Good morning!
We'll have 2 performances today.
Your fanchants were impressive last night and I am looking forward to it today as well.
See you at the venue!
--- Wooyoung
Credit: Trans by sakiHa @2pmalways
Sunday, August 19, 2012
[News] JYP Nation captivates 36,000 fans for their ‘JYP Nation in Japan 2012′ concert
On August 18th and 19th, the JYP Nation family brought the house down in Japan with their ‘JYP Nation in Japan 2012‘ concert at the Yoyogi Stadium!
The company put on a total of three concerts over the course of two days and brought in 36,000 fans in the seats all hoping to see performances by the company’s leading acts like J.Y. Park, the Wonder Girls, 2PM, 2AM, miss A, JOO, San E, and JJ Project.
All 35,000 seats had sold out within the first 10 seconds of the tickets going on sale, so it’s no wonder the stadium was jam packed and brimming with cheers from fans in every which way.
miss A opened up the concert with a string of their hits, completely captivating the audience from the get go with their powerful and sexy performances. The Wonder Girls followed after with perfect live performances before transitioning into the next acts with their fluent Japanese.
JJ Project and San E elevated the atmosphere with their hiptronica tracks while 2AM showed perfect harmony, completely filling the stadium with their soulful voices.
The concert reached its height with the arrival of 2PM on the stage, as they went on to perform their hit Japanese tracks like “Beautiful” and “Kimi ga Ireba“. JYP Nation’s leader J.Y. Park wrapped up the solo stages with a charisma all his own, proving once again why he’s Asia’s greatest producer and dance singer.
That wasn’t the end there, though, as Jo Kwon and JOO then teamed up to perform a self-composed song by Junsu titled “Hanarete Itemo” while Taecyeon and Yenny performed “After You Left Me” as a duet.
J.Y. Park, Changmin, Taecyeon, and Junho covered the Wonder Girls’ “Be My Baby” while Chansung, Wooyoung, Seulong, and JB showed off their masculine sides with “Bad Boy Good Boy“.
Everyone in the audience sang along in Korean for the entire three hour long concert!
JYP Entertainment stated, “All of the artists of JYP Entertainment would like to send their utmost gratification at the love and support sent by their fans at the Japanese JYP Nation concert. It was a blissful time for all of the artists to be gathered together, and definitely a meaningful one for them to have met with 36,000 fans. We would like to thank everyone once again.”
The artists will be returning to Korea on the 20th.
Source: allkpop
[Twitter] 2PM Taecyeon's “After You Left Me” partner
@taeccool:
My “After You Left Me” partner Ye eun-ie~ Great work for 3 performances
[Twitter] 2PM Taecyeon's "Stay with Me" partner
@taeccool:
JYP NATION my Stay with me partner Jia~~ Great work~~
[Twitter] 2PM Junsu and the lucky girls!
@Jun2daKay:
With Fei, Yubin and Sohee before the ‘Kiss’ performance!
Jia was getting ready. Yubin’s eyes are alluring.
[News] ‘Section TV’ airs interview with J.Y. Park, Suzy, Wooyoung, & Taecyeon on the set of upcoming Reebok CF
Reebok has teamed up with J.Y. Park and his JYPE artists miss A‘s Suzy and 2PM‘s Wooyoung and Taecyeon for their ‘Classic’ campaign. The four and Reebok will be unveiling a drama-like CF, and ahead of its reveal, ‘Section TV Entertainment News‘ took a visit to the set to conduct an entertaining interview.
Apparently the CF will revolve around a story line of J.Y. Park protesting the love between Suzy and Wooyoung, and the idols are seen working hard to portray the emotions of their characters.
After a sneak peek at some of the upcoming scenes, the four sat down for an entertaining interview that began with J.Y. Park referring to the four of them as “acting-idols”, to which Taecyeon protested, “Hyung, I don’t know if you can call yourself an idol..” J.Y. Park fired back that he was once an idol too.
The topic then switched to the recent ‘JYP Nation‘ concert that was held and Suzy was asked about performing 2PM’s “Again and Again” during one of the special performances. Suzy started to answer the question but seemed to lose her train of thought as she ended on an unsure note, prompting J.Y. Park to comment, “Wow, we are so bad at interviews.. Other agencies are much funner than us, right?” putting reporter Son Jin Young on the spot.
Other various topics such as related search terms were brought up, and it was revealed that Taecyeon had sent in some of his incomplete works as a composer to the agency, but they had all been rejected recently. However, J.Y. Park revealed his confidence in Taecyeon, complimenting his “musical sense”. Suzy then brought laughter as she revealed that the features of her face she was most proud of were the whites of her eyes. She confidently stated, “The whites of my eyes are very clean looking.”
Source: allkpop
[News] 2PM’s Taecyeon Torn Between Yubin & Sun Ye for Cosmopolitan
Wonder Girls Yubin and Sun Ye posed with 2PM‘s Taecyeon for the new issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine.
The trio took the pose for an elegant and glamour “Night Time” photospread, flaunting luxurious brand Gucci‘s flag bags in a dazzling VIP after-party setting.
Taecyeon is dressed in a dark velvet suit with flower prints in one picture, and a black suit in the second, showcasing his elegant and masculine charms as a player.
Yubin and Sun Ye are showing off their sensual, attractive silhouettes and shaped legs with black and emerald green dresses with flower prints in one picture and a classic beige dress a la Jackie Kennedy for Sunye in the other. The ladies opted for a dramatic vampire-like make up with smokey eyes and a deep rouge for Sun Ye and a nude lipstick for Yubin.
The complete pictorial featuring Taecyeon, Sun Ye and Yubin will be revealed in the September issue of Cosmopolitan.
Source: soompi
Famous Insanity Cases (VIDEOS)
Delaware Museum of Natural History
Delaware Museum of Natural History - The Delaware Museum of Natural History opened its doors in 1972 to excite and inform people about the natural world through exploration and discovery.
Encounter life-sized dinosaurs, look beneath the seas, experience an African watering hole, come face-to-face with a jaguar, marvel at the diversity of birds and shells from around the world... These and many other discoveries await you at the Delaware Museum of Natural History!
The Discovery Room is a place for hands-on adventure, where children of all ages can explore our natural world, past and present. Games, experiments, puzzles, microscopes, specimens, skeletons, and fossils are among the many features to be found here.Throughout the year the Museum also offers changing exhibitions, many of which highlight an extensive scientific collection.Each Wednesday brings the Museum's Natural Wonders Program for pre-schoolers and their parents. Each program is different, with many of them pertaining to the season. Activities can include just about anything, from craft demonstrations to puppet shows to kite-making and much more. Each activity addresses some specific aspect of our natural world.Having a Birthday Party for your child? Do it at the Museum. A choice of four exciting themes offers an hour of fun and education for party-goers. Outside picnic tables can be used for lunch and cake.
The Museum presents a variety of nature movies every day, FREE with admission. Call for the current schedule.The entire family can enjoy the Museum's special events, lectures, workshops, guided tours, and other functions throughout the year. Call for a current calendar.Group Tours and Programs can be arranged, and School Groups can take advantage of a wide range of programs for all grade levels. Blue-Ribbon Birds (grade 1 and up) uses activities and demonstrations to explore the world of birds and raptors. Amazing Animals (2 and up) reveals many surprises about animal characteristics. Animal Adaptations (1 and up) is a hands-on examination of various animal features that unlocks their secrets of survival. Museum Sampler (Pre-K - K) combines games and stories with an exciting tour that illustrates animal lifestyles. Customized tours can also be arranged for any grade level.Outreach Programs are also available, and a school can rent a Mini-Museum.
Encounter life-sized dinosaurs, look beneath the seas, experience an African watering hole, come face-to-face with a jaguar, marvel at the diversity of birds and shells from around the world... These and many other discoveries await you at the Delaware Museum of Natural History!
The Discovery Room is a place for hands-on adventure, where children of all ages can explore our natural world, past and present. Games, experiments, puzzles, microscopes, specimens, skeletons, and fossils are among the many features to be found here.Throughout the year the Museum also offers changing exhibitions, many of which highlight an extensive scientific collection.Each Wednesday brings the Museum's Natural Wonders Program for pre-schoolers and their parents. Each program is different, with many of them pertaining to the season. Activities can include just about anything, from craft demonstrations to puppet shows to kite-making and much more. Each activity addresses some specific aspect of our natural world.Having a Birthday Party for your child? Do it at the Museum. A choice of four exciting themes offers an hour of fun and education for party-goers. Outside picnic tables can be used for lunch and cake.
The Museum presents a variety of nature movies every day, FREE with admission. Call for the current schedule.The entire family can enjoy the Museum's special events, lectures, workshops, guided tours, and other functions throughout the year. Call for a current calendar.Group Tours and Programs can be arranged, and School Groups can take advantage of a wide range of programs for all grade levels. Blue-Ribbon Birds (grade 1 and up) uses activities and demonstrations to explore the world of birds and raptors. Amazing Animals (2 and up) reveals many surprises about animal characteristics. Animal Adaptations (1 and up) is a hands-on examination of various animal features that unlocks their secrets of survival. Museum Sampler (Pre-K - K) combines games and stories with an exciting tour that illustrates animal lifestyles. Customized tours can also be arranged for any grade level.Outreach Programs are also available, and a school can rent a Mini-Museum.
John Du Pont Dies
John Du Pont Dies - He was the multimillionaire heir to one of the most fabluous estates in the Philadelphia region – the roughly 600 acres of rolling hills and horse stables near Newtown Square known as Foxcatcher Farm, anchored by a stately Georgian-style mansion called Liseter Hall. But in the end, the chemical-fortune scion John Eleuthere duPont died all alone, apparently of natural causes, in a western Pennsylvania prison cell where his frail and lifeless body was found at 6:55 a.m. yesterday. He was 72.
DuPont’s millions were powerless against the psychological demons that caused his slide into insanity – which led him to reportedly declare himself the red-robed “Dalai Lama of the United States” and finally to gun down a gold-medal-winning Olympic wrestler for no apparent reason.
Declared “guilty but mentally ill” by a Delaware County jury, duPont spent the final 13 years of his life behind bars for killing wrestler David Schultz, a married father of two young children.
“He was certainly remorseful over the loss of Dave Schultz,” said Taras Wochok, duPont’s longtime attorney and friend. “From his own standpoint, I think, he stepped up and reconciled himself to the fact that he had to do the time for what he did.”
Wochok said that he had visited duPont on Monday at a hospital in Somerset County, in western Pennsylvania, where he was being treated for severe emphysema and for chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. DuPont was returned to the nearby state correctional facility, where he died.
“He did not receive any special treatment,” Wochok said of duPont’s years behind bars. “In my view, he received less than the same treatment as other inmates because of who he was.”
DuPont – who’d been sentenced to 13 to 30 years – lost an appeal of his 1997 conviction last year and had been denied parole twice. Wochok said that he couldn’t attend the parole hearings but that he believed that duPont had been turned down for not accepting the police version of the events of Jan. 26, 1996, the day Schultz was murdered.
Life started much differently for the son of Delaware County businessman and thoroughbed-horse owner William duPont. His parents eventually divorced, and the young duPont remained close to his mother, Jean Liseter Austin duPont; in fact, some friends maintained that the son’s unraveling seemed to begin after she died in 1988.
DuPont’s millions were powerless against the psychological demons that caused his slide into insanity – which led him to reportedly declare himself the red-robed “Dalai Lama of the United States” and finally to gun down a gold-medal-winning Olympic wrestler for no apparent reason.
Declared “guilty but mentally ill” by a Delaware County jury, duPont spent the final 13 years of his life behind bars for killing wrestler David Schultz, a married father of two young children.
“He was certainly remorseful over the loss of Dave Schultz,” said Taras Wochok, duPont’s longtime attorney and friend. “From his own standpoint, I think, he stepped up and reconciled himself to the fact that he had to do the time for what he did.”
Wochok said that he had visited duPont on Monday at a hospital in Somerset County, in western Pennsylvania, where he was being treated for severe emphysema and for chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. DuPont was returned to the nearby state correctional facility, where he died.
“He did not receive any special treatment,” Wochok said of duPont’s years behind bars. “In my view, he received less than the same treatment as other inmates because of who he was.”
DuPont – who’d been sentenced to 13 to 30 years – lost an appeal of his 1997 conviction last year and had been denied parole twice. Wochok said that he couldn’t attend the parole hearings but that he believed that duPont had been turned down for not accepting the police version of the events of Jan. 26, 1996, the day Schultz was murdered.
Life started much differently for the son of Delaware County businessman and thoroughbed-horse owner William duPont. His parents eventually divorced, and the young duPont remained close to his mother, Jean Liseter Austin duPont; in fact, some friends maintained that the son’s unraveling seemed to begin after she died in 1988.
John Du Pont Third Degree Murder And Mentally Ill
John Du Pont Third Degree Murder And Mentally Ill - John E. du Pont, a frustrated athlete who used his family’s fortune to surround himself with world-class wrestlers, was convicted today of killing the Olympic gold medalist David Schultz on the grounds of the country estate he had turned into a private training camp. After seven days of deliberations, the jury decided that Mr. du Pont, 58, was guilty of third-degree murder but mentally ill on Jan. 26, 1996, when he shot the wrestler three times at point-blank range with a .44-caliber Magnum revolver. He was also convicted of one count of simple assault for pointing the pistol at his security consultant.
Mr. du Pont is undergoing treatment at Norristown State Hospital and will go to prison only if the authorities decide he has been cured.
Dressed in the same blue sweatsuit he has worn since his arrest, his gray hair long and greasy after more than one year in custody, Mr. du Pont turned his gaunt face vaguely about the courtroom as the jury of six men and six women delivered the verdict.
”I’m not sure it’s sunk in yet,” said Mark Klugheight, a lawyer who is representing Mr. du Pont in a competency hearing for control of his fortune, which is estimated at $250 million. ”Sometimes he gets things right away; sometimes he doesn’t.”
Third-degree murder means that Mr. du Pont meant to kill when he pulled the trigger, but did not plan it. It also means that Mr. du Pont could be home in five years. State law sets a maximum sentence of 20 years for the crime, with guidelines recommending 5 to 10 years.
”We will definitely push for the lower sentence, on the grounds of mental issues,” said the chief defense lawyer, Thomas Bergstrom. ”This will give John a chance to get the help he needs without punishment that’s unduly harsh.” Sentencing is scheduled for April 22 in the Delaware County Court of Common Pleas.
Nancy Schultz, the slain athlete’s widow, was red-eyed and mournful after the verdict. But she said, ”It is comforting to know du Pont was not above the law and held responsible for David’s death.” She also thanked ”all the wrestlers who provided comforting laughs and big shoulders” for her children, Alexander, 10 and Danielle, 7.
Speaking after the verdict was announced, District Attorney Patrick Meehan said, ”Some thought John du Pont, the wealthiest murder defendant in the history of the United States, would use his great fortune to escape justice.” He added, ”He can now get the mental treatment he needs, and that is justice.”
Mr. du Pont is undergoing treatment at Norristown State Hospital and will go to prison only if the authorities decide he has been cured.
Dressed in the same blue sweatsuit he has worn since his arrest, his gray hair long and greasy after more than one year in custody, Mr. du Pont turned his gaunt face vaguely about the courtroom as the jury of six men and six women delivered the verdict.
”I’m not sure it’s sunk in yet,” said Mark Klugheight, a lawyer who is representing Mr. du Pont in a competency hearing for control of his fortune, which is estimated at $250 million. ”Sometimes he gets things right away; sometimes he doesn’t.”
Third-degree murder means that Mr. du Pont meant to kill when he pulled the trigger, but did not plan it. It also means that Mr. du Pont could be home in five years. State law sets a maximum sentence of 20 years for the crime, with guidelines recommending 5 to 10 years.
”We will definitely push for the lower sentence, on the grounds of mental issues,” said the chief defense lawyer, Thomas Bergstrom. ”This will give John a chance to get the help he needs without punishment that’s unduly harsh.” Sentencing is scheduled for April 22 in the Delaware County Court of Common Pleas.
Nancy Schultz, the slain athlete’s widow, was red-eyed and mournful after the verdict. But she said, ”It is comforting to know du Pont was not above the law and held responsible for David’s death.” She also thanked ”all the wrestlers who provided comforting laughs and big shoulders” for her children, Alexander, 10 and Danielle, 7.
Speaking after the verdict was announced, District Attorney Patrick Meehan said, ”Some thought John du Pont, the wealthiest murder defendant in the history of the United States, would use his great fortune to escape justice.” He added, ”He can now get the mental treatment he needs, and that is justice.”
Paranoid Schizophrenia
Paranoid Schizophrenia - Perhaps the most debilitating of mental illnesses, paranoid schizophrenia causes distorted thinking and perception. People with paranoid schizophrenia often see or hear things that are not there. An individual with paranoid schizophrenia has constant feelings of being watched or persecuted.
Contrary to popular opinion, paranoid schizophrenia is not a multiple personality disorder. People with paranoid schizophrenia are rarely violent, and they can usually function and make life decisions without the help of a guardian.
People with paranoid schizophrenia go through periods of remission, often going for a long time without symptoms of the disease before having a relapse.
Paranoid schizophrenia can be controlled, but requires ongoing medication, like many other diseases.
Paranoid schizophrenia affects only a very small percentage of the population. It usually appears in adolescents and young adults. Medical Impact of Paranoid Schizophrenia
In worst cases, because of delusions, individuals with paranoid schizophrenia may endanger themselves or others. Side effects of anti-psychotic medication may cause facial ticks and abnormal movements in the arms and legs, as well as dizziness, drowsiness or restlessness in an individual with paranoid schizophrenia.
Signs of Paranoid Schizophrenia
In its early stages, schizophrenia may go unnoticed. Symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia in the early stages may include social withdrawal, lack of concentration, sleeplessness, tension and a change in personality.
As the paranoid schizophrenia progresses, symptoms become more intense and the person's behavior is often bizarre. Paranoid schizophrenia sufferers may believe that others can hear their thoughts or control their actions. In addition to delusions, hallucinations are common. The individual with paranoid schizophrenia may not only see things that aren't there, but also imagine smelling or feeling things.
Individuals with paranoid schizophrenia often become socially withdrawn. Paranoid schizophrenia may cause them to show a lack of motivation or emotion, or they may become preoccupied with one thing to the point of obsession. Thinking is frequently disordered and the person suffering from paranoid schizophrenia is likely to say things that make no sense.
Causes of Paranoid Schizophrenia
While the cause of paranoid schizophrenia remains unknown, researchers believe several factors contribute to causing paranoid schizophrenia. Because twins have a high probability of both developing paranoid schizophrenia if one has it, researchers believe there is a genetic cause. Chemical changes in a person's body during puberty are also believed to have an impact, since paranoid schizophrenia most often begins at that point in life.
Severe stress, viral infections and other external factors are also believed to be contributors to paranoid schizophrenia.
Treatment of Paranoid Schizophrenia
Paranoid schizophrenia is usually treated with a combination of therapies, tailored to the individual's symptoms and needs. Anti-psychotic medications can reduce hallucinations and disordered thinking, but do not affect the social withdrawal that is common among those with paranoid schizophrenia. Failure to take medication even during remission periods can result in a relapse.
Psychotherapy is used to address the emotional and social issues that result from paranoid schizophrenia. Group therapy can be especially helpful, because it creates opportunities for socialization for individuals with paranoid schizophrenia.
Helping Someone Find Treatment For Paranoid Schizophrenia
If you suspect you or someone you know has paranoid schizophrenia, do something about it. Seek professional counseling immediately.
For help, contact Walden Behavioral Care at 781-647-6700 or Info@waldenbehavioralcare.com.
Contrary to popular opinion, paranoid schizophrenia is not a multiple personality disorder. People with paranoid schizophrenia are rarely violent, and they can usually function and make life decisions without the help of a guardian.
People with paranoid schizophrenia go through periods of remission, often going for a long time without symptoms of the disease before having a relapse.
Paranoid schizophrenia can be controlled, but requires ongoing medication, like many other diseases.
Paranoid schizophrenia affects only a very small percentage of the population. It usually appears in adolescents and young adults. Medical Impact of Paranoid Schizophrenia
In worst cases, because of delusions, individuals with paranoid schizophrenia may endanger themselves or others. Side effects of anti-psychotic medication may cause facial ticks and abnormal movements in the arms and legs, as well as dizziness, drowsiness or restlessness in an individual with paranoid schizophrenia.
Signs of Paranoid Schizophrenia
In its early stages, schizophrenia may go unnoticed. Symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia in the early stages may include social withdrawal, lack of concentration, sleeplessness, tension and a change in personality.
As the paranoid schizophrenia progresses, symptoms become more intense and the person's behavior is often bizarre. Paranoid schizophrenia sufferers may believe that others can hear their thoughts or control their actions. In addition to delusions, hallucinations are common. The individual with paranoid schizophrenia may not only see things that aren't there, but also imagine smelling or feeling things.
Individuals with paranoid schizophrenia often become socially withdrawn. Paranoid schizophrenia may cause them to show a lack of motivation or emotion, or they may become preoccupied with one thing to the point of obsession. Thinking is frequently disordered and the person suffering from paranoid schizophrenia is likely to say things that make no sense.
Causes of Paranoid Schizophrenia
While the cause of paranoid schizophrenia remains unknown, researchers believe several factors contribute to causing paranoid schizophrenia. Because twins have a high probability of both developing paranoid schizophrenia if one has it, researchers believe there is a genetic cause. Chemical changes in a person's body during puberty are also believed to have an impact, since paranoid schizophrenia most often begins at that point in life.
Severe stress, viral infections and other external factors are also believed to be contributors to paranoid schizophrenia.
Treatment of Paranoid Schizophrenia
Paranoid schizophrenia is usually treated with a combination of therapies, tailored to the individual's symptoms and needs. Anti-psychotic medications can reduce hallucinations and disordered thinking, but do not affect the social withdrawal that is common among those with paranoid schizophrenia. Failure to take medication even during remission periods can result in a relapse.
Psychotherapy is used to address the emotional and social issues that result from paranoid schizophrenia. Group therapy can be especially helpful, because it creates opportunities for socialization for individuals with paranoid schizophrenia.
Helping Someone Find Treatment For Paranoid Schizophrenia
If you suspect you or someone you know has paranoid schizophrenia, do something about it. Seek professional counseling immediately.
For help, contact Walden Behavioral Care at 781-647-6700 or Info@waldenbehavioralcare.com.
Dave Schultz Wrestler
Dave Schultz Wrestler - David Leslie Schultz (June 6, 1959 – January 26, 1996) was an Olympic and world champion freestyle wrestler. Schultz was born in Palo Alto, California to Phillip Gary Schultz and Dorothy Jean St. Germain. He had one brother named Mark, and has two half-siblings – Michael and Seana. As a young child he was a little chubby (nicknamed “Pudge”), and was often bullied at school by classmates for his weight and appearance. He also suffered from dyslexia, which many of his teachers mistook for mental disabilities.
Schultz began wrestling in junior high school, and would win both his first national and international wrestling titles in 1977 – the same year he had become a state champion as a senior at Palo Alto High School. As a high school senior he pinned 2-time NCAA champion and NCAA “Outstanding Wrestler” Chuck Yagla at the Great Plains Championships.
Schultz began wrestling in junior high school, and would win both his first national and international wrestling titles in 1977 – the same year he had become a state champion as a senior at Palo Alto High School. As a high school senior he pinned 2-time NCAA champion and NCAA “Outstanding Wrestler” Chuck Yagla at the Great Plains Championships.
Andrew Goldstein Pleads Guilty
Andrew Goldstein Pleads Guilty - Andrew Goldstein has just pleaded guilty to manslaughter for pushing Kendra Webdale to her death in front of a New York City subway train in January 1999. It is expected that he will serve 23 years in prison with five years of supervision after his release (“Nearly 8 Years Later, Guilty Plea in Subway Killing.” New York Times, 10/11/06.)
Unless you have been living on the moon, you know that it is widely acknowledged that this tragedy resulted from Andrew Goldstein’s untreated mental illness. However, it seems to be less well known that Andrew Goldstein desperately sought treatment – often – in the years before his symptoms overwhelmed him and he killed Kendra Webdale. For example, according to a great article by Michael Winerip in The New York Times Magazine (“Bedlam on the Streets,” 5/23/99), Goldstein voluntarily signed himself in for all of his hospitalizations, numbering more than a dozen. And he more than once asked to be hospitalized long-term at Creedmoor State Hospital.
Of course, there would have been a far better alternative to long-term hospitalization. According to another article by Winerip in the Times (“Report Faults Care of Man Who Pushed Woman Onto Tracks,” 11/5/99), Goldstein could have lived in supervised, state-financed housing “with day services, clinic visits and an intensive case manager” – services that might have helped him work toward recovery – for $25,310 a year. This would have been a bargain compared to the $95,075 that taxpayers shelled out in 1998 alone to pay for Goldstein’s care, mostly in Medicaid payments to hospitals.
Reading this gives me terrible cognitive dissonance. What were they thinking?! By the way, Winerip places Governor Pataki and the State of New York at the top of the list of those “who should be held accountable for what happened to Goldstein and Webdale.”
You probably also know that, as a result of this tragic incident, Kendra’s Law was signed into law, despite tireless efforts by the New York advocacy community to prevent its passage. Kendra’s Law provides for requiring individuals with psychiatric diagnoses who are living in the community to accept outpatient mental health treatment (usually involving medication)
At the risk of preaching to the choir, I just want to note that involuntary outpatient commitment is a bad idea.
First, force and coercion have been proven to drive people away from treatment, and are expensive and ineffective. In addition, involuntary outpatient commitment is impossible to enforce and impossible to implement in a manner consistent with due process and human rights.
What happened to Kendra Webdale was tragic. What happened to Andrew Goldstein is also tragic. And Kendra’s Law simply compounds these two tragedies.
I feel compelled to add here that such tragic incidents involving people diagnosed with mental illnesses are extremely rare. People with mental illnesses are far more likely to be the victims than the perpetrators of violent crime and, according to a study by well-known researcher John Monahan, “Clearly, mental health status makes at best a trivial contribution to the overall level of violence in society.”
Unless you have been living on the moon, you know that it is widely acknowledged that this tragedy resulted from Andrew Goldstein’s untreated mental illness. However, it seems to be less well known that Andrew Goldstein desperately sought treatment – often – in the years before his symptoms overwhelmed him and he killed Kendra Webdale. For example, according to a great article by Michael Winerip in The New York Times Magazine (“Bedlam on the Streets,” 5/23/99), Goldstein voluntarily signed himself in for all of his hospitalizations, numbering more than a dozen. And he more than once asked to be hospitalized long-term at Creedmoor State Hospital.
Of course, there would have been a far better alternative to long-term hospitalization. According to another article by Winerip in the Times (“Report Faults Care of Man Who Pushed Woman Onto Tracks,” 11/5/99), Goldstein could have lived in supervised, state-financed housing “with day services, clinic visits and an intensive case manager” – services that might have helped him work toward recovery – for $25,310 a year. This would have been a bargain compared to the $95,075 that taxpayers shelled out in 1998 alone to pay for Goldstein’s care, mostly in Medicaid payments to hospitals.
Reading this gives me terrible cognitive dissonance. What were they thinking?! By the way, Winerip places Governor Pataki and the State of New York at the top of the list of those “who should be held accountable for what happened to Goldstein and Webdale.”
You probably also know that, as a result of this tragic incident, Kendra’s Law was signed into law, despite tireless efforts by the New York advocacy community to prevent its passage. Kendra’s Law provides for requiring individuals with psychiatric diagnoses who are living in the community to accept outpatient mental health treatment (usually involving medication)
At the risk of preaching to the choir, I just want to note that involuntary outpatient commitment is a bad idea.
First, force and coercion have been proven to drive people away from treatment, and are expensive and ineffective. In addition, involuntary outpatient commitment is impossible to enforce and impossible to implement in a manner consistent with due process and human rights.
What happened to Kendra Webdale was tragic. What happened to Andrew Goldstein is also tragic. And Kendra’s Law simply compounds these two tragedies.
I feel compelled to add here that such tragic incidents involving people diagnosed with mental illnesses are extremely rare. People with mental illnesses are far more likely to be the victims than the perpetrators of violent crime and, according to a study by well-known researcher John Monahan, “Clearly, mental health status makes at best a trivial contribution to the overall level of violence in society.”
Andrew Goldstein Convicted Of Second-degree Murder
Andrew Goldstein Convicted Of Second-degree Murder - One could say the reporter tried to strike a fair balance. The reader might take issue with some or all of the report, but it would be difficult to cast aspersions on the good faith of the writer. Unfortunately, the story played on TV where images tend to speak far louder than words. On Monday night (Dec 20, 1999) this became graphically apparent when Dateline NBC went to air with their report on the Kendra Webdale killing.
Early in 1999, Kendra, 32, was pushed in front of a Manhattan subway train by Andrew Goldstein, 30, who suffers from schizophrenia and was later convicted of second-degree murder. The subway killing raised a huge public outcry which resulted in the passage of “Kendra’s Law” in New York, calling for forced treatment for the mentally ill. The irony is that prior to the killing, Andrew had been repeatedly begging for treatment, only to be denied.
Another irony is that the state, which considered Andrew mentally ill when it passed Kendra’s Law, argued in court that he was perfectly sane when he pushed Kendra Webdale in front of that train. A final irony is that, as a killer, Andrew at long last is getting the treatment he has begged for.
Dateline NBC duly noted how Andrew had slipped through the cracks: lack of facilities, too few case managers, and on and on, observing that the cracks in the system had become gaping chasms, ones that allowed a repeatedly diagnosed schizophrenic person with a history of violence out onto the streets, with no medication or supervision. The camera then took us down the steps to the subway station where Andrew did the deed. We see where Kendra was standing, the camera pulls closer, we are told he is right behind her. Suddenly we see the lights of the train pulling into the station.
When Dateline traces Kendra’s route to the same station, we can almost feel ourselves rising out of our chairs and pleading to our TVs: No! Don’t, don’t do it, don’t go down there! Once again, the train pulls into the station.
Dateline talks with Kendra’s family, and we can’t help but share their grief. Kendra was a smart personable attractive blonde with so much to live for. Her sisters share the same qualities. We see home movies. We see the sisters campaigning for the passage of Kendra’s Law. The camera loves these people, as it does the grieving parents.
There is nothing lovable about Andrew, by contrast. He is about as telegenic as Richard Nixon, not helped by being seen only in the company of his police escort. The still photos show the eyes of Goldstein, and the nose and mouth of Goldstein, but not, it seems, of the same Goldstein. This man is not one of us, the pictures tell us, no matter what the reporter may be saying. The real tragedy belongs to the woman who was pushed in front of that train, not the man who for so long kept begging for help.
And there are the sisters saying this man never should have been on the streets.
And yet again the train pulls into the station.
Early in 1999, Kendra, 32, was pushed in front of a Manhattan subway train by Andrew Goldstein, 30, who suffers from schizophrenia and was later convicted of second-degree murder. The subway killing raised a huge public outcry which resulted in the passage of “Kendra’s Law” in New York, calling for forced treatment for the mentally ill. The irony is that prior to the killing, Andrew had been repeatedly begging for treatment, only to be denied.
Another irony is that the state, which considered Andrew mentally ill when it passed Kendra’s Law, argued in court that he was perfectly sane when he pushed Kendra Webdale in front of that train. A final irony is that, as a killer, Andrew at long last is getting the treatment he has begged for.
Dateline NBC duly noted how Andrew had slipped through the cracks: lack of facilities, too few case managers, and on and on, observing that the cracks in the system had become gaping chasms, ones that allowed a repeatedly diagnosed schizophrenic person with a history of violence out onto the streets, with no medication or supervision. The camera then took us down the steps to the subway station where Andrew did the deed. We see where Kendra was standing, the camera pulls closer, we are told he is right behind her. Suddenly we see the lights of the train pulling into the station.
When Dateline traces Kendra’s route to the same station, we can almost feel ourselves rising out of our chairs and pleading to our TVs: No! Don’t, don’t do it, don’t go down there! Once again, the train pulls into the station.
Dateline talks with Kendra’s family, and we can’t help but share their grief. Kendra was a smart personable attractive blonde with so much to live for. Her sisters share the same qualities. We see home movies. We see the sisters campaigning for the passage of Kendra’s Law. The camera loves these people, as it does the grieving parents.
There is nothing lovable about Andrew, by contrast. He is about as telegenic as Richard Nixon, not helped by being seen only in the company of his police escort. The still photos show the eyes of Goldstein, and the nose and mouth of Goldstein, but not, it seems, of the same Goldstein. This man is not one of us, the pictures tell us, no matter what the reporter may be saying. The real tragedy belongs to the woman who was pushed in front of that train, not the man who for so long kept begging for help.
And there are the sisters saying this man never should have been on the streets.
And yet again the train pulls into the station.
23rd Street Station New York
23rd Street Station New York - 23rd Street is a local station on the BMT Broadway Line of the New York City Subway. Located at the intersection of 23rd Street, Broadway, and Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, it is served by the N train at all times and the R train at all times except late nights. This underground station, opened on January 5, 1918, has four tracks and two side platforms. The two center tracks are used by the Q express train at all times. The platforms have their original trim line, which has “23″ tablets on it at regular intervals and name tablets, which read “23RD STREET” in Times New Roman font.
Each platform has two same-level fare control areas with the primary ones at the north end. The Manhattan-bound platform has a bank of regular and high exit-only turnstiles, the station’s full time token booth, and three street stairs. One goes up to the northeast corner Broadway and 23rd Street (outside Madison Square Park) and the other two to the southeast. The Brooklyn-bound platform has a bank of regular and high exit-only turnstile, a now defunct customer assistance booth, and two street stairs. One is connected to fare control via a passageway and goes up to the northeast corner of 23rd Street and Fifth Avenue outside the Flatiron Building while the other goes up to the southeast corner of Broadway and Fifth Avenue.
The station’s other two fare control areas are at south end of the station. The one on the Manhattan-bound platform is unstaffed, containing High Entry-Exit Turnstiles and one staircase going up to the northeast corner of 22nd Street and Broadway. The one on the Brooklyn-bound platform is exit-only and has one staircase to the northwest corner of 22nd Street and Broadway. There is a crossunder here that is only used for emergencies and station facilities.
This station’s 1970s overhaul included fixing its structure and the overall appearance by replacing the original wall tiles, old signs, and incandescent lighting to the 70′s modern look wall tile band and tablet mosaics, signs and fluorescent lights. It also included fixing staircases and platform edges. In 2001, the station received a major state of repairs, including upgrading for ADA compliance, restoring the original late 1910s tiling, repairing the staircases, re-tiling for the walls, new tiling on the floors, upgrading the station’s lights and the public address system, installing ADA yellow safety threads along the platform edge, new signs, and new trackbeds in both directions.
The 2002 artwork here is called Memories of Twenty-Third Street by Keith Godard. It consists of mosaics on the platform walls containing hats that famous people of the Flatiron District wore, including Oscar Wilde, Sarah Bernhardt, and William DuBois.
On January 3, 1999, a schizophrenic man, Andrew Goldstein, pushed 32-year-old journalist and photographer Kendra Webdale onto the tracks from the Brooklyn-bound platform of this station. Webdale was then struck and killed by an oncoming N train. After two mistrials due to his mental incapacity, Goldstein pleaded guilty of manslaughter in October 2006 and sentenced to 23 years in prison. The incident led to the passing of Kendra’s Law, which allows judges to order people suffering from certain psychological disorders to undergo regular treatment.
Each platform has two same-level fare control areas with the primary ones at the north end. The Manhattan-bound platform has a bank of regular and high exit-only turnstiles, the station’s full time token booth, and three street stairs. One goes up to the northeast corner Broadway and 23rd Street (outside Madison Square Park) and the other two to the southeast. The Brooklyn-bound platform has a bank of regular and high exit-only turnstile, a now defunct customer assistance booth, and two street stairs. One is connected to fare control via a passageway and goes up to the northeast corner of 23rd Street and Fifth Avenue outside the Flatiron Building while the other goes up to the southeast corner of Broadway and Fifth Avenue.
The station’s other two fare control areas are at south end of the station. The one on the Manhattan-bound platform is unstaffed, containing High Entry-Exit Turnstiles and one staircase going up to the northeast corner of 22nd Street and Broadway. The one on the Brooklyn-bound platform is exit-only and has one staircase to the northwest corner of 22nd Street and Broadway. There is a crossunder here that is only used for emergencies and station facilities.
This station’s 1970s overhaul included fixing its structure and the overall appearance by replacing the original wall tiles, old signs, and incandescent lighting to the 70′s modern look wall tile band and tablet mosaics, signs and fluorescent lights. It also included fixing staircases and platform edges. In 2001, the station received a major state of repairs, including upgrading for ADA compliance, restoring the original late 1910s tiling, repairing the staircases, re-tiling for the walls, new tiling on the floors, upgrading the station’s lights and the public address system, installing ADA yellow safety threads along the platform edge, new signs, and new trackbeds in both directions.
The 2002 artwork here is called Memories of Twenty-Third Street by Keith Godard. It consists of mosaics on the platform walls containing hats that famous people of the Flatiron District wore, including Oscar Wilde, Sarah Bernhardt, and William DuBois.
On January 3, 1999, a schizophrenic man, Andrew Goldstein, pushed 32-year-old journalist and photographer Kendra Webdale onto the tracks from the Brooklyn-bound platform of this station. Webdale was then struck and killed by an oncoming N train. After two mistrials due to his mental incapacity, Goldstein pleaded guilty of manslaughter in October 2006 and sentenced to 23 years in prison. The incident led to the passing of Kendra’s Law, which allows judges to order people suffering from certain psychological disorders to undergo regular treatment.
Andrea Yates History Of Mental Illness
Andrea Yates History Of Mental Illness - Former nurse Andrea Yates, whose postnatal mental illness led her to drown her five children, had her life sentence overturned at a retrial earlier this year, after successfully pleading insanity. Faith McLellan reviews the case and its implications for mental health in the criminal justice system.
The facts about what took place on the morning of June 20, 2001, in the suburban home of Russell (Rusty) and Andrea Yates, in Houston, TX, were never in dispute. At around 0900 h the children had finished their breakfast, and their father had left for work at the Johnson Space Center, where he was a NASA engineer.
Soon after, Andrea Yates filled a bath with water and methodically drowned, one by one, her five children: Noah, 7 years old, John, 5 years, Paul, 3 years, Luke, 2 years, and Mary, who was aged just 6 months. Andrea then phoned the emergency services and asked the police to come to the house. She also called Rusty at work and told him he needed to come home. When a police officer arrived and asked her what was wrong, she immediately told him: “I killed my kids.”
In jail, Andrea said she had considered killing the children for 2 years. She had not been a good mother to them, she said; they were not developing correctly. She claimed to have been marked by Satan, and that the only way to save her children from hell was to kill them. Then, when the state punished her for their deaths, Satan himself would be destroyed. Television cartoon characters told her she was a bad mother. She heard a human voice that told her to get a knife. On the walls of the jail, she saw satanic teddy bears and ducks. She said she was not mentally ill and had never been depressed because she had never cried.
Yates was arrested and charged with capital murder. She pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. After a jury trial in 2001, she was found guilty and sentenced, not to the death penalty, which prosecutors had sought, but to life in prison. Under Texas law, a life sentence meant she would have to serve a minimum of 40 years before being considered eligible for parole. Her conviction was later overturned on the basis of false testimony given by a witness for the prosecution, and she was granted a new trial. On July 26, 2006, she was acquitted by reason of insanity and committed to a state mental hospital.
Although Yates readily confessed to what she had done, and the crimes were committed in less than an hour, what led up to her killing her children had been building for years. Her story was complex and multifaceted. Odd family dynamics, fundamentalist religious beliefs, clinical care that was fragmented at best, and the quirks and inadequacies of the American medical-insurance system all had some role in the Yates’ family tragedy. The case also highlighted the lack of recognition of the potentially deadly consequences of postnatal disorders, and the limitations of the justice system in dealing with individuals who are mentally ill.
There is little in Andrea’s background to suggest that she would become, by her own description, “the most hated woman in the world”. Her upbringing, like her husband’s, was unremarkable. She was raised as a Roman Catholic; her husband as a Methodist. Both earned college degrees. Andrea worked as a nurse at Houston’s M D Anderson Cancer Center for 8 years, and Rusty was employed by NASA’s space-shuttle programme.
After the couple’s marriage in 1993, Andrea gave up her job and soon became pregnant. Over the next 7 years, she gave birth to five children and miscarried once. Their family life became increasingly unconventional and chaotic. At one point, they moved out of their house and into a camping trailer. For a while, they lived in a converted bus. Andrea taught all of the children at home; ran the household without any outside help; and also helped take care of her father, who had Alzheimer’s disease.
The Yates’ religious beliefs were also less than conventional. They were not members of any local church, but instead hosted a Bible study group in their home 3 nights a week. They had become attached, based on an encounter Rusty Yates had had in college, to an itinerant fundamentalist preacher, Michael Woroniecki. Woroniecki’s rhetoric was of a fire-and-brimstone type. His proclamations include the following: “Hell is right on the doorstep, waiting to bring you in.” Parents were especially responsible for ensuring the salvation of their children, he said, lest they “perish in hellfire”. He also said that parents ought to commit suicide rather than cause their children “to stumble” and go to hell.
This type of rhetoric represents “the dark side of religious pluralism, of religion in general and of Protestantism in particular”, according to Bill Leonard, dean and professor of church history at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, NC. Leonard points out that these views are often held by people with no institutional credentials and little, if any, accountability. He says these beliefs develop from a “gross misunderstanding of spirituality”.
Though Andrea Yates wrote to Woroniecki and his wife for advice, Woroniecki has denied that he had any influence on her delusions or behaviour.
The facts about what took place on the morning of June 20, 2001, in the suburban home of Russell (Rusty) and Andrea Yates, in Houston, TX, were never in dispute. At around 0900 h the children had finished their breakfast, and their father had left for work at the Johnson Space Center, where he was a NASA engineer.
Soon after, Andrea Yates filled a bath with water and methodically drowned, one by one, her five children: Noah, 7 years old, John, 5 years, Paul, 3 years, Luke, 2 years, and Mary, who was aged just 6 months. Andrea then phoned the emergency services and asked the police to come to the house. She also called Rusty at work and told him he needed to come home. When a police officer arrived and asked her what was wrong, she immediately told him: “I killed my kids.”
In jail, Andrea said she had considered killing the children for 2 years. She had not been a good mother to them, she said; they were not developing correctly. She claimed to have been marked by Satan, and that the only way to save her children from hell was to kill them. Then, when the state punished her for their deaths, Satan himself would be destroyed. Television cartoon characters told her she was a bad mother. She heard a human voice that told her to get a knife. On the walls of the jail, she saw satanic teddy bears and ducks. She said she was not mentally ill and had never been depressed because she had never cried.
Yates was arrested and charged with capital murder. She pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. After a jury trial in 2001, she was found guilty and sentenced, not to the death penalty, which prosecutors had sought, but to life in prison. Under Texas law, a life sentence meant she would have to serve a minimum of 40 years before being considered eligible for parole. Her conviction was later overturned on the basis of false testimony given by a witness for the prosecution, and she was granted a new trial. On July 26, 2006, she was acquitted by reason of insanity and committed to a state mental hospital.
Although Yates readily confessed to what she had done, and the crimes were committed in less than an hour, what led up to her killing her children had been building for years. Her story was complex and multifaceted. Odd family dynamics, fundamentalist religious beliefs, clinical care that was fragmented at best, and the quirks and inadequacies of the American medical-insurance system all had some role in the Yates’ family tragedy. The case also highlighted the lack of recognition of the potentially deadly consequences of postnatal disorders, and the limitations of the justice system in dealing with individuals who are mentally ill.
There is little in Andrea’s background to suggest that she would become, by her own description, “the most hated woman in the world”. Her upbringing, like her husband’s, was unremarkable. She was raised as a Roman Catholic; her husband as a Methodist. Both earned college degrees. Andrea worked as a nurse at Houston’s M D Anderson Cancer Center for 8 years, and Rusty was employed by NASA’s space-shuttle programme.
After the couple’s marriage in 1993, Andrea gave up her job and soon became pregnant. Over the next 7 years, she gave birth to five children and miscarried once. Their family life became increasingly unconventional and chaotic. At one point, they moved out of their house and into a camping trailer. For a while, they lived in a converted bus. Andrea taught all of the children at home; ran the household without any outside help; and also helped take care of her father, who had Alzheimer’s disease.
The Yates’ religious beliefs were also less than conventional. They were not members of any local church, but instead hosted a Bible study group in their home 3 nights a week. They had become attached, based on an encounter Rusty Yates had had in college, to an itinerant fundamentalist preacher, Michael Woroniecki. Woroniecki’s rhetoric was of a fire-and-brimstone type. His proclamations include the following: “Hell is right on the doorstep, waiting to bring you in.” Parents were especially responsible for ensuring the salvation of their children, he said, lest they “perish in hellfire”. He also said that parents ought to commit suicide rather than cause their children “to stumble” and go to hell.
This type of rhetoric represents “the dark side of religious pluralism, of religion in general and of Protestantism in particular”, according to Bill Leonard, dean and professor of church history at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, NC. Leonard points out that these views are often held by people with no institutional credentials and little, if any, accountability. He says these beliefs develop from a “gross misunderstanding of spirituality”.
Though Andrea Yates wrote to Woroniecki and his wife for advice, Woroniecki has denied that he had any influence on her delusions or behaviour.
Rusty Yates New Life
Rusty Yates New Life - Seven years after his then wife drowned their five children in a bathtub, Rusty Yates is celebrating life with a new baby and wife, but still stays in touch with ex-wife Andrea Yates. The new father has even shared pictures through e-mail of son Mark, who was born March 20, with Andrea, who now resides in a San Antonio psychiatric hospital after she was found not guilty by reason of insanity in her children’s deaths.
“She’s like, ‘He’s so cute.’ She was pretty excited,” Rusty Yates told ABC’s “Good Morning America.”
“We probably trade an e-mail once a week or so and maybe talk on the phone once a month,” said Rusty, who said he doesn’t blame his wife for what happened.
“Even though it was horribly wrong, it was horribly hurtful to me, my family, everybody, it’s really the illness, you know, that caused this, not her. So I can’t blame her,” he said.
From the beginning, Rusty Yates had always been supportive of Andrea, who suffered from postpartum psychosis. In June 2001, she drowned each one of her children: 7-year-old Noah, 5-year-old John, 3-year-old Paul, 2-year-old Luke and 6-month-old Mary. She believed that drowning them was the only way to save them from the devil.
ABC News
So today, as Mark grows and hits milestones, Rusty is reminded of his previous children.
“Little Mark has brought back a lot of memories for me because, you know, I’ll say, ‘Oh he does this like Paul used to,’” Rusty said. “‘I remember when John went through this stage, did X, Y and Z, so that’s a lot of the grieving process, just going through memories.”
“She’s like, ‘He’s so cute.’ She was pretty excited,” Rusty Yates told ABC’s “Good Morning America.”
“We probably trade an e-mail once a week or so and maybe talk on the phone once a month,” said Rusty, who said he doesn’t blame his wife for what happened.
“Even though it was horribly wrong, it was horribly hurtful to me, my family, everybody, it’s really the illness, you know, that caused this, not her. So I can’t blame her,” he said.
From the beginning, Rusty Yates had always been supportive of Andrea, who suffered from postpartum psychosis. In June 2001, she drowned each one of her children: 7-year-old Noah, 5-year-old John, 3-year-old Paul, 2-year-old Luke and 6-month-old Mary. She believed that drowning them was the only way to save them from the devil.
ABC News
So today, as Mark grows and hits milestones, Rusty is reminded of his previous children.
“Little Mark has brought back a lot of memories for me because, you know, I’ll say, ‘Oh he does this like Paul used to,’” Rusty said. “‘I remember when John went through this stage, did X, Y and Z, so that’s a lot of the grieving process, just going through memories.”
Andrea Yates Not Guilty By Reason Of Insanity
Andrea Yates Not Guilty By Reason Of Insanity - Andrea Yates reacts Wednesday at hearing the verdict of not guilty by reason of insanity.A jury on Wednesday found Andrea Yates not guilty by reason of insanity of drowning her five children in a bathtub five years ago.
The verdict, reached after nearly 13 hours of deliberation over three days in Houston, means Yates will be committed to a state mental facility in Texas until she is deemed to be no longer a threat. Yates showed no immediate response as the verdict was read and the jurors polled individually. The 42-year-old defendant then hugged one of her attorneys, George Parnham, who had argued she suffered from postpartum psychosis at the time of the drownings on June 20, 2001.
Her former husband and father of the victims, Russell Yates, who has since remarried, exclaimed, “Oh, wow!” and became teary, Court TV reported.
“We’re happy,” Russell Yates told reporters outside the courthouse. “To me, this is really about Andrea’s quality of life for the balance of her life. Is she going to spend her time in a prison cell with barely adequate medical treatment and no interaction with other people and family members or is she going to spend time in a hospital and get good medical treatment and have hope of a possibly somewhat normal life later?”
Andrea Yates’ mental illness predated the killings. She had been on anti-psychotic medication and attempted suicide before killing Noah, 7, John, 5, Paul, 3, Luke, 2, and Mary, 6 months.
In 2002 a jury rejected Yates’ insanity defense and sentenced her to life in prison for the deaths of three of the five children.
But a state appeals court overturned the convictions because an expert witness for the state, a psychiatrist, testified incorrectly that the television series “Law and Order” had shown an episode about a woman suffering from postpartum depression who drowned her children.
Russell Yates said the prosecution failed to understand “that Andrea was ordinarily a loving mother who fell to this disease and did an unthinkable act.”
He added, “Yes, Andrea took the lives of our children. That’s the truth. But also, yes, she was insane. Yes, she was psychotic on that day. That’s the whole truth.”
He said the state “never attempted to get to the whole truth.”
He said he was proud of the jury for reaching its finding in Harris County, Texas — “the death-penalty capital of the world.”
Russell Yates rejected criticism that he should have known his wife was a danger to their children.
“We took her to a psychiatrist and the psychiatrist failed us,” he said.
The verdict, reached after nearly 13 hours of deliberation over three days in Houston, means Yates will be committed to a state mental facility in Texas until she is deemed to be no longer a threat. Yates showed no immediate response as the verdict was read and the jurors polled individually. The 42-year-old defendant then hugged one of her attorneys, George Parnham, who had argued she suffered from postpartum psychosis at the time of the drownings on June 20, 2001.
Her former husband and father of the victims, Russell Yates, who has since remarried, exclaimed, “Oh, wow!” and became teary, Court TV reported.
“We’re happy,” Russell Yates told reporters outside the courthouse. “To me, this is really about Andrea’s quality of life for the balance of her life. Is she going to spend her time in a prison cell with barely adequate medical treatment and no interaction with other people and family members or is she going to spend time in a hospital and get good medical treatment and have hope of a possibly somewhat normal life later?”
Andrea Yates’ mental illness predated the killings. She had been on anti-psychotic medication and attempted suicide before killing Noah, 7, John, 5, Paul, 3, Luke, 2, and Mary, 6 months.
In 2002 a jury rejected Yates’ insanity defense and sentenced her to life in prison for the deaths of three of the five children.
But a state appeals court overturned the convictions because an expert witness for the state, a psychiatrist, testified incorrectly that the television series “Law and Order” had shown an episode about a woman suffering from postpartum depression who drowned her children.
Russell Yates said the prosecution failed to understand “that Andrea was ordinarily a loving mother who fell to this disease and did an unthinkable act.”
He added, “Yes, Andrea took the lives of our children. That’s the truth. But also, yes, she was insane. Yes, she was psychotic on that day. That’s the whole truth.”
He said the state “never attempted to get to the whole truth.”
He said he was proud of the jury for reaching its finding in Harris County, Texas — “the death-penalty capital of the world.”
Russell Yates rejected criticism that he should have known his wife was a danger to their children.
“We took her to a psychiatrist and the psychiatrist failed us,” he said.
Law And Order Episode And Andrea Yates Appeal
Law And Order Episode And Andrea Yates Appeal - The murder conviction of Andrea Yates, who is serving a life sentence for drowning three of her five children, was overturned today by a Texas appeals court because of a psychiatrist’s false testimony. Psychiatrist Park Dietz testified at Yates’s 2002 trial that TV’s “Law & Order” aired an episode in which a female character was found insane after drowning her children in a bathtub. During closing arguments, the prosecution said Yates watched “Law & Order” “regularly” and may have considered the show described by Dietz as “a way out” if she killed her children.
It was determined after the trial that NBC had, in fact, never aired such a program. The Texas First Court of Appeals of Houston said in its ruling today that Dietz’s inaccurate testimony was material to Yates’s conviction.
Harris County Assistant District Attorney Joe Owmby didn’t immediately return a phone call from Bloomberg News seeking comment.
Dietz, who did consulting work for NBC’s “Law & Order,”’ said the program in which the female character was found insane aired before Yates killed her children in 2001.
The appeals court wrote in its opinion that while Dietz did not suggest Yates used the show’s plot as a blueprint for killing her children, “the state did in its closing argument.”
Yates’s attorneys argued during her trial in Houston that the stay-at-home mom was under psychiatric care when she killed her children on June 20, 2001, and didn’t know right from wrong.
Police found the wet bodies of Yates’s 6-month-old daughter, Mary, and sons Luke, 2; Paul, 3; and John, 5, on a bed, covered by a sheet. Her oldest child, 7-year-old Noah, was found dead in the bathtub.
In March 2002, a jury found Yates guilty after deliberating for less than four hours. She was sentenced to life in prison three days later.
It was determined after the trial that NBC had, in fact, never aired such a program. The Texas First Court of Appeals of Houston said in its ruling today that Dietz’s inaccurate testimony was material to Yates’s conviction.
Harris County Assistant District Attorney Joe Owmby didn’t immediately return a phone call from Bloomberg News seeking comment.
Dietz, who did consulting work for NBC’s “Law & Order,”’ said the program in which the female character was found insane aired before Yates killed her children in 2001.
The appeals court wrote in its opinion that while Dietz did not suggest Yates used the show’s plot as a blueprint for killing her children, “the state did in its closing argument.”
Yates’s attorneys argued during her trial in Houston that the stay-at-home mom was under psychiatric care when she killed her children on June 20, 2001, and didn’t know right from wrong.
Police found the wet bodies of Yates’s 6-month-old daughter, Mary, and sons Luke, 2; Paul, 3; and John, 5, on a bed, covered by a sheet. Her oldest child, 7-year-old Noah, was found dead in the bathtub.
In March 2002, a jury found Yates guilty after deliberating for less than four hours. She was sentenced to life in prison three days later.
Andrea Yates Found Guilty 2002
Andrea Yates Found Guilty 2002 - A Texas jury found Andrea Yates guilty of capital murder Tuesday, rejecting her claim that she was insane when she drowned her five children in a bathtub last summer. Yates, 37, met the verdict stoically, nodding, with the twitching of a jaw muscle her only sign of emotion. Her husband Russell, who steadfastly supported his wife throughout the trial, sat in the courtroom after the verdict with his head in his hands.
The court will reconvene Thursday to begin the trial’s penalty phase where she faces the death penalty or life in prison.
“I think mental illness is still obviously not understood, not appreciated and I hope that we will be able to save her life,” said defense attorney Hugh Parnham.
After more than three weeks of testimony, including complex and often conflicting statements from prosecution and defense psychiatrists, the verdict from the jury of eight women and four men came quickly, after three hours and 40 minutes of deliberation.
Yates was found guilty of two counts of capital murder for the deaths last summer of Noah, 7, John, 5, and Mary, 6 months. One of the counts covers the two eldest children. She was not on trial for the drownings of Luke, 3, and Paul, 2.
One charge covers the intentional deaths of two people in the same event or scheme; the other covers the death of a child under 6.
Under Texas law, if jurors believed Yates knew right from wrong at the time of the killings, they could not have found her legally insane.
The prosecution did not contest that Yates suffered from a severe mental disease, but contended she knew killing her children was wrong and that the acts were premeditated.
The court will reconvene Thursday to begin the trial’s penalty phase where she faces the death penalty or life in prison.
“I think mental illness is still obviously not understood, not appreciated and I hope that we will be able to save her life,” said defense attorney Hugh Parnham.
After more than three weeks of testimony, including complex and often conflicting statements from prosecution and defense psychiatrists, the verdict from the jury of eight women and four men came quickly, after three hours and 40 minutes of deliberation.
Yates was found guilty of two counts of capital murder for the deaths last summer of Noah, 7, John, 5, and Mary, 6 months. One of the counts covers the two eldest children. She was not on trial for the drownings of Luke, 3, and Paul, 2.
One charge covers the intentional deaths of two people in the same event or scheme; the other covers the death of a child under 6.
Under Texas law, if jurors believed Yates knew right from wrong at the time of the killings, they could not have found her legally insane.
The prosecution did not contest that Yates suffered from a severe mental disease, but contended she knew killing her children was wrong and that the acts were premeditated.
Andrea Yates Children Range From 6 Months To 7 Years Old
Andrea Yates Children Range From 6 Months To 7 Years Old - Ten years after Andrea Yates was first convicted of murdering her five children, the Clear Lake mother might soon be allowed outside the confines of a state psychiatric hospital to go to church, her attorney told the Houston Chronicle on Tuesday. Defense attorney George Parnham said he expects Yates’ doctors at Kerrville State Hospital to file a letter in the next week, asking the state district court in Houston to let Yates, now 47, leave for two hours weekly to attend services.
“We’re now going to be asking for a pass for two hours,” said Parnham, who hopes that eventually she’ll be allowed to leave the state’s care for good. State hospital physicians consider a patient’s possible risk to the community before recommending a “therapeutic” pass, the first step toward a life beyond the hospital.
Yates’ attorney believes she has been ready for years to rejoin society, including getting a job and living on her own.
“I think she’s ready for outpatient care,” he said.
Parnham said Yates has written an unidentified area church to ask whether she could join their congregation. The defense attorney declined to provide additional details.
Yates has been confined to the state psychiatric hospital since her second 2006 trial resulted in an acquittal after jurors found her innocent by reason of insanity. She was initially convicted of capital murder for the deaths of Noah, 7, John, 5, Paul, 3, Luke 2, and Mary, 6 months, in 2002 and sentenced to life in prison, before an appeals court granted her a new trial.
The doctor’s letter will be sent to Judge Belinda Hill, who oversaw both trials.
The former nurse and stay-at-home mom had a history of psychiatric hospitalizations and suicide attempts before June 20, 2001, when she drowned her children, one by one, in the family bathtub. Investigators would later testify that Yates had to chase the last child, her eldest, Noah, through the family home and drag him into the bathroom.
Prosecutors, who never disputed that Yates was mentally ill, argued that despite the illness, she knew right from wrong, pointing to the minutes after the children’s deaths when she called 911, and that she waited until her husband left for work because she knew he would try to stop the drownings.
An appeals court threw out her 2002 conviction based on a forensic psychiatrist’s erroneous testimony. In both cases, Parnham and attorney Wendell Odom urged jurors to find that Yates’ mental illness led to the children’s deaths.
Experts witnesses testified that Yates, who is very religious, drowned her children in an act of love to save their souls from eternal damnation.
The children’s father, Rusty Yates, who has since divorced the mother of his children, remarried in 2008. He did not immediately return a call for comment to the Chronicle.
“We’re now going to be asking for a pass for two hours,” said Parnham, who hopes that eventually she’ll be allowed to leave the state’s care for good. State hospital physicians consider a patient’s possible risk to the community before recommending a “therapeutic” pass, the first step toward a life beyond the hospital.
Yates’ attorney believes she has been ready for years to rejoin society, including getting a job and living on her own.
“I think she’s ready for outpatient care,” he said.
Parnham said Yates has written an unidentified area church to ask whether she could join their congregation. The defense attorney declined to provide additional details.
Yates has been confined to the state psychiatric hospital since her second 2006 trial resulted in an acquittal after jurors found her innocent by reason of insanity. She was initially convicted of capital murder for the deaths of Noah, 7, John, 5, Paul, 3, Luke 2, and Mary, 6 months, in 2002 and sentenced to life in prison, before an appeals court granted her a new trial.
The doctor’s letter will be sent to Judge Belinda Hill, who oversaw both trials.
The former nurse and stay-at-home mom had a history of psychiatric hospitalizations and suicide attempts before June 20, 2001, when she drowned her children, one by one, in the family bathtub. Investigators would later testify that Yates had to chase the last child, her eldest, Noah, through the family home and drag him into the bathroom.
Prosecutors, who never disputed that Yates was mentally ill, argued that despite the illness, she knew right from wrong, pointing to the minutes after the children’s deaths when she called 911, and that she waited until her husband left for work because she knew he would try to stop the drownings.
An appeals court threw out her 2002 conviction based on a forensic psychiatrist’s erroneous testimony. In both cases, Parnham and attorney Wendell Odom urged jurors to find that Yates’ mental illness led to the children’s deaths.
Experts witnesses testified that Yates, who is very religious, drowned her children in an act of love to save their souls from eternal damnation.
The children’s father, Rusty Yates, who has since divorced the mother of his children, remarried in 2008. He did not immediately return a call for comment to the Chronicle.
Lee Boyd Malvo Apologies
Lee Boyd Malvo Apologies - Lee Boyd Malvo may be trying to atone for his sins, committed as the younger half of the so-called D.C. sniper team that terrorized the Southeast and the nation’s capital in 2002. John Gaeta, who was shot in the neck at a shopping mall in Louisiana, recently received a succinct letter of apology from Malvo, confirming what police have suspected since 2006, according to CNN.
Gaeta read the note over the phone to CNN Wednesday, saying that Malvo both printed and signed his name to the letter.
“Mr. Gaeta,” it read. “I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you and your loved ones. I was relieved to hear that you suffered no paralyzing injuries and that you are alive. Sincerely, Lee Boyd Malvo.”
Hammond Police Sgt. Brian McCormick told CNN that he interviewed Malvo in Jan. at the Virginia Supermax prison the 25-year-old now calls home. Malvo told him that he and John Allen Muhammad, who was executed in November 2009, arrived in Hammond, La., about 50 miles west of Baton Rouge, intent on killing someone.
Gaeta just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Gaeta said Malvo’s confession erased any “shadow of a doubt” that his attacker is locked away, never to walk free again, although he would like to see him prosecuted for shooting him.
Gaeta read the note over the phone to CNN Wednesday, saying that Malvo both printed and signed his name to the letter.
“Mr. Gaeta,” it read. “I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you and your loved ones. I was relieved to hear that you suffered no paralyzing injuries and that you are alive. Sincerely, Lee Boyd Malvo.”
Hammond Police Sgt. Brian McCormick told CNN that he interviewed Malvo in Jan. at the Virginia Supermax prison the 25-year-old now calls home. Malvo told him that he and John Allen Muhammad, who was executed in November 2009, arrived in Hammond, La., about 50 miles west of Baton Rouge, intent on killing someone.
Gaeta just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Gaeta said Malvo’s confession erased any “shadow of a doubt” that his attacker is locked away, never to walk free again, although he would like to see him prosecuted for shooting him.
Lee Boyd Malvo Guilty
Lee Boyd Malvo Guilty - A jury convicted Lee Boyd Malvo (search) of capital murder in the Washington-area sniper case Thursday, rejecting claims that the teenager was brainwashed by John Allen Muhammad (search) into taking part in the three-week reign of terror that left 10 people dead. The jury now will decide whether Malvo should be sentenced to death or life in prison without parole. A jury in nearby Virginia Beach convicted Muhammad last month and recommended he be executed for his role as the mastermind of the killings.
Malvo, who often had an animated expression during the trial, leaned on his elbows at the table with a blank look on his face as the verdict was read. The jury deliberated for 13 hours over two days before rejecting Malvo’s insanity defense.
Malvo, 18, was convicted of two counts of capital murder in the Oct. 14, 2002, killing of FBI analyst Linda Franklin (search), who was cut down by a single bullet to the head outside a Home Depot in Falls Church, Va. The sentencing phase will begin Friday.
Franklin’s daughter, Katrina Hannum, cried after the verdict as other people in the courtroom patted each other on the shoulders.
“I’m happy,” said June Boyle, the detective who heard Malvo’s confession. “Not all the way happy yet, though. We still have sentencing to do.”
A man wounded in a shooting Malvo and Muhammad are accused of committing before the sniper spree said he was grateful jurors rejected the defense argument that Muhammad’s influence had made Malvo insane. That emotion was echoed by other victims’ relatives.
“He was just as responsible,” said Muhammad Rashid, who said he saw Malvo moments before he was shot Sept. 15 outside a Brandywine, Md., liquor store. “There is no chance I have any forgiveness for him.”
In Malvo’s native Jamaica, his estranged father expressed sorrow over the verdict and pleaded for jurors not to impose the death penalty.
“I’m very sad,” said Leslie Malvo, who testified for the defense. “I would like them to spare my son’s life. He wouldn’t do such a thing on his own.”
One of the counts against Malvo alleged the killing was part of a series of murders over a three-year period; the other alleged that Franklin’s killing was intended to terrorize the public. Malvo and Muhammad, 42, are the first people tried under the post-Sept. 11 terrorism law.
Attorney General John Ashcroft had cited Virginia’s ability to impose “the ultimate sanction” in sending Malvo and Muhammad to Virginia for prosecution. Virginia is one of only 21 states that allow the execution of those who were 16 or 17 when they killed. Malvo was 17 at the time of the sniper rampage.
Malvo, who often had an animated expression during the trial, leaned on his elbows at the table with a blank look on his face as the verdict was read. The jury deliberated for 13 hours over two days before rejecting Malvo’s insanity defense.
Malvo, 18, was convicted of two counts of capital murder in the Oct. 14, 2002, killing of FBI analyst Linda Franklin (search), who was cut down by a single bullet to the head outside a Home Depot in Falls Church, Va. The sentencing phase will begin Friday.
Franklin’s daughter, Katrina Hannum, cried after the verdict as other people in the courtroom patted each other on the shoulders.
“I’m happy,” said June Boyle, the detective who heard Malvo’s confession. “Not all the way happy yet, though. We still have sentencing to do.”
A man wounded in a shooting Malvo and Muhammad are accused of committing before the sniper spree said he was grateful jurors rejected the defense argument that Muhammad’s influence had made Malvo insane. That emotion was echoed by other victims’ relatives.
“He was just as responsible,” said Muhammad Rashid, who said he saw Malvo moments before he was shot Sept. 15 outside a Brandywine, Md., liquor store. “There is no chance I have any forgiveness for him.”
In Malvo’s native Jamaica, his estranged father expressed sorrow over the verdict and pleaded for jurors not to impose the death penalty.
“I’m very sad,” said Leslie Malvo, who testified for the defense. “I would like them to spare my son’s life. He wouldn’t do such a thing on his own.”
One of the counts against Malvo alleged the killing was part of a series of murders over a three-year period; the other alleged that Franklin’s killing was intended to terrorize the public. Malvo and Muhammad, 42, are the first people tried under the post-Sept. 11 terrorism law.
Attorney General John Ashcroft had cited Virginia’s ability to impose “the ultimate sanction” in sending Malvo and Muhammad to Virginia for prosecution. Virginia is one of only 21 states that allow the execution of those who were 16 or 17 when they killed. Malvo was 17 at the time of the sniper rampage.
Indoctrination As A Plea Defense
Indoctrination As A Plea Defense - Lee Boyd Malvo hopes to go where Patty Hearst, David Berkowitz, Jack Ruby and Andrea Yates could not.
Each of those other high-profile defendants pleaded insanity as a defense against grave criminal charges. Each failed. Instead of the hospital ward they sought, every one of them ended up in a prison cell. Unless the 18-year-old Malvo is able to break from the norms in forensic psychiatry, he will follow them to a penitentiary, although his particular cell might well be on Virginia’s death row.
While there is much mystique as well as public skepticism about the insanity defense, what is most noteworthy is that as a defense strategy, it is neither common nor notably successful. In the words of Jonas Rappeport, a retired forensic psychiatrist from Baltimore and an eminent figure in the profession, “The plea is usually used when you ain’t got anything better.”
The numbers alone give any defense lawyer pause. According to national surveys, insanity is raised as a defense in only 1 percent of all criminal cases, and succeeds in only a quarter of those. If those odds aren’t long enough, in the vast majority of cases in which a defendant wins with an insanity plea, the prosecution concedes to the defense’s assertion that a severe mental illness was the cause of the act in question.
In other words, only rarely does an insanity defense prevail and almost never when the prosecutor stands in opposition. And in trials that are contested, a jury is less likely to be persuaded by an insanity defense than a judge.
That historic record helps put into perspective the enormous risk Malvo undertakes in staking his life to an insanity defense. Except in his case, it could be worse than that.
The opening statement by Craig Cooley, one of Malvo’s lawyers, confirmed what had been anticipated. In pleading insanity, Malvo’s defense team will make the case that the teenager had undergone a process of “indoctrination” by John Allen Muhammad, who was convicted of capital murder Monday. Cooley characterized Malvo as young, malleable and vulnerable and ultimately unable to resist the dynamic, powerful and ultimately murderous father figure.
“John Muhammad changed him,” Cooley told the jury in Chesapeake, Va. “He indoctrinated, he made him his child soldier.”
That version of what happened might be plausible and might even prove convincing. The problem for Malvo, however, is that “indoctrination” is not a concept that is generally recognized in psychiatry and, a number of experts say, has never proved to be the foundation in a defense built on insanity.
“To the best of my knowledge,” says Michael Perlin, an authority on the insanity defense at New York Law School, “(indoctrination) has never been successful in an insanity defense case, although some judges have allowed defendants to try to make the case.”
Most notably, Patty Hearst used “indoctrination” in her 1976 trial for bank robbery, saying that she was essentially brainwashed by her Symbionese Liberation Army captors. Her defense argued that she was a victim of the “Stockholm Syndrome,” that as a result of intense stress, abuse, dependence and isolation, she ultimately identified with her captors and lost independent will and judgment. The jury did not buy it and convicted her.
The insanity defense arose out of the conviction that people should not be held accountable for acts that, because of mental impairment, were beyond their ability to understand or control.
The present-day insanity defense in the United States originated in a killing in London in the mid-19th century. A Scottish woodcutter named Daniel M’Naghten, believing the government had selected him for special persecution, shot the secretary to Prime Minister Robert Peel, believing he was the prime minister. The secretary died.
M’Naghten was judged not guilty by reason of insanity, a verdict that so aroused the British public that the House of Lords established a basis for future insanity defenses. Known as the M’Naghten Rule, it says that an accused cannot be held criminally responsible if, at the time of committing the act, he or she was operating under such a defect of reason as to not appreciate “the nature and quality” of the act or to not perceive that it was wrong.
Most states, including Virginia, incorporate the basic tenets of the M’Naghten Rule with notable amplifications that reflect a more nuanced understanding of mental illness. In Virginia, to make the case that a defendant is “not criminally responsible,” the defense must first prove that the accused suffered from a mental disease or defect (such as mental retardation). After that, the defense must provide evidence that at the moment of the crime, the defendant did not understand what he or she was doing, or could not distinguish between right and wrong, or was not able to control himself or herself.
Each of those other high-profile defendants pleaded insanity as a defense against grave criminal charges. Each failed. Instead of the hospital ward they sought, every one of them ended up in a prison cell. Unless the 18-year-old Malvo is able to break from the norms in forensic psychiatry, he will follow them to a penitentiary, although his particular cell might well be on Virginia’s death row.
While there is much mystique as well as public skepticism about the insanity defense, what is most noteworthy is that as a defense strategy, it is neither common nor notably successful. In the words of Jonas Rappeport, a retired forensic psychiatrist from Baltimore and an eminent figure in the profession, “The plea is usually used when you ain’t got anything better.”
The numbers alone give any defense lawyer pause. According to national surveys, insanity is raised as a defense in only 1 percent of all criminal cases, and succeeds in only a quarter of those. If those odds aren’t long enough, in the vast majority of cases in which a defendant wins with an insanity plea, the prosecution concedes to the defense’s assertion that a severe mental illness was the cause of the act in question.
In other words, only rarely does an insanity defense prevail and almost never when the prosecutor stands in opposition. And in trials that are contested, a jury is less likely to be persuaded by an insanity defense than a judge.
That historic record helps put into perspective the enormous risk Malvo undertakes in staking his life to an insanity defense. Except in his case, it could be worse than that.
The opening statement by Craig Cooley, one of Malvo’s lawyers, confirmed what had been anticipated. In pleading insanity, Malvo’s defense team will make the case that the teenager had undergone a process of “indoctrination” by John Allen Muhammad, who was convicted of capital murder Monday. Cooley characterized Malvo as young, malleable and vulnerable and ultimately unable to resist the dynamic, powerful and ultimately murderous father figure.
“John Muhammad changed him,” Cooley told the jury in Chesapeake, Va. “He indoctrinated, he made him his child soldier.”
That version of what happened might be plausible and might even prove convincing. The problem for Malvo, however, is that “indoctrination” is not a concept that is generally recognized in psychiatry and, a number of experts say, has never proved to be the foundation in a defense built on insanity.
“To the best of my knowledge,” says Michael Perlin, an authority on the insanity defense at New York Law School, “(indoctrination) has never been successful in an insanity defense case, although some judges have allowed defendants to try to make the case.”
Most notably, Patty Hearst used “indoctrination” in her 1976 trial for bank robbery, saying that she was essentially brainwashed by her Symbionese Liberation Army captors. Her defense argued that she was a victim of the “Stockholm Syndrome,” that as a result of intense stress, abuse, dependence and isolation, she ultimately identified with her captors and lost independent will and judgment. The jury did not buy it and convicted her.
The insanity defense arose out of the conviction that people should not be held accountable for acts that, because of mental impairment, were beyond their ability to understand or control.
The present-day insanity defense in the United States originated in a killing in London in the mid-19th century. A Scottish woodcutter named Daniel M’Naghten, believing the government had selected him for special persecution, shot the secretary to Prime Minister Robert Peel, believing he was the prime minister. The secretary died.
M’Naghten was judged not guilty by reason of insanity, a verdict that so aroused the British public that the House of Lords established a basis for future insanity defenses. Known as the M’Naghten Rule, it says that an accused cannot be held criminally responsible if, at the time of committing the act, he or she was operating under such a defect of reason as to not appreciate “the nature and quality” of the act or to not perceive that it was wrong.
Most states, including Virginia, incorporate the basic tenets of the M’Naghten Rule with notable amplifications that reflect a more nuanced understanding of mental illness. In Virginia, to make the case that a defendant is “not criminally responsible,” the defense must first prove that the accused suffered from a mental disease or defect (such as mental retardation). After that, the defense must provide evidence that at the moment of the crime, the defendant did not understand what he or she was doing, or could not distinguish between right and wrong, or was not able to control himself or herself.
John Allen Muhammad
John Allen Muhammad - John Allen Muhammad (December 31, 1960 – November 10, 2009) was a spree killer from the United States. He, along with his younger partner, Lee Boyd Malvo, carried out the 2002 Beltway sniper attacks, killing at least 10 people. Muhammad and Malvo were arrested in connection with the attacks on October 24, 2002, following tips from alert citizens. Although the pairing’s actions were classified as psychopathy attributable to serial killer characteristics by the media, whether or not their psychopathy meets this classification is debated by researchers.
Born as John Allen Williams, Muhammad joined the Nation of Islam in 1987 and later changed his surname to Muhammad. At Muhammad’s trial, the prosecutor claimed that the rampage was part of a plot to kill his ex-wife and regain custody of his children, but the judge ruled that there was insufficient evidence to support this argument.
His trial for one of the murders (the murder of Dean Harold Meyers in Prince William County, Virginia) began in October 2003, and the following month he was found guilty of capital murder. Four months later he was sentenced to death. While awaiting execution in Virginia, in August 2005, he was extradited to Maryland to face some of the charges there, for which he was convicted of six counts of first-degree murder on May 30, 2006.
Upon completion of the trial activity in Maryland, he was returned to Virginia’s death row pending an agreement with another state or the District of Columbia seeking to try him. He was not tried on additional charges in other Virginia jurisdictions, and faced potential trials in three other states and the District of Columbia involving other deaths and serious woundings. All appeals of his conviction for killing Dean Harold Meyers had been made and rejected. Appeals for Muhammad’s other trials remained pending at the time of his execution.
Muhammad was executed by lethal injection on November 10, 2009, at 9:06 pm EST at Greensville Correctional Center in Jarratt, Virginia, and was pronounced dead at 9:11 pm EST. Muhammad declined to make a final statement.
Born as John Allen Williams, Muhammad joined the Nation of Islam in 1987 and later changed his surname to Muhammad. At Muhammad’s trial, the prosecutor claimed that the rampage was part of a plot to kill his ex-wife and regain custody of his children, but the judge ruled that there was insufficient evidence to support this argument.
His trial for one of the murders (the murder of Dean Harold Meyers in Prince William County, Virginia) began in October 2003, and the following month he was found guilty of capital murder. Four months later he was sentenced to death. While awaiting execution in Virginia, in August 2005, he was extradited to Maryland to face some of the charges there, for which he was convicted of six counts of first-degree murder on May 30, 2006.
Upon completion of the trial activity in Maryland, he was returned to Virginia’s death row pending an agreement with another state or the District of Columbia seeking to try him. He was not tried on additional charges in other Virginia jurisdictions, and faced potential trials in three other states and the District of Columbia involving other deaths and serious woundings. All appeals of his conviction for killing Dean Harold Meyers had been made and rejected. Appeals for Muhammad’s other trials remained pending at the time of his execution.
Muhammad was executed by lethal injection on November 10, 2009, at 9:06 pm EST at Greensville Correctional Center in Jarratt, Virginia, and was pronounced dead at 9:11 pm EST. Muhammad declined to make a final statement.
Linda Franklin Sniper Victim
Linda Franklin Sniper Victim - She called home every day. Sometimes from her home in Arlington, usually from her car on the commute into D.C. She’d chat with her father about his day. She’d encourage her mother, who was battling a recurring cancer.
But one Monday evening last October, Charles Moore realized he hadn’t heard from his daughter all day. As his wife slept, he went to the living room and picked up the phone.
Washington was a white-knuckle town at the time. A gunman was on the loose, shooting at random. People were afraid to get gas or to park at the mall.
Linda Franklin was not among them.
Her father caught her ready to go shopping to outfit her new townhouse.
He asked her not to go. Franklin wouldn’t hear of it.
“Dad,” she explained, “everybody’s got to move.”
Small-framed, clear-skinned and bright-eyed, never looking her age, Franklin rolled through 47 years with cheerful resolve, remaking her life over and over.
She was at times a single mother juggling college, an international teacher turned FBI analyst, navigating countries and careers as she dodged violence and disaster, confronted heartache and illness.
Nothing could stop her.
When Linda Gail Franklin was 3 or 4 years old, she walked out the front door of her house in Columbus, Ind., headed down to a busy intersection, stood in the middle of the road and began directing traffic.
As she waved her arms, cars slowed to avoid her, their amused drivers honking and waving.
After that, her parents put padlocks on the gates in the yard, but it didn’t help. She escaped whenever she could.
The second of three children born to Charles and MaryAnn Moore, Franklin rushed into the world on a cold March night in 1955, before her father could finish the paperwork in the hospital lobby.
Charles Moore’s career in broadcasting and engineering moved the family often, and Franklin spent her early childhood in various Indiana and Ohio cities.
Antsy and rambunctious, she often pushed her parents to their limits.
“There was no fussing or fighting,” her father said. “She’d just look at you with that squinty look.”
Franklin read voraciously, whenever she could sit still long enough to turn the pages. The rest of the time she was outdoors, chasing bugs, getting stung and running home with an upheld finger, hand, elbow.
Her parents kept her hair short and let her play hard.
The family traveled often while the children were young, touring Midwest lakes and campgrounds in their Ford station wagon, a canoe strapped on top. It was at Sweetwater Lake, just west of Columbus, where a preteen Franklin learned to water ski.
She was tenacious, said her father, refusing to let go of the rope when she fell. Time and again she’d hit the water, skis spinning off behind her as her body cut through the boat’s wake.
“I had to stop the boat,” Moore said. “I was afraid I’d drown her.”
Franklin persisted until she could stay upright. After that, he couldn’t wear her out on skis.
The Moores eventually settled in Florida, in time for Franklin to enter 10th grade at Buchholz High School in Gainesville.
There, Franklin and classmate Katherine Kafoglis Lockwood bonded over a love of theater. The girls dived into the school’s productions, playing supporting roles, designing sets, doing makeup, sewing costumes, handling publicity, fund-raising with bake sales and car washes.
Lockwood remembers being impressed with Franklin’s boldness, both on and off the stage. She would stride through the school halls, approaching the shy kids and the strangers, inviting them to the drama group’s parties.
“And they would come,” Lockwood said, “because she was so straightforward.”
Franklin was like a mother to all her friends, said Lockwood, now a biochemist at the University of New Hampshire.
“Love and friendship just fell out of her. It wasn’t an effort, it just came.”
That compassion led Franklin to nursing school after graduating from Buchholz in 1973, but soon put her at odds with teachers at Gainesville’s Santa Fe Community College.
They criticized her for getting too attached to her patients, for failing to maintain the proper clinical distance.
So she quit school on principle with her father’s blessing.
“Right then,” he recalled, “I felt like I had a daughter that had grown up.”
Franklin left Gainesville with a high-school sweetheart but returned in the early ’80s, after her marriage dissolved. She arrived with two small children and a plan.
“I’m going back to school.”
Her parents offered money, but Franklin refused. She’d found a full-time job and would pay for college herself. And so it went for the next few years.
“I kind of resented it,” Moore recalled, laughing. “Parents like to be needed.”
Whenever they tried to help, Franklin would either refuse or record the debt in a detailed ledger. She paid back every penny.
It took a car accident to soften her will. With her jaw wired shut, she quickly grew tired of thinned-down baby food. So her father bought a blender, chopped up meat, soaked it in broth and fed it to her through a straw.
“I got the biggest hug out of that,” he said.
At the University of Florida, Franklin rekindled the love for math she shared with her father. As a child she’d often accompanied him to work, where she’d dug through desk drawers, watching him work his slide rule, asking endless questions.
She considered computer science, Moore said, “but the jargon didn’t settle.” She chose teaching instead.
She transferred to the education school, made the dean’s list and graduated in 1986, with a degree to teach math and science.
Her mother had passed up Smith College to get married, and her father had left Purdue University to be with his children. So seeing their 31-year-old daughter in her cap and gown was something of a dream deferred.
“I’ve never had a prouder moment in my life,” Moore said.
Within the year, Franklin was sitting behind the wheel of a Jeep, idling in the streets of Guatemala City, where she’d gone to teach at the American School. A man approached and demanded the Jeep, the machete in his hand an unmistakable exclamation point. With her sat her young son and daughter.
Franklin’s parents had paled when she told them she was going to Central America, right into the remnants of a revolution. Times were still tense, with rampant corruption, political violence, sporadic kidnappings and rumors of coups.
“I bit my tongue,” Moore recalled. “I didn’t want any part of her going there, but I never told her what to do.”
South she flew, children in tow. They often traveled with a Marine escort since they lived outside of base housing. But that particular day they were alone, and the man with the machete was insistent.
Franklin refused to give up the Jeep, but offered to take him anywhere he wanted to go. He persisted. So did she.
Finally, he put down the machete, climbed in and accepted the ride.
“You idiot!” her father roared when she recounted the incident months later. “He could’ve killed you and the kids!”
“Nah,” she replied, “not likely.”
Despite her bravado, Franklin left just after the school year ended. Later, she would tell colleagues tales of having to sneak out of the country through the jungle, leaving her possessions behind.
The following fall found Franklin in Germany, pitching an idea to her new friend Lunella Harrill.
The ski club at Stuttgart-Ludwigsburg American High School needed a sponsor, she informed her. What say we step in?
The fact that neither of them had ever snow skied, she said, was entirely irrelevant.
“She was game to try anything,” Harrill recalled.
Franklin persuaded Harrill, her husband, Jerry, and another teacher to spend weekends slipping and sliding on nearby mountains until they were passable skiers. The club resumed its trips to slopes in Germany, Austria and Switzerland, with membership rapidly swelling to near 50.
In warmer months, Franklin piloted another challenge, organizing a whitewater rafting trip to Garmisch, near the Austrian border. Straight off the mountains, it was the coldest water Harrill had ever felt.
The rafters had to steel themselves first by jumping in. The students stood petrified on the rocks.
“Oh, come on!” Franklin goaded them before diving in, smiling all the way down. She eventually coaxed Harrill into a raft for the first time when Harrill was nearly 50.
“She was like a kid sister,” Harrill said. “You don’t always meet people you would trust with your life, but I would have trusted Linda with mine.”
That enthusiasm colored Franklin’s approach to teaching, said Harrill, who now lives in San Diego.
Moore said his daughter’s theory was simple: “Don’t teach the kids to answer questions, teach the kids to question answers. Don’t let a teacher get away with anything.”
She taught her own children in innovative ways.
The Harrills witnessed that one Christmas, while looking after Franklin’s children as she made a quick visit to the States.
Sitting around the table, Lunella Harrill noticed the children eyeing the brussels sprouts left on her and her husband’s plates. They passed them over, and the children devoured them.
Franklin had raised them to eat their meals backward: Dessert came first, followed by the main course. And if they cleaned their plates, they could have their vegetables.
“The vegetables would be the prize,” Harrill recalled, laughing.
Franklin left Germany when her contract ended in 1989, along with her children and new husband, a fellow American she’d met there.
The new family was bound for Okinawa.
In Gainesville, Charles Moore snickered as he listened to his daughter on the phone from Japan. It was tennis this time.
Franklin was a new algebra teacher at Kadena High School on Okinawa’s Kadena Air Base. The team needed a coach, and Franklin had agreed.
Moore reminded his daughter that she was a terrible tennis player, but she already had a strategy.
“All I have to do is read the books and tell them what to do,” she told him. “I don’t need to pick up a racket.”
Moore didn’t hold out much hope for the team. It won the championship.
As she had in Germany, Franklin spent much of her time outdoors while on the North Pacific island. Usin Pisingan, a former neighbor and colleague, recalled her coming to his house once during a typhoon and dragging him down to the ocean to watch the waves bash the shore.
When her parents visited, she took them crawling through off-limits caves and hiking along the island’s cliffs. They’d set off on long rides in her Jeep.
“We’d take that Jeep, run through the cane fields down to the beach,” her father recalled. “We’d spend a late evening out there and then head for home. It was wonderful.”
Franklin stayed on Okinawa until 1994, including another teaching post at neighboring Kubasaki High School. While in Japan, she and her husband split up.
Later, she met a local Marine at one of her holiday parties. He was a computer specialist, a corporal named William “Ted” Franklin.
Just before his discharge, they married in Hawaii.
The Franklins moved to a three-story row house near Mons, Belgium, where Linda Franklin began the 1994-95 school year at SHAPE American High School.
One winter, exposed wiring in the attic set their home ablaze.
No one was hurt, but everything the Franklins owned was either ruined by the firefighters’ hoses or permeated with indelible soot.
While losing her possessions didn’t bother Franklin, losing most of her cash did. That meant she had to accept help from others.
“Her pride just died,” her father said. “It just tore her up to take charity.”
Giving it was a different matter, however. While in Belgium, Franklin persuaded local Marines to build a playground for an orphanage and christened it with an American-style cookout. And one Christmas, when her parents were visiting, she brought home an orphan, age 7 or 8, whom they feted and took to Paris.
Yet there were more setbacks: Franklin broke a foot. Her mother, who had been diagnosed with breast cancer just as Franklin moved to Belgium, had a relapse. And her father’s prostate looked suspicious.
She had made several trips between Belgium and Florida during holidays, but in talking with her father, she realized that was no longer enough. It was time to leave Europe.
Settling with her family near Washington in 1997 meant a new house, a new town and for Linda Franklin, now in her early 40s, a new career.
She approached the CIA for work but was told she was too old. The FBI welcomed her, offering her a spot in its National Infrastructure Protection Center.
There, Franklin’s adaptability was quickly rewarded. One holiday, a supervisor asked her and fellow analyst Shirlyn Baker to oversee the inaugural meeting of a new bureau program. Those in charge had fallen to the flu.
With short notice and scant background, Baker recalled, “we just winged it.” When time came for questions, she watched Franklin work her magic.
“She came out of that room and she had smoothed the feathers. The afternoon session went like clockwork.”
The two women became project managers for InfraGard, an information-sharing partnership between government and private business.
They spent most of the next two years putting the program together, with Baker as the technical adviser and Franklin working the crowds. They wore out the phones, flew all over the country, coordinated countless training sessions, surrendered evenings, weekends and holidays.
By the time the program rolled out in January 2000, the women were fast friends.
That bond proved vital a year later, when Baker was diagnosed with breast cancer. Franklin leaped in to help.
She told Baker about her mother’s cancer battle. And Franklin confided that she’d had a lump removed from her own breast soon after coming to the FBI.
The night before Baker’s surgery, Franklin beat her to her home in Baltimore. She stayed all the next day, cooking feverishly, then supported Baker through months of chemotherapy and radiation. Franklin researched treatments, what to eat and drink and, most importantly, buoyed her spirits.
“Sometimes the Lord sends angels into your life,” Baker said. “She would not let me feel sorry for myself, Lord have mercy. She always found the sunshine.”
Among these rays was the tragicomic life of Rocky. Baker remembers being in recovery when Franklin sprang the news.
“She told me, ‘Not only are you having chemo, my cat has to have it, too.’ ”
Franklin had stolen Rocky from former neighbors after learning they let her fend for herself. She joined the menagerie of dogs and cats crowding the couple’s townhouse.
Franklin lavished money and attention on Rocky – known as “Chemo Kitty” to her friends. She arranged for biopsies and treatments, ignoring friends’ pleas to put her to sleep.
The cat pulled through. It was Franklin’s turn next.
That fall, just after Baker returned to work, she was diagnosed.
She went to two doctors to confirm it, consulted with frie nds, then set out to beat it.
Though the cancer was confined to one breast and hadn’t reached her lymph nodes, Franklin weighed her options and chose to have a double mastectomy.
She found the ideal hospital and tracked down the best doctor, both in Baltimore. The doctor told her he wasn’t accepting new patients.
“By the time she finished with him,” Baker said, “he took her.”
Franklin had surgery in late 2001. During recuperation, she endured physical therapy as well, her body having rebelled at the sedentary days her illness had forced upon her.
“She wouldn’t let it stop her,” said Peggy Hulseberg, whose husband, Paul, worked near Franklin at the FBI. “Not everybody would be that strong,” Baker agreed.
“You’re talking about somebody who never had a blue day,” she said. “If she was down, it was for a moment.”
Her energy returning, Franklin was back at the bureau part time by spring 2002, full time by late summer.
She resumed a grueling schedule, with therapy in the mornings and work in the evenings. All the while, she continued traveling to Florida to support her mother with her own cancer battle.
With each visit, she’d make sure to include a “date night” with her father. When she wasn’t in Gainesville, she’d call him each morning on her way to work. “OK, Dad, what are you doing today?”
“I just got out of bed!”
“Well, go on, get going.”
For the past few years, Moore had been writing romance novels to help refocus his mind when he wasn’t helping his ailing wife, and Franklin acted as his coach and occasional editor.
“She stopped being a daughter,” Moore said. “She became a friend.”
In Washington, the federal government was going through post-Sept. 11, 2001, growing pains, and the future of Franklin’s division was in question. She might have to relocate, might have to start over again.
The Franklins sold their townhouse to avoid the inevitable buyers’ market.
In hosting Linda Franklin’s son and niece and their dogs, along with their own pets, plus her parents’ periodic visits and with her first grandchild on the way in Norfolk, the two-bedroom, one-bath townhouse was too small anyway.
The couple found a new townhouse in which to bide their time until the feds sorted themselves out. They were in the process of furnishing it on thatmid-October Monday when she and her father spoke.
The movers were due on Friday, she said. There was still so much left to do. She had to go.
“You just can’t stay in hiding,” she told him. “We’re just going out to Home Depot and that’s it.”
Hours later, long before daylight, the doorbell chime drifted through the dark, one-story house. Then a distinct, brass-knocker rap.
Charles Moore rose from his bed, where MaryAnn lay sleeping, and moved toward the sound. He took his time; panhandlers came by at all hours.
He opened the door. Lit from behind by a pole lamp in the yard, a police sergeant and an FBI agent introduced themselves.
Grief and anger would follow. For the moment, there was only shock.
It might have been the gunman, they told him. They didn’t think it had anything to do with her work. Still lots of unanswered questions.
What was certain was that only something unseen and unnegotiable could ever have stopped her.
But one Monday evening last October, Charles Moore realized he hadn’t heard from his daughter all day. As his wife slept, he went to the living room and picked up the phone.
Washington was a white-knuckle town at the time. A gunman was on the loose, shooting at random. People were afraid to get gas or to park at the mall.
Linda Franklin was not among them.
Her father caught her ready to go shopping to outfit her new townhouse.
He asked her not to go. Franklin wouldn’t hear of it.
“Dad,” she explained, “everybody’s got to move.”
Small-framed, clear-skinned and bright-eyed, never looking her age, Franklin rolled through 47 years with cheerful resolve, remaking her life over and over.
She was at times a single mother juggling college, an international teacher turned FBI analyst, navigating countries and careers as she dodged violence and disaster, confronted heartache and illness.
Nothing could stop her.
When Linda Gail Franklin was 3 or 4 years old, she walked out the front door of her house in Columbus, Ind., headed down to a busy intersection, stood in the middle of the road and began directing traffic.
As she waved her arms, cars slowed to avoid her, their amused drivers honking and waving.
After that, her parents put padlocks on the gates in the yard, but it didn’t help. She escaped whenever she could.
The second of three children born to Charles and MaryAnn Moore, Franklin rushed into the world on a cold March night in 1955, before her father could finish the paperwork in the hospital lobby.
Charles Moore’s career in broadcasting and engineering moved the family often, and Franklin spent her early childhood in various Indiana and Ohio cities.
Antsy and rambunctious, she often pushed her parents to their limits.
“There was no fussing or fighting,” her father said. “She’d just look at you with that squinty look.”
Franklin read voraciously, whenever she could sit still long enough to turn the pages. The rest of the time she was outdoors, chasing bugs, getting stung and running home with an upheld finger, hand, elbow.
Her parents kept her hair short and let her play hard.
The family traveled often while the children were young, touring Midwest lakes and campgrounds in their Ford station wagon, a canoe strapped on top. It was at Sweetwater Lake, just west of Columbus, where a preteen Franklin learned to water ski.
She was tenacious, said her father, refusing to let go of the rope when she fell. Time and again she’d hit the water, skis spinning off behind her as her body cut through the boat’s wake.
“I had to stop the boat,” Moore said. “I was afraid I’d drown her.”
Franklin persisted until she could stay upright. After that, he couldn’t wear her out on skis.
The Moores eventually settled in Florida, in time for Franklin to enter 10th grade at Buchholz High School in Gainesville.
There, Franklin and classmate Katherine Kafoglis Lockwood bonded over a love of theater. The girls dived into the school’s productions, playing supporting roles, designing sets, doing makeup, sewing costumes, handling publicity, fund-raising with bake sales and car washes.
Lockwood remembers being impressed with Franklin’s boldness, both on and off the stage. She would stride through the school halls, approaching the shy kids and the strangers, inviting them to the drama group’s parties.
“And they would come,” Lockwood said, “because she was so straightforward.”
Franklin was like a mother to all her friends, said Lockwood, now a biochemist at the University of New Hampshire.
“Love and friendship just fell out of her. It wasn’t an effort, it just came.”
That compassion led Franklin to nursing school after graduating from Buchholz in 1973, but soon put her at odds with teachers at Gainesville’s Santa Fe Community College.
They criticized her for getting too attached to her patients, for failing to maintain the proper clinical distance.
So she quit school on principle with her father’s blessing.
“Right then,” he recalled, “I felt like I had a daughter that had grown up.”
Franklin left Gainesville with a high-school sweetheart but returned in the early ’80s, after her marriage dissolved. She arrived with two small children and a plan.
“I’m going back to school.”
Her parents offered money, but Franklin refused. She’d found a full-time job and would pay for college herself. And so it went for the next few years.
“I kind of resented it,” Moore recalled, laughing. “Parents like to be needed.”
Whenever they tried to help, Franklin would either refuse or record the debt in a detailed ledger. She paid back every penny.
It took a car accident to soften her will. With her jaw wired shut, she quickly grew tired of thinned-down baby food. So her father bought a blender, chopped up meat, soaked it in broth and fed it to her through a straw.
“I got the biggest hug out of that,” he said.
At the University of Florida, Franklin rekindled the love for math she shared with her father. As a child she’d often accompanied him to work, where she’d dug through desk drawers, watching him work his slide rule, asking endless questions.
She considered computer science, Moore said, “but the jargon didn’t settle.” She chose teaching instead.
She transferred to the education school, made the dean’s list and graduated in 1986, with a degree to teach math and science.
Her mother had passed up Smith College to get married, and her father had left Purdue University to be with his children. So seeing their 31-year-old daughter in her cap and gown was something of a dream deferred.
“I’ve never had a prouder moment in my life,” Moore said.
Within the year, Franklin was sitting behind the wheel of a Jeep, idling in the streets of Guatemala City, where she’d gone to teach at the American School. A man approached and demanded the Jeep, the machete in his hand an unmistakable exclamation point. With her sat her young son and daughter.
Franklin’s parents had paled when she told them she was going to Central America, right into the remnants of a revolution. Times were still tense, with rampant corruption, political violence, sporadic kidnappings and rumors of coups.
“I bit my tongue,” Moore recalled. “I didn’t want any part of her going there, but I never told her what to do.”
South she flew, children in tow. They often traveled with a Marine escort since they lived outside of base housing. But that particular day they were alone, and the man with the machete was insistent.
Franklin refused to give up the Jeep, but offered to take him anywhere he wanted to go. He persisted. So did she.
Finally, he put down the machete, climbed in and accepted the ride.
“You idiot!” her father roared when she recounted the incident months later. “He could’ve killed you and the kids!”
“Nah,” she replied, “not likely.”
Despite her bravado, Franklin left just after the school year ended. Later, she would tell colleagues tales of having to sneak out of the country through the jungle, leaving her possessions behind.
The following fall found Franklin in Germany, pitching an idea to her new friend Lunella Harrill.
The ski club at Stuttgart-Ludwigsburg American High School needed a sponsor, she informed her. What say we step in?
The fact that neither of them had ever snow skied, she said, was entirely irrelevant.
“She was game to try anything,” Harrill recalled.
Franklin persuaded Harrill, her husband, Jerry, and another teacher to spend weekends slipping and sliding on nearby mountains until they were passable skiers. The club resumed its trips to slopes in Germany, Austria and Switzerland, with membership rapidly swelling to near 50.
In warmer months, Franklin piloted another challenge, organizing a whitewater rafting trip to Garmisch, near the Austrian border. Straight off the mountains, it was the coldest water Harrill had ever felt.
The rafters had to steel themselves first by jumping in. The students stood petrified on the rocks.
“Oh, come on!” Franklin goaded them before diving in, smiling all the way down. She eventually coaxed Harrill into a raft for the first time when Harrill was nearly 50.
“She was like a kid sister,” Harrill said. “You don’t always meet people you would trust with your life, but I would have trusted Linda with mine.”
That enthusiasm colored Franklin’s approach to teaching, said Harrill, who now lives in San Diego.
Moore said his daughter’s theory was simple: “Don’t teach the kids to answer questions, teach the kids to question answers. Don’t let a teacher get away with anything.”
She taught her own children in innovative ways.
The Harrills witnessed that one Christmas, while looking after Franklin’s children as she made a quick visit to the States.
Sitting around the table, Lunella Harrill noticed the children eyeing the brussels sprouts left on her and her husband’s plates. They passed them over, and the children devoured them.
Franklin had raised them to eat their meals backward: Dessert came first, followed by the main course. And if they cleaned their plates, they could have their vegetables.
“The vegetables would be the prize,” Harrill recalled, laughing.
Franklin left Germany when her contract ended in 1989, along with her children and new husband, a fellow American she’d met there.
The new family was bound for Okinawa.
In Gainesville, Charles Moore snickered as he listened to his daughter on the phone from Japan. It was tennis this time.
Franklin was a new algebra teacher at Kadena High School on Okinawa’s Kadena Air Base. The team needed a coach, and Franklin had agreed.
Moore reminded his daughter that she was a terrible tennis player, but she already had a strategy.
“All I have to do is read the books and tell them what to do,” she told him. “I don’t need to pick up a racket.”
Moore didn’t hold out much hope for the team. It won the championship.
As she had in Germany, Franklin spent much of her time outdoors while on the North Pacific island. Usin Pisingan, a former neighbor and colleague, recalled her coming to his house once during a typhoon and dragging him down to the ocean to watch the waves bash the shore.
When her parents visited, she took them crawling through off-limits caves and hiking along the island’s cliffs. They’d set off on long rides in her Jeep.
“We’d take that Jeep, run through the cane fields down to the beach,” her father recalled. “We’d spend a late evening out there and then head for home. It was wonderful.”
Franklin stayed on Okinawa until 1994, including another teaching post at neighboring Kubasaki High School. While in Japan, she and her husband split up.
Later, she met a local Marine at one of her holiday parties. He was a computer specialist, a corporal named William “Ted” Franklin.
Just before his discharge, they married in Hawaii.
The Franklins moved to a three-story row house near Mons, Belgium, where Linda Franklin began the 1994-95 school year at SHAPE American High School.
One winter, exposed wiring in the attic set their home ablaze.
No one was hurt, but everything the Franklins owned was either ruined by the firefighters’ hoses or permeated with indelible soot.
While losing her possessions didn’t bother Franklin, losing most of her cash did. That meant she had to accept help from others.
“Her pride just died,” her father said. “It just tore her up to take charity.”
Giving it was a different matter, however. While in Belgium, Franklin persuaded local Marines to build a playground for an orphanage and christened it with an American-style cookout. And one Christmas, when her parents were visiting, she brought home an orphan, age 7 or 8, whom they feted and took to Paris.
Yet there were more setbacks: Franklin broke a foot. Her mother, who had been diagnosed with breast cancer just as Franklin moved to Belgium, had a relapse. And her father’s prostate looked suspicious.
She had made several trips between Belgium and Florida during holidays, but in talking with her father, she realized that was no longer enough. It was time to leave Europe.
Settling with her family near Washington in 1997 meant a new house, a new town and for Linda Franklin, now in her early 40s, a new career.
She approached the CIA for work but was told she was too old. The FBI welcomed her, offering her a spot in its National Infrastructure Protection Center.
There, Franklin’s adaptability was quickly rewarded. One holiday, a supervisor asked her and fellow analyst Shirlyn Baker to oversee the inaugural meeting of a new bureau program. Those in charge had fallen to the flu.
With short notice and scant background, Baker recalled, “we just winged it.” When time came for questions, she watched Franklin work her magic.
“She came out of that room and she had smoothed the feathers. The afternoon session went like clockwork.”
The two women became project managers for InfraGard, an information-sharing partnership between government and private business.
They spent most of the next two years putting the program together, with Baker as the technical adviser and Franklin working the crowds. They wore out the phones, flew all over the country, coordinated countless training sessions, surrendered evenings, weekends and holidays.
By the time the program rolled out in January 2000, the women were fast friends.
That bond proved vital a year later, when Baker was diagnosed with breast cancer. Franklin leaped in to help.
She told Baker about her mother’s cancer battle. And Franklin confided that she’d had a lump removed from her own breast soon after coming to the FBI.
The night before Baker’s surgery, Franklin beat her to her home in Baltimore. She stayed all the next day, cooking feverishly, then supported Baker through months of chemotherapy and radiation. Franklin researched treatments, what to eat and drink and, most importantly, buoyed her spirits.
“Sometimes the Lord sends angels into your life,” Baker said. “She would not let me feel sorry for myself, Lord have mercy. She always found the sunshine.”
Among these rays was the tragicomic life of Rocky. Baker remembers being in recovery when Franklin sprang the news.
“She told me, ‘Not only are you having chemo, my cat has to have it, too.’ ”
Franklin had stolen Rocky from former neighbors after learning they let her fend for herself. She joined the menagerie of dogs and cats crowding the couple’s townhouse.
Franklin lavished money and attention on Rocky – known as “Chemo Kitty” to her friends. She arranged for biopsies and treatments, ignoring friends’ pleas to put her to sleep.
The cat pulled through. It was Franklin’s turn next.
That fall, just after Baker returned to work, she was diagnosed.
She went to two doctors to confirm it, consulted with frie nds, then set out to beat it.
Though the cancer was confined to one breast and hadn’t reached her lymph nodes, Franklin weighed her options and chose to have a double mastectomy.
She found the ideal hospital and tracked down the best doctor, both in Baltimore. The doctor told her he wasn’t accepting new patients.
“By the time she finished with him,” Baker said, “he took her.”
Franklin had surgery in late 2001. During recuperation, she endured physical therapy as well, her body having rebelled at the sedentary days her illness had forced upon her.
“She wouldn’t let it stop her,” said Peggy Hulseberg, whose husband, Paul, worked near Franklin at the FBI. “Not everybody would be that strong,” Baker agreed.
“You’re talking about somebody who never had a blue day,” she said. “If she was down, it was for a moment.”
Her energy returning, Franklin was back at the bureau part time by spring 2002, full time by late summer.
She resumed a grueling schedule, with therapy in the mornings and work in the evenings. All the while, she continued traveling to Florida to support her mother with her own cancer battle.
With each visit, she’d make sure to include a “date night” with her father. When she wasn’t in Gainesville, she’d call him each morning on her way to work. “OK, Dad, what are you doing today?”
“I just got out of bed!”
“Well, go on, get going.”
For the past few years, Moore had been writing romance novels to help refocus his mind when he wasn’t helping his ailing wife, and Franklin acted as his coach and occasional editor.
“She stopped being a daughter,” Moore said. “She became a friend.”
In Washington, the federal government was going through post-Sept. 11, 2001, growing pains, and the future of Franklin’s division was in question. She might have to relocate, might have to start over again.
The Franklins sold their townhouse to avoid the inevitable buyers’ market.
In hosting Linda Franklin’s son and niece and their dogs, along with their own pets, plus her parents’ periodic visits and with her first grandchild on the way in Norfolk, the two-bedroom, one-bath townhouse was too small anyway.
The couple found a new townhouse in which to bide their time until the feds sorted themselves out. They were in the process of furnishing it on thatmid-October Monday when she and her father spoke.
The movers were due on Friday, she said. There was still so much left to do. She had to go.
“You just can’t stay in hiding,” she told him. “We’re just going out to Home Depot and that’s it.”
Hours later, long before daylight, the doorbell chime drifted through the dark, one-story house. Then a distinct, brass-knocker rap.
Charles Moore rose from his bed, where MaryAnn lay sleeping, and moved toward the sound. He took his time; panhandlers came by at all hours.
He opened the door. Lit from behind by a pole lamp in the yard, a police sergeant and an FBI agent introduced themselves.
Grief and anger would follow. For the moment, there was only shock.
It might have been the gunman, they told him. They didn’t think it had anything to do with her work. Still lots of unanswered questions.
What was certain was that only something unseen and unnegotiable could ever have stopped her.