by Aaron Fisher
When Mike, Mom, and I were driving down to Harrisburg for the first grand jury, a part of me thought that maybe I was ready to go ahead and do this. Then, just as soon as I’d get my courage up, I’d get this sinking feeling that I couldn’t go through with it and didn’t want to testify. I didn’t want to explain myself to a bunch of people, a bunch of strangers, women included. I knew it was going to be hard, and I’d start all over again to feel real determined, and then I’d start to feel like I couldn’t catch my breath. It was the same up-and-down feeling all the way to Harrisburg. I didn’t know what I wanted to do or what I could do. Jonelle asked me if I could do this and I said that I could, and I told Trooper Rossman that I could, but in that car as we got closer, I was scared.
The lawyers didn’t tell me too much that first go-round except to answer the questions honestly and truthfully. Mike prepped me and told me what to expect. The three of us stayed in a motel near the courthouse, and Mike had permission to sit in the courtroom with me.
Once we got to the motel, I settled down a little, but the next morning when we were driven to the secret place and taken to the secret room, the whole thing was just freaking me out. I was so shaky, and afraid that once it all started, there was no way I could ever go through with it.
I just didn’t want to tell random people who I had never met before in my whole life this story that I never wanted to come out with in the first place. What I had to tell them was so personal. It was hard enough to tell Mike that first time. It was even harder to tell the state troopers, one after the other and over and over again, and then it was really hard to tell Jonelle, because she was a woman, even though I knew that she was part of the attorney general’s office and I had to get past all that.
There was no way I was going to let my mom in the courtroom, but she wasn’t allowed in there anyway so that was a good thing. That way there were no arguments or hurt feelings; I knew that she wanted to be there for me. My mom knew that I wouldn’t say anything to her about what happened. She accepted that. I told her that if you ever find out anything on your own, don’t ever talk to me about it. She respected my wishes.
As I remember it, the grand jury was about thirty people and they were pretty much split down the middle when it came to men and women. The moment I saw them, my anxiety level went up even higher. I don’t smoke but I did chew tobacco for the longest time, and even though I’d quit a while back, that day with the investigative grand jury, I tucked a little piece of chewing tobacco in the corner of my cheek. It helped me to calm down a little.
I really started to break down that day in the courtroom when Jonelle took me back to the time when I first met Jerry. Even though I’d told the story dozens of times already, somehow in that grand jury room it felt so different and I felt so exposed. When she asked me about the sexual stuff, I just started to cry. That was when we took a break. I went outside in the hallway with Mike and he gave me a pep talk. Mom hugged me and made some jokes.
Here’s the thing: Maybe Jonelle did let me know ahead of time, but once I was in that courtroom, I didn’t feel she had prepared me for some of things she was going to ask me about, like oral sex. When Mike and I were sitting in the little cubicle during the recess, he said that he knew how horrible it was for me to tell everything to all those people. He also explained that telling the jury what really happened meant they’d most likely indict Sandusky. I got it. If I didn’t tell and just fell apart, then Sandusky would go free. Mike told me to remember that the people on the jury and in the attorney general’s office really cared about me and wanted to help me, not hurt me. For me, it was hard to believe still that people were on my side.
Before the break, when Jonelle first asked me about the abuse and the oral sex, I had said no. What I meant was “Yes, it all happened,” with the “no” meaning that I just didn’t want to talk about it. The jury got confused and that’s when she called for the break; it was also because I started to melt down. When Jonelle requestioned me after Mike talked to me and I calmed down, I was able to say “yes” but still not without crying. I knew that Jonelle had to ask me everything, but when she was questioning me about what happened, suddenly I was that little boy again in that basement with Jerry Sandusky. She brought me back to it all. I was that little boy who was too afraid to cry or run. As much as I couldn’t stand talking in front of those thirty strangers, I guess in a strange way they made me feel that it was safe to break down and cry.
Mike
AS IT TURNED OUT, ROSSMAN WAS THE ONE WHO HELPED US PREPARE for the first grand jury, which started on June 16, 2009. The exact terminology was “a secret investigative grand jury” and from the moment I heard this was coming to be, I knew that this was an unusual proceeding for a case like this one. Typically, secret grand juries are for high-profile criminal cases. I knew that this case was becoming exactly that, but to the best of my knowledge at that point, there was still only one known victim, and that was Aaron. Of course, I also knew that the reason a grand jury was convened in this case was that the alleged perpetrator was Jerry Sandusky.
I knew that the investigative grand jury had the most power of any law enforcement tool. I also knew that the attorney general’s office and law enforcement were hitting a lot of walls in their attempts to interview people. People did not want to speak out. Honestly, there were some people who also spoke to me confidentially and led me to believe that was the case; they were getting reports on Sandusky as they vetted witnesses and employees and tried to identify other children. Apparently, there were other questionable things that happened with Jerry Sandusky over the years when it came to little boys. But when the attorney general’s agents and state troopers attempted to speak to employees at the Second Mile and Penn State, they were just shut out. Picture a cop knocking on a door and the person opens it halfway and then says they’ve got nothing to say and the door slams closed.
Because the accused was Jerry Sandusky, law enforcement wanted to do everything right. In other words, they wanted a bona fide grand jury indictment rather than one law enforcement official arresting Sandusky and then someone cutting him loose because the evidence was either shaky or insufficient. A grand jury indictment wouldn’t be questionable. Politically, it would also diffuse any backlash or repercussions that could potentially fall upon a law enforcement agency or individual for an arrest without cause, which could end up backfiring and leave Sandusky a free man.
It was my impression that the grand jury was convened because the attorney general’s office had done its homework, despite the fact that doors closed in their faces and Sandusky kept appealing the CYS indication right up until a week or so before that first grand jury met. Maybe it was wishful thinking at the time, but I figured that the attorney general had some other evidence that came out of the investigation that started with Aaron.
It’s always been my feeling that someone in Sandusky’s camp must have known that a grand jury proceeding was in the works, because shortly after Rossman met with Aaron, Dawn got a call from a guy named “John,” who claimed to be with the Philadelphia Eagles organization. John offered her box seats for the season and when she asked why, John said they were placed aside for her and her son Aaron. John went on to say that he knew that Aaron had attended games in the past and he wanted to offer a 2009 full season pass with premium seats. Dawn wisely said he should call her back, and then she called me. I told Dawn to say that she and her son would not be attending games this season. John still persisted. He told Dawn that he could offer them to others in her family. Dawn still declined and then said that perhaps she’d get back to him. When she asked how he came to offer her these tickets, John claimed that Aaron’s name was drawn from a list of names entered in a contest.
One Christmas, Sandusky had put together a photo album for Aaron of times they’d spent together. One snapshot was Aaron and Sandusky at an Eagles’ game. At the trial, that photograph album was in evidence. As for “John’s” offer, it was either a really strange coincidence and t
he guy was innocent and on the level, or someone put him up to the task of what boils down to bribery. We let it go. We had bigger fish to fry.
The grand jury convened in Harrisburg, and at the request of the attorney general’s office, we went down the night before and spent the night at a Red Roof Inn. Dawn and Aaron stayed in one room and I stayed in another. Trooper Rossman met us in Harrisburg. The following morning we were escorted to a secret office and then to an undisclosed location where the grand jury assembled. It was all pretty intimidating. The private lobby was lined with armed security. We all waited our turn while special identification tags were issued to us; then we were taken to another floor, where the grand jury waited.
Aaron did not want his mother in the courtroom and Dawn understood. Aaron, as he said all along, didn’t want her to hear the disturbing details of his testimony. In addition, Dawn had not been subpoenaed, so even if Aaron had wanted her there, she would not have been allowed in.
It was all very cloak-and-dagger. Witnesses are secured and isolated from one another so there is no chance of them running into one another prior to giving testimony. To the best of my knowledge, the only witnesses that day were law enforcement. Because Aaron was so distraught, and because of the nature of the crime and the fact that Aaron was a child, the judge allowed me to stay in the courtroom while Aaron gave his testimony. The judge understood that as his psychologist and confidant, I was needed by Aaron as his port in the storm. The judge understood that my presence would enhance Aaron’s sense of security as he gave testimony.
As for me, they had my written reports, which the jurors reviewed, so there was no need for me to take the stand. There’s a different set of rules for a grand jury than for an actual trial. Jurors are allowed to read things and to have hearsay evidence. Not only were my summaries of Aaron’s case submitted, but there were those from the state troopers who had interviewed Aaron as well.
I was seated at the same table with Trooper Rossman and Jonelle. As Jonelle questioned Aaron on the stand, I was positioned in such a way that Aaron and I were really face-to-face as he gave his testimony. It was a tough process for Aaron. After roughly an hour of his testimony, involving more and more graphic detail, he began crying so hard that he was close to collapse and said that he felt faint. That was when Jonelle asked for a recess. He realized that Jonelle wanted him to go into greater detail and although he did acknowledge that sexual abuse had happened, his answers were short and relegated to “yes” or “no” when it came to certain acts. When it came to the “yes” answers with regard to oral sex having occurred, he nodded, and then Jonelle had to prompt him to verbalize so that the court stenographer would have the answer audibly for the records.
As we got into the hallway, Aaron leaned against the wall and started to slide down. I took him into a little cubicle not much bigger than a closet. I asked Dawn to give him half an Ativan, the anti-anxiety medication that his doctor had prescribed for him, but just half because I wanted him to remain completely alert. It was more a placebo effect. Dawn came into the cubicle, and although it was clear that her anxiety level was high as well, she was strong for him. She tried to joke with her son. “Oh boy, Aaron,” she said. “I thought you were going to fall down there for a second when you slid down that wall.” She was trying to cajole him a little and make him laugh and keep things light.
I told him that he had done a great job in that courtroom and was really brave to give that testimony. I also told him that we had to go back in because the day wasn’t over yet.
Aaron got himself recharged and went back and finished his testimony. This time, rather than just accepting “yes” and “no” answers, Jonelle got him to vocalize more graphically about what had happened to him in terms of oral sex. After the break, he was also able to say that the sexual contact happened numerous times. When Jonelle asked him if oral sex had occurred between them more than twenty-four times, Aaron said “yes.” He was loud and clear. Then he just put his head down on the witness stand and started to cry again.
After Aaron’s testimony finished, we spoke with Jonelle and Rossman. Both of them said what a good job Aaron did on the stand, and Jonelle said how sorry she was that she had to ask him all those tough questions. She explained how necessary they were, and again, she told Aaron how brave he was. Her pep talk made an impression on him.
As Dawn and Aaron were collecting themselves before we left the courthouse, I had a moment alone with Jonelle and Rossman. They indicated that there was some other evidence that they were not yet at liberty to share with me. It was something that happened in 1998. They didn’t say anything else, just that when they had the full story, they’d let me know.
Aaron and Dawn drove back to Lock Haven and I headed home as well. I tuned in a classic rock station on the car radio and tried to chill out. Later that night, I was at my desk and surfing the Internet—playing detective, I guess. Googling terms like prosecutor, Centre County, State College, Penn State. That was when I came across the name Ray Gricar.
Gricar was Centre County’s top prosecutor when he mysteriously vanished in April 2005. I’d remembered reading about the case a few years before, but now that we were so steeped in prosecution, law enforcement, grand jury, and the attorney general’s office, the case of the missing prosecutor piqued my curiosity. Gricar’s red and white Mini Cooper was found the day after Gricar’s girlfriend reported him missing. Gricar had called his girlfriend on a Friday morning around eleven thirty to say he was taking the day off and driving down to Lewisburg, where he liked to shop around for antiques. Ray never came home that day. His girlfriend called him in as a missing person. On Saturday, his car was in a parking lot in Lewisburg—about forty-five minutes from his home in Bellefonte. The car was in perfect condition—no signs of a break-in, and no blood in the vehicle. The only odd evidence was that Ray didn’t smoke, yet faint traces of cigarette smoke and ashes were found in the car. Months later, his laptop was recovered from the Susquehanna River. A fisherman had spotted it under a bridge. It was in pieces, with the hard drive removed. Months after that, a woman spotted the hard drive, which was so water-damaged that no information was retrievable.
It was just an old news story. There was no mention of Sandusky in connection with Gricar’s disappearance. Not yet.
18
Wiretap
Mike
AARON CONTINUED TO COME IN FOR THERAPY AT LEAST ONCE A week after that first grand jury, and we held several phone calls in between sessions. I had an open arrangement with Aaron and Dawn to the effect that if either of them needed me for whatever reason, they could call at any time—day or night. Often Dawn called on Aaron’s behalf, and if I wasn’t in session, I took the call immediately. Sometimes, if I was with a patient and couldn’t interrupt the session, I had to steel myself from answering the phone and call them back. Their calls were constant, but this was a crisis situation.
On a personal note, the problem was that this was a pending criminal case that I couldn’t discuss with anyone. Not with my kids. Not with my friends or with my colleagues. Not even with my wife. There had been cases I’d discussed with my wife before and simply left out names because of confidentiality issues, but this was one that had to stay just with me. The late-night calls and texts were taking a toll on our marriage. I couldn’t sleep, my diet went to hell, and I was gaining weight. I admit that this case consumed me. I felt solely responsible for this boy: I asked myself if I was doing right by him. But I was also convinced that there were others like him out there. Maybe, just maybe, Aaron’s coming forward would bring the other victims out from behind their shuttered and shattered lives, and Jerry Sandusky would be revealed as the human hazard that he was and put away forever.
Within a few days after Aaron gave his testimony at the grand jury, Rossman spoke to me about doing a wiretap. He wanted Aaron to call Sandusky and try to get him to acknowledge the sexual abuse in a recorded phone conversation. Rossman said, correctly, that the attorney general approved of the
plan. I didn’t hesitate for a moment when I said that it would be a bad idea. Aaron was still far too fragile for this kind of intrigue. He continued to worry about Sandusky sending hit men to have him killed. Getting on the phone to lure Sandusky into a confession would be too much for him emotionally; I was certain that he couldn’t handle making a phone call like that. It was too sophisticated an endeavor. On the psychological side, I was afraid that just hearing Sandusky’s voice could set him back in terms of his treatment. I feared it would put an inordinate stress on his mental health, which we were still trying to balance.
Then there’s that old expression that bugged me: Just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. Was I worried that Sandusky or someone else would hurt Aaron or his family? At first, I wasn’t. Generally, I assure people that nothing like that will happen. I assure them that we at CYS and local police will protect them. I had said that to Aaron and at the time I had meant it and believed it. CYS does have that power. In this case, however, I was beginning to have my doubts. Aaron was afraid because Sandusky had become so angry with him and even physical on those occasions toward the end when Aaron was no longer obedient, and I wondered how deep things went with Sandusky as far as a capacity for violence—and who he might know that could do his dirty work for him.
For sure, Sandusky’s behavior broke the norm of the average perpetrator, because the average perp didn’t go to a victim’s house when the victim got the guts to finally break off contact. The average perp is not bold enough to repeatedly call his victim’s mother, call the victim, take the kid from class, and follow a school bus. When the attorney general reviewed the call logs to Dawn’s phone, they counted more than 120 calls from Sandusky between January and July 2008. Those were the months after Aaron had the guts to reject him. Sandusky was obsessed. I thought about models of obsessions in various abuse cases and then the threat of death or harm—like when a woman is trying to get away from an abusive boyfriend, husband, or ex-husband and is being stalked. I’d even had threats myself as I tried to empower abused women to get a lawyer and go to the police. I wondered if Sandusky was suicidal, which would mean that his actions when it came to violence against Aaron might not matter to him. I also didn’t discount that Aaron might have picked up on other things when he was with Sandusky in terms of his behavior that he either still wasn’t able to tell me or perhaps didn’t even consciously recall. One thing was for sure: I did not and would not discount or dismiss Aaron’s fears; I knew he was entitled to have them.