by Aaron Fisher
During that ten-minute drive to the school I felt sick, like I was going to have to pull over and throw up. At that point, I knew—one hundred percent—that something had happened. Whatever doubts I ever had were gone.
I pulled into the parking lot and went to the main office, where someone was waiting to escort me to Mrs. Smith’s office. Aaron was sitting there with his backpack at his feet and he was in tears, just staring down at the floor. Mrs. Smith and Karen looked like they had been crying or were trying real hard not to in front of Aaron. They both hugged me. I said, “He did something to him, didn’t he?”
Karen said that Aaron had something he needed to tell me. She said he had told them some things, but he had to tell me, too.
Aaron started to cry and then he said, “I had to stop it. I just had to stop it.”
I asked him, “Stop what?”
“I had to stop it because it was only going to get worse,” he said, sobbing.
I asked him if Jerry was doing sexual stuff to him and he said yes.
I turned to Karen and asked her what we were going to do now. Were we going to call the police? And Karen said we needed to go home and get collected. She said that everyone is very emotional right now and we need you to go home and think about all this, about what we want to do and how we want to handle this.
I said no, we should call the police right now. She said that we couldn’t do that right now. I got louder and started screaming, “We are calling the fucking police right now!” And Aaron was crying again and saying that they didn’t believe him.
I told Karen and Mrs. Smith that there was nothing to think about, that this man did something to my child. They actually said that this man is Jerry Sandusky and he spends a lot of time with a lot of kids and you need to think about the repercussions.
Now, understand that both Karen and Mrs. Smith are on the verge of tears. And still they’re talking to me about repercussions. Repercussions, I suppose, because the notion that Jerry Sandusky could be a child molester was unthinkable. I was so very confused by them, but I said I don’t care who he is; we need to call the police. Karen still said no. She said to take Aaron and go home and we’ll decide what to do tomorrow, when everyone is calmer. Then we’ll call you and discuss this.
I was so mad I was swearing. I told Aaron to get his stuff and we left. On our way out, I called Erin Rutt from my cell. Erin and I had become friendly because she worked as a staff coordinator at Big Brothers/Big Sisters and really ran the program. She also worked as a volunteer for the Second Mile. I felt that Erin was in a position to know something and do something—more than my dad or Kathy was. I had told Erin how Jerry acted upset when I wanted to sign Aaron up for Big Brothers/Big Sisters, and she couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t want Aaron in that program, since it was so good. Later that day, after we found out what was going on for sure, Erin told me how she had thought Jerry acted peculiar the day she was at my house doing Big Brothers/Big Sisters intakes for Katie and Bubby. Jerry was there, and even though he knew Erin pretty well from the Second Mile, he acted like they were strangers. That was another missed red flag.
As I drove Aaron home from school he sat in the front seat with his hands over his face. He was crying and saying over and over again that he knew they wouldn’t believe him. Erin met us at the house and then drove us to Children and Youth Services in Lock Haven. Children and Youth is a county-wide organization and provides protection. I swear I couldn’t breathe. I definitely couldn’t drive.
When we got to Children and Youth, an intake worker tried to talk to Aaron, but he wouldn’t open up at all. They called the psychologist, who turned out to be Mike Gillum, who then took Aaron into his office upstairs. He said they needed to talk alone. I wanted to be in there with him but Mike said it was better if they were one-on-one; he’d talk to me afterward. Erin tried to calm me down and we took seats in a waiting area. But I couldn’t sit still. I was irate. I was scared and I knew that Aaron was scared and I wasn’t feeling real confident about Mike. At that point, I had no faith in anything or anyone.
When Mike and Aaron came out of the office a few hours later, I could tell by the look on Mike’s face that Aaron had told him something awful. Aaron still didn’t want to tell me any details. I told him that I have broad shoulders and that when he was ready, he could just lay it on me. I told him that when he was ready to talk—and I promised I wouldn’t push him—I would be ready to listen.
Even now, these years later, he hasn’t told me any details. Knowing what little I know, I can only imagine. And it makes me shudder.
Aaron is still angry at me. He’s angry that no one noticed—not me or Erin, Mrs. Probst or Mrs. Smith. I don’t mind when he takes out his anger on me. Taking things out on me is the safest way for him to express how he feels. I accept that.
8
No One Believes Me
Aaron
WHEN THE PRINCIPAL CALLED ME THE MORNING AFTER I ASKED MY mom about those sex offender websites, I was worried. I knew what was coming. They took me to the guidance counselor’s office and the head principal was in there, too. Both were women—Mrs. Probst and Mrs. Smith—and they asked me if I knew why I was there. I said that I didn’t. They said that my mom had some concerns about me, that she was worried something was going on with me. They asked me if everything was okay at home. And I said it was. Then they asked me again if I was sure that everything was all right. And I kept saying that everything was okay. Then they said they were going to ask me a question, and I had to try to answer it as honestly as I could: Did someone do something to you? Is anyone hurting you? That was when I just couldn’t take it anymore. I broke down and cried and said yes.
They asked if someone was hurting me sexually and I said yes. When they asked who it was and I told them that it was Jerry Sandusky, all the color went right out of their faces. I wouldn’t give them any details, because it was so embarrassing to tell that kind of stuff to women. I felt like a woman might think that I was gay, and I didn’t want women to think that about me. With a man, I could talk about that kind of stuff and a man would understand how a guy like me would feel. A woman wouldn’t get it.
Aaron at fourteen, the same year he spoke up about the abuse
Since I’ve spent time in therapy, I’m getting myself to understand that what Jerry did to me has nothing to do with being gay; it has to do with abusing children, and that’s it. At the time, though, I was confused about so many things, that one included.
The school called my mom and told her just that she needed to come down to the school right away. Mom was there pretty fast, and when she came flying into the room, Mrs. Probst and Mrs. Smith made me tell Mom what I told them. Mom was frantic. She wanted them to call the police, but they wouldn’t. They actually told her that we both needed to think of the ramifications of what I was saying. They said that Jerry Sandusky was a man with a heart of gold and he would never do anything like what I said.
I was crying. I was extremely upset and kept saying what I had felt all along would happen if I ever told: “See? See? They don’t believe me.” I must have said that a hundred times.
When Erin was driving my mom and me to Children and Youth, I doubted that anyone there would believe me, either. It was my word against Jerry Sandusky’s.
I was sure that no one would ever believe a kid like me.
Then I met Mike Gillum.
9
How Do You Mend a Broken Boy?
Mike
CHILDREN AND YOUTH SERVICES HAS A MAJOR PRESENCE IN THE county and I’ve worked with them for about ten years. Until Aaron came into my office that day, I thought I’d seen it all. Often in situations of both domestic and child abuse—whether sexual or physical—victims come to us first, even before they call the police. We have intake workers on the ground floor who meet with the people and take a statement, and then we go from there—filing reports, alerting the police and local district attorneys.
Karen Probst had followed procedure and ale
rted us at CYS that a boy and his mother were on the way to see us with an alleged complaint of child sexual abuse. She called when they were on the way, rather than before they left her office, which was usually the protocol. When Aaron first got to us, he met with Jessica Dershem. She’s one of our CYS intake workers who evaluates cases like this and gathers information. Aaron gave her some, but it was clear to her from the start that he was far too uncomfortable to say what exactly had happened, although he did indicate that there was a problem with a guy named Jerry Sandusky.
Jessica is a young woman, not a sports fan, and didn’t recognize Sandusky’s name. All she knew was that the boy in front of her was far too distraught and completely reluctant to open up to her. Sometimes a kid will come in and he’s beaten black-and-blue and won’t tell who the perpetrator is. I’ll see the child when the intake workers can’t get him to open up. This was the case with Aaron. Of course, with Aaron, there were no physical signs on his body, but the look in his eyes was enough to tell me what I was dealing with. What I didn’t know was the enormity of the situation—not in terms of who the perpetrator was, but in terms of the prolonged and brutal nature of the sexual abuse.
Before she called me, Jessica called our director, Gerald Rosamilia, and said she had a most reluctant fifteen-year-old boy in her office who wouldn’t offer any details of sexual abuse beyond some fondling. Given the boy’s distress, she felt there was more to the story. Then she told Rosamilia that the alleged perpetrator was a guy named Jerry Sandusky. Although Rosamilia didn’t say too much to Jessica in that moment, later he told me that he recognized Sandusky’s name immediately. That was when he told Jessica to have him talk to me. Rosamilia felt that I might be more successful in getting information out of the boy. It didn’t matter to Rosamilia who the perpetrator was. He has been with CYS for about thirty years, and he’s a strong advocate for children.
The county brought me on as a contractor for CYS in 2005 because I had an excellent reputation in terms of working with kids—not just successful in treatment, but in getting them to communicate. Most kids are reticent to talk about abuse, sexual or otherwise, and they are reluctant to name the perpetrators. My job is to help them through that.
Rosamilia called me and said that a boy was coming up to see me who said he was a victim of sexual abuse at the hands of Jerry Sandusky. Rosamilia asked if I knew who Sandusky was. I confessed that I only knew that he was the former Penn State defensive coach and that he was associated with the Second Mile. Other than that, I didn’t know a great deal about him. I also said that I didn’t know of any association that Sandusky would have in Lock Haven, which was where the boy was from. Jessica had told me that Aaron was a student from Central Mountain High School and that the mother had been to the school, but there were some issues there when the story was told to the principal and guidance counselor, and that’s why Dawn and Aaron came to CYS.
Aaron was on the first floor with his mom and my office is on the second floor, so I went down to get him. He was wearing a plain shirt with short sleeves and an unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt over that, even though it was November and far from warm outside. He had on a pair of raggedy jeans and some beat-up sneakers. His blond hair was scruffy and on the longer side and he just looked disheveled, but it wasn’t the way he was dressed that stunned me. He was so extremely anxious and moving around a lot, pacing the floor in a really tight area in the lobby outside Jessica’s office, but looking down at the floor. His agitation was so high that he was wringing his hands. When he finally made eye contact with me, I could see that his eyes were so red-rimmed that they almost looked bloody. It was obvious that he had been crying. Jessica told me that he was almost fifteen, but he looked younger to me. More like thirteen, and very thin. He was about five foot eight and ninety pounds. He was a slight, small, and very frightened boy.
Dawn was standing right next to Aaron as he paced; her friend Erin Rutt was also there, and both women seemed frantic. They were very verbal with each other, although I can’t recall what they were saying. As I approached, their conversation died down. Jessica introduced me to all three of them. Then Jessica looked at Aaron and said that she promised I wouldn’t bite, but maybe it would be good for Aaron to come upstairs and talk with me because I’m a psychologist.
Dawn and Erin asked if they could come with us and I said they were welcome to come upstairs, but I wanted to have Aaron alone in my office. Dawn was not happy about that, which was understandable. Dawn wanted to know when she could talk to me but I explained that I was going to talk to her son first. Dawn was desperate to know what happened and I just kept assuring her that we all wanted to know, and that it was my job to find out. I promised that I would take care of her child.
I rescheduled all my cases for that day because I knew that Aaron and I were going to be with each other for a while. I was not rushing that boy out of there. I knew that often in cases of abuse, we need more time than the usual hour. I walked Dawn and Erin to a separate waiting area near my office, but they followed us down the hall to my office anyway. The whole time I was in there with Aaron, they were walking back and forth; I could hear their footsteps in the corridor. I’m accustomed to ambient sounds but I wondered if Aaron heard them. He didn’t appear to be distracted. He was very focused on me. I was a little concerned that they were listening at the door, but I understood because they were extremely anxious. Later on, they said they were jumping out of their skins because they both felt they had missed something that now, looking back, seemed so obvious.
Aaron sat down in a chair, and I didn’t sit behind my desk, as I would typically do. I pulled a chair around and sat next to Aaron like you would in a sitting room.
I knew this was going to be a tough one, but I had no idea how tough. I wanted Aaron to get a sense of unconditional and positive regard from me. I didn’t want him to think I wanted anything from him. I wanted him to know that I really cared—and I did. I looked him in the eye even when he wouldn’t make eye contact and I reassured him.
“I really think I know what you must be going through even though you can’t tell me. I’ve been doing this for a long time,” I said. “You know, if someone hit you and broke your arm, or someone touched you in your private parts, well, that’s really embarrassing and hard to talk about because you’re probably very scared. You’re probably so scared that if you would say who it is then whoever that person is will be really mad at you, right?”
He barely nodded his head.
“It’s my job and purpose to protect you and help you,” I said.
The first thing that Aaron said was that no one at the school believed him and no one ever would.
I told him that I believed him. “You know, I’ve seen kids in situations where they’re hurt and it’s by someone they care about. I’m not here to take kids away from someone they love, but if someone they love has a problem with anger and they do things that they shouldn’t do, I want to help that person as well. Our goal is for families to live together—but happily and safely. It’s not always parents who are involved. Sometimes it’s a stepbrother or the guy who owns the neighborhood store or even Mom’s boyfriend. I’m here to help the kid through it. Whatever happened to you, I believe you.”
That usually gets a kid to acknowledge if I am anywhere close to what the situation is with regard to their fear and what they’re going through. If I’m lucky, they just acknowledge spontaneously without too much prodding. Sometimes I have to keep asking if they’re really scared, and I’ll then ask questions like, “Is it more like this: Someone you just met? A stranger? Someone that you know and see every day, like in your house or outside?” It’s like that old kids’ game of Hide the Button, where the kids say yes when you get closer and no when you’re just on a cold trail. I don’t want kids to feel threatened, because this way they don’t betray their abuser, and that’s a common fear among victims. Although they give me information, they don’t feel held accountable because I’m guessing, but my guesses are educ
ated. It’s clear to them that I’m guessing well. I reassure them that I’m not going to run and tell people what they’re telling me. I assure them that I can keep a lot of things just between us—but if someone is hurting them, I have an obligation to do something about it.
At first, Aaron seemed frozen with fear. There was no disarming him and he was too old for me to distract him with some of the toys I keep in my office for little kids so they can act out what happened. It wasn’t easy for either of us that first day.
With Aaron, I was more serious about conveying that I was on his side and that I was going to take care of him 100 percent. I told him that I understood his dilemma and his fear—and his predicament.
Aaron still wasn’t talking.
I kept my body language open and I just said, “Look, I know that something terrible happened to you. I understand that you want it to stop and you want to get away from him and you’re not sure if you want to take it any further than that.”
At that point I knew that Aaron just wanted out of the situation. I knew that Aaron, like so many other victims of sexual abuse, was afraid to take it further and press charges or get anyone arrested or make anyone angry at him. He just wanted out.
Aaron was beginning to open up, not in words, but his body language relaxed some. Though I knew he was fifteen, I couldn’t get over how young he looked—and his mental function and maturity appeared to be that of a twelve-year-old as well. This is typical with victims of crimes and sexual abuse. Development becomes arrested when the abuse begins.
He acknowledged that he was reluctant to talk about anything, and I kept acknowledging that I understood that. He was very nervous. He finally admitted that the man had touched his genitals and kissed him on the mouth, and he was painfully uncomfortable as he told me. He said there were more details that he just didn’t want to talk about right yet, but that he would in the future. He also said that he did not want anyone female to know about what happened to him. Especially his mom. He didn’t want her included in any of the meetings or to be privy to what had happened to him. He also said that he had a girlfriend and that was another reason he didn’t want anyone to know what had happened to him. He didn’t want anyone to think he was gay. And then he pleaded with me to keep Jerry Sandusky away from him.