The Night Swim(33)

“I wish Scott could talk. To you. To the networks. To everyone,” Greg replied. “I really do. Scotty’s good name and reputation have been dragged through the mud. He hasn’t been able to defend himself. In fact, his new attorney has given strict instructions that he can’t talk until after the trial,” Greg said. “I told your producer—Pete, was it?”

Rachel nodded.

“I told Pete that we’d cooperate as much as possible but that an interview with Scott is out of the question. After the trial, it’s a different story,” he said. “What we are really hoping for—and Rachel, your reputation precedes you in this regard—is fairness. We are hoping that your podcast will be fair and balanced even if you can’t talk to Scott until the trial is over.”

Rachel nodded noncommittally as she changed the subject by feigning interest in the long lap pool she could see through a side window. “Is that where Scott swims these days?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Greg, walking her to the window so she could get a better view of the four-lane Olympic-length lap pool with an ocean view. “Scott couldn’t swim at the local pool. The media were staking it out. He had to go through a gauntlet of cameras each morning. Fortunately, we’d put in the lap pool for me. I still swim two, three miles a day. Force of habit. I hate using our family pool. It’s good for parties but bad for serious swimming. So we built the lap pool for me and so that Scott could continue his training.”

“Scott still trains?”

“When he can,” said Greg, his voice tight and bitter. He escorted Rachel back to the living room where he lowered himself onto the white leather sofa and motioned for her to do the same. “Scott hasn’t been allowed to swim competitively for months. For a swimmer of Scott’s caliber, that alone could set back his career permanently. He never did what he’s been accused of doing. His trial hasn’t begun, as you know, but his punishment started right after the accusations were first made. The law says he’s supposed to be presumed innocent. In reality, it’s quite the opposite.”

“Kelly Moore says that Scott raped her,” Rachel said. “If that’s true, then swimming training is the least of his problems.”

“It’s not true. They went skinny dipping and then had consensual sex,” Greg responded. “I don’t know what motivated the girl to make false accusations. Maybe she was looking for fame. Or perhaps revenge, because Scott stupidly rated her, uh, sexual performance poorly in a message to his friend and she saw it. I don’t know her motivation. But I know my son and he didn’t do it. He had everything to lose and nothing to gain other than some pus—” He stopped abruptly.

The last syllable reverberated through the room. He and Rachel both knew what he had been about to say. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“You were going to say ‘pussy’?” Rachel filled in the blank.

“That was uncalled for,” he said without missing a beat. “You have to understand that I haven’t slept in days and we’re all very stressed. But that’s no excuse. I apologize,” he said, rising from the sofa and clapping his hands together as if to suggest that episode was over. “Let me show you something.”

Greg led Rachel into an adjacent room with custom-made mahogany shelves of different lengths arranged in a minimalist asymmetrical design on stark white walls. On each shelf were trophies and medals from swimming competitions.

One shelf displayed awards from when Greg was a champion swimmer. The second had Scott’s awards all lined up: elementary school prizes all the way to state swimming medals and national awards.

Greg held up one of his gold medals. “This medal was from the national championships. I won gold. Broke two national records.” He picked up a silver medal. “I won this in the World Championships. Lost by a tenth of a second. I made the Olympic team and was in the final weeks of preparation when I got pulled with a shoulder injury.”

“It must have been heartbreaking,” Rachel sympathized.

“It was. I had to have major surgery. I was only twenty. Never got my form back. I tried, but I couldn’t return to elite swimming. It meant a lot to me that my son decided to follow in my footsteps. I never pushed him into it. Scott chose swimming all by himself. If anything, I discouraged it. I knew the discipline and focus it required. The agony of disappointment. But it was his passion. It was his dream to make the Olympics. He gave it his all. So many years of hard work.” He sighed.

Greg went into a detailed rundown of Scott’s career, starting from his first win when he was eleven at a state competition. “He barely trained. It was raw talent that won it for him,” said Greg. After that, Scott exploded onto the swimming scene with win after win, at sixteen breaking his own father’s state freestyle record. Later that year, he won the junior national championships in freestyle and backstroke.

“Ask any swimming coach. Any swimming commentator. They will tell you that Scott could be one of the greatest swimmers this country has seen. And then this happens.”

As if to emphasize his point, Greg opened a file on his desk and lifted up a thick pile of newspaper clippings. He held up the top clipping. It was a front page newspaper article with a photo of police officers hauling Scott out of a swimming pool. A second photo showed Scott being handcuffed while dripping wet in his Speedo. “Champion Swimmer Arrested for Raping Teen,” the headline read.