Friday was that rarest and finest thing: A good day for justice, at least in Pennsylvania.

Justice won a preliminary bout earlier in the day, when Monsignor William Lynn was found guilty of child endangerment for helping cover up sexual abuse by a priest. The case marked the first time prosecutors charged church leaders for failing to stop priests who sexually abused kids. It probably won’t be the last.

But the real main event came late in the evening, when a jury convicted Jerry Sandusky of 45 counts of child molestation.

Karon and I had followed the trial all week and of course, when the news broke, we were glued to our seats. Covering police and courts was my first professional love and it’s one of those times I wish I could’ve been one of the reporters covering the trial.

Trials often have long, uninteresting parts, but every trial I ever covered had incredible moments of high drama and low comedy. I’ve seen those Perry Mason moments, where someone is suddenly revealed in the courtroom to have done something awful. And I’ve seen those moments that revealed the nearly bottomless stupidity of criminals, like when a guy on trial for car theft diagrammed for the jury how one breaks into a truck.

But the moment the verdict comes in is always high drama. It’s one of the few times life is like it is in the movies.

And for those of us who have sat through enough trials to really understand the system; it’s dramatic for another reason. At the moment the verdict is read, all we are as Americans is focused to a single, unbelievably sharp point. There is something nearly primal in that moment; a dozen people from all walks of life are called upon to render a decision that will change another human being’s life irrevocably. Juries work very hard to do the right thing, but when the verdict is pronounced, it makes everyone confront the most awesome decision one person can make about another. And very seldom are juries wrong.

Flawed though it is – and it is deeply flawed – the justice system in the United States is the closest the founding fathers ever came to perfection. It’s not even close to perfect, but it is a work of genius.

There was some harrumphing about the people who cheered outside the courtroom when the verdict was announced. To some, it might have called to mind the riotous celebration of Osama bin Laden’s death.

The cheering over bin Laden did give me some pause, personally, but the cheering outside the courthouse didn’t. I honestly think those people were cheering not just that Sandusky will never spend another day as a free man. They also were cheering that justice triumphed. What better reason is there to cheer?

The other good thing about the Sandusky trial is its possible effect on those who have been abused, but were afraid to come forward and accuse their tormentors. They saw that the system can work, that justice delayed is not necessarily justice denied, that, to quote Bob Dylan, “even the president of the United States must sometime have to stand naked.”

It’s also been heartening to see how much people have talked about the victims and their incredible heroism. It is now becoming accepted to call them “survivors” rather than “victims” and that is a good thing. But what they did was actually much, much more than survive. They prevailed. Every one of them, the ones who have gone on to good lives and the ones who have had problems, reached down somewhere deep inside – a place most of us never have to go – and did something few are capable of and fewer still understand.

I’ve heard it said that a hero is a coward who just doesn’t give a damn anymore and that’s often true. But I don’t think that was the case here. They gave a damn; they had to. They just made an amazing calculus, that despite the suffering it would cause they had to do something to stop this horrible man. They responded to the worst in the human heart with the best in the human heart, with courage, grace and honesty. To call what they did beautiful is totally inadequate.

It was also interesting, from a professional standpoint, to watch the broadcast journalists who covered the trial. They were generally older and more experienced, but they could not contain their horror. Some might say they occasionally went over the top, but trust me: When you hear what these people heard, it’s only human to react as they did. I know; I’ve been there. And actually, that passion is what makes for good reporting.

In the end, though, what’s most satisfying of all is that Jerry Sandusky will pay for his crimes in a unique way. This was a man who had power, prestige, fame, riches, everything we’re supposed to want. And now, every day for the rest of his life, he will wake up alone in a prison cell and won’t be able to reach out and touch any of those things. Even if he never admits to himself his guilt, and he may not, every day of the rest of his life will be miserable. I hope he lives a long, long time.

But I hope the lessons we’ve learned will long outlive Jerry Sandusky. I hope we remember that every so often, justice can triumph. But more importantly, I hope we learn that we have an active role in ensuring that. The courage of Jerry Sandusky’s accusers is a road map to how we can make the world a better place.

We all need to study that map and follow it.