There's no need to do anything.
We'll just let it lie.
Luca swallows. He knows it's true: Everyone lies. He knows that if he chooses compassion, he chooses complicity. His last name, in Italian, means "the door." Now he stands at the portal of George O'Leary's career, holding his fate. LaPorta can open. LaPorta can shut.
Luca sits, guts turning, in his office in June 1978. He sits, guts turning, in his kitchen in December 2001. Again he weighs a life against a lie.
A letter rests in Luca's wrinkled hands. It arrived just a few days after George O'Leary stared out his hotel room's second-story window and decided that 20 feet wasn't enough to do the job.
Dear Coach LaPorta,
I want to thank Coach O'Leary for all he did for my son Rich....
Because of Coach O'Leary, my son behaved himself in high school and became one of his class's leaders. He developed respect for his parents (that alone was wonderful), valued his physical body, became one of a team, and stretched himself to produce "110%."
...As an adult, my son carried his leadership and teaching skills to other boys and girls and has coached in methods O'Leary instilled in him as a teen. He is both a better parent and a better coach because of Coach O'Leary.
I am saddened to hear of Coach O'Leary's difficulties. My prayer is that they don't stop Coach from doing what he does best—coach! Because somewhere there are other teens and young men who would benefit from it....