Lawyer and client have talked themselves hoarse, and they possess a graphic map of what the young men will say on the witness stand. So Sandusky, ever the father figure, has exerted his authority and silenced his surrogate sons.
The defendant had the legal right to waive Tuesday's preliminary hearing, even if he showed poor form in pulling a fake before a packed courtroom. But don't kid yourself about Sandusky's motives. He punted to stay out of jail. If the testimony had been especially dramatic, prosecutors could have asked the judge for higher bail.
Passing on the preliminary hearing was an act of self-preservation. And that may set the stage for a plea deal that would keep those young men anonymous and quiet.
Sandusky's decision to put 10 families through the toll of preparing to bare their souls in public - only to be barred from uttering a word - bolsters the case for using civil courts as a sanctuary. Because even when prosecutors pursue a sex-abuse case in criminal court, there's no guarantee anyone but Sandusky will be heard.
Rambling man
Amendola, perhaps Pennsylvania's zaniest small-town legal eagle, seems to enjoy the glare of the freak show. He boasted recently that "there's a method to my madness." After court Tuesday, he urged people who believe the charges against Sandusky to call 1-800-REALITY - a number that turns out to be an an X-rated gay sex line costing from 99 cents to $2.95 a minute.
With Amendola's approval, Sandusky has said more about his life and alleged crimes since being indicted than some criminal defendants do during an entire trial.
Sandusky chuckled creepily in interviews about the charges, admitted getting naked with minors, and posed for photos with his beloved St. Bernard, Bo, whom he said he would miss dearly if he's sent to prison. On NBC, the loquacious coach paused uncomfortably for 16 seconds after being asked if he was sexually attracted to boys.
