On the stump in Pennsylvania last month, Donald Trump invoked the name of the state's most celebrated college gridiron coach and most notorious paedophile-enabler.

“How’s Joe Paterno?” he asked. “We’re gonna bring that back, right? How about that whole deal?”

In his usual ham-fisted way, Trump was referring to the statue of the late Penn State icon that was removed from outside Beaver Stadium in 2012, after it emerged he'd failed to act on information that Jerry Sandusky, one of his long-time assistants, had raped young boys. The remark was tasteless and tone deaf but Trump didn't secure the Republican nomination by failing to know his audience.

The crowd reacted to the baiting with resounding cheers, reiterating that plenty of Penn State fans and alumni refuse to accept their hero did anything wrong by not reporting a child molester to the police. In the four and a half years since Paterno’s death from cancer, shortly after Sandusky was indicted on multiple charges, his family and his more rabid supporters have battled against what they somehow perceive as unjust attempts to “tarnish the legacy” of the winningest coach in college gridiron history.

Instant war

His son Jay wrote a book arguing the case for his father and diligent alumni wage instant war against those who report the fact the most powerful man in Penn State didn’t act against an underling with a predilection for assaulting kids. So successful have they been in this regard that last September many fans paid tribute to Paterno’s memory by turning up to a game wearing his trademark glasses, dressed in his customary khaki pants and white shirt. While the idolatry inexplicably continues, the evidence against him also mounts.

The latest slew of revelations allege Paterno knew about Sandusky (who worked for him from 1969-99) abusing children as far back as the 1970s, not 1998 as was previously thought. According to court documents pertaining to a lawsuit between Penn State and an insurance company, one boy informed Paterno about an attack in 1976.

While that story can’t be corroborated, another victim has related a remarkably similar tale to CNN. In the second case, not only did Paterno fail to act, the contention is that in 1971 he also pressurised the then 15-year-old accusing Sandusky to stop telling lies about a good man and even threatened to call the authorities on him.

“First, the allegations related to Penn State are simply not established fact,” wrote Penn State University President Eric Barron in an extraordinary letter to the college community last weekend. “The two allegations related to knowledge by Coach Paterno are unsubstantiated and unsupported by any evidence other than a claim by an alleged victim. They date from the 1970s. Coach Paterno is not alive to refute them. His family has denied them. Second, we cannot find any evidence, related to a settlement or otherwise, that an alleged early assault was communicated to Coach Paterno.”

Aside from sounding like a man who doesn’t quite grasp the sensitivity of this squalid situation, Barron neglected to mention something rather important. Of the estimated 32 men who have received compensation from Penn State’s $60m settlement with those whose lives were ruined by Sandusky, the earliest case dates from, eh, 1971. Similarly, the president failed to address a new NBC report that six of Paterno’s assistants may have witnessed Sandusky abusing children during the 1980s and 1990s, and failed to do anything about it.

Paterno infallibility

Even against the background of that tawdry claim, what is most stunning, despite each fresh disclosure, is how vehemently the doctrine of Paterno infallibility (he was known as “the secular pope!”) continues to be upheld. For too many of those for whom following Penn State football was and is a quasi-religious rite, there will, apparently, never be enough evidence to convince them their most revered deity had feet of clay.

“State College (the town where Penn State is located) is a disgusting place, the way they treat crimes against kids,” said the 1971 victim. “We are living in a very sick atmosphere.”

That much rings true because whether it was 1971 or 1976 or 1998 that he first became aware of Sandusky's activities, the substance of the charge against Paterno remains the same. In the manner made infamous by the Catholic Church, he refused to use his authority to have an assistant pursued lest a scandal ensue. To make matters worse, he did nothing to prevent the predator using the college facilities for years after learning he had been found in a shower with a 10-year-old boy. Not only that, he also continued to allow him exploit his association with the team in order to groom impressionable youngsters/potential victims.

As Penn State, the Paterno family and the many deluded alumni who would restore the statue of “JoePa” try to hold back the tide of new allegations, Sandusky is serving 30 to 60 years in prison. Having been convicted of more than 40 crimes against children, he has petitioned for a new trial.

The lawyers will be busy because three former Penn State officials are also awaiting trial for failing to report a 2001 allegation against Sandusky to the proper outside authorities. That trio are charged with endangering the welfare of children, the very crime that Paterno has been convicted of in the court of public opinion.