Sex. Murder. Mystery(140)

Mrs. Letourneau was rushed. She barely had five minutes to discuss her troubled student. She told Danelle that she needed to get more involved with her daughter's homework. She wasn't encouraging and she didn't seem particularly interested in talking about Molly at all. Danelle was mystified. The woman she had seen around school in the past was outgoing, friendly, and perky, and above all, interested in connecting with parents and students. This lady wasn't interested in that at all. At least not on that day.

“She seemed a little strange,” she said later.





Chapter 24

AT THIRTY-EIGHT, SOONA Fualaau had plenty of problems. With an ex-husband in prison, and bills and eviction notices in the mail, the heavyset woman with long black hair streaked in gray lived stoically in a burdensome world. She'd worked dead-end jobs at everything from taking orders at a Taco Bell to cashiering at the Roxbury Texaco. But she wasn't alone. The school was a valued link in her life on the level of the church where her father was a founding member and she, naturally, was a devoted part of the Samoan congregation. When the Fualaau house caught on fire it was Shorewood teachers and students who collected clothing to get the family of five going again. Soona was poor, but her sons and daughter could transcend all of that because they were stellar in different ways. The teachers at Shorewood saw their potential very clearly.

“Every single child in that family had promise, were gifted in one area. Vili's was his art, Perry with his voice, Leni was the athlete, Favaae was a mathematician,” said one teacher.

As is often the case in places like White Center, when personal ambition does not exist and parental support is not there, promises go unfulfilled. Though Leni, the sole daughter of the family, did earn an athletic scholarship, she didn't make it to college.

Vili was Soona's last chance. And teachers at Shorewood knew that if he could develop his talent, he'd have something to hold on to. He had the opportunity to develop a passion and a talent that would carry him through high school.

“Every teacher tried to help him out and be a mentor. It wasn't just Mary who recognized the artistic ability in him and was trying to look outside to try to find help. She might have been the most successful at doing that because she drove him to his art class,” said one who knew the situation well.

As early as first grade and certainly by second grade, Vili Fualaau was seen as a child with undeniable artistic talent. One teacher saw it then and inquired at the YMCA to see if they could help an underprivileged kid. He could benefit from extra attention in an area in which he clearly excelled.

“If you could see his work in first grade it is about like it is now. It was that unbelievable,” a teacher said.

Whether Vili Fualaau was the Second Coming of Picasso or not was a topic of debate. Some considered the boy's artwork provocative and developed beyond his years. Mary Letourneau would nearly bring herself to tears as she thought of Vili's creative genius. Others didn't see it that way at all. They saw his creations as no better or worse than the high school artist who later pumped gas for a living and painted houses on the side.

But to Katie Hogden, her friend's talent was without limit. She noticed it in fourth grade, and two years later it was even more clear to her. Mary Letourneau had seen it two years before Katie when she taught him in second grade. With her love of art and the creative process, Mary had found her perfect student.

Certainly there were reading, writing, and math lessons, but it seemed to some observers that time in Mary Letourneau's room was filled with mask-making, drawing, and painting. When one volunteer parent brought in copies of Monet's water lily series, it was Vili who created the most stunning replica.

“It was amazing to watch him draw,” Katie said later. “It was like he took a picture with his eyes and copied it.”

The only thing Vili seemed to have trouble with was self-portraiture. Though he captured much of his physical appearance, his eyes, his mouth, Vili always made his nose two sizes too small—a kind of Michael Jackson makeover that Katie found both amusing and touching. She teased him in the way sisters or very good friends often do.

“You're Samoan,” she said. “You can't help your nose. It adds character to you.”

Vili would laugh and tease her right back, telling her she was a roly-poly.

“We both knew the other didn't mean it,” she said later.

Of course later media appearances would prove that Vili Fualauu was more a typical teenager than a great intellectual, as Mary and the lawyers would eventually proclaim to the world. Teachers at Shorewood didn't know what Mary was talking about when she carried on about the intelligence and maturity of the boy. They never thought Vili was any more grown-up than other sixth- or seventh-graders.