Page 57 - Malcolm Gladwell - Talking to Strangers
P. 57

“If Sandusky did not have such a human side, there would be a temptation around [Penn State] to
                    canonize him,” a writer for Sports Illustrated said, upon Sandusky’s retirement from the Penn State
                    football-coaching staff. Here, from the same era, is part of an article from the Philadelphia Inquirer:
                       In more than one motel hallway, whenever you encountered him and offered what sounded like
                       even the vaguest sort of compliment, he would blush and an engaging, lopsided grin of modesty
                       would wrap its way around his face. He isn’t in this business for recognition. His defense plays
                       out in front of millions. But when he opens the door and invites in another stray, there is no
                       audience. The ennobling measure of the man is that he has chosen the work that is done without
                       public notice.
                       The first questions about Sandusky’s conduct emerged in 1998. A Second Mile boy came home
                    from a day with Sandusky, and his mother saw that he had wet hair. The boy said he had worked out
                    with Sandusky, and then the two had taken a shower in the locker room. The boy said that Sandusky
                    had wrapped his arms around him and said, “I’m gonna squeeze your guts out.” Then he lifted him
                    up to “get the soap out of his hair,” with the boy’s feet touching Sandusky’s thigh. 4
                       The mother told her son’s psychologist, Alycia Chambers, about what happened. But she was
                    unsure  what  to  make  of  the  incident.  “Am  I  overreacting?”  she  asked  Chambers.  Her  son,
                    meanwhile, saw nothing amiss. He described himself as the “luckiest boy in the world” because
                    when he was with Sandusky he got to sit on the sidelines at Penn State football games.
                       The case was closed.
                       The next reported incident happened ten years later, involving a boy named Aaron Fisher, who
                    had been in the Second Mile program since fourth grade. He came from a troubled home. He had
                    gotten to know Sandusky well, and spent multiple nights at Sandusky’s home. His mother thought
                    of Sandusky as “some sort of angel.” But in November 2008, when he was fifteen, Fisher mentioned
                    to his mother that he felt uneasy about some of Sandusky’s behavior. Sandusky would hold him
                    tightly and crack his back. He would wrestle with him in a way that felt odd.
                       Fisher  was  referred  to  a  child  psychologist  named  Mike  Gillum,  a  believer  in  the  idea  that
                    victims of sexual abuse sometimes bury their experiences so deep that they can be retrieved only
                    with great care and patience. He was convinced that Sandusky had sexually abused Fisher, but that
                    Fisher couldn’t remember it. Fisher met with his therapist repeatedly, sometimes daily, for months,
                    with Gillum encouraging and coaxing Fisher. As one of the police investigators involved in the case
                    would say later, “It took months to get the first kid [to talk] after it was brought to our attention.
                    First  it  was,  ‘Yeah,  he  would  rub  my  shoulders,’  then  it  just  took  repetition  and  repetition,  and
                    finally we got to the point where he would tell us what happened.” By March 2009, Fisher would
                    nod in answer to the question of whether he had had oral sex with Sandusky. By June, he would
                    finally answer, “Yes.”
                       Here we have two complaints against Sandusky in the span of decade. Neither, however, led to
                    Sandusky’s apprehension. Why? Once again, because of default to truth.
                       Did doubt and suspicions rise to the level where they could no longer be explained away in the
                    1998 case of the boy in the shower? Not at all. The boy’s psychiatrist wrote a report on the case
                    arguing that Sandusky’s behavior met the definition of a “likely pedophile’s pattern of building trust
                    and gradual introduction of physical touch, within a context of a ‘loving,’ ‘special’ relationship.”
                    Note  the  word  likely.  Then  a  caseworker  assigned  to  the  incident  by  the  Department  of  Public
                    Welfare in Harrisburg investigated, and he was even less certain. He thought the incident fell into a
                    “gray”  area  concerning  “boundary  issues.”  The  boy  was  then  given  a  second  evaluation  by  a
                    counselor named John Seasock, who concluded, “There seems to be no incident which could be
                    termed  as  sexual  abuse,  nor  did  there  appear  to  be  any  sequential  pattern  of  logic  and  behavior
                    which is usually consistent with adults who have difficulty with sexual abuse of children.” Seasock
                    didn’t see it at all. He said someone should talk to Sandusky about how to “stay out of such gray-
                    area situations in the future.”
                       The  caseworker  and  a  local  police  detective  met  with  Sandusky.  Sandusky  told  them  he  had
                    hugged the boy but that there “wasn’t anything sexual about it.” He admitted to showering with
                    other boys in the past. He said, “Honest to God, nothing happened.” And remember, the boy himself
                    also said nothing happened. So what do you do? You default to truth.
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