Before dawn on December 12, 2011, more than two hundred reporters crowded into the Centre County Courthouse in bucolic Bellefonte, Pennsylvania, almost two hours before Jerry Sandusky was expected to face as many as ten young accusers prepared to testify under oath that he was a predatory pedophile. Outside the steepled courthouse at least twice that many photographers and television technicians were jammed onto a frozen patch of lawn that had been painted with red lines to give every network a piece of earth from which to broadcast their reports about one of the most infamous child sex abuse cases in American history. A representative from Oprah Winfrey was passing out handwritten letters to lawyers from the television impresario asking for exclusive interviews with their clients. More than thirteen hundred people had registered for a lottery for one of a hundred courtroom seats available to the general public. The overflow crowd could watch the proceedings via closed circuit television in a county office building across the street. In an unprecedented ruling, a visiting judge allowed reporters to bring laptop computers into the courtroom to transmit minute-by-minute accounts of the proceedings via Twitter and other social networks.
Never before had security in Bellefonte, a town of just over six thousand people, been so tight. The Centre County seat, which got its name from a natural spring buried deep below it, was better known for fly-fishing than courtroom drama. But on this crisp morning heavily armed local and state police surrounded the courthouse. Snipers with high-powered rifles scanned the scene from perches behind Victorian eaves on the roofs of historic buildings, whose unique charm was normally fodder for walking tours led by architecture enthusiasts.
About an hour before the hearing was to begin on that subfreezing morning, Jerry Sandusky emerged from a vehicle in a back lot and smiled briefly as his grim-faced wife gripped his arm and walked silently beside him. A tan shawl shielded her from the cold, and white pearls adorned her ears. The gray-haired grandmother with wire-rimmed glasses added nothing to written statements she had given in the weeks leading up to the hearing, when she had offered full support for her husband of forty years.
As the couple walked deliberately toward the front steps of the courthouse, neither they nor those who had come out to support them this cold winter day avoided the cameras, but they all ignored questions. Sandusky’s smile had vanished by the time he went through the metal detector and made the solemn walk to the upstairs courtroom. The room was quiet as Dottie and other family members veered to the right to find their reserved seats. Sandusky walked behind his lawyer, Joseph Amendola, who glad-handed attorneys and reporters as he waltzed up the courtroom aisle like a politician on the campaign trail. Sandusky made no eye contact with anyone, instead gazing blankly ahead or occasionally up at the painted gold leaves crowning the ceiling.
Two young men sat silently in a courthouse anteroom just a few feet from where they expected to take the witness stand and unburden themselves of terrible secrets. Eight other young men sat in a private conference room in a state police barracks outside of town, ready to report to the courthouse accompanied by undercover state troopers when it was their turn to testify. All of them were being consoled by their lawyers, who had prepped them extensively during the past week for what they could expect. Some had known each other from picnics and swimming meets and other programs they experienced as young children at The Second Mile; others had met as they awaited their turn on a psychologist’s couch. A few of them were there because their mothers had called police when they learned of Sandusky’s misdeeds; most of them had never intended to face down the man. They had merely answered questions when investigators asked if they had experienced inappropriate behavior by Sandusky.
The young men were not from the same towns in central Pennsylvania, but they were bonded by common threads in their backgrounds. All of them had troubled family situations or had been in trouble at school. All of them went to The Second Mile because it offered programs and people who would help them build needed structure in their lives. They also learned through the program to develop a positive outlook to face their adversities.
To the outside world, they would be identified by the collective label of “victim” in the Sandusky case and assigned numbers one through ten to tell them apart. But inside the conference room they had faces and names and personalities that made them flesh-and-blood human beings. They also had another thing in common: all of them had told a statewide investigating grand jury they had been sexually assaulted by Sandusky after they turned to or were sent by school counselors to The Second Mile. They had sworn under oath that once Sandusky identified them as marks for abuse, he plied them with material things they previously could only dream of. In each case, the boys thought they had found a male role model who genuinely cared about them. Now they were prepared to say in open court that Sandusky had made inappropriate sexual advances toward them and in some cases that he had molested them for months or years.
That morning they all felt the underlying tension. They would have to stare down the jovial, white-haired Sandusky and tell a judge that the man who professed to love them had betrayed their trust and stolen their souls. All of them had been advised not to share the details of their sexual molestation at the hands of Sandusky. They didn’t need to. By that point all of them had read the original forty-count indictment as well as the twelve additional counts against their former mentor. All of them now understood that Sandusky was being accused with crafting a grooming plan of abuse as tightly as he had strategies for defensive success on the gridiron. They now knew they weren’t alone in their nightmares.
The plan put together by prosecutors called for the first two witnesses already in the courthouse to complete their testimony. Then the rest would be driven one by one from the state police barracks to face down Sandusky. Some of these young men had waited fifteen years to break their silence. They waited because they feared Sandusky, or were so ashamed of what he had done to them that they preferred to keep it secret, or were convinced no one would believe them. Now the day had finally come to confront their internal and external demons in front of a national audience.
In the days leading up to this first showdown, Amendola worked the media in an effort to knock down the seriousness of charges against his client. He proclaimed to almost any reporter who asked that Sandusky was innocent and that his actions had been misunderstood. Sandusky himself had given two interviews, in which he admitted that he had showered with boys and had engaged in contact that others would, at the very least, deem inappropriate. Sandusky’s actions, Amendola argued, were not sexual but the acts of an “overgrown kid.” Amendola, who pointedly referred to the young men as “accusers,” stated that as many as half of them might be called to testify as character witnesses on Sandusky’s behalf.
The courtroom audience couldn’t wait to hear the evidence and listen to the voices of young men whose stories had only been told in printed statements from the Pennsylvania attorney general’s office. Before Sandusky even took his seat, Amendola led him into a back room for a meeting with prosecutors. Fifteen minutes later the two men emerged. The man who had been pictured in news reports for years pumping his fists and smiling broadly after college football victories slumped forlornly into his seat at the defense table. His head drooped as if he couldn’t summon the strength to hold it up, his hands folded on the table in front of him.
After a quick and hushed meeting in front of Senior Magisterial District Judge Robert E. Scott, Sandusky’s lawyer announced that his client would waive his preliminary hearing and take his case directly to trial. In less than two minutes after Sandusky told the judge he agreed with the waiver the hearing was over.
People inside and outside the courtroom were stunned. If his intention had been to waive the hearing, why had he waited until the last minute and put all his alleged victims through the horrible process of preparing to testify? One possible scenario was that Sandusky, the ultimate control freak, wanted to let the process go forward only to be the ultimate director of the action. Caught by reporters as he exited a back door of the courthouse, Sandusky was resolute and offered a football metaphor as a sound bite: “We fully intend to put together the best possible defense that we can do, to stay the course, to fight for four quarters. . . . We want the opportunity to present our side.”
Reporters had expected a full day or more in court and testimony from as many as ten of Sandusky’s accusers. Now they had to chase after Amendola, who was ready and more than willing to present his case in the court of public opinion in front of a forest of microphones on the front lawn of the courthouse.
Amendola said he had legitimate reasons for waiting until trial to contest the charges. First of all, he said, rules of preliminary hearings in Pennsylvania courts limit cross-examination of witnesses. Prosecutors have to present only enough evidence that a crime had occurred, known as prima facie, or first blush, to cause the matter to be held for trial. In talks late the previous night, he said, prosecutors agreed to quickly turn over discovery materials, a legal term that describes the state’s obligation to turn over all evidence in the cases against Sandusky, especially any negative information they possess about any potential witnesses. He said they also agreed that if future charges were to be filed against his client, prosecutors would not ask for a higher bond.
In reality, however, Amendola had another reason for waiving the case to trial. He knew testimony from a parade of accusers would become fodder for a second media onslaught against his client that wouldn’t end for weeks. Although the media storm technically had nothing to do with what happened inside the courtroom, Amendola wanted to curb the tide of negative publicity, so he continued performing his own monumental spin job. There were no plea bargains under way, and he was eager to take the case to trial, he chirped into a public address system in front of the courthouse. In a point-by-point rebuttal of charges and wide-ranging accusations against Sandusky’s accusers, Amendola answered questions for over an hour. He admitted that while his client was prepared to fight, he was “depressed”: “He’s devastated because everything he has done in his life, all of the good things, have been turned upside down.” Meanwhile Sandusky was driven back home.
As for the young men who had accused him of pedophilia, Amendola said both Sandusky and his wife were mystified. They had always considered some of those boys part of their extended family. He also said the Sanduskys had spent time in the past year with at least two of the accusers, not knowing the young men were preparing to testify before the grand jury or had already done so. He scoffed at the presentment’s implication that those contacts were veiled efforts to intimidate the young men.
Amendola agreed with a questioner who said that the burdens on the defense were akin to climbers starting a hike to reach the summit of Mount Everest. He took no mercy on anyone who had any accusatory things to say about his client. He argued that some of the accusations against Sandusky didn’t remotely involve sexual contact. Showering with a boy after a workout might seem odd, Amendola said, but it did not rise to the level of a crime. He failed to address the perverse things his client was alleged to have done with the young boys in the shower.
Amendola reserved his most damning commentary for Mike McQueary. It was McQueary who testified to the grand jury that he saw Sandusky molesting a ten-year-old boy. Despite the fact that there were at least ten accusers against Sandusky, Amendola characterized McQueary as the “centerpiece” of the state’s case against his client. He said he believed McQueary’s testimony was the reason charges were pursued against Sandusky, Tim Curley, and Gary Schultz. Amendola also said it was McQueary’s statements that led to the ouster of Joe Paterno and Graham Spanier.
Amendola claimed that although the grand jury considered McQueary’s testimony “extremely credible,” information since then had shown major inconsistencies in what the assistant coach, now on paid leave, saw and did. He said that questions about whether McQueary stopped the alleged assault, whether he reported it to police, exactly what he told Paterno, Curley, and Schultz, and a variety of other issues had been raised since the release of the grand jury’s presentment. He had found so many inconsistencies that he could “wipe [McQueary] off of this case.” Sandusky’s attorney found it unbelievable and unimaginable that McQueary went into a locker room, witnessed Sandusky anally assaulting a ten-year-old boy, but did nothing to come to the child’s aid and didn’t call police. The fact that he instead went home to tell his father, who then suggested he take the matter to Paterno instead of the police, was also highly questionable. He said another of McQueary’s stories also didn’t make sense: in one version he told Curley and Schultz specific sexual details of the shower encounter, and in another, milder version he mentioned only “horsing around” and “horseplay.” Amendola insisted that Curley and Schultz, who he called decent and conservative men, would not have reacted to serious criminal behaviors such as child rape with a mild admonishment to Sandusky to stop taking showers with children. “If you believe that, I suggest you dial 1-800-REALITY,” Amendola said, not realizing that number is for a pay-per-call phone service offering gay and bisexual pornography.
Amendola charged that the accusers were driven by the chance to make money off Sandusky. He pointed to the ranks of personal injury and civil rights lawyers present that day to support his claim. He suspected collusion among the accusers, all bent on a big payday from lawsuits against Penn State and The Second Mile. One of the first things he was going to do was investigate whether the young men who made the allegations against Sandusky knew each other. He planned to seek records of text messages, telephone calls, and other data to see if they had had contact with each other. “We’re ready to defend, always have been ready to defend,” he said.
Amendola’s comments brought quick and specific rebukes, also on the courthouse lawn, from the pack of lawyers he chastised. Just as he had done, the lawyers of the young men made the rounds from CNN to NBC, CBS, ABC, and virtually every print and Internet news organization in America to challenge the assertions of Sandusky’s lawyer and to buttress the resolve of their clients.
Among them was Ben Andreozzi, one of the lawyers for the young man identified as Victim 4, who was to be the first witness to face Sandusky at his preliminary hearing. Andreozzi said his client, who had suffered long-term abuse from Sandusky, had experienced a range of emotions. Initially he had had no desire to become involved in the trial. Then he became terrified about testifying but had found the inner resolve to step up. After he learned the preliminary hearing was waived, the young man gave Andreozzi a handwritten statement to be read to the media: “This is the most difficult time of my life. I can’t put into words how unbearable this has been on my life, both physically and mentally. I can’t believe they put us through this until the last second only to waive the hearing. I want to thank all of the people who have shown support. Regardless of the decision to waive the hearing, nothing has changed. I will still stand my ground, testify and speak the truth.” Andreozzi pointed out that the young man underlined the word “truth” three times in his statement. “I do think it is important to see what the victims are going through,” Andreozzi said.
Lawyers for other victims offered some insights about depression, drug and alcohol abuse, and other mental health issues their clients had battled. Some of the young men had found it difficult to focus on careers because Sandusky had destroyed their psyches, the attorneys said. On the other hand, lawyers for at least two of the accusers said their clients had earned college degrees and built careers and relationships despite their scars. It had taken years of introspection to move ahead, but most had persevered, not knowing there were others who faced the same issues.
As for collusion, Andreozzi said his client had apologized to some of the younger accusers for not having the courage to come forward sooner. If Amendola wanted to score him over that, “then shame on him.” “To suggest these young men should not be in communication with each other is somewhat disingenuous. I think it is important for their recovery to have the opportunity at some point to share their stories in a group session.”
On the issue of a financial windfall, Andreozzi said he had represented his client for nearly a year prior to the indictments. He figured Sandusky had few unencumbered assets, so the odds were slim of ever reaping a significant financial settlement. He said he did not learn that prosecutors had also accused Penn State and The Second Mile of a cover-up—which could make them liable for damages in civil court—until he read the grand jury presentment.
Two of the lawyers representing Victim 6 called Sandusky “a coward” for waiving the hearing. Their client was the child whose mother had first reported Sandusky in 1998 for showering naked with her son in the Penn State football locker room. “Anyone who would abuse a child is by definition a coward,” said one of the attorneys, Ken Suggs, as reporters crowded around him. Suggs and his co-counsel, Howard Janet, said that after their client’s mother reported Sandusky to police, Sandusky admitted what he had done and ultimately said his life as he knew it was over. “The guy said he wished he was dead,” said Janet.
Janet acknowledged that his client had dined with Sandusky and his wife in the summer of 2011, but as to being called as a character witness for Sandusky, he said nothing could be further from the truth. “It is grotesque that Sandusky or his lawyer would suggest that a victim of molestation attending a dinner Sandusky invited him to is somehow a defense to the indefensible actions of which Sandusky has been accused.” Victim 6 had not seen Sandusky for many years when he got a call from the man, who had known for more than two years that he was the subject of a grand jury probe. That was in July 2011, just four months before Sandusky would be indicted. Almost all of the evidence had been presented. Sandusky, according to the young man’s lawyer, invited his client to dinner. Sandusky pitched the dinner “to prospective attendees as an opportunity to catch up with former Second Mile participants,” even though he had resigned from the charity two years earlier.
Janet said authorities investigating Sandusky were notified and had given their seal of approval for Victim 6 to attend. “They even wanted him to wear an electronic listening device. Though he opted not to wear the ‘wire’ because he was nervous about doing so, he reported details back to law enforcement.”
According to Janet and Suggs, more questions than answers emerged from Sandusky’s dinner with their client. They would later post them on the firm’s website: “Why was he arranging to meet with victims while under investigation? Was he trying to tamper with or improperly influence potential witnesses? Was he trying to use the victims’ attendance at dinner to discredit their accusations against him as part of a devious strategic plan of defense? Did he plan all along to try to influence the public or the jury pool by pointing to victim’s attendance at the dinner? Why did he keep showering these children with gifts and access to Penn State football games long after they left The Second Mile and had become adults? Does he truly believe that ‘relationships’ can be built on the sort of inappropriate interactions he is accused of initiating with these boys?”
The lawyers, who represent child victims nationally, said their client was intent on telling the truth when he took the witness stand. “Hopefully, as a result of Victim 6 and others having the courage to come forward, not only will justice be done, but it will aid in their healing. We have a responsibility to shine a bright light on the practice of ‘grooming’ vulnerable children for sexual activity—especially when it is enabled by institutional indifference. Today we call on Sandusky and his lawyer to stop the manipulation and mental abuse of these former Second Mile children and Penn State devotees so that this matter may be resolved quickly and healing may get underway.”
As for the client he represents, Janet has said the twenty-seven-year-old had not decided if he wanted to file a civil suit in the matter. The young man, who has become deeply religious since his experiences with Sandusky, had no plans to do anything about the abuse he suffered until investigators visited him. That’s when he contacted Janet. At the time he did not know there were other victims of Sandusky’s abuse. Janet said one of the most profound moments of the entire chain of events came when Victim 6 finally got a chance to read the twenty-three-page presentment against Sandusky. His lawyer said he was devastated. “He cried. He didn’t cry for what happened to him. He cried for the others.”
Tom Kline of the Philadelphia law firm Kline and Specter would not reveal which of the alleged victims he represented. Kline said the day was a seminal event for Sandusky’s accusers. It enabled them to come away from the hearing with a feeling of mutual support, even though technically nothing had happened. “That whole day was one where they all realized there was strength in numbers. Anybody who had any reservations about coming forward who went through that process became steadfast in their determination to see it through.” Kline suggested the coalescing of energy among those readying themselves to testify was bad for Sandusky in the short and long run. That was especially true for most of the accusers, who did not seek the public light or revenge against Sandusky, but got involved after “a knock at the door” from investigators in late 2010 or early 2011. Now all of them knew they were not alone.
Amendola didn’t hear the rebukes from the alleged victims’ lawyers because he was still doing interviews across the courthouse lawn. Later he said he talked as much as he could because his client had been crucified around the world. He wanted to achieve some balance in coverage so folks would have an open mind about his client. He said he planned to try the case in Centre County because extensive pretrial publicity was so pervasive around the nation there really was no other place to take it. He admitted the stakes were high: “This is the fight of Jerry Sandusky’s life and we plan to fight this to the death.”