Luigi Mangione, Jordan Neely: Mental Illness in the News? One Mother’s Opinion

About a month ago I wrote about how my son, Ben, was close to homelessness. At the moment he is still housed, but facing eviction. Why? Because he repeatedly breaks the rules in the lease, endangering others in the building with his addict lifestyle. That is a consequence of his own choices, illogical as they may be. He needs treatment, and no one is allowed to step in to “require” it.

No. He is not “sick enough.” Running alongside my car last month, trying to jump into the driver’s seat to stop my car so he could have extra money? Not an “imminent danger” to himself or others.

Huh??

I beg to differ.

But there is no mandate requiring Ben to have the treatment he needs. My hands are tied, and I can only “help” from afar while trying to protect others that I love.

Lately, two events have brought the question of untreated mental illness to the forefront: the stories of Jordan Neely, who died by vigilante chokehold when he was frightening subway passengers, and Luigi Mangione, who murdered a Healthcare CEO in premeditated cold blood and is still somehow being hailed by some as a hero.

No. Not a Hero. But possibly very ill, with a family helpless to help.

Jordan Neely was diagnosed with schizophrenia, exacerbated by the tragic murder of his mother. He was homeless at the time of his death.

My son’s behavior when trying to get money for a fix (though of course he said it was for a concert) frightened his family enough for me to get a protective order in place. For now we send his money for rent and food, but cannot (and should not) let the behavior that is leading to his eviction be excused.

That’s us. As for Neely, I don’t know what went down in that subway car. I wasn’t there, but I do know this: the only thing worse than my son hurting himself would be if he were responsible for hurting another human being. That guilt…I can only imagine. I never want to know.

Had Luigi Mangione developed a mental illness in the months before his alleged act? As psychiatrist Dr David Laing Dawson points out, no one is really talking about that right now.  But signs are there, as are stories of how hard his family searched for him when he went missing.

One thing is consistent, though, in comments on social media. People keep saying, “how could they have gotten this far? Where was the family?”

When Treatment Works, The Love is Returned.

I’ll tell you where the family has been. At least this family.

This family, like so many others, has been working for years to “save” our loved one with SMI (severe mental illness) and blocked at every turn by:

• anosognosia (their lack of awareness that they are ill), 

• substance use and abuse (often a self-medicating beginning to addiction when SMI is present)

• Lack of psychiatric hospital beds

• Lack of funding for more research

• Blame for families

• Stigma against SMI,and 

• a system that puts “patient rights” to homelessness, hunger, crime, addiction, and other “freedoms” about the right to be safe and get treatment.

“This family, like so many others, has been working for years to “save” our loved one with SMI (severe mental illness) and blocked at every turn.”

So - where have we been, as my son Ben faces addiction and homelessness?

Right where we have been for the past two decades, ever since his diagnosis of schizophrenia: 

• Trying to help

• Trying to arrange help

• Fixing what we can.

• Letting natural consequences settle - usually to no avail.

• Setting boundaries.

• Leaving the door open - or closing it tight if we are afraid for our safety.

• Searching the streets.

• Advocating for change.

• Reaching out to each other.

• Reversing their bad decisions.

• Keeping young children away when our loved one is symptomatic,

• Talking to attorneys.

• Paying for rehab and “troubled teen” programs.

• Declaring bankruptcy.

• Visiting hospitals and jails.

• Educating ourselves.

• Daring to hope.

• Fighting with all our heart.
  

We’ve been right here all along. Help us help. And - unless you have been in our shoes - stop with the comments and the snap judgments. Ask us questions instead. We are living in the trenches. 

Incarcerated Innocence: The Long Long Wait of Pretrial Detention

Seven months ago, my son was arrested for “attempted purse-snatching”. He was identified as the “suspect” because the woman accusing him had video of him riding away on his bicycle. That’s it.

But what really incriminated him, I think, was his appearance. Ben has schizophrenia, managed currently by a medication with side effects of trembling and fatigue. Add to that the fact that he looked homeless at the time, and (truth) was probably stoned. After months of trying in vain to get a job, he had returned to his old addiction to marijuana.

So - the police had to decide - who to believe? The lady with the Louis Vuitton purse (still in her possession) or the homeless-looking young man with the confused, vacant stare?

Yep. Incriminated by his illness. It’s an old story, sadly.

What has followed, though, is another kind of crime.

My son’s bail was set at - get this - $100,000.

100K!

I’ve heard of murder suspects with lower amounts. Eventually it was reduced to 25K, but still. To be honest, I’d thought a week in jail, waiting for the court date, might not be a bad thing for Ben. He’d sober up, learn a lesson, get some structure back.

But that was nearly seven months ago. Still no evidence, and all sides have thankfully agreed (dozens of character references and court appearances later), that Ben qualifies for a jail diversion program that will give him treatment he sorely needs - substance use, mental health.

This is wonderful news, sure.

But there are NO BEDS. He is currently #10 on a waiting list at last report (haven’t had any response to further inquiries in weeks), and we can’t get updates. If only he could count down to a release date, so he’d know how long he’ll stay in jail, waiting for the chance to see the sunlight again.

Could be months, they said.

So Ben sits, with 55 other pretrial inmates, counting the days. Trying to stay positive, make some friends, help out the newbies. There are positives to knowing he is safe, sober, in a low-security situation more like a big room of “cube-mates” than a prison with bars. Thankfully, he has companions, a tablet, regular injections of his medication, and commissary access once a week. For this, I am grateful. Certainly, it could be worse.

But it is still, well, jail. Very little outdoor time, very little to do. Frequent lockdowns. One day just like the other. There are no self-development services for pretrial incarceration. No classes, no meetings, no opportunities to do anything except play cards, try out “prison cooking” and hope for mail or visitors.

Seven months. So far. And what breaks my heart is that I can feel the hope draining out of Ben. There’s only so much a mother can do - except love him, encourage him, listen to him, and advocate for a better system.

Ben is clearly one of hundreds, thousands, of incarcerated individuals who need treatment. And while he is one of the lucky ones who has been approved to get help, he sits there, still, in jail.

This is a crime. A crime of the very system designed to rehabilitate, not just punish.

We need more beds for those with mental illness challenges, and we need them now. I know my son does.

What’s a mother/conservator to do? I wrote to the public defender, the intake teams at the jail diversion program, the forensic social worker, the jail counselor.

Still no answers. Should Senators and Reps be next? I think so.

Don’t let him lose hope. And he is not the only one. We need change, and we need it now.