Penn State saga: “It sent me to a deep, dark place”

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Updated: February 29, 2012 10:22PM

It was about a decade ago when King Howard first walked into my office and told me his story of being sexually abused as a young boy by an Aurora teacher who was also a church leader.

We’ve spoken several times since then, and I watched the middle-aged man crumble more than once under the emotional weight of this horrible story of betrayal. But he was not ready to go public with his tale. Instead, he went about trying to build a life in the music world he hoped would fill the painful void that seemed to always define him.

I’d not heard from Howard for years — he now lives in California. But listening to the Penn State scandal continue to unfold across the country — Coach Joe Paterno’s funeral was Thursday — created such a sense of outrage in him, he called to announce he was ready to tell all in the hope of finding that elusive healing.

And so he went to Aurora police, where he was informed by Lt. Michael Abbs that the statute of limitations for filing criminal charges had expired. The lieutenant, however, suggested he file a civil suit against his alleged abuser. And Howard says he’s considering doing so if he can find an attorney willing to work with him on the fees.

I received several other calls from people who said the Penn State scandal was like a bandage, ripping open deep and still festering wounds. One truly took me by surprise.

It was from Lawrence, a wonderful family man who is actively involved in his church and the community, and who happens to be a friend.

His childhood abuser, he told me, was a neighbor who lived next to his family in Peoria when Lawrence was about 6 years old.

He remembers his abuser’s name was Allen. He remembers biting him one time to get away. Lawrence says he’s compartmentalized an awful lot, and except for his wife, never told anyone about his secret.

Until last fall, when his teenage son, battling depression, revealed to his parents he had been abused by a neighbor when he was a young child.

Dealing with his son’s shocking revelation was hard enough as he tried to cope with a parent’s rage — and guilt.

Then, a week later, the Paterno story came out.

“I felt like I was smothering,” Lawrence told me (he asked his last name not be used for his son’s privacy). “It was on TV and the radio ... all around. It sent me to a deep, dark place,”

Suddenly, Lawrence said, he could not focus: Instead of making sales calls, he would find himself aimlessly wandering. He walked out of a Christmas Eve service, angry at the message that God has a plan for all of us. He found himself rooting for former Penn State assistant coach Jerry Sandusky’s suicide. And he “practically turned into a stalker” as he tried to remember more about the man who had violated him 40 years ago.

Had he found the guy, Lawrence says, “I would have killed him.” Then, he thought, what kind of a person have I become? “I finally said, ‘I need help.’”

Lawrence and his son are now in counseling. He watches the teenager like a hawk: He understands his pain.

“I spent the last 40 years thinking I was getting over what happened to me,” he said. “Now I now realize I spent 40 years in a state of denial.”

But the healing has begun.

When Nike founder Phil Knight spoke at Paterno’s memorial, insisting the coach had done all he could and that the “real villain in this tragedy lies in the investigation,” Lawrence felt the anger flare again.

“I called up Nike and asked to speak to Knight. When the woman wanted to know what it was about, I told her I wanted to let him know it was appalling and disgusting how he was defending Paterno.”

For many of us, the iconic coach’s sad legacy is a story that contains many lines of gray.

But for those who were victims, there is only black and white.