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Steve Berry is the highly acclaimed, bestselling author of historical thrillers, including the Cotton Malone adventure series. His novels have been translated into forty languages and have sold in fifty-one countries. His newest novel, The King’s Deception, as do his other works, combines history with current day events and intrigue.
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Steve was a 52 year old successful executive who looked downtrodden entering my office. He’d come reluctantly, and only because his wife insisted he “see someone.”
“She says I’m not living my life anymore,” he told me.
When asked what was going on, Steve said two years earlier, his dog of 14 years had died. His two kids were now out of the house, living on their own. His wife began teaching history at a community college, and he felt lonely, isolated and demoralized. “I don’t look forward to much,” he said, and added, “And don’t even think of prescribing pills for me because I’m not a pill-taker.”
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Lawyers for James Holmes, the man accused of killing 12 people and injuring 70 in an Aurora, Colorado movie theater, now say he will change his plea from “Not Guilty” to one of “Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity” (NGRI).
In an earlier post (Crimes, Criminals and the Insanity Defense), I described the basic components of such a defense. The defendant claims he either lacked the capacity to know right from wrong, or had a mental disorder when he committed the crime, causing an inability to act within the requirements of the law.
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As a physician and psychiatrist, I certainly have nothing against medications. Over the years, I’ve prescribed them, and have had a great deal of success when they’ve been used appropriately. But over the last few years, there’s been a dramatic change in the way we Americans view medications of all kinds. It’s worrisome.
Many of us know that certain bacteria have become resistant to antibiotics and now pose dangerous threats to hospitalized people. Infections with MRSA (Methicillin-resistant Staph aureus) and C. diff (Clostridium difficile) have become major health hazards for hospitalized patients. These infections run rampant through hospital wards, and patients who came for some other problem can develop life-threatening infections. Other strains of bacteria are now difficult to eradicate once they take hold within the human body. They, too, are a considerable risk for anyone hospitalized.
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We don’t yet know the motivation(s) of the brothers involved in the Boston bombing. There is history that Tamerlan Tsarnaev, the older brother, was an isolated and embittered young man. We don’t know when or why that presumably happened. We don’t really know if this is true, as there have been contradictory statements about him.
He reportedly returned to Chechna and Dagestan last year, after living in the U.S. for many years. Both regions have militant separatist movements, and a history of having been at war with Russia. There are now reports that Tamerlan Tsarnaev returned to his homeland because of disenchantment with life in America. There is speculation that while there, he may have become “radicalized.”
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Of course, we all know what happened at the Boston Marathon.
As a forensic psychiatrist, I’ve evaluated and worked with more than 300 survivors of the World Trade Center terrorist attack, and many others who lived through catastrophic incidents including explosions, fires, mass shootings, and other disasters. When an event occurs as a result of human design, it can make us lose faith in humanity and the reasonable predictability of daily life.
I’m quite familiar with the psychic toll these horrific assaults take on people. In Boston, some who were injured, or witnessed the deaths and injuries suffered by others, will develop the well-known signs and symptom of Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Hopefully, with appropriate psychological help, they will negotiate the trauma, and in time, will go on with their lives.
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I was an unmarried practicing psychiatrist living in Manhattan. My best friend and nearly constant companion was Sidney, a 27 pound, adorable mutt I’d rescued from the pound. When I had a break between patients, I’d run back to my apartment—six blocks away—to walk him and keep him company. Aware that dogs are socially-oriented animals, I hated that Sid spent so much time alone, but I had to work.
One day, I was faced with a dilemma.
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Let me say at the outset, I never examined Jodi Arias or reviewed any records in the case.
Jodi Arias is on trial for murder in Arizona.
She admits to shooting her boyfriend, Travis Alexander, stabbing him multiple times and slashing his throat from ear to ear. Ms. Arias claims to have little or no memory of the murder. A defense-retained psychologist testified Jodi was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder which arose from the murder itself.
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In June 1979, I received a call from a young man. When John and I met, he talked about his father. His dad was a rough-hewn man who belittled and humiliated John, whose self-esteem was crumbling steadily.
Though he was in his mid-thirties, John still lived with his parents. I soon realized John was dependent on his father. He even worked for him. It was quite clear: despite his protestations, John’s wish was to remain a “boy.”
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I always had dreams.
It’s May 1956 at Ebbets Field, a bandbox of a baseball stadium, home of the Brooklyn Dodgers. My all-time hero, Gil Hodges, stands at first base. We’d snuck down to the first baseline box seats from our perch in the bleachers. In the blink of an eye, I’m standing next to Gil and talking with him. We’re teammates. A 14-year-old boy’s fantasy.
Baseball was in my DNA; I was a fine ballplayer. I had an uncle who, at 9, left home, heading for Vero Beach to try out for the Dodgers during spring training. He got as far as Philadelphia, where he was picked up by the Children’s Aid Society. His was a kid’s fantasy, a dream, like mine. I read sports novels and developed a love for fiction. Edgar Rice Burroughs, Jack London, Edgar Allan Poe and Ernest Hemingway became my new heroes.
I read voraciously and lived vicariously. I wanted to become a novelist.
But I lacked the courage to write.
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