It was a nudge from a staff member in the parking lot of the White Center Albertson's grocery store that finally clued in Seattle Samoan Center Executive Director Lima Skillion.
“That's the boy's aunt,” the staff member said.
Lima Skillion couldn't believe her eyes and ears. She didn't need to ask which boy. She knew her companion meant the boy who had become the talk of the Samoan community—the boy who was involved with his teacher. She also knew his family. The father of the clan had been a minister. She knew what kind of people they were. From what she had seen over the years, Lima Skillion could not have imagined that that particular family could be involved in such a scandal.
“That mother was always with this family, putting her family together. Telling her children that this is not right and this is right and blah, blah, blah. And how they turn out… we've done our part. You can only do so much. I know he was from a very disciplinary family.”
It couldn't be a boy from that family. “No,” she said that early evening in the parking lot. “That's not right.”
Her staff member nodded. “Yeah. Yeah,” she said.
Lima Skillion put her shopping aside and walked over to Soona Fualaau's sister's car and stood by the driver's window, while the occupant rolled it down.
“Is this true?” she asked.
“About?” the woman asked.
“Is the boy in the news your nephew?”
The woman was surprised and not all that happy about the intrusion, the question. But she admitted that it was Vili, her nephew. It bothered her that it was known among the people of the community.
The aunt was in shock, Lima said later.
“She had just found out that the citizens and people had discussed the case. They were more private people. There was too many people into their business.”
Lima offered to help in any way that she and the center could. She passed a business card through the open window.
The aunt was much happier. Maybe relieved. She left with words that the Samoan leader would never forget. It was a rebuttal to some things said by others in the Samoan community.
“Lima,” the aunt said, “we didn't teach our boy to go do what he did.”
Not long after running into Vili's aunt in the grocery's parking lot, Lima made the same offer of help to the pastor of the Fualaaus' church. She didn't discuss the case, she just told the minister that she understood what tremendous pain the family was going through and that she and all of her resources were there for them. Soona's mother called later to thank Lima for her concern and for the offer of help. Yes, she said, they had a lawyer.
Some thought the whole affair reeked of the exploitation of a young boy, but Lima Skillion viewed it differently. Though Mary should have known better, she was in love. So was the boy.
“I looked at their feelings,” Lima said later. “They got strong for one another. You know those emotional feelings—right or wrong. You've got to fight with your inner person there, where she acted it out. I know that the feeling was mutual for both of them. I believe it was a love deeper than we can really look at it. It meant a lot to her, this whole thing here with this boy.”
She felt sadness for Mary Letourneau and how things would turn out for her. The boy's family was strong, she thought, and they'd make the best for him. But Mary, Mary was a tragic figure.
“She truly loved him for her to risk a whole lot of her heart, her life. She lost a lot more than he did. It is a sad price to pay if there was true love.”
Chapter 71
IT WAS ALWAYS the same song and dance and Mary Kay Letourneau's lawyers learned the steps and the lyrics quickly. The Hollywood crowd still seeking the rights to Mary Kay's story wanted to secure it by putting a small amount of money down with the promise that when they placed it “with a major production company and major network,” they'd all get a giant payday. But David Gehrke didn't want promises of more later. He wanted it now. So did Bob Huff. They wanted an offer of cash up front.
“We like your connections,” David said more than once. “Your proposal sounds great. Put the figure down on paper and we'll consider it.”
But the producers never did.
“One guy said he had a cashier's check for two hundred thousand and we told him we'd meet him at the airport. Be sure to bring the check. Call us when you're there.”
That hot-to-trot producer never showed up at SeaTac.
As David Gehrke and Bob Huff entertained offers from mainstream American television and film companies, a unique opportunity presented itself when James Kent, a producer from the British Broadcasting Corporation, contacted the lawyers in the early spring of 1998. A veteran of more than two decades of producing documentaries, James Kent had seen a story about Mary Letourneau in November 1997 and was intrigued. When the teacher was arrested for the second time, his interest grew. The Brit booked a flight from London to Seattle. He didn't know it at the time, but things were about to become increasingly difficult for the legitimate press, and the BBC could certainly be considered one of the premier media outlets in the world.