The release Thursday of former FBI director Louis Freeh's investigation of the Penn State sex scandal came with no unexpected revelations that hadn't already been disclosed or suspected and, instead, was more a confirmation of what many either already knew or feared: who knew what and when.
Freeh's probe, commissioned by Penn State's board of trustees after disclosure last November of former assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky's suspected sexual victimization of players, concluded that a conspiracy of silence dating as far back as 1998 involved Penn State's former board president, athletic director and legendary football coach Joe Paterno. And in that conspiracy aimed at protecting the university from a public scandal and the fallout that comes with it, Sandusky's predatory conduct not only was shielded but was unintentionally furthered in the form of more sex abuse victims. Some of them may have gotten some measure of justice last month when Sandusky was convicted on 45 felony sex charges that involved 10 of his victims. He is currently awaiting sentencing, and legal commentators generally agree that Sandusky, regardless of how many years he gets, will likely die in prison if for no other reason than his age and the time any appeal will require.
In Freeh's report of his probe, evidence came to light in the form of e-mails from 1998 and on that three high-ranking Penn State officials - a past president of the university's board of trustees, the university's athletic director at the time, and Paterno himself - knew about Sandusky's sexual conduct with football players but failed to inform higher authorities, including police. Instead, they presumably looked to the potential damage to the university if Sandusky's criminal behavior came to light. And the potential damage to Penn State would have been more than simply bad press.
Also at risk would have been possible sanctions against the university, including suspension by national collegiate athletic boards of its legendary football program. Financial support of Penn State by corporate and private donors was also on the line along with a probable loss of the university's otherwise reputable and respected image. Apparently the potential damage to the university, its football program and its donor base were more important than holding Sandusky accountable for his criminal conduct and, tragically, more important than the probability that Sandusky, undetected as a sexual psychopath, would victimize more young men.
But are we supposed to care, should we even care, about any of this? Is there anything for us to learn in the Penn State scandal? Yes - on many levels. If we cannot be moved to action if we suspect that someone is being victimized by an act defined by law as criminal, can we not consider the potential injury or damage, perhaps lifelong, to a victim? If not, can we risk that our own silence, if someday uncovered, might position us for criminal prosecution for failing to protect a victim? Can we ask ourselves honestly if we are not protectors of the more vulnerable or at-risk of our fellow humans? If not, how do we reconcile ourselves to that void of humanity inside us?
The word tragic is tossed around freely to categorize most any human loss, political scandal or any other event that stirs widespread anguish. But tragic certainly applies in Penn State's case. The obvious tragedy is to Sandusky's victims of his sexual perversion, the victims who have been identified and, a frightening probability, unknown others who have not stepped forward and maybe never will. But another tragedy, truly tragic, is Paterno himself, the iconic figure who served Penn State as both revered football coach and financial benefactor to the university for nearly six decades. He died in January of lung cancer at the age of 85, two months after the sex scandal blew wide open last November and before he could be formally deposed by investigators. That persuasive evidence in Paterno's own words in e-mails dating back to '98 that he was partner in the conspiracy of silence that protected Sandusky and Penn State from public humiliation blackens Paterno's otherwise respectable legacy to the university and the game he clearly respected. Just as tragic is that Paterno, despite his family's defense in response to the Freeh report that Paterno knew nothing of Sandusky's criminal conduct, cannot himself explain or defend what is tantamount to documented evidence of his shameful role in staying silent.
Does or should the Penn State scandal matter to anyone? Hopefully - yes!
Freeh's probe, commissioned by Penn State's board of trustees after disclosure last November of former assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky's suspected sexual victimization of players, concluded that a conspiracy of silence dating as far back as 1998 involved Penn State's former board president, athletic director and legendary football coach Joe Paterno. And in that conspiracy aimed at protecting the university from a public scandal and the fallout that comes with it, Sandusky's predatory conduct not only was shielded but was unintentionally furthered in the form of more sex abuse victims. Some of them may have gotten some measure of justice last month when Sandusky was convicted on 45 felony sex charges that involved 10 of his victims. He is currently awaiting sentencing, and legal commentators generally agree that Sandusky, regardless of how many years he gets, will likely die in prison if for no other reason than his age and the time any appeal will require.
In Freeh's report of his probe, evidence came to light in the form of e-mails from 1998 and on that three high-ranking Penn State officials - a past president of the university's board of trustees, the university's athletic director at the time, and Paterno himself - knew about Sandusky's sexual conduct with football players but failed to inform higher authorities, including police. Instead, they presumably looked to the potential damage to the university if Sandusky's criminal behavior came to light. And the potential damage to Penn State would have been more than simply bad press.
Also at risk would have been possible sanctions against the university, including suspension by national collegiate athletic boards of its legendary football program. Financial support of Penn State by corporate and private donors was also on the line along with a probable loss of the university's otherwise reputable and respected image. Apparently the potential damage to the university, its football program and its donor base were more important than holding Sandusky accountable for his criminal conduct and, tragically, more important than the probability that Sandusky, undetected as a sexual psychopath, would victimize more young men.
But are we supposed to care, should we even care, about any of this? Is there anything for us to learn in the Penn State scandal? Yes - on many levels. If we cannot be moved to action if we suspect that someone is being victimized by an act defined by law as criminal, can we not consider the potential injury or damage, perhaps lifelong, to a victim? If not, can we risk that our own silence, if someday uncovered, might position us for criminal prosecution for failing to protect a victim? Can we ask ourselves honestly if we are not protectors of the more vulnerable or at-risk of our fellow humans? If not, how do we reconcile ourselves to that void of humanity inside us?
The word tragic is tossed around freely to categorize most any human loss, political scandal or any other event that stirs widespread anguish. But tragic certainly applies in Penn State's case. The obvious tragedy is to Sandusky's victims of his sexual perversion, the victims who have been identified and, a frightening probability, unknown others who have not stepped forward and maybe never will. But another tragedy, truly tragic, is Paterno himself, the iconic figure who served Penn State as both revered football coach and financial benefactor to the university for nearly six decades. He died in January of lung cancer at the age of 85, two months after the sex scandal blew wide open last November and before he could be formally deposed by investigators. That persuasive evidence in Paterno's own words in e-mails dating back to '98 that he was partner in the conspiracy of silence that protected Sandusky and Penn State from public humiliation blackens Paterno's otherwise respectable legacy to the university and the game he clearly respected. Just as tragic is that Paterno, despite his family's defense in response to the Freeh report that Paterno knew nothing of Sandusky's criminal conduct, cannot himself explain or defend what is tantamount to documented evidence of his shameful role in staying silent.
Does or should the Penn State scandal matter to anyone? Hopefully - yes!
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