”
“Well, we need to know them,” Robinson said. “I’m betting there’s not a single interracial room.”
“And I’ll bet if we track down some ex-players, there won’t be any white guys who had black roommates,” Teel added.
“You really think so?” Billy Bob said.
“Tell me you aren’t beginning to see a pattern here,” Teel answered.
“Okay, but how?” Anthony said. “How do we get the rooming list?”
“I would think that’s not a national security issue,” Teel said, “even at TGP.”
“Everything is a national security issue at TGP,” Billy Bob said. “We just walk in and ask for a rooming list, someone’s going to want to know why.”
“Maybe it’s on the school website—the one that only TGP students, faculty, and staff can get on to,” Anthony said.
“We can check,” Tom said. “I’m betting against it, though. But I do have an idea how we can get the list without asking anyone in any kind of authority.”
They all looked at him.
“Juan del Potro’s roommate, Jimmy Gomez. He’s the floor monitor on the fifth floor of our dorm. He’s a basketball player, but he rooms with Juan because there are an odd number of baseball players. He and Juan are pals, and since he’s a senior, he got to choose a roommate.”
“Let me guess,” Billy Bob said. “As the floor monitor, Jimmy has a list of all the rooming assignments for the fifth floor.”
“How do you know all this?” Robinson asked.
“We’ve been sitting at the same table with them all week. Jimmy was telling me on Friday that he’s in charge of the dorm this weekend. Each of the six floor monitors has to stay on campus one weekend out of six to make sure the guys who are around don’t run amok with parties and stuff. Underage alcohol, drugs, or—worst of all—girls in the rooms.”
“You’re telling me there are never girls in the rooms?” Teel asked—clearly shocked.
“Have you seen some of the volleyball players?” Tom asked with a dreamy smile.
“Of course there are girls in the boys’ rooms all the time—and vice versa in the girls’ dorms. They’re just not supposed to be there,” Anthony clarified. “Anyway, I’m betting that when a guy is in charge for the weekend, he’s got the rooming list for the entire dorm in case of an emergency. And the entire football team lives in our dorm.”
“You think Jimmy would give you the list?” Teel asked.
“I think he’d give it to us in a heartbeat,” Tom said.
Teel and Robinson looked at each other and then at the three boys.
Robinson spoke first. “If you guys get a rooming list, and Teel and I can track down some former players—which we can, I’m sure—then we can start to build a pretty strong circumstantial case.”
“We can definitely find some guys,” Teel added. “There are several at Virginia, a few more at Virginia Tech, and others at Richmond and Old Dominion. Probably twelve to fifteen in all, right there.”
Tom frowned. “But isn’t a circumstantial case always considered shaky? Don’t you need a smoking gun?”
Teel shook his head. “A circumstantial case might not hold up in a court of law, but in the court of public opinion it’ll hold up just fine—if it’s strong enough. This isn’t ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ stuff. This is making a case people will believe.”
He looked at Tom with a smile. “How do you know so much about circumstantial evidence?”
“I watch Blue Bloods a lot,” Tom said, a bit sheepishly. “Erin’s always arguing with her father and her brother about only having circumstantial evidence.”
“Who’s Erin?” Robinson asked.
All three boys stared at the reporter in disbelief. “Bridget Moynahan,” they said, almost at once. “Supermodel? Used to date Tom Brady?”
“So,” Teel said, “I’m betting you guys agree with her side of the argument all the time, right?”
“Right!” they answered.
“Well, the good news is that we aren’t going up against anyone who looks like Bridget Moynahan,” Robinson said.
“Okay,” Teel said, bringing them all back from Hollywood to Charlottesville. “You guys will try to get the rooming list. Tom and I will try to contact some former TGP players. We’ll circle back no later than the game against South Hill on Friday and see where we are.”
“You guys coming to the game?” Billy Bob said.
“No.” Teel shook his head. “You’ll kill South Hill. That’s a walkover game before you start conference play in a week. We both have to cover UVA, anyway. But let’s be in touch to see if we need to get together next weekend.” He looked at his watch. “Okay, we better spend a few minutes asking you what happened last night, because if we don’t produce stories about it, your coaches are going to want to know what you’ve been doing with us for two hours.”
They all cracked up, and Teel and Robinson both took out notebooks and digital recorders.
* * *
Billy Bob did most of the retelling since he had played such a key role in the comeback. Anthony, who had played in several series, filled in with some detail. Tom didn’t come into the story until the last play of the game. Then Billy Bob picked up again with detail about the ride to the hospital. It was agreed there would be no mention of Coach Johnson’s insistence that Billy Bob, not Tom, go in the ambulance.
They made the drive back to campus with Robinson, who dropped them off in the coaches’ parking lot. By now, there were a half-dozen cars there.
“Guess the coaches are breaking down the tape,” Robinson said.
“They have to do it today,” Tom said. “Coach Johnson doesn’t like anyone working on Sunday.”
“Amen to that,” Robinson said.
The three boys walked back across campus, agreeing that Tom would try to find Jimmy Gomez as soon as possible to talk to him alone about getting the rooming lists.
“Jason should be back by now,” Tom said as they climbed the steps. “I’m surprised he hasn’t texted me.”
“Well, let’s all go to our room and see if he’s there,” Billy Bob said. “He might still be out with his parents.”
“Good point,” Tom said. “Maybe that’s why he hasn’t texted.”
Billy Bob put his key in the door and then knocked—just in case the Roddins were in there with Jason.
“Come in,” they heard Jason say—a sound that made them all light up with smiles.
Billy Bob pushed the door open and they walked in. Their smiles quickly turned to looks of stunned surprise.
Jason was sitting on his bed, legs outstretched, looking no worse for the wear. His dad was sitting on Jason’s desk chair and his mom was sitting on the edge of Billy Bob’s bed.
But the three of them weren’t alone. There were two other visitors in the room: Alan and Elaine Jefferson.
“Tom!” Elaine Jefferson said, jumping from the edge of Jason’s bed to give her son a hug.
“Mom?” Tom said, confused, surprised, and a little bit concerned.
His father stood up, hands in his pockets. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?” he said.
“Sure,” Tom said, still trying to figure out just what was going on.
Introductions were made. Finally, the three boys turned to Jason—who hadn’t said a word yet.
“How you feeling there, hero-guy?” Billy Bob said.
“My head’s spinning,” Jason said, “but it has nothing to do with the concussion.”
Tom knew exactly how he felt.