Cleric Says He's Not to Blame for Yates' Demons
Lisa Teachey, Houston Chronicle- 4/6/2002

Shortly after Satan's first appearance at Andrea Pia Yates' capital murder trial, many observers began blaming the tragedy on a traveling evangelist the Yates family once admired. Television networks flashed images of the proselytizing preacher in a devil costume to accompany their coverage of the trial -- linking Michael Woroniecki to Yates' confession that she killed her children to save their souls. Even a crime novelist and a psychiatrist pointed to Woroniecki's preaching on damnation and hell as a possible explanation for the inexplicable -- Yates' drowning of her five children in a bath-tub June 20.
    But the connection between Yates' delusions and Woroniecki's teachings is nothing more than a media-created fiction, say the two men at the center of the story. "That's just crazy," said Rusty Yates, Andrea's husband. "That's crap," said Woroniecki. "Never once did I say that Andrea was a bad mother or even suggest it or hint at it. That (she was possessed by Satan) would have never come out of my mouth. I don't believe that." Rusty Yates agrees, saying his wife suffered for years from untreated depression, schizophrenia and delusional thinking. "It's a delusion she probably wouldn't have had had she not met the Woronieckis," Yates said. "But certainly they didn't cause the delusion. The illness caused the delusion ... In almost every case (like hers), there's a religious theme. I'm not sure why that is. But certainly they didn't all correspond with the Woronieckis."
    A jury rejected Andrea Yates' insanity defense last month and convicted her of capital murder, sentencing her to life in prison. By all accounts, Woroniecki is zealous in his pursuit of salvation. But his influence on Andrea Yates is as open to debate as is his brand of religion. Detractors liken Woroniecki to a cult leader, brainwashing those who seek his advice. Supporters claim his spiritual guidance is almost divine.
    During a recent interview at a campground north of Conroe, Woroniecki said his relationship with the Yates family had been "twisted" and "slanted" by news accounts characterizing his family as a "bunch of crazy whackos." Although Rusty Yates has been portrayed as a man obsessed with desire for a family like Woroniecki's, he said his devotion to the preacher was never that profound. The Woronieckis say it was Andrea Yates who was more in tune with their teachings.
    On the surface, though, the similarities between the two families are striking. Michael and Rachel Woroniecki's six children were given biblical names -- Sarah, 21; Ruth, 19; Elizabeth, 17; Abraham, 15; Joshua, 13; and David, 12 -- and are home schooled. The family lives in a converted Greyhound bus, denouncing organized religion but remaining devout. Rusty and Andrea Yates' five children also had biblical names -- Noah, 7; John, 5; Paul, 3; Luke, 2; and Mary, 6 months -- and were home schooled. The family once lived in a converted bus they bought from the Woronieckis. Although they didn't attend church, they conducted weekly Bible studies at home.
    It may be that it was Andrea Yates who longed for her family to emulate the Woronieckis. After her arrest she told jail psychiatrists she killed her children because they weren't "righteous" and weren't developing properly. The Woroniecki children certainly appear admirable. They emerged recently from the converted bus they call home, smiling and confident with a social grace beyond their years. The children travel with their parents across the United States and other countries. Their manners are impeccable, they are knowledgeable of current affairs and some are bilingual. They are as passionate about their beliefs as their parents, warning of hell's impending fires for those who don't know Jesus. "When we go on these TV shows like Dateline or MSNBC or Good Morning America ... they've got all this set up like we're these certain kind of people," Woroniecki said. "How in the world do you respond to that? That's just so unfair. ..  "Of course, people say negative things about us," he said. "We talk about sin. We talk about judgment. We talk about hypocrites. We confront people that are hypocrites. We talk about hell. People are offended when they're told they're going to hell."
    A native of Grand Rapids, Mich., Woroniecki says he played football and lived a "sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll" lifestyle at Central Michigan University until repeated injuries convinced him of the need to turn to God. He then earned a master's of divinity degree from Fuller Theological Seminary in California and devoted his life to his traveling ministry. His family takes odd jobs to support themselves, sometimes relying financially on supporters. Andrea Yates often sent them care packages and money. The Woronieckis visit college campuses, the Super Bowl, the Olympics and other national gatherings to pass out pamphlets and preach their version of Christianity. Their demonstrations sometimes land them in jail for disorderly conduct or lacking proper permits.
    Rusty Yates met the Woronieckis at Auburn University in the mid-1980s and later introduced Andrea to them. The families crossed paths only a few times. Because of the Woronieckis' travels, the two families kept in touch through letters that often included spiritual advice. In the end, it was mostly Andrea Yates who turned to the Woronieckis for guidance. "Most of our relationship with Rusty and Andrea was conducted when we were on the other side of the country through sporadic letters," Woroniecki said. "We weren't living next door. We weren't telling them, `If you don't come and live with us or don't come and follow us you're going to hell' ... I mean, what a bunch of baloney."
    Woroniecki denounces churches, saying they are designed to suit people with a hectic schedule. He said he discourages followers who try to get a bus and follow his family around. "That's what everyone thinks," Rachel Woroniecki said. "They think they can imitate us. ... We can't help it if people try to copy the things that we do as an outcome of our life and then things don't go right because they don't come to Jesus." The Woronieckis say they try to teach people to live according to the Bible and to seek redemption because everyone is on the path to hell.
    But not everyone can be saved in the Woronieckis' eyes, said a former follower turned critic. David De La Isla, a 36-year-old Houstonian, said he followed Woroniecki for 12 years. He says he once quit his job and contemplated suicide as a result of Woroniecki's teachings. "He preaches very, very well," De La Isla said. "He tells you that you are going to learn how to come to Jesus. But you never make it ... I never met one person, except his family, who can make it." De La Isla said Woroniecki is a manipulator who judges others. "I'm a smart person," he said. "I'm not an idiot, and I was sucked into that system for 12 years. He didn't come up to me in a Satan mask. His children are very well-behaved, and you think, `Wow, this must be a great man because he has great kids.' "Despite his image, he is a cult figure and he contributed to my mental deterioration. And that's what he did with Andrea Yates."
    De La Isla never met Yates, but met Woroniecki once after seeing him preach at Texas A&M University. But De La Isla has more than 50 letters and pamphlets from Woroniecki, most of which condemn him. "Following him is more like taking a correspondence course," De La Isla said. "You write letters. You describe where you are with God, and he evaluates it and writes you back. He tells you you are satanic, diluted and under Satan's influence. But no matter what you do, he still tells you `You have fallen short.' "
    Current follower Kristine Vanags, 35, sees it differently. The Houston computer analysist says Woroniecki has helped her spiritually, assisting her in "getting to know Jesus." Vanags met the family four years ago through her boyfriend. She visits with them a few times a year, but mostly communicates with them by mail. She said Woroniecki provides a valuable service on her road to salvation, comparing him to someone who flags down traffic to warn of a damaged bridge ahead. Vanags said she once quit her job and was going to follow the Woronieckis around the country, but Woroniecki stopped her. And she said the Woronieckis never pressured her to follow their beliefs.
    Rusty Yates' opinion of Woroniecki lies somewhere between those of De La Isla and Vanags. He said the Woronieckis influenced his family to some degree, mostly in that both families lived a simple life, followed the teachings of the Bible and raised their children to do the same. But Yates said he and Andrea decided to home school their children after they met a family at a Hitchcock RV park who did. "I wouldn't characterize us as blindly trying to copy their lifestyle," Rusty Yates said. "We saw them as an example, but not a blueprint, not across the board." Yates said his relationship with Woroniecki was more like learning from a book. He was free to accept what he wanted and reject that which he didn't. And he said he has come to disagree with some of Woroniecki's doctrine. "They tend to basically condemn everyone," Yates said. "They tell everyone they are going to hell ... . They tend to make anybody insecure about their standing before God ... . If you asked him how many people are right before God, he'd say `Eight.' "

'Cutters' Learn How to Heal Their Scars
Bob Pool, Los Angeles Times- 4/6/2002

The teenager tugs at the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt and pulls them over her hands. She wants to make certain that the scars on her arms do not show. "You don't want people to know," said 14-year-old Danielle Opremcak. "People who cut themselves feel really guilty and ashamed afterward. You're not proud of it." Danielle knows. For three years, she has repeatedly sliced her arms and legs with razor blades and pieces of glass. The ritual of self-injury began as an attempt to gain the attention of her parents, Danielle said. Later it became an addiction. Now, however, she is sitting in the dimly lighted office of a therapist, learning all over again how to live.
    She doesn't realize it, but she is a pioneer in a crash-course effort to help teens overcome a habit that for decades has puzzled parents and experts alike. Danielle is participating in the nation's first residential self-injury treatment program--a year-and-a-half-old effort to assist emotionally disturbed youngsters at the Vista del Mar children's home in West Los Angeles.
    Physically injuring oneself is emotionally satisfying to some youngsters--most often girls--who say they feel cleansed and in control when they cut their skin and bleed. Many liken the euphoria they feel to that created by drugs. The self-injurer is often left feeling worthless and ashamed when that feeling wears off, however. So the cutter repeatedly reaches for a knife or shard of glass. Short-term psychological counseling for adolescent "cutters" has been offered for years at psychiatric hospitals and clinics.
    But treatment has not been available at children's homes that cater over a period of months to troubled youngsters sent by court order--or by frantic parents who no longer can handle their teenagers. "In the past, we've thought these kids were self-destructive, suicidal. As soon as a kid experienced self-mutilation, we would hospitalize them. It would be interpreted as a suicide attempt," said Gerald Zaslaw, president of Vista del Mar Child and Family Services.

Behavior Not Suicidal or to Get Attention
But that was before studies in the late 1990s suggested that adolescents who cut themselves are not trying to kill themselves. Instead, experts concluded, cutters are teens caught up in a habit that to them is alternately a crutch and a curse. "I've been seeing these self-injuring kids for 30 years," Zaslaw said. "It wasn't until 18 months ago that someone sat me down and identified to me this is a specific type of behavior that needs specific treatment. It's not suicidal, it's not an attention-getting gesture."
    Vista del Mar residential counselor Andrew Levander agrees. He has spent 41/2 years working with the home's 30 teenage girls. The private, nonprofit center, with 114 beds, also serves troubled boys elsewhere on its 17-acre campus. "Before, the first thing I'd think when I saw a girl cut herself was that it was a suicide gesture or it was poor impulse control or attention-seeking," Levander said. "The girls would tell me, 'You have it wrong: I'm not trying to kill myself. It's what I do to stay alive.' They'd say it angrily. I felt completely ineffective."
    Vista del Mar administrators launched their treatment program by dispatching Levander to Chicago to study a self-injury treatment regimen devised by experts at a psychiatric hospital. Back in West Los Angeles, he organized a program designed to teach alternatives to cutting for the teenage girls. The 45-hour curriculum treats self-injurers with respect as they are encouraged to replace their impulse to harm themselves with better ways of feeling they are in control. Levander has a list of 58 alternatives, ranging from listening to music to planting flowers. At the same time, the teens are taught to recognize the roots of their obsession. Typically, previous sexual or physical abuse or continuing parental or school problems have led to a loss of self-esteem that is to blame. Experts believe the habit is reinforced by the euphoric effects of endorphins released in the brain as a reaction to the injury. Twenty-seven girls have participated so far in the program, which is voluntary for Vista del Mar residents. Mandatory treatment would not work, Levander and other experts said.
    Danielle, an Agoura Hills resident who has lived at Vista del Mar for six months, is one of five girls now taking part. With permission from her mother, she freely discussed how she was introduced to cutting. "I was 11 and in the hospital for depression when I saw my roommate do it," she said. "My parents had divorced, we had moved away from my dad and I was failing at school. My roommate in the hospital cut herself. I thought I'd see if it worked with me. "In the beginning, I wanted mom or dad's attention. I wanted to talk about why I was doing cutting. But nobody caught me doing it until weeks afterward. After a while, I was doing it as an everyday thing. I'd have sharp things in my backpack in school and go to the restroom and do it." Danielle said Levander's low-key, nonjudgmental approach to dealing with self-injuries keeps her coming to hourlong therapy sessions on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. "Years from now, I really don't want to be a 20-year-old going into the bathroom and cutting myself," she said.

Depressed Over Sexual Abuse
Another participant, Jamie Valade, 16, also began cutting herself at age 11. She said she tried it after seeing it depicted in a movie. Jamie said she was depressed, in part, because of past incidents involving sexual abuse by nonfamily members. Soon, she was regularly slicing her arms and legs with razor blades, glass and knives. "I was mad at myself. I blamed myself--I was punishing myself," she said. "I'd feel better for about 15 minutes afterward. I probably went 50 times to the hospital. The guy at the emergency room knew my name. He'd ask, 'Is there anything we can do? No? OK, goodbye.'" San Dimas resident Rikki Valade said it was heart-wrenching to see her daughter harm herself. "Her therapist said to be supportive and not make a big deal out of it. It was very frustrating watching her do it," said Valade, who placed her daughter at Vista del Mar in part because of the self-injury therapy program.

Plans to Expand Program for Boys
Vista del Mar officials say they hope to expand the program to boys' units. Although most self-injurers are girls, some experts feel that up to 40% of those who harm themselves are boys. Operators of other children's residential homes, meantime, are closely watching the West Los Angeles project. Six months ago, Levander presented a paper outlining the program at an Atlanta conference for professional therapists. He made a similar presentation to California therapists last month in San Rafael.
    So far, operators of nearly 300 residential treatment centers across the country have contacted Vista del Mar officials seeking more information. They, too, may have mistakenly been labeling self-injurers as suicidal and shipping them off to hospitals. "We're thinking," Zaslaw said, "that there are a lot of kids all over the country who are being treated for something they don't have."

A Woman Walking the Edge of Madness
Stephen Holden, New York Times- 4/6/2002

For all of us, an unfortunate part of being alive is behavior that we would have to acknowledge, however reluctantly, as sick or dysfunctional (to use the more pretentious and clinical-sounding term that has become fashionable). But exactly where is the line separating everyday emotional instability and neurotic compulsion from serious mental illness?
    That question haunts Ole Christian Madsen's film "Kira's Reason: A Love Story," a disturbing, somewhat repellent portrait of a depressed middle-class woman's struggle to live comfortably in the world. "Kira's Reason" was filmed in the naturalistic Dogma style, which avoids fancy cinematic effects, and visual austerity lends it the feeling of a clinical case study. As Kira, the unhappy 30-something stay-at-home wife of Mads (Lars Mikkelsen), a successful builder, Stine Stengade gives a strong, unsettling portrayal of a woman on the verge. Although Kira is attractive and intelligent, she contemplates the world with a fixed, glassy-eyed stare that seems uncomfortably intense. Susceptible to extreme mood swings, she laughs too loudly and smiles too broadly. Even when she appears to be functioning normally, she conveys an aura of wobbly craziness.
    Early in the movie, Kira returns with Mads to their home and two children after a stay in a mental hospital, and we sense immediately that all is not well. After acting wildly euphoric, she abruptly turns on her husband and accuses him of having had an affair in her absence. Although he denies it, the film's opening moments have shown Mads breaking off a relationship with a woman later revealed to be Kira's sister. In the middle of her lavish coming-home party, Kira retreats to her bedroom in a sudden fit of gloom.
    As it unfolds on the screen, Kira and Mads's relationship could be described as the warped tango of a mad housewife and her control freak of a husband. For all of his bewildered embarrassment at her behavior, Mads is also strangely attracted to it, perhaps because she is as unstrung as he is taut. When Mads repeatedly urges Kira to do something with her life, she whiningly protests that she's not good at anything. Eventually, we lose patience with her. More than just a handful, Kira is the kind of person who empties rooms.
    In the movie's most disturbing scene, she flouts the regulations at an indoor recreation center and jumps into the young people's swimming pool to splash around with her children. When she is politely asked to step out, she flies into a rage and violently resists the efforts of two men to remove her. The police are called, and Mads has to leave work to fetch her. Not long after, Kira, while alone at home, begins drinking wine and dancing wildly around the house. Impulsively she visits a bar and flirts aggressively with a stranger, with whom she ends up spending the night in another town. The next morning, she summons Mads to pick her up.
    At first, "Kira's Reason," which the New Directors/New Films series is showing tonight and tomorrow at the Museum of Modern Art, seems to be an Ingmar Bergman-influenced study of spiritual angst and the demons lurking in the shadows of an idyllic middle-class existence. But instead of continuing in a metaphysical direction, the movie makes a sharp right turn and glibly cauterizes its own pain.
    True to its title, the story provides a reason for Kira's behavior. It emerges late in the movie in a tearful scene in which secrets are spilled and past traumas confronted. Tying up the psychological loose ends of a movie that promised so much more, the trite ending subscribes to the bogus therapeutic notion that one good cry and a confession of vulnerability can wipe away a lifetime of repression. Of course, it's never that easy.

Illinios Psychologists Seek Rx Power
Bonnie Miller Rubin, Chicago Tribune- 4/7/2002

Now that New Mexico has decided to allow specially trained psychologists to prescribe medicine, activists hope Illinois will follow suit, arguing that the scarcity of psychiatrists in rural areas limits access to drugs that have become integral to treating mental illness. Psychologists, unlike psychiatrists, are not medical doctors, and therefore cannot prescribe the drugs that have proved so effective in alleviating the symptoms of depression, schizophrenia and other diseases. Psychiatrists are bitterly opposed to expanding prescriptive privileges, saying patients' health and safety would be put at risk.
    A bill on the issue was introduced without success in Springfield earlier this session. But encouraged by New Mexico's new law, passed last month, advocates here say they plan to ratchet up their lobbying efforts and bring their case to the public. "New Mexico passing this legislation just gives new life to this issue," said state Sen. Carol Ronen (D-Chicago), the bill's sponsor. "This is not a radical notion. It's not a scary notion.... In no way does it put people's health in jeopardy." In Illinois, she and other advocates said, more than half the counties have no psychiatrist at all, compromising the quality of mental health care. "It's a public health issue," said Marlin Hoover, president of the Illinois Psychological Association, which represents 1,300 psychologists statewide. "It's an idea whose time has come."

Medical risks feared
The American Psychiatric Association sees New Mexico as a potentially dangerous "legislative experiment"--especially in medically complex cases, said Dr. Richard Harding, a child psychiatrist in Columbia, S.C., and president of the group. "This is not about giving a mildly depressed patient some Prozac," he said. "What happens when you have a bipolar or schizophrenic patient who suffers from hypertension? Diabetes? Alzheimer's? What about drug interactions? Everyone will be happy until things go bad ... and, in medicine, things can go bad very quickly."
    Many states, including Illinois, allow nurse practitioners and optometrists to prescribe drugs. The difference, said critics of the new law, is that it is done under the eye of a physician, whose name also appears on the prescription. If the psychologists--who usually have advanced degrees in therapy, not medicine--are willing to put similar safeguards in place, the proposal might be regarded differently, Harding said.
    Leon Jackson, a clinical psychologist in Springfield, has invested about 450 hours and $30,000 in training to immerse himself in every aspect of medication, even though he cannot write a single prescription. "I did it because I wanted to take better care of my patients," said Jackson, who has a PhD and has been practicing psychology for 35 years.
    But such training pales before the real thing, doctors said. "No psychologist-designed crash course in drug prescribing can substitute for a psychiatrist's medical education and residency training," said Dr. Kenneth Busch, a Chicago psychiatrist and president of the Illinois Psychiatric Society. Beyond patient care, both sides accuse each other of trying to protect their financial interests.
    The two professions often work together to shape treatment. Patients suffering depression, anxiety or other emotional problems often see a psychologist, who then refers them to a physician for medicine. With both steps handled by one provider, treatment could be more efficient and easier for the patient, said Hoover, who practices in Orland Park and has studied the issue for seven years. "The doctors will tell you that our motivation is economic, but it's really about continuity of care," Hoover said. "We need to get the message out to legislators and the public that this can be done safely ... and that there are psychologists who are willing to take the additional training in order to make services more widely available."

Defense agency a role model
Under the New Mexico law, psychologists must complete at least 450 hours of coursework and a 400-hour practicum supervised by a physician. They must also pass a national certification exam. Then they are eligible for a two-year license allowing them to prescribe under the supervision of a physician. After two years, the psychologist's record must pass an independent peer review before he or she may prescribe independently.
    The training model is based on one used by the Department of Defense, which has allowed military psychologists to prescribe since 1991. Ten students went through the program, seven of whom continue to have prescriptive authority. An independent evaluation of the program in 1998 by the American College of Neuropsychopharmacology found that all 10 graduates "filled critical needs and performed with excellence wherever they were placed," said Capt. Mark Paris, a deputy director at the department.
    Experts say New Mexico was a logical pioneer for change. Although 72 percent of the population lives outside of Santa Fe and Albuquerque, only 18 psychiatrists practice beyond those city limits. Waiting time for an appointment can range from six weeks to five months. In Illinois, the picture is not much brighter, experts said. Fifty-four out of 102 counties have no psychiatrists and 17 have only one. In Springfield, Jackson has seen the problem firsthand. There isn't a "handful of psychiatrists between here and Cairo," he said.
    The American Psychiatric Association agrees there is a gap in service. Even so, it says the solution is not to grant prescriptive authority to those without medical training, but to expand funding for the National Health Service Corps and encourage more physicians to practice in rural areas. "We know access is abysmal," said Randy Wells, director of the Illinois chapter of the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill. "But we have many counties where you can't find a thoracic surgeon and we don't give the job to a [licensed practical nurse]."
    Another advocacy group, the Mental Health Association of Illinois, has not taken a position, but Chief Executive Officer Jan Holcomb hopes the two professional groups can manage to lower the rhetoric. "We have a lot of issues--funding cuts, lack of insurance coverage...and infighting is not going to help the consumer," Holcomb said. "It will only further stigmatize mental health care."

Mystery Veils a Son's Attack on N.H. Judge
Maeve Reston, Boston Globe- 4/8/2002

MANCHESTER - It all changed with a phone call on a Sunday night in October 2000 when John Christian Broderick called police and told them his father, New Hampshire Supreme Court Justice John T. Broderick Jr., had slapped him repeatedly and punched him during an argument. Police arrived at the door of the family home and arrested the judge -- a friend of governors and presidents -- and drove him to the police station, where they charged him with assault. The family's private pain was now in public view. The judge decided to reveal his son's drinking problem to the press to defend his own reputation.
    As embarrassing as that was, it was still a world away from what happened March 30, when Christian Broderick's frustrations with what he described as a long history of conflict with his father allegedly exploded in a brutal attack. Police say that Christian, stewing over the latest argument with his father, drank whiskey for hours after his parents went to bed. He then crept into his father's darkened bedroom. There he used his guitar to crush nearly every bone in his father's face, police said.
    Since then, people in Manchester and elsewhere have struggled to understand how a man at the top of the legal profession, someone responsible for interpreting and enforcing the state's laws, could be accused of assaulting his son and then become the victim of a savage attack by his son. Friends of the Brodericks, who might be able to shed light on the relationship between the judge and his 30-year-old son, would not comment. The situation is so volatile that most are reluctant to talk about even the most mundane details of Christian Broderick's life - from his desire to become a filmmaker to his graduation from a master's program at Emerson College. And so the case remains a mystery.

Broderick's sons led lives of the rich and privileged
The Broderick sons, Christian and younger brother Matthew, attended Trinity High School, a small Catholic school in Manchester. Neighbors say the family moved to a large brick home on Highcrest Road in North Manchester. It was a quiet neighborhood of handsome homes and swimming pools in many backyards. In high school, classmates say Christian was soft-spoken and artistic, and spent much of his class time entertaining them with caricatures of their teachers and witty comic strips. ''He was definitely a quiet kid, but he seemed like a decent kid,'' said John Bergeron of Manchester, who graduated with Christian in 1989.
    At the time, John Broderick was a successful lawyer with the Manchester law firm Devine, Millimet & Branch, and an active member of the Democratic Party. In the year Christian graduated from high school, Broderick left Devine to form his own law firm with Stephen E. Merrill, who later became the state's governor. In 1992, Broderick cochaired Bill Clinton's presidential campaign in New Hampshire. In 1994, Christian graduated with a bachelor's degree in English from St. Anselm College in Manchester. A year later, Merrill, a Republican, crossed party lines in appointing John Broderick to the New Hampshire Supreme Court.
    In his late-20s, Christian Broderick began pursing a master's degree in media arts at Emerson. He finished the two-year program in 1999. One of his professors, Donald Fry, remembers him as a good student who was in the top quarter of his class. Fry said he did not recall Christian displaying any behavior problems. Christian Broderick began making films in Boston and later worked for a landscaping company on Cape Cod. But just a year after receiving his master's degree, Christian Broderick began having trouble with the law. He received counseling after he was arrested in Manchester in May 2000 after pounding on the door of an apartment in the middle of the night and resisting arrest. The apartment's tenant could not be reached to discuss the incident, but the apartment appears to be one of Christian Broderick's former residences. Christian pleaded guilty, and was ordered to pay a fine and continue counseling.
    Meanwhile, his father was dealing with other problems. That year, New Hampshire Supreme Court Chief Justice David Brock, Broderick, and other justices were investigated for ethical violations. Brock was under fire in part for his handling of Justice Stephen Thayer's divorce case, and state officials questioned whether Broderick and other justices had participated in cases in which they may have had conflicts of interest. The New Hampshire House impeached Brock in July 2000 and nearly impeached Broderick. Brock was acquitted in October, but the court's judicial conduct panel continued to investigate possible ethical violations against Broderick and other justices.
    It is unclear whether stress in Broderick's professional life aggravated problems with his son, but his arrest on charges of assaulting his son happened that fall. The prosecutor who handled the case said the confrontation began when the judge told his son he had eight weeks to move out and Christian allegedly replied, ''You have eight hours until you're in the ground,'' according to the Union Leader of Manchester. Christian declined to pursue the case, and the assault charge against his father was dropped. ''There's no question it's been a stressful time for [Broderick],'' said state Representative Paul Mirski, an Enfield Republican who led the charge for investigation and impeachment of the justices. ''No one would want to go through the maelstrom he's been through.''
    The executive director of Boston's Flaschner Judicial Institute, which does training and continuing education for judges, said it is likely that the impeachment investigation would have added strain to what is already a stressful job. ''By definition, it's a relatively isolated position, and as result of their status and role in society there are additional stresses,'' said Sal Ricciardone, the institute's executive director. ''In a case like this, even though he was essentially acquitted, Justice Broderick really couldn't defend himself. That itself breeds stress.'' Just after his father's arrest, Christian told the Union Leader that he had recently been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder that had been going on for 10 to 15 years. He also said he was hospitalized twice that year, once for a suicide attempt.

Drug abuse ensnares Christian in crime
While John Broderick began moving out of the headlines, his son's situation appears to have deteriorated. In late June, when Christian Broderick was living in Massachusetts, he committed an unarmed robbery of a Weymouth gas station. When he was arraigned that fall, court records show that he was being treated at the Gosnold Treatment Center in Falmouth, which specializes in alcoholism and drug abuse. In recent court documents, he said he lived at Gosnold for four months. After pleading guilty, he was sentenced to three years' probation in February and ordered to take his medications as prescribed and to complete 200 hours of community service. He planned to begin the service on Cape Cod this summer.
    After returning home five months ago, Christian Broderick began taking graphic and Web design classes in nearby Hooksett, N.H. In court papers, he said he was working as a self-employed graphic illustrator. But when he requested a court-appointed lawyer, he said he had only $160, along with $3,700 in credit card debt, and a deferred student loan of $8,000. Neighbor Patrick Duffy said he thought Christian Broderick was moving toward a successful life. ''Christian is not someone you would necessarily think is capable of doing what ended up happening the other night,'' Duffy said. ''He's someone we've had respect for. He's a very talented young man.''
    Now that young man faces a sentence of 71/2 to 15 years if convicted of first-degree assault, a felony. He is being held at Hillsborough County Jail on $100,000 bail. His 54-year-old father is expected to remain in the hospital for about two weeks. The judge will not return to work for at least three months.

California Behavioral Health Agency Under Fire
Catherine Saillant, Los Angeles Times- 4/8/2002

Ventura County's troubled Behavioral Health Department is again at the center of controversy with its refusal to treat a mentally ill teenager sentenced to a Camarillo work program. Superior Court Judge John Dobroth will hold a hearing today to outline the department's failure to provide care for the juvenile offender. Dobroth has threatened to order treatment if the county does not do so voluntarily.
    After hashing out the issue in closed session, the Board of Supervisors last week instructed County Executive Officer Johnny Johnston to appear before Dobroth and assure the judge that treatment will be provided--and that broader changes are underway. "We will take care of this," Johnston said. "The last thing we want is a fight with the bench."
    At the supervisors' meeting on April 16, Johnston will recommend separating Behavioral Health from the larger Health Care Agency, a move officials acknowledge would make it easier to focus on administrative tasks and establish clearer lines of authority. "That would help expose the problems we have and make it easier to fix them," Supervisor John Flynn said.
    The standoff is the latest evidence of the county Behavioral Health Department's free fall in recent years. Once held up as a national model for interagency cooperation, the department has seen squabbling and turf wars reduce it to a cautionary tale for mental health administrators across the state, officials say. "Ventura showed everyone else how to run a model agency," said Dr. Sandra Naylor Goodwin, executive director of the California Institute of Mental Health in Sacramento. "Now we're not sure what they're doing."
    Behavioral Health chief David Gudeman defended his department and his tenure as its leader. He said his department has treated more people on fewer dollars--and has done it at a higher level of quality--than his predecessors. The problem is that he is being asked to further expand services for incarcerated youths, Gudeman said, with no extra funding. "I don't particularly like to feud, but I think there are real issues that need to be resolved," he said. "I can't treat all these kids myself. I need money to hire people to go do what I can't do without money." Gudeman's boss, Health Care Agency Director Pierre Durand, was on vacation and unavailable for comment.
    Critics charge that Gudeman, a UCLA-trained psychiatrist, lacks the skills to run a large government agency. Appointed by supervisors three years ago with little administrative experience, Gudeman finds reasons why his department should not provide services instead of finding ways to make the most of his $50-million budget, detractors say. He has feuded with Cal Remington, the county's probation chief, over which department should pay for mental health services. Behavioral Health is also weighed down by internal politics and byzantine regulations on how money can be used, critics say.
    Even Gudeman's staunchest supporters on the Board of Supervisors are voicing alarm at the continuing problems. "He's extremely cautious and protective of funding streams and making sure everything is done correctly," said Supervisor Judy Mikels. "But it's time to make the laws and rules work for us and not against us. If we're not willing to make the effort as servants of the public, then we ought not to be in the job."
    The latest flare-up came last month after the Behavioral Health Department refused to treat a teenage boy who had been sentenced to a work program in Camarillo. County lawyers argued in court that Behavioral Health psychiatrists were not contractually obligated to drive the 13 miles from their Ventura offices to the Camarillo site. That drew a sharp response from Dobroth at a March 27 hearing. "Basically you're saying these psychiatrists don't make house calls," the judge said. "If we're all in this together for these kids, what's the bloody harm in having a doctor drive out there?" Dobroth then threatened to issue a court order requiring the treatment. He scheduled today's hearing to present his findings and possibly issue a written order. Johnston said he hopes to persuade Dobroth that a legal fight is not necessary. The Probation Agency has agreed to drive the youth offenders to the psychiatrists' office, if necessary, he said.
    Also, Gudeman intends to expand a psychiatric residency program, which would make more doctors-in-training available to treat youths at Juvenile Hall and the Camarillo work program. "Our position has always been that this is a significant program expansion and we want to make sure we have adequate resources to do it right," Gudeman said. Johnston said the larger problems are also being addressed. Supervisors have told him to look at every option, from pushing for more flexibility in how they spend money to reviewing Gudeman's performance.
    The department's troubles began four years ago when an attempt by the Board of Supervisors to merge the mental health department and social services agency sparked a bureaucratic war. Supervisors rescinded the action within a year, after it became clear that the merger ran afoul of federal regulations. But the snit indirectly led to a federal Medicare investigation that uncovered improper billings and cost the county $15.3 million in penalties. Behavioral Health chief Steve Kaplan was ousted, and Gudeman, who opposed the merger, was appointed as his replacement. Bitterness among opposing camps on the merger issue lingers, officials say.
    The billing fiasco is one reason Gudeman is so scrupulous about following rules on how money is used, his supporters say. But others say Gudeman's approach to running the 400-employee department contrasts sharply with his predecessors'. Gudeman has appointed other psychiatrists to top positions and takes a physician-directed approach to treating mental illness.
    Kaplan took a broader approach, providing clients with teams of doctors, nurses, social workers and educators. They brainstormed ways to address not just the medical problem but other factors contributing to mental health. It was that cooperative effort that brought Ventura County acclamation two decades ago. Under the leadership of director Randy Feltman, the county's mental health agency received national attention by working closely with the probation department, social services, schools and others to help children with mental illness. The cost-saving "systems of care" that they developed have been replicated across the state and nation and expanded to include adults. That's why Ventura County's troubles are so jarring, officials say. "Considering all of the problems Gudeman has had, one has to dissect that and find out what is causing them," Flynn said. "We didn't have these problems four years ago."

Lemak Gets Life Term for Killing Her Three Kids
Jeff Coen and Art Barnum, Chicago Tribune- 8/9/2002

Saying he wanted Marilyn Lemak to ponder her "terrible acts" the rest of her days, a DuPage County judge Monday sentenced the Naperville woman to life in prison without the possibility of parole for the 1999 drugging and suffocation of her three children. "It is appropriate that every day as you look at the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bars, you will see the faces of these young children and hear these young voices asking you, `Why, Mom? We loved you, Mom. Why did you do this to us?'" Judge George Bakalis said, adding that he would order psychiatric services for Lemak, "so you will always maintain the capacity to understand the horror of your crime."
    The harsh rebuke from the normally reserved Bakalis visibly rattled Lemak and drew tears from her ex-husband, David Lemak, who moments before had delivered a moving 4-minute statement about the loss of his children. Taking a moment to describe the children, David Lemak introduced each with the phrase, "Let me tell you a little bit about ..." Nicholas, 7, then Emily, 6, then Thomas, 3. His oldest child was a good student who loved to learn and dress up as a policeman or secret agent, he said. His daughter was a budding artist, he said, and his younger son, "the happiest child I've known." "His greatest thrill, I think, was every day," he said.
    Marilyn Lemak, 44, was found guilty of murder in December after a DuPage jury rejected her insanity claim at the end of a three-week trial. She is expected to be transferred from the DuPage County Jail to the Dwight Correctional Center by late Tuesday, authorities said. At Monday's 30-minute hearing in the Wheaton courthouse, Bakalis rejected arguments from defense attorneys who cited 17 alleged trial errors and asked for a new trial. Lemak's attorneys have argued that Illinois' insanity statute is unconstitutional, making it impossible for Lemak to receive a fair trial. They argued David Lemak's second wife, Janice, should not have been allowed to take the stand and tell the jury about harassing telephone calls, allegedly made by Marilyn Lemak, in the weeks leading up to the slayings.
    Also outlined were concerns about a juror in the case. The Naperville man came to the attention of defense attorneys after being quoted in the Tribune after the trial that he "thought [Lemak] was guilty from the beginning," spurring the attorneys to question if he had preconceived ideas about the case. Bakalis rejected the arguments and a request to have the juror questioned. Bakalis pointed out he was limited by Illinois statutes to the sentence he handed down Monday after prosecutors in January decided against seeking capital punishment.
    Calling the life sentence appropriate, Bakalis said Lemak deserved to be punished for robbing society of the children's potential. Each could have become "a great scientist, a talented actor or musician, a skilled doctor or a gifted athlete," the judge said. "Maybe they would have become none of these things. Maybe they would have just been ordinary people that would have loved and been loved in return."
    David Lemak struggled to express his loss to the court. "I miss their smell after bath time and when they snuggled up with me on the couch," he said on the witness stand. "I miss stroking their hair when falling asleep and feeling the tightness of their hugs. But I most miss just being their dad." The pain of his loss will never be dulled, he said. "I regret that I'll not be able to teach them to drive or where a baby comes from," Lemak said, his voice cracking. "I regret that I'll not see them off on their first dates or their weddings." He told the court his family believes the most fitting punishment would be for Marilyn Lemak "to spend the rest of her life in prison. There she will have to live each day with the knowledge of the horror she is accountable for. There, she cannot harm any of us ever again."
    On the advice of her attorneys, Lemak made no statement before she was sentenced. Lead defense lawyer John Donahue promised an appeal within 30 days. During her trial, Lemak's lawyers described her as seriously depressed and said she lost her sanity as her marriage dissolved. She killed her children and attempted suicide believing they would be reunited in a better place, the defense said. Prosecutors arguing that Lemak killed her children out of anger after her husband began dating.
    Marilyn Lemak's parents and sisters attended the hearing but declined to comment afterward. David Lemak's family, including his wife, also left the courthouse without commenting. DuPage County State's Atty. Joseph Birkett praised the sentence. Lemak, who has been a nurse, wife and mother, will now become an inmate serving the sentence "she richly deserves," Birkett said. Donahue, Birkett and Bakalis all offered condolences to David Lemak and his family. Attorneys and other observers of the case have said it will be Lemak's haunting reflections on his loss throughout the ordeal that stays with them. "I have had to experience seeing photographs of their dead faces and see their three coffins in a cold cemetery," Lemak said Monday. "I have had to bear the comprehension that their deaths were not without pain, and that I could not save them."

College Drinking Responsible For Killing 1,400 Students a Year
Michele Norris, ABC News- 4/9/2002

W A S H I N G T O N— Each year 1,400 college students die from alcohol-related accidents, half a million are injured and more than 70,000 are victims of alcohol-related rape or sexual assault, a report on student drinking said today. The causes of death include car crashes, falls from balconies and students choking on their own vomit, among other misfortunes, said the report, released by the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, a subsidiary of National Institutes of Health. "This should be a wakeup call. There's a clear need for colleges to do something about it," said the study's lead author, Ralph Hingson, associate dean for research at Boston University School of Public Health.
    Along with the troubling statistics comes a bit of welcome news for colleges — research outlining proven strategies to curb college drinking. Schools are urged to strictly enforce the drinking age, find creative ways to change student habits and enlist the surrounding community for help. Those ideas have been tested at the University of Rhode Island — named the nation's top party school three years in a row in the mid-1990s. "We really had to admit that we had a alcohol problem. We are just like an alcoholic that was in denial," said URI President Robert Carothers.
    Denial has been replaced by resolve. The school now has one of the nation's toughest anti-alcohol campaigns "If your idea is to abuse alcohol or other substances, please do us a big favor and don't come here," Carothers said. "We don't want you. We won't need you and you won't be happy here so don't come." At URI, alcohol is strictly banned at all campus events without exception. That includes homecoming, fraternity parties, even alumni events. The school also works in partnership with the local community. Area police contact the school once a week to report all students who have run afoul of the law because of alcohol. And students who live off campus must sign leases that strictly prohibit fraternity events and keg parties. If they violate the lease, their parents can be fined.

The Placebo Test
The school uses unconventional methods to gauge student attitudes about alcohol. The schools holds exercises every six months as part of a research study, sponsored in part by the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism. Students are brought to a mock tavern on campus, a room equipped with a bar and a collection of neon liquor ads. Some students are served alcohol. Some a placebo. The students socialize, introduce themselves and play a game before facilitators ask them to participate in a survey. They are asked to determine whether they think they were served alcohol and why.
    Two young men are certain that they have been served hard liquor. A psychology major named Liam explains that he is feeling "pretty good and happy." The second explains, "my face is kind of warm and my vocab is out there so I'm going with yeah." But when it comes time to reveal the truth both are shocked to learn that there was no alcohol in their drinks. The school hopes the exercise helps teach students that they don't need alcohol to loosen up socially. Mark Alcade said the study changed his outlook on drinking. "I was felling good, you know. I was like, oh, wow, maybe it goes along with their theory that you know perhaps it is the thinking that affects us just as much as the alcohol levels."

Changes in Drinking Mentality
Since these changes were introduced in 1995, the school has seen a 15 percent drop in binge drinking and is attracting students with higher grades and SAT scores. "We were drawing a student body whose center of their social life was alcohol and the abuse of alcohol, " Carothers said. "We had high absentee rates, we had low retention rates, we had a whole variety of problems that were associated with the abuse of alcohol."
    Lauren Boulanger, a junior, says the get tough-policy on alcohol makes students think twice about binge drinking. "It gives you an idea of what the effects really are. Still, it is hard to change heavy drinking habits. Mark Jacobs, a senior at URI, said he and his roommates go through a few kegs every week. "I say Wednesday through Saturday the idea is to get as drunk as you can. Monday, Tuesday, Sunday, just relax and have a couple of beers."
    Researchers say binge drinking has grown on campus because colleges were so focused on drug abuse that they ignored the more widespread problem of alcohol. Today's report, with its research-based recommendations, urges schools to be aggressive and persistent in combating a problem that is cutting young lives short.

Pending Vermont Bill Creating New Substance Abuse Department
Associated Press, 4/10/2002

MONTPELIER, Vt. -- Ignoring objections from the Dean administration, a House committee has voted overwhelmingly to create a new state department to fight substance abuse. After weeks of testimony and a rewrite of the original bill, the House Health and Welfare Committe voted 10-1 on Tuesday to approve it. ''We have a major crisis on our hands and the largest part of it is not heroin, which has gotten all the attention; it's alcohol,'' said Rep. Thomas Koch, R-Barre Town, chairman of the committee, and chief sponsor of the bill.
    The proposal allocated $5 million to combine the Office of Tobacco Control Programs and the Office of Alcohol and Drug Abuse Programs into a new single department under the auspices of the Agency of Human Services. Both offices are now divisions of the Department of Health, which is an overseen by the agency. The measure must clear two more committees before being debated the full House, and Dean administration officials made it clear they would be fighting it every step of the way.
    ''I don't think we create a new bureaucracy,'' said Health Commissioner Dr. Jan Carney. ''That is not the answer to solve the biggest public health issue in the state,'' Carney said. ''My concern is, in trying to solve one problem, well be diluting efforts to address tobacco cessation and control. ... We are getting results in the area of tobacco prevention and control. Why would we want to change that?''  Carney and M. Jane Kitchel, secretary of the Agency of Human Services, both said creating a new department has the potential to fragment some natural connections between substance abuse prevention and public health initiatives under the purview of the Health Department.
    The new department would oversee the existing services and implement new ones including specialized residential treatment programs for heroin users as well as programs that would be geared toward women and youthful offenders. Other initiatives listed called for increasing the number of student assistance counselors in schools around the state, launching a drug court, and offering so-called ''aftercare'' programs that offer support to addicts who are on the road to recovery.

Defense Lawyer Says McDermott Is Insane
Michele Kurtz, Boston Globe, 4/11/2002

CAMBRIDGE - When Michael McDermott gunned down seven co-workers, he was in the throes of schizophrenia and believed he was killing Hitler and six Nazi generals, which a heavenly voice told him would prevent the Holocaust and earn him a soul, his attorney told jurors in a dramatic opening statement yesterday.
    Attorney Kevin Reddington described McDermott, 43, who was scheduled to testify today, as a desperately ill man who tried to kill himself at least three times and whose mental problems date back to childhood. He said the burly man who sits quietly reading a Bible in the courtroom is so sick that he believes he accomplished the deed and died in a German police station when he was booked by Wakefield police for the Dec. 26, 2000 killings at Edgewater Technology.
    ''He will testify that you don't exist, I don't exist, the judge does not exist,'' Reddington told Middlesex Superior Court jurors in a statement filled with references to apparitions and fateful signs. ''This guy is insane. As he sits here in front of you now, he is insane.'' McDermott's parents have said he is not currently taking any psychiatric medication. Reddington is arguing that McDermott suffered so severely from schizophrenia and other mental diseases that he was not criminally responsible for the Edgewater killings.
    Prosecutors, who finished their case yesterday, contend that McDermott, of Haverhill, opened fire with a pump-action shotgun and an AK-47 because he was angry that Edgewater planned to seize part of his wages to pay $5,600 the Internal Revenue Service said he owed the government.
    On Dec. 14 -- the day McDermott learned that the IRS had contacted Edgewater about the debt -- he thought his life ''was literally financially crashing down around him,'' although his retirement savings amounted to at least 10 times the IRS bill, Reddington said. As he knelt in prayer inside his Edgewater cubicle that day, Reddington said, St. Michael the Archangel appeared before him and told him if he saved millions of lives, he would be given a soul. The troubled McDermott had long believed he'd been born without a soul, the lawyer said. ''St. Michael tells him he must kill six German generals and Hitler by going through [a] portal,'' Reddington said.
    McDermott, who was raised in a strict Catholic home, believed the appearance of St. Michael was the first of three signs he would see before attempting his mission, Reddington said. A second would be a celestial sign, and the third a message from someone about Boxing Day -- the day after Christmas -- or the Feast of St. Stephen, also celebrated on Dec. 26. Reddington said the second sign came on Christmas Day 2000. McDermott stood on the lawn with one of his nieces and watched a partial eclipse of the sun. That night he brought several firearms to his office when no one else was there, ''because there's no way he wanted to scare anyone he worked with,'' Reddington said. He intended to use one of the weapons - a hunting rifle police would later find in his locker - to blow the doors off the Germans' bunker, the lawyer said.
    The next morning -- the day of the shootings -- McDermott's mother called him at work and wished him a happy Boxing Day and a happy Feast of St. Stephen, Reddington said. That was it. Ready to ascend to Heaven, McDermott got set to kill Hitler and the other six and himself, Reddington said. For the suicide, he'd take his father's Percocet and Darvocet, both painkillers, that he had at his desk.
    There was a problem, however, Reddington said. McDermott believed that a person who committed suicide would go to hell. But he thought that if he took the pills and died after he got a soul, he'd be OK, Reddington said. McDermott swallowed several of the pills and washed them down with vodka from a bottle in his desk, Reddington said. He headed toward the lobby, where the first shootings would occur.
    After the killings, when police arrived, McDermott was sitting in a chair in the lobby, his guns on the floor at his side, and a bag with hundreds of rounds of ammunition on a couch nearby. Several officers ordered him to put his hands up, an officer testified. But McDermott did not cooperate. Finally he said, ''I don't speak German.'' He repeated the words while being booked at the Wakefield police station.
    Jurors can expect to hear psychiatrists for the defense testify that McDermott has several mental illnesses, including schizophrenia, which is usually accompanied by hallucinations and voices, and Cotard syndrome, a rare disorder in which a person believes he is dead. Noting his client's bushy, unkempt mane, Reddington said, ''He has hair like that because it keeps the voices down.'' But McDermott is highly intelligent and has spent much of his life pretending to be sane, Reddington said. He has studied mental illness and psychology and taunts psychiatrists with his knowledge of their diagnostic tests.
    McDermott's psychological problems began in childhood, Reddington said. At age 12, he was ''raped very badly by a neighbor,'' he said. In his early teens, his parents took him to a psychiatrist, and he first attempted suicide while in high school, Reddington said. At age 17, he joined the Navy and was assigned to a nuclear submarine. When he tried to open valves and doors to get out, Navy officials sent him to a psychiatrist, Reddington said. But facing reassignment, he learned to fake being fine, Reddington said.
    He tried to kill himself again in the late 1980s while working at the Maine Yankee nuclear power plant. In a workers' compensation lawsuit, a doctor said that McDermott not only was mentally ill but that ''he would kill possibly at some time,'' Reddington said. After that suicide attempt and another, he spent time in psychiatric facilities, Reddington said. He described his hallucinations to one doctor and ''seeing things out of the side of his eye,'' Reddington said. McDermott was taking Prozac, an antidepressant drug, at the time of the shootings. ''He believes he killed no one other than six generals and Hitler,'' Reddington said. ''He's very happy. [He believes] it's the most worthy thing he's ever done in his whole life.''

Gay Parents Win in Colorado Senate
Julia C. Martinez, Denver Post- 4/11/2002

Gay couples will be able to keep their names on Colorado birth certificates after a measure to prohibit same-sex birth certificates was killed by a Senate committee Wednesday. It took the Senate Judiciary Committee about 30 minutes to hear testimony and vote to "postpone indefinitely" House Bill 1356. The 4-3 vote was on party lines, with Democrats voting in favor of the postponement, which is the same as killing it. That's in sharp contrast to last month's House committee, which heard hours of testimony before voting in favor.
    "This is all about the kids. This is not about gay issues," said Kim Martinelli, who attended the hearing with her partner, Sharon Dody, and their 31/2-month-old daughter, Carson. "It's about children and their rights and people who want to take responsibility for them." The bill was introduced after Boulder County judges began allowing same-sex couples to put their names on birth certificates.
    The bill's Senate sponsor, Marilyn Musgrave, R-Fort Morgan, was disappointed by the bill's defeat. "Children need to know their genealogy and their medical history," Musgrave said. "They (the opponents) are looking at it as making a social statement, rather than having an accurate record." Musgrave noted that Colorado law prohibits same-sex adoptions and that bill opponents should work to change that law rather than perpetuating biologically inaccurate birth certificates. "If the homosexual community wants to propose legislation to legalize such adoptions in Colorado, they have every right to do that," Musgrave said.
    Beth Deyo testified before the committee that she and her partner, Wendy Concepcion, had thought about becoming residents of Massachusetts, which permits co-parent adoption. But she said that after learning they could get a birth certificate with both their names on it in Boulder, the couple decided to move back to Denver. "We had a decree from a judge in Boulder that my name would be on the birth certificate when she was born," Deyo said, cradling the couple's 5-month-old daughter, Hayden Concepcion Deyo.

Family Files Complaint Against Yates' Psychiatrist
Carol Christian, Houston Chronicle- 4/11/2002

Andrea Pia Yates' family filed a complaint Wednesday with the district attorney's office about the psychiatrist treating her at the time she drowned her five children. The complaint alleges Dr. Mohammed Saeed, former medical director at Devereux Texas Treatment Network in League City, did not properly manage her medication and released her from the hospital when she was dangerously delusional. "We feel that Dr. Saeed's actions of excessive, harmful treatment, and his lack of action to warn about the endangerment of the children, made him negligent in his duty to protect the children," states the complaint signed by Yates' brothers, Brian and Andrew Kennedy, and her mother, Jutta Karin Kennedy.
    The Austin chapter of the international Citizens Commission on Human Rights, a mental health watchdog group established in 1969 by the Church of Scientology, helped the family develop the complaint. Jerry Boswell, president of the Austin chapter, said the complaint does not ask specifically that criminal charges be filed, but its goal is to see Saeed charged with criminal negligence.
    Harris County District Attorney Chuck Rosenthal said he would have no comment while the complaint is under investigation. Brian Kennedy said he believes Saeed should be charged with negligent homicide. Saeed did not return calls seeking comment.
    Saeed treated Yates during two hospitalizations at Devereux last year and saw her twice in his office after her second discharge May 14. Saeed's management of Yates' medication was irresponsible, Boswell said. For example, he said, the commission's review of Yates' medical records showed that upon her second admittance to Devereux on May 4, Saeed increased her dose of the antidepressant Effexor from 200 to 450 milligrams per day. According to the commission's consultants, that was well above the standard therapeutic dose of 37.5 milligrams per day, Boswell said.
    But Houston psychiatrist Lucy Puryear, who specializes in women's psychiatric problems related to giving birth and who testified at Yates' trial, disagreed, noting she occasionally prescribes up to 300 milligrams per day. "As a physician, you're allowed to use your clinical judgment and increase dosages as long as you monitor for side effects and adverse effects," Puryear said. "The fact he raised her antidepressant medication did not in any way contribute to what happened."
    Puryear said Saeed's greatest error was taking Yates off the antipsychotic drug Haldol two weeks before she killed her children. Boswell said his group undertook the study of Yates' medical records after reading of trial testimony about Saeed's handling of her medication. Boswell said he spoke to George Parnham, one of Yates' attorneys, about the commission's findings near the end of the trial.
    Parnham was unavailable for comment Wednesday, but his partner, Wendell Odom, said the defense team had to rely upon their own medical experts for advice because it constantly received a barrage of unsolicited, conflicting information. "I don't know of any discovery that is brand new that we didn't know about with regards to medication," Odom said. "But there was testimony to this: A treatment that involves yanking someone off an antipsychotic and placing them on something else when there was a need for the antipsychotic -- if you do that, you are exacerbating the problem, not correcting any problem."

McDermott Tells of Killings, Stirs Outrage
Michele Kurtz, Boston Globe- 4/12/2002

CAMBRIDGE - After listening for nearly three hours to Michael McDermott's boasting and his bizarre tale of time travel and Nazi killing, the relatives of the seven people he killed had had enough. When McDermott matter-of-factly said the most humane way to kill people was to shoot them in the head, one man stood up, angrily muttered an expletive, and stormed out of the courtroom, slamming the door behind him. A dozen more relatives of McDermott's victims soon joined the exodus, red-eyed and angry. ''This whole thing was rehearsed for a year,'' said Marcelle Marceau, whose son, Paul, was killed in McDermott's shooting rampage inside Edgewater Technology in Wakefield on Dec. 26, 2000. ''If it was your son ... ''
    It was an extraordinary scene inside a courtroom in Middlesex Superior Court yesterday as the man charged with the worst mass murder in Massachusetts history took the witness stand to convince jurors he was insane when he shot and killed seven of his co-workers. McDermott's four hours of often chilling testimony elicited gasps from spectators as he calmly, often glibly, described the carnage, saying that he carried out orders from an archangel in order to gain a soul and go to heaven. To McDermott and his attorney, Kevin Reddington, it is evidence of the full-blown schizophrenia they believe he was suffering from that day.
    McDermott, as Reddington had previewed for jurors on Wednesday, said the seven people he shot and killed were not co-workers, but Adolf Hitler and six of his generals. And they were not killed inside a Wakefield office building, but inside a Berlin bunker in 1940. McDermott told jurors he believes that after he completed his ''mission'' he died of a drug overdose in a Berlin police station and is currently in purgatory awaiting his ascension to heaven. He's sure he'll get there, he said, because weeks before the shooting, St. Michael the Archangel appeared in his cubicle and told him he'd be rewarded with a soul if he succeeded. ''God had a plan for me,'' McDermott testified. ''For the first time in my life I felt I could achieve what everyone takes for granted -- that I could have a soul and go to heaven.''
    The trial's outcome hinges on whether jurors believe McDermott is insane and did not know he was killing seven innocent people, or if they think he has concocted the story. During cross-examination, which will continue today, Middlesex Assistant District Attorney Thomas O'Reilly asked McDermott about his passion for Dungeons and Dragons, a fantasy game in which a ''gamemaster'' creates an elaborate set of circumstances and characters and a problem for them to solve. He suggested that McDermott was clever and experienced enough in fantasy playing to make up the Hitler scenario.
    During three hours of direct examination by Reddington, the bearded McDermott, 43, of Haverhill, said he was raped repeatedly by a neighbor at age 8, suffered from hallucinations and heard voices, attempted suicide three times, and spent decades trying to mask his insanity. Reddington wants to persuade jurors that McDermott was schizophrenic at the time and not criminally responsible for the killings. Prosecutors contend that McDermott knew what he was doing and reacted out of anger to Edgewater's plans to seize part of his wages at the request of the Internal Revenue Service to pay off $5,600 the agency said he owed.
    McDermott, clad in his gray jailhouse jumpsuit and shackled at the ankles, appeared both mild-mannered and arrogant on the witness stand. He boasted about the importance of his work aboard a nuclear submarine in the late 1970s and gave lengthy, technical explanations on everything from battery testing to giving blood. He described hearing voices, which he said he initially thought were coming from electrical devices, such as television sets that had been turned off. ''The voices in my head, I clustered them into different groups,'' McDermott said. ''The major one I call the chorus. Its job seems to be to tell me what a bad person I am ... what a waste of space and skin and food I am.'' One of the ''nonchorus'' groups directs him to steal things, he said. For a decade he collected glass beakers and hoarded them in boxes in his apartment.
    McDermott's nonchalance at times was startling. At one point, Reddington flashed a photograph on the courtroom monitor and asked McDermott to identify the item pictured. ''Ah, that's a bag for my AK-47 and the bayonet that comes with it,'' he said coolly, drawing gasps in the courtroom. His path to the shootings began on Dec. 14, the day he learned the company would seize part of his wages. ''Michael the Archangel came and lifted me up'' to a ''celestial plane,'' he told jurors. The vision told him to travel through a ''portal'' and that he'd know Hitler and the six other Nazis by their swastika armbands. If he did this, he would receive a soul, he said. ''I was born without a soul,'' he said. ''It's inferred rather than direct evidence. Everyone else seems to have a moral compass.''
    McDermott testified that he was given two signs -- the solar eclipse on Christmas Day and the mention of Boxing Day by his mother the following morning -- to start the killings. That morning, he swallowed pills to kill himself and then proceeded to the Wakefield office building and finally Edgewater's lobby, toting an AK-47 and a pump-action shotgun. He said he used the portal code word St. Michael had told him -- HR -- and was immediately ''blown'' through a door. He then recounted the killings, one by one, describing shooting men sporting swastikas -- in the exact sequence and numbers as the Edgewater shootings. Four of the Edgewater victims were women, but McDermott only described killing men. Finally, he testified that he could sense Hitler was in a locked room, so he blew off the door. The last two Edgewater victims were in the locked accounting office. ''The last Nazi was there. I shot and killed him,'' he said. ''And Hitler was there. I shot and killed him ... The mission was complete. I had a soul.''
    Reddington focused on McDermott's lengthy psychiatric history. McDermott said he left his job as a nuclear reactor operator at the Maine Yankee power plant because ''I'd gone crazy.'' He said he tried to kill himself and was hospitalized. McDermott said that the jury, the judge, and everyone else in the courtroom did not exist, even his parents. ''That's actually not my mother and father,'' he said. ''Those are constructs of my mother and father.'' When Reddington asked if he talks to them, he said he did. ''I wouldn't want to be rude,'' he said.

Insanity Seen Hard to Present
Ralph Ranalli, Boston Globe- 4/12/2002

For first-degree murder defendants pleading insanity, the margin for error on the witness stand is extraordinarily thin. They are expected to act crazy, but too much bizarre behavior can make their testimony look like an act, analysts say. Not enough, though, will fail to convince skeptical jurors that they would be doing the right thing by sparing the defendant life in prison without parole.  Thus, Michael McDermott's surprisingly calm, largely lucid performance on the witness stand yesterday may fail to convince jurors that he was legally insane when he stormed through the offices of Edgewater Technology in Wakefield, killing seven co-workers, legal analysts said.
    Those same analysts agreed, however, that his lawyer, Kevin Reddington, had little choice but to call his client to the stand. ''Juries disbelieve the insanity defense before they walk into the courtroom,'' said longtime Boston defense lawyer Bernard Grossberg. ''It's not for nothing that it's called the defense of last resort. In this case especially, there is no reason not to put him on.'' Boston attorney J.W. Carney Jr., who mounted an unsuccessful insanity defense for abortion clinic shooter John Salvi, said jurors often labor under the myth that ''the defendant must be drooling and babbling nonsense for them to be mentally ill.''
    Former Dorchester District Court Chief Judge James Dolan said that Reddington may actually have been counting on the contrast between his client's sudden off-the-wall statements and his mostly normal demeanor. ''If you put a lunatic on who's just raving, the jury might think the guy is acting,'' Dolan said. ''[Reddington] may be counting on the fact that if his client is capable of being lucid, that is really a reflection of his mental illness and not that he is a complete fake.''
    For virtually the entire day, McDermott seemed in control of his intellect and his emotions, calmly answering Reddington's questions and, at one point, even turning to the jury to explain the difference between hyperthyroidism and hypothyroidism -- the latter a disease he said he suffers from after being exposed to radition as an employee of the Vermont Yankee nuclear power plant.
    On several occasions, however, his reactions seemed inappropriate, such as when he smiled and seemed genuinely pleased to see a picture of his kitchen table strewn with empty ammunition boxes or when he jokingly responded to his lawyer's question about ''where'' he had had his vasectomy. ''I assume you mean which hospital,'' he said, smiling again. At various points -- and with no warning -- McDermott issued bizarre statements in the same matter-of-fact affect and tone. He mentioned, almost in passing, that he had ''died'' in 1940. Later, he described how St. Michael the Archangel told him that God wanted him to go back in history through a ''time portal'' in the Edgewater lobby and kill Adolf Hitler and six other planners of the Nazi Holocaust. McDermott said he believed that the portal had transported him into Hitler's bunker in Berlin, where he identified his targets by their swastika armbands. He also said he was born ''without a soul'' and that, in order to be worthy of one, he had to prevent the Holocaust and save millions of lives.
    Calling McDermott as a witness was also necessary, analysts said, to explain an apparent discrepancy between McDermott's claims that he heard voices and suffered from hallucinations since the 1970s with medical records that include no mention of that. McDermott's psychiatric records from the Navy, Vermont Yankee, and various mental hospitals mostly describe him as suffering from depression. McDermott testified yesterday that he learned early to keep the more serious aspects of his mental illness a secret, fearing that Navy doctors would remove him from submarine duty, or worse. ''It's been my experience that when you tell [doctors] things like that, they lock you up,'' he said. ''It's not that they are bad people, it's just what they have to do.''

Judge: Put Gays in Mental Institutions
ABC News, 4/12/2002

A Mississippi judge has come under fire from gay rights groups after he wrote a letter to a local newspaper saying that gays and lesbians "should be put in some type of mental institute" rather than be given the right to marry. Equality Mississippi, a statewide gay rights group, with the support of Lambda Legal, a nationwide gay rights organization, filed an ethics violation complaint today against George County Justice Court Judge Connie Wilkerson, arguing that the letter is evidence that the judge cannot be impartial. "The letter is a clear statement of prejudice against gays and lesbians that calls into serious question whether the judge can decide cases fairly and impartially," Greg Nevins, a staff attorney in Lambda Legal's southern district office, said.
    "In my opinion, gays and lesbians should be put in some type of mental institution instead of having a law like this passed for them," Wilkerson said in a letter to the George County Times that ran on March 28. The letter was referring to a California law that gives gay partners the same rights to file wrongful death suits as spouses or other family members have. Wilkerson, 65, who has been a Justice Court judge for six years, said he was sorry his comments about gay people have stirred up so much controversy, but maintained that his views do not affect his performance on the bench. "I wish somebody that's been offended would come up and let me show them what I think of them, the individual. I have no feelings against them," Wilkerson said. "I don't ask a fellow if they're a homosexual or a lady if she's a lesbian when they come in front of me. That has nothing to do with my judging."
    Wilkerson said he meant no harm with his letter. "I've wrote letters throughout my life, and I probably just wasn't thinking about the problems that it might cost my fellow man," he said. "I'm sorry it's caused anybody any problems. I'm trying to help." He said gay people should look for help with their "disease" in the Bible. In his letter, Wilkerson wrote, "You need to know as I know, that God in heaven is not pleased with this, and I am sounding the alarm."
    Jody Renaldo, the executive director of Equality Mississippi, said that Wilkerson should have kept his opinion to himself. Now that he has gone public with his feelings about homosexuals, he has violated the Mississippi Code of Judicial Conduct, which says judges should avoid "expressions of bias or prejudice," Renaldo said. "Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but there's a line that you just do not cross, especially when you're holding a judicial position," Renaldo said. "Because we pay his salary to sit on that bench, I think we deserve a little more respect than what he's giving us." As for Wilkerson's contention that he can serve on the bench fairly, Renaldo said the judge's words are ample evidence of the strength of his opinions, and make it inconceivable that he could be impartial on any case that involved sexual orientation that came before him. "He's already given his opinion in advance about how he feels about gays and lesbians and how he feels about these rights issues," Renaldo said.
    Wilkerson referred to a section from the Bible, Romans 1:31 and 1:32, where it says that those who break God's law and those who approve of those people are "worthy of death." "The fact of the Bible scripture that he quotes in his letter really scares a lot of us," Renaldo said. "He's basically saying that we should be put to death, and those who approve of it should be put to death. … Here's a judge using scripture to promote the death of gays and lesbians." In the face of the criticism, Wilkerson said he considers himself a fair and honest judge, but he said he probably made a mistake by writing the letter. "I probably wouldn't write it, seeing as much trouble as it's caused people," he said. "I didn't know it was going to cause problems."
    The filing of the ethics complaint comes on the eve of the first state gay pride rally in Mississippi since 1979. The event, organized by Equality Mississippi, was scheduled to be held in Jackson on Saturday. The state has no law against discrimination based on sexual orientation, and there are no local ordinances barring such discrimination.

Father Sues Teen’s Friends Over Ecstacy Death
ABC News, 4/12/2002

S E W I C K L E Y, Pa.,— Like many parents of teenagers, Don French was reluctant to let his only daughter go to a daylong concert with her friends. But when he finally gave in and let 16-year-old Brandy go, he never imagined how much he would regret the decision. "She begged me forever," remembers French, who had been raising Brandy alone since her mother's death two years ago. He finally gave in when Brandy said she'd be with two of her older friends, 17-year old Michelle Maranuk and 18-year-old Paula Wilson, whom French knew and considered responsible. "I don't want this to happen to any other child," says Don French, whose only daughter died after taking Ecstasy. He never considered that his daughter — an honor-roll student whom he describes as "a really good kid" — would try Ecstasy for the first time at the May 2001 concert..
    After taking the drug, Brandy started getting "really sick," according to her friends. She became progressively ill as hours passed, but her friends did not seek medical help until she lost consciousness. By then it was too late. Brandy died later that night. Now her father is taking the unusual step of suing her friends for wrongful death, vowing to make an example of what he says was their fatally bad judgment and failure to get his daughter medical attention in time to save her life. "My daughter's life was just a phone call away," says French.

The First and Last Time
The night before the concert, Maranuk suggested the girls score some Ecstasy, a popular hallucinogenic that Brandy and Wilson had never tried. Using Maranuk's contact, they got three pills for $20 each. Maranuk hid them in her bra as they walked past security into the concert. Once inside, they waited for Brandy to call her father, letting him know she was OK. "As long as she was there, I thought she was fine," says French. "She was with her friends, she made it there, she was fine." He never suspected his daughter was about to begin her first Ecstasy experience.
    Maranuk told her two friends to only take half a pill, saving the other half for later. "They were dancing around," she says, "happy, exuberant. They wanted to take their other half." "I've been traumatized by this," says Michelle Maranuk, who says she lost her best friend. A couple of hours later, at about 6:30 p.m., they did. Then, about 40 minutes later, as more friends joined their group, Brandy's happy mood took a downturn. "She started getting really sick," says Maranuk. "She wasn't dancing or anything, she was just sitting there puking."
    Maranuk thought it was just a common side effect of Ecstasy. But as the concert raged on, Brandy's condition got worse. She could hardly sit up. Some her friends helped her walk out of the concert and into the car of an acquaintance, 19-year-old Lewis Hopkins, who offered to take Brandy to his home, where she could sleep off her high. By 9:45 p.m., they reached the Hopkins home, only a few miles away from Brandy's, where her father was unaware that his daughter was in serious trouble. They told Hopkins' mother that Brandy was drunk, and took her to a bed upstairs. "She was half-asleep," says Maranuk. "Like more than half-asleep."
    That's when Maranuk began to get worried. Still, no one called for medical help. By 10 p.m., everyone assumed Brandy was sleeping. Then, they heard a loud thud. Brandy had fallen on the floor, lodged between the bed and the wall. Maranuk says she and her friends wanted to call 911, but claims that Hopkins' mother told them not to. "'Don't call an ambulance. Not right now at least,'" Maranuk says she was told. "We were all so scared we didn't know what to do." Some in the group later told investigators that despite their pleas to get medical help, the 55-year-old mother thought she could handle things. Rosalind Hopkins said she didn't know Brandy was on drugs or how sick she was.
    Finally, by the time Brandy was unconscious, they decided to take her to a hospital. In the driveway, Brandy stopped breathing. Wilson tried performing CPR, and at that point they called an ambulance. By 12:51 a.m., nearly seven hours after Brandy had become seriously ill, she was taken to a hospital 10 minutes away. French made it to the hospital in time for devastating news. "She was brain-dead," he says. "I lost my daughter." Maranuk, too, was devastated, saying she had thoughts of suicide. "I knew her since I was a baby," she says. "And I didn't know how I was going to wake up and not talk to Brandy."

An Unusual Lawsuit
Brandy's death stunned her small community. How could a healthy teenage girl die from Ecstasy, a drug most teenagers assume is safe? Visits to the emergency room for problems associated with Ecstasy increased nearly 700 percent from 1997 to 2000. Though Ecstasy-associated deaths are rare, Pittsburgh coroner Cyril Wecht says taking the drug is like playing Russian roulette, in that no one can predict the outcome. In Brandy's case, he believes, it didn't have to be fatal. "It is my opinion, based upon a reasonable degree of medical certainty, that if help had been called … Brandy French would have survived," he says.
    With that news, French's despair turned to outrage. Believing that he lost his daughter because of her friends' inaction, he decided to take an unusual step of filing a lawsuit. His suit, seeking damages of at least $275,000, names four of Brandy's friends who were at the Hopkins home, along with Rosalind Hopkins and the concert promoter, whom he believes should have provided better security. The legal claim, says French's attorney, focuses on "the people who were around to see this, and the people who unfortunately did nothing to help out." Though French recognizes that his daughter paid with her life for "making a stupid choice," he says, "I do not believe that she had to die."
    A Pennsylvania jury will decide whether or not French is entitled to be compensated in his lawsuit. But he insists that it's not the money he's after. "I don't want any other child to go through this," he says. "I don't want that to ever happen again." Maranuk, who says she's emotionally ruined, says that no lawsuit can begin to teach the heartbreaking lesson she's already learned. "It's a terrible drug," she says. "It takes lives. It took my best friend."