— Yes.
— What were the Banh kids’ names?
— Don, John, Christina, Angelica.
— So you remember them.
— Of course I do.
— Funny how selective your memory is.
—
— Do you remember me coming over while you babysat?
— No.
— You liked to wrestle. I remember coming over one night and walking into the basement and you were there wrestling with Don and John. You were all sweating.
—
— So why the wrestling, Mr. Hansen?
— Were we clothed?
— What?
— Were we clothed?
— Yes. You were. So what?
— I just want to stick to what happened and what you saw. If we’re going to do this, I want to stick with facts, and not conjecture and insinuation.
— I can’t believe this. You’re on the offensive.
— I’m trying to keep us factual.
— Good. Good, motherfucker. I want to be factual, too. Good.
— So let me ask you a question.
— You’re going to ask me a question?
— May I?
— May you? Mother may you? Fuck yeah, go ahead.
— Did your father ever wrestle with you?
— You weren’t their father.
— But did your father wrestle with you?
— Yes. Probably. I didn’t see him much after I was six.
— And where was the Banhs’ father?
— I don’t know.
— He was gone. I was the primary male presence in their lives.
— So you thought, These poor fatherless boys need a grown-up man to take them into the basement for some sweaty wrestling.
— I did everything a parent would do. When they were in my care, I fed them, got them ready for school, made sure they brushed their teeth. And we played any number of games, including just horsing around.
— You know what? You shouldn’t say that. Horsing around implies things you don’t want to imply. You sound guilty with words like that.
— Thomas, what is it that you think I did?
— Wait. Now you know my name?
— I’ve been scanning my mind, and I found you.
— Oh shit. You are terrifying. The way you said that. “I found you.” Do you know how you sound? I don’t want you using my name.
— That’s fine. But again, what do you think I did?
— The same thing all the complainants said you did.
— Did you ever read the complaints, Thomas?
— I told you not to use my name.
— I’m sorry. Did you read the complaints?
— I read about them.
— What do you think they said?
— That you diddled kids. That you’re a molester.
— Do you really think the complaints said that?
— Yes.
— And if the complaints said that, they would just let me walk away? No charges? No prison?
— It was a different time.
— It might have been a different time, but if I’d been accused of molestation, they would not have allowed me to just retire and live in the next town over.
— So why did you quit teaching?
— I had to quit. The insinuations were distracting to everyone.
— So you quit on your own volition? To save everyone from distraction?
— That’s correct.
— No one asked you to quit?
— No one did. We all discussed it, though, and I was the first to bring up the possibility of me resigning.
— You brought it up.
— I believe so.
— You “believe so.” Hansen, your mouth keeps making mistakes. Okay though. I want to get back to all that. But let’s walk through this first. Do you remember me coming to your house?
— No.
— God. I feel like hitting you so badly.
— I don’t remember. Did you come to my house?
— I did.
— Okay.
— It’s not okay, Mr. Hansen. What the fuck is a “math party”?
—
— See. Now you’re scared. You fucking sick fuck.
— Stop. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
— Don’t get ahead of myself?
— I’m sorry for my tone. But you said we would stick to facts, and what happened, and what you personally saw.
— Right. It was 1989. I was eleven. I was with Don Banh and Peter Francis. Do you remember inviting us over to your house for a “math party”?
— Yes.
— Yes?
— Yes.
— Well shit. That is fascinating. You said yes! That is amazing. Well, that’s the first time you’ve demonstrated some spine. So you do remember it.
— I remember it. But I don’t specifically remember you being at my house.
— Okay, fine. But what the fuck is a math party, Mr. Hansen?
— I fed you kids, and we did math homework.
— Really? That was it?
— That was the primary purpose.
— Well now you’re a liar again. That was the primary purpose? That was the primary purpose? Don’t fuck with me. You’re saying that your great idea was to invite sixth-grade boys over to your house and teach us math? That this couldn’t be done after school or in a classroom or anything vaguely appropriate? That it had to be at your house, at night, and we had to sleep over? That this was a great idea? The primary purpose was math?
— Yes. I taught math, and this was a way for some students to catch up on concepts they didn’t understand.
— Why did we sleep over, Mr. Hansen?
— I don’t know. Probably because you all were having fun.
— How many beds were in that house, Mr. Hansen?
— In the house I lived in then?
— Yes.
— I don’t know.
— I’m about to kick you in the head.
— Three.
— Good. Do you remember where we all slept that night?
— No.
— Don’t make me get up.
— I’m assuming you’re upset because you slept in my bed.
— Why the fuck did we sleep in your bed, Mr. Hansen?
— I don’t know. I’m guessing we fell asleep watching a movie. That’s the real reason why you kids wanted to come over, because I’d let you watch scary movies.
— I didn’t like scary movies.
— Well, then I don’t know why you came over. Why did you come over?
— I came over because my crazy mother heard Don was going, and she thought you’d help me with my math. She thought it was some honor to come to your fucking math party. Did you rape us, you sick fuck?
— No.
— Mr. Hansen, I haven’t harmed anyone out here. But you’re making a strong case for getting your head kicked in.
— I didn’t hurt you. I didn’t even undress you, any of you.
— You didn’t undress us.
— No. I promise you. I did not.
— Okay. I want to table that for a second. We’ll come back to the clothes. First I want to get back to the beds. Don told me he came to four of your math parties. And each time he remembers being carried to your bed and then to another bed where he woke up. Why did you move him around?
— He probably remembers wrong. The kids typically fell asleep in my bed.
— Watching movies.
— Right. And then I’d carry them to the guest room.
— Well that sounds positively innocent.
— I know it doesn’t sound innocent.
— How do you think it sounds?
— I think it sounds inappropriate.
— Did you know it sounded inappropriate then?
— Yes.
— So why did you do it?