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They Can Never Take Away My Memories

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They Can Never Take Away My Memories

Sitting here in Camp Hill state penitentiary just outside of Harrisburg, PA, I begin a new chapter of my life, one in which I am completely cut off from the outside world, with virtually all my personal freedoms stripped away. Well, I may have lost my career, the support of my friends and family, and my worldly possessions, but there is one important thing I will have for the rest of my life: all my happy memories of molesting defenseless little boys over the past 35 years.

Those wonderful thoughts and recollections—and there are thousands of them—can never be taken away from me. Not by you, the Penn State Board of Trustees, the jurors who found me guilty, or the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections. Those fond remembrances are all mine.

This may be hard for you to hear, but in my mind, I am a free man: Free to think about the countless number of boys whose lives I destroyed for my own sick pleasure. Free to think—while working a mundane prison job or just sitting silently as each day passes—about the very first time I made a little boy touch my penis and the happiness that brought me. For example, I’m writing this in a prison cell, but that doesn’t prevent my mind from drifting off, magically, to Penn State circa 2006. And instead of sitting behind bars, I’m once again at my youth football camp, playfully sucking off little boys in the shower without a care in the world.

Can a prison guard order me to stop thinking about that? He can try, but it won’t work. It’s impossible.

It’s true I no longer have the privileges you do. I can’t go to restaurants or drive my car. I can’t even go down to the corner store to buy a newspaper. I am, however, in complete control of when I choose to think about all those times I engaged in deviant sexual intercourse with a minor. And those memories of forcing children to pleasure me sexually make me very, very happy. Very happy. What I’m saying, essentially, is that even though I’m locked away for good, I have the ability to make myself happy anytime I want for the rest of my life, and there’s nothing any of you can do about it.

The truth of the matter is, folks, I can happily masturbate to these memories until the day I die. Happily, and without punishment. In fact, I intend to masturbate tonight, in prison, while thinking about what I did to more than 100 different children. And I intend to do so furiously and remorselessly, with a big ol’ grin on my face!

From here on out, when you think about me, Jerry Sandusky, know that I’m not actually suffering. It’s true. I take comfort knowing that, quite frankly, all isn’t lost. Sure, I can’t eat or sleep on my own schedule, but my brain is a bountiful treasure trove filled with tender reminiscences of fondling multitudes of little boys. And I’m the only one who holds the key to that big, beautiful treasure chest. No handcuffs or prison bars can prevent me from opening it up anytime I choose and rooting around inside for a choice sexual memory to enjoy.

When I was in the courtroom for sentencing, all I was thinking about was the time I anally penetrated a child in his camp dorm room. Could anyone know that’s what was on my mind? No. Could anyone tell me not to think that? No. Did it comfort me in a trying time? Heck, you bet it did.

Now, there will be times during my life sentence when I’ll think about how I’m eventually going to die behind bars. And I’m sure I’ll be treated poorly by the guards and receive numerous ruthless beatings from my fellow inmates. But even in those painful moments when someone is slamming a dumbbell into my face, I will feel no amount of hurt inside, because the memory of every single boy whose asshole I fingered will provide me with comfort.

In fact, when I’m getting raped in the shower, it will simply take me back to all those happy days when I raped kids in the shower. I tell you, the mind is such a powerful thing.

This is probably very upsetting to all of you, but it’s the honest truth. So just be aware that I’ll be constantly thinking about the boys I molested, and those thoughts will fill me with pleasure. It’s what’s going to happen, and nobody, certainly not the law, can stop me.

I am a monster.

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