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FEBRUARY 2019
You probably donāt think you need to hear this. I wouldnāt have guessed I did. But hereās the thing: when special agents from the Internal Revenue Service and Federal Bureau of Investigation knock on your door at 7 a.m. and flash their badges and ask whether they can come in, your answer should be no. Tell them youāre happy to reschedule when you have a lawyer by your side.
Maybe that knock will come, as it did for me, after you have just finished changing your daughterās diaper, and the remnants of your kidsā breakfastsāyogurt and smashed berriesāare all over your Red Sox T-shirt and pajama pants. Maybe you and your wife will be in the middle of snapping onesies and tying shoes and packing backpacks so you can get to daycare drop-off before you both rush off to work. Youāre going to be puzzled by the agentsā appearance on your front step and probably a little nervousāI know I wasāand your instinct will be to say, āSure, of course, come in.ā
You may even offer them coffee and help with their chairs as they settle in at your kitchen table. Then youāll join them and fold your hands in front of you and look at them openly, ready to help. Youāll think you are doing the right thingāafter all, you have nothing to hideābut you will be making a colossal mistake.
Only innocent people let them in, my lawyer would tell me later. Criminals know not to do that.
But there they were, sitting across from each other: two federal agents, both female, both around thirty years old, both in gray pantsuitsāall business. The IRS agent, who had introduced herself as Elizabeth Keating, had placed a blank yellow legal pad and a pen in front of her. The other woman, from the FBI, whose name I did not catch, had pulled a stapled packet of papers out of a portfolio. From where I was sitting at the end of the oval table, I could make out a few words on the top page. I saw my name. I saw āStanford University.ā
āSo, we just want to confirm a few things with you,ā the FBI agent said. āYou are John Vandemoer.ā
I heard Boston in her pronunciation. Vanda-moah.
āYou are the head sailing coach at Stanford.ā
āYes,ā I said.
āBeautiful school. Must be nice living here right on campus?ā
āIt is. Yes. Itās great.ā
My wife, Molly, and I had moved to this development of spacious, two-story houses built by Stanford for its coaching staff seven years before. Weād brought each of our two children home from Stanfordās Childrenās Hospital after theyād been born, and now they were enrolled in a terrific on-campus daycare center a few blocks from our house. Our fellow coaches were our neighbors and friends. We went to each otherās competitions, cheered each otherās successes, and celebrated holidays and birthdays together. Molly and I loved the community and life weād built here.
āNow, part of your job, Mr. Vandemoer is recruiting athletes for the sailing team. Is that correct?ā
āThatās right.ā
āWould you walk us through that a little? How recruiting works at Stanford?ā
I started in on the basicsāthat academics were the primary consideration, that there were no scholarships in college sailing, and that my sport wasnāt part of the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA), so I wasnāt under those constraints. I told them that Stanford admissions allotted me six or seven slots for recruited sailors each year, provided those students met the schoolās stringent academic standards. Agent Keating took notes while I spoke.
The FBI agent asked me about application timelines and test scores and GPAs, often referring to the paper in front of her as if she were reading from a script. They were the kinds of questions Iād answered happily hundreds of times at college nights and high school regattas during my eleven years at Stanford and before that, as head coach at the US Naval Academy in Maryland. Recruiting was one of my favorite parts of the job. I knew a lot of coaches who dreaded it, but I liked interacting with young athletes, learning what their strengths were, and figuring out where they might fit on the team. What I didnāt enjoy was having to tell kids no. But I prided myself on being honest if I didnāt see a spot for them. I never wanted to give anyone false hope.
āAnd when you find a student you want, what do you?ā she asked, turning to the next page in her packet.
āI take their academic information to the admissions office. Theyāre only looking at grades and test scores at that point, just the feasibility of them getting in.ā
āAnd this happens when?ā
āJuly and August, mostly. I do it then because the Ivies canāt offer kids anything until September 1st. I try to, you know, beat them to the punch.ā
āMakes sense,ā she said, giving me a fleeting smile.
I smiled back. Agent Keating didnāt look up.
āAnd if they have the appropriate grades and scores, what happens then?ā
āThen admissions might give me a pink envelope to send to them,ā I said.
āPink envelope?ā
āPink envelopes are what Stanford calls early application packets that are just for recruited athletes.ā
I told them that Stanford usually offered me about a dozen pink envelopes for potential recruits. Receiving that application didnāt guarantee the school would accept the kids, and it wasnāt a promise that Iād ultimately use one of my admissions slots on them. It just meant they were over the first hurdle in the recruiting process. Sometimes, the high school students who received the pink envelopes decided not to apply to Stanford. But if they did fill out the application, those bright pink envelopes went into a special pile and got an early read from admissions officers.
āAnd this gives them a leg up on regular applicants?ā
āTo a certain extent, yes, because theyāve already been vetted. Admissions wouldnāt offer a pink envelope to them unless they had a very good shot at getting in.ā
āAnd do you know how many of your recruits get in?ā
āMy acceptance rate is about 80 percent,ā I said.
āAnd the usual Stanford acceptance rate?ā
āItās less than 5 percent.ā
She looked up at me, tilted her head, and narrowed her eyes. āOkay. So, your support does help a great deal.ā
I detected a hint of disapproval in her voice. I shifted in my seat. Upstairs, I could hear Nicholas repeatedly asking Molly who Daddy was talking to. Nora had started to cry. I felt terrible that Molly had to deal with the kids by herself. I glanced at my watch. It was almost 8 a.m. We both had to get to work.
āCan you tell me what this is about?ā I asked.
I knew a big NCAA basketball scandal had blown up recently; recruiting rules had been violated, coaches had been fired, shoe company executives had been caught bribing athletes. It had been all over the national news. I thought they might be gathering background information for that case, getting the lay of the recruiting land, something like that.
āJust a few more questions,ā Agent Keating said, glancing up at me.
The FBI agent turned to another page. I spotted a familiar name. Rick Singer.
āNow, Mr. Vandemoer, I want to ask you about some donations to the sailing program,ā she said. āDo you remember a man by the name of Rick Singer?ā
āYes.ā
āAnd he is?ā
āHeās a college placement counselor Iāve worked with.ā
āAnd he donated to your team, did he not?ā
āYes, he did.ā
She asked how I met Rick Singer and how often I spoke to him. I did my best to summarize our handful of encounters since heād first called me in 2016.
āSo, whatās this about?ā I asked again. āIs he in some kind of trouble?ā
āHe might have done some bad stuff, yeah. Weāre just following up.ā
Molly and the kids came down the stairs. The two agents stayed seated while they introduced themselves. Molly said hello and then looked at me with raised eyebrows. I gave her a look to say, No idea.
āIām going to take the kids now,ā Molly said. She had Nora in her arms and a diaper bag on her shoulder. I asked to be excused so I could help her load the stroller for the ten-minute walk to the Stanford daycare center.
āWhatās going on?ā Molly asked when we got outside.
āI donāt know.ā I bent down to buckle Nicholas in. āTheyāre asking questions about that big donor, Rick Singer. I think maybe heās in trouble. Iāll call you when they leave.ā
āBeautiful family,ā both women said when I sat back down at the table.
āSo, we were talking about donations,ā the FBI agent said. āWould that be a factor in your decision to recruit if the family had the means to donate?ā
āIn my decision to recruit?ā I said. āNo, I mean, families do donate. We welcome donations, but that wouldnātāā
āWould you take money for recruits?ā
āDonations?ā
āHow much money would you take?ā
āIām not sure what youāre asking me. How much families donate?ā
āWhat about Rick Singer? What was your arrangement with him?ā
āNo arrangement, really. He brought me a couple of possible recruits, but they didnāt pan out.ā
āYou had a financial arrangement with him.ā
āHe made some donations to the team. His clients wanted to donate, and then heāā
āBut you h...