Aaron Fisher - Silent No More: Victim 1s Fight for Justice Against Jerry Sandusky

Copyright 2012 by Aaron Fisher, Michael Gillum, and Dawn Daniels

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

B ALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

All photos courtesy of Dawn Daniels

eISBN: 978-0-345-54417-9

www.ballantinebooks.com

v3.1

Contents

Introduction

Conviction

T HERE ARE SOME DAYS AND NIGHTS THAT STICK IN MY HEAD AND others that Ive been trying to push away for about six years now. One that sticks is Friday, June 22, 2012. The Jerry Sandusky trial had ended just the day before. Even though I should have been feeling a sense of relief that it was over, I knew the jury was still out. I also knew Id been lied to and disappointed so many times before that I couldnt believe anything good would come of anything ever again.

Part of me thought that I should have stayed home that night with my mom and waited for the news, but I had just started my first real job, as a security guard. The company had me working the graveyard shift that night, which is what you do when you first start out. No one knew who I was. Well, let me put it this waythey knew my name but they didnt know my story. I couldnt give them the real excuse that I was waiting for a verdict to come in and thats why I couldnt show that night. I had a responsibility to the company. I also had to get out of the house because I couldnt take the waiting.

Around ten oclock, I headed off to work. Before I got in my car, I checked the backseat and the trunk the way I always do. Since all this started I always make sure that no one and nothing is in the car that shouldnt be there. I have this heightened sense of alertness.

Like I said, part of me wanted to wait with my mom but I figured that juries dont come back that late at night anyway. I pictured those jurors sitting in a room, trying to decide and then saying they might as well just go back to their hotel because they werent sure whether to vote guilty or not guilty. Besides, the trial had ended just the day before.

I thought about my mom sitting by the phone and glued to the TV; I knew that my psychologist, Mike Gillum, was at home and probably doing the same. It was better to just be on the open road that night. When I got to the job site, I knew, Id be by myself, pretty much out in the middle of nowhere, which was a good place for me to feel safe. I also liked that people relied on me for protection. I made sure there was no one trespassing and no break-ins and no fire hazards. I liked knowing that I was the one who could check the area with my flashlight and check the locks on the gate and make sure that everything was the way it should be so that everyone was safe.

Being alone and awake through the night was a familiar thing. For the last six years, and for sure the last three, all I did was think, and thinking kept me up all night long. Working the graveyard shift was perfect since being awake came easy for me. When I was awake, I couldnt have nightmares.

I was cruising along the highway when my cellphone rang. It was Mom. I figured she was just checking up on me but when I heard her voice I knew something was up. At first I got real scared because she was crying. I was afraid to hear what she had to say. Then she said that Jerry was convicted. The jury had found Jerry Sandusky guilty on forty-five counts of sexual abuse.

I didnt pump my fist in the air or let out a cheer. Instead, I pulled my car onto the shoulder of the highway. I couldnt see the road in front of me anymore through the tears. I just put my head down on the steering wheel and cried. Happy tears, but I was crying.

Nine of Sanduskys victims testified at the trial. No one had a namejust a number. My name is Aaron. I am the boy they used to call Victim 1.

What I Wish
Id Known Then

L OOKING BACK, IT WAS ALL RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF ME . I BEAT myself up every day. None of what happened to my child is behind me, nor will it ever be. Think about when your kid falls down and scrapes his knee. You figure that you should have been closer behind so you could have caught him. Or maybe you should have made sure he was wearing different shoes, or should have tied his laces better. As a mother, when something bad happens to your child, you blame yourself.

I still lie awake at night while the questions haunt me. How could I not have known? How could I not have seen the signs? Was I really that blind? Was I so stupid that I didnt figure it all out sooner? I am not a stupid woman. I tell myself that I was up against a man far more powerful than me, but its still no excuse in my mind. There are some who understand. I also know there are people who blame me. I read the blogs and websites with all of their comments. One person said I was far from mother of the year. Another said I let my little boy go to an old mans house so that I could party.

Heres the thing: I did not let my child go with a stranger. I let my child go with someone who was a pillar of the community. Someone whom everyone worshipped and thought was every kids savior. Those people who call me names and condemn me? I think to myself, if you people only knew how I was fooled. If you only knew how Jerry made himself a part of our family. I met his wife. I played with his dog. But above all I trusted him, and one of the reasons I trusted him was that everyone else did, too. He founded the Second Mile, which billed itself as a charity camp for children who need direction and hope. How was I supposed to know?

I still have no place for the guilt. I have nightmares now where I can see that basement room where Jerry Sandusky had my child. Even now as Sandusky sits in jail, my guilt is relentless. I didnt think something like this could happen in a million years. Not with a guy like Sandusky. Maybe it was something that I didnt want to believe, because we often dont see what we dont want to believe. What Jerry did to my son will remain unforgivable, but I have a hard time forgiving myself, too. But then, this is not about me. This is about my son.

Im thirty-six years old and the mother of three children. Aaron is eighteen, Katie is fourteen, and Bubby is eleven. Lately, I am known more as Aarons mother because he had the courage to come forward. He now has the title of Jerry Sanduskys Victim 1 and I wish that had never been his fate. I am proud of his courage but I wish that he never had to be looked upon as a hero for something like this.

Ive spent the better part of my life trying to take care of my kids, which isnt easy when youre on your own. Im lucky to have my parents, a sister, and friends whom I can depend on and trust. The problem is that now I dont trust people the way I used to. I never will again.

When I got pregnant with Aaron, I was seventeen and lived in Daytona Beach, Florida, with Aarons father, Michael. We were childhood sweethearts from high school and ran off together. It was like the movies. We were the couple who drove around town in his Mustang with the radio playing. One time, when Michael was teaching me how to drive, I wrecked that Mustang and crashed it so bad that my skull was fractured. I have the scars to show for it. After my injuries healed, we just took off. Crazy kids, I guess.