Act IV - In Which Manti Te’o Is Here but Not
The Te’o family lives on the North Shore of Oahu, the Hawaiian vacationland famed for its beach houses, five-star resorts, and the surfing mecca known as “the Banzai Pipeline.” But trying to find the Te’os is to hear directions like “O.K., just keep heading east out of town, past the shrimp trucks, the pineapple plantation, and the cow pasture.”
There you will find Laie, a tiny coastal town with one stoplight and four houses of worship affiliated with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Laie being among the first beachheads established by Mormon missionaries in 1865.
Laie is also home to a small, one-story house stocked with large Hawaiian-Samoan Te’os.
[quote] “He was afraid to tell me he’d never met Lennay in person,” says Te’o’s father. “In the end, he didn’t lie to anyone except me.”
“This isn’t Honolulu,” says Brian Te’o, a gregarious bear of a man who works as an educational coordinator at the Punahou School, the private college-prep academy where Manti became a high-school all-American. Brian, too, is a former high-school football player. So are his three brothers.
“No liquor. On Sunday, nothing’s open except church, fishing, and our garage,” Brian explains.
Inside the garage is a typical Sunday luau populated by 20 or so of the Te’os’ closest relatives and friends. The group digs into a potluck feast of pork ribs, sushi rolls, poi doughnuts, and PowerAde sports drink. Everyone here believes the media coverage of the scandal is born of a fundamental ignorance about Samoans. “They don’t understand our culture,” says Manti’s uncle Ephraim Te’o. “This is the part we’re having a hard time with.”
“He’s a typical local kid,” says Manti’s mother, Ottilia, a tall, powerfully built woman who played volleyball at the University of Hawaii. She adds, “Fake Facebook profiles? Within our community, it’s not how our kids operate. They don’t set up a fake person. I don’t think that ever crosses their minds.”
The hoaxer, Ronaiah Tuiasosopo, knew that Manti, being a traditional Hawaiian-Samoan, would trust anyone who came with the blessing of a close friend or family member. When Lennay first contacted Manti, she mentioned her connection to two people—a cousin and a football acquaintance—Manti knew and trusted. Both vouched for Lennay (even though, as it turns out, they’d met her only on Facebook).
That Manti never actually laid eyes on Lennay makes sense. Throughout most of their “relationship,” they were just casual friends. The actual romance lasted less than a year—during which Manti had only two opportunities to visit the West Coast. One of the opportunities fell by the wayside when Lennay abruptly canceled; Manti canceled the other. His parents had wanted him home, and Samoan sons do not disobey their parents.
“Our kids are raised to be obedient,” says Ephraim Te’o, Manti’s uncle. “They’re not raised to be skeptical. When you’re asked to do something, there’s very little to discuss.”
At great length, they describe the degree to which Lennay infiltrated not only Manti’s life but their own. On multiple occasions, they received calls or texts from her and/or one of her many siblings. After Lennay supposedly died, her “older brother” cried to Ottilia, “I don’t know how I’m going to handle this!” Notwithstanding Tuiasosopo’s claim that he alone perpetrated the hoax, the Te’os remain certain that they were hearing the voices of three distinct people.
“I talked to Lennay several times,” says Manti’s friend and former teammate Roby Toma. “She’d be talking to Manti on speakerphone, and she’d say, ‘How’s it going, Roby?’ Her voice was definitely female-sounding. I didn’t doubt her for a second.” He adds, “She called me to tell me Manti’s grandmother had died. I guess one of Manti’s family members had texted her. So she told me to go find him.”
