Probably the Most Unsatisfactory Conclusion Ever

For my last (*tear*) blog post I'm still attempting to reconcile the questions that have come up in this journey to rectify the insanity plea, a journey that has certainly created more questions than answers for me. I will first address questions based on the "do justice and love mercy" commandment and then try (mostly likely poorly) to pull it all together into something satisfactory.

The first issue, to me, relates directly to the idea that we are to "not judge, lest we be judged." Who are we to allocate responsibility for something so heinous? How are we to judge whether Hinckley had control over his actions or not? I personally struggle with this one; I have a difficult time telling people who are not my religion or who have rejected Christian values that they are going to hell (or at least not to heaven). I may not share their beliefs, but I don't feel right assigning responsibility to them. Similarly, the juries in these cases certainly did not condone the defendant's actions, but neither did they want to condemn a fellow human being. Insanity is an easy defense, but certainly one irrational decision does not make a person insane (which seems to be the idea in a lot of the cases we've discussed). Maybe some good, rational people simply don't make the right choices. Is this satisfactory? Not particularly. Is there any way to be completely OK with judging a fellow human being? Not particularly, but it may be a part of our reality that we have to accept until the consummation.

The next problem is along the same lines as the first, but it has more to do with the "mercy" side of this equation. It is difficult to judge a fellow human being, yes, but isn't it also wrong to NOT judge a fellow human being who has done wrong? Yes, it is difficult to not identify with the defendant and feel compelled to forgive him but at what point should we cast aside our feelings of empathy and acknowledge that a person has done wrong? Again I feel that there is no easy answer. Jesus tells us to "give to Caesar what is Caesar and to God what is God's." From this statement, the best solution seems to be the one that complies with the law as well as God's teachings. So, how would you respond if put in the situations of the jurors in these cases? How would you work within the framework of the law to come up with an ethically and morally responsible solution to the problem?

Of course, it is difficult to put myself in the juror's shoes. I don't know all the evidence, the nuances, and the details of any of the cases. Perhaps I would have judged them insane or incompetent just by the way they looked at me. Perhaps the pull of sympathy would have been too great for me to make any kind of judgement (in the moment I almost always tend on the side of mercy). Perhaps I would have seen (as I do see) some of the defendants as irrational, immature children who have violent tendencies and deserve consequences for acting upon them. I have spent eight blog posts attempting to use the book, my own outside knowledge, and my Christian beliefs to come up with an ethical conclusion to these cases and the fact is: I can only do so much. And that, I believe, is the problem with these kinds of cases--not the insanity plea itself, not the legal proceedings--but the fact that we cannot know everything about what goes on in a person's mind when he commits a crime. This is one of the intensely beautiful and insanely frustrating parts about psychology. God has formulated our brains and minds in such a way that parts of yourself are only between you and Him. We cannot explain all your actions--we can only explain what to do with them. The function of the law is to judge actions, but it is near impossible to separate people from what they do (to quote Dumbledore, "It is our choices that make us who we are," right?).

I can give hard-and-fast diagnoses to some of these clients, I can judge them morally responsible, or I can throw up my hands in frustration but in all these cases there is a jumping off point. There is always a gray area that we must wade through in an attempt to fully understand a case. As Christians, I think the only way we can reconcile this is to allow God to inform our decisions in these cases and have faith that they are as ethical and correct as possible. I have thoroughly enjoyed sharing my thoughts on this with you and I hope you all have a simply fabulous Thanksgiving/Christmas season!

Happy trails,

Kelsey

James Grigson aka "Doctor Death," "The Hanging Psychiatrist," and "The Doctor of Doom"

If you have read some of my other posts on this blog, you know that I get offended by the author of this book. Frequently. He has a lot of animosity toward psychology, and it shows in sarcastic quotes like, "Because life is hard, society has designated mental health practitioners as the experts on all of life's problems." Then I read this chapter, about a psychiatrist called the "Hanging Psychiatrist." James Grigson, a Dallas boy, certified by the American Board of Neurology (and a graduate of Baylor! Although the book might mean Baylor Medical School, it's not too clear about that...), has recommended the death penalty for about 60 criminals on the grounds that the defendant is a sociopath, incurable and likely to commit violent acts again.

Sounds reasonable, right? I mean, criminals who commit violent acts surely have some sort of mental illness? Isn't it likely that sociopathy could be a good explanation? And furthermore, couldn't a psychiatrist give some insight on how likely it would be for a criminal to commit more violent acts? Well, for one thing, the APA had dropped sociopathy from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) 10 years ago when Dr. Grigson was investigated. In addition, an APA task force concluded that psychiatrists were not capable of making conclusive judgments about the likelihood for a person to commit more violent acts. The APA also limited the power of psychiatric testimony, which had become common in Texas and other states and, as Grigson's example choice, may not give the best grounds for tough decisions like the death penalty.

This interesting chapter brings up two ethical ideas. One is the importance of honesty and citing your sources. Earlier this week in discussion board we talked about how we are "consumers of information." A lot of us have the unfortunate tendency to take everything we say at face value, especially facts about science or medicine. This makes sense...science can be difficult to understand (I had a D in chemistry to prove that last year). Not many of us own a copy of a DSM or even a basic biology textbook. Although we should always fact check when we can and take any information we get with a grain of salt, this also means that "experts" have a duty to present the facts and back them up. Throwing out a lot of technical jargon and a diagnosis that "sounds right" to me does a great disservice to whatever field you are an expert in and, in the case of James Grigson, puts someone's life in your hands. Grigson had the power to persuade or dissuade juries with one use of a technical term and a reasonable prediction. It is a responsibility that cannot be taken lightly.

The other ethical issue is interesting and a little more complicated. In this chapter, Winslade offers ab explanation of why Grigson used the diagnosis sociopath when he knew it was no longer used: "Grigson's use of the sociopath diagnosis as well as his willingness to be very certain about his judgements of future mental illness are...closely related to the idea of mental illness as sin than to the idea of mental illness as disease."

Is mental illness sin? Or, rather, are the things people do as a consequence of mental illness sin? Are the two things mutually exclusive? This blog has been more about how things should go in court with insanity pleas, but I think this has been an underlying issue in all of it. Usually when I make this argument (especially about cold-blooded killers like Charles Manson) I ask...Is a rabid dog a sinner (just assume for a minute that most dogs have higher functionality)? I think most people would say no, but what about the mostly stable guy with episodes of intense anxiety who beats someone in a fit of rage...before he snaps out of it? Is sin only a function of how much remorse you are capable of feeling?

Finally, along those lines, the author brings up a point about homosexuality. Homosexuality actually used to be in the DSM as a mental disorder but was taken out because of all the ambiguities surrounding it. Is homosexuality a mental disorder? If so, can it be cured? Is homosexuality a sin? Or both? Or neither?

I'm asking far more questions than I'm answering but I think that's the point for this case. One thing that has always fascinated me (and annoyed me) is the fact that, no matter how much psychology tries to categorize people and disorders (and really anything that can be boiled down to statistics and labels) this task is simply impossible. People are not categories. They are moral beings with selfish desires and mood swings and disordered, sometimes pathological thinking. They may be diagnosed with a well-established mental disorder but it may look completely different form the person who has the same disorder. They may be empathetic or have a difficult time relating to people. They may kill and walk away without remorse or let their acts weigh on their consciousness forever. The fact is...we don't know. People aren't one or the other and in the case of psychological diagnostics this tends to raise more questions than answers.

~Kelsey

Robert Torsney: Imperfection and Madness

Robert Torsney, a New York City policeman, was already unhappy and on edge when he walked into a bad area of the city to investigate a call about a man with a gun. It was Thanksgiving day and he was angry that he couldn't be at home with his wife and kids. After conducting a routine investigation of the shooting, Torsney and his fellow officers were returning to the station when three black teenagers approached them. Without warning or (as it seemed) provocation, Robert Torsney shot one of the boys, fifteen-year-old Randy Evans in the head. Evans died almost instantly and Torsney, at that moment, did not know what had happened.

It is scary enough when a person kills out of a long-standing psychosis, an emotionally taxing event, or drugs. Torsney's case, to me, is even more terrifying. Here we have a man who had a stable job, a happy marriage, and all his wits seemingly about him. On the one hand it seems like temporary insanity is the only reasonable option in this case and on the other it seems like an out of character, but completely lucid, act of cold-blooded violence. Torsney was found not guilty by reason of insanity after a whirlwind series of events (as if, given the other posts on this blog, you haven't come to expect that) that even caused me, the committed psychology major, to shake my head. It seemed like in this case--and the author notes this too--that Torsney's legal teamsimply played the system better than the prosecution. To me the ethical dilemma here is how much of our legal system is playing the game better? When does a trial cease to become about justice and start to become a system that can be manipulated? I'm not sure if I have an easy answer to that question but more on that after you understand Torsney's case.

Torsney insisted when he was able to recount the murder that he had committed it out of self-defense, that his victim had pulled out what looked like a gun from his pocket. After hypnosis and an injection of sodium amytol (more commonly called "truth serum") his testimony did not change. Yet all evidence showed that Randy Evans did not have a gun nor anything that looked like a gun near him at the time of the shooting. The defense psychiatrist claimed that Torsney's thoughts were delusional, possibly the result of an epileptic seizure. The prosecution claimed that Torsney's mistaken perception was due to panic in a stressful situation. Although the persecution's description of the events is a lot more easy to understand, the defense had the important implication that "only a crazy man would shoot an unarmed, fifteen-year-old boy without provocation." In the end this seemed to convince the jury. Torsney was sent to the Mid-Hudson Psychiatric Center psychiatric center when the trial was over.

You can already see one problem with the insanity defense in this case. The two psychiatrists both agreed that Randy Evans did not have a gun or anything resembling a gun when Torsney fired at him. They also both agreed that the shot had been out of mistaken perception. Yet they both came up with two takes on whether he should be diagnosed. If Torsney was in fact sick, wouldn't the psychiatrists, assuming that they are both highly-trained and good at their jobs, both have agreed on this? As the author points out "psychiatrists ought to be reliable at diagnosing mental illnesses if we are to take any of their opinions seriously." This is an example of forensic psychiatrists constructing two different situations to get the jury to sympathize with their views. The court brought up these inconsistencies when Torsney's case was appealed about a year and a half later. Because of the disagreement over insanity, the appellate court was forced to accept the ruling. As a rule, an appeal can only be made based on the facts of the case and in Tornsey's case, based on the facts presented, there was no way of knowing the truth. Since insanity could not be proven, Torsney was released from the mental health system, free and clear.

Torsney walked free largely because of a convincing lawyer and rules of the legal system that operated in his favor. So what does this say about our legal system? If someone knowledgeable enough (or lucky enough) can manipulate it, should it really be used to determine justice? I wish I had a more suitable answer than yes. I don't claim to know the legal system backwards and forwards, but I know that it does work in most cases. Despite its flaws, it is probably the best possible system. So what does that mean for us as Christians? Should we just "deal with it"? I think my best answer is to recall Jesus' call to "give to Caesar what is Caesar and to God what is God's." We can work as juries, as advocates, as attorneys, as to instill a sense of God's perfect justice and mercy within an imperfect system. Above all we can realize that trials are not just a contest between two attorneys. They are about real people in tough situations who deserve an honest trial and the best possible solution.

That's all for now. Have a happy Halloween!

~Kelsey

Tex Watson: Cutting Corners

Before the 1970's, which saw the advent of the more scientifically-oriented psychological theory of Cognitive-Behavior therapy, psychology was considered even more of a soft science than it is today. Neuroscience was also a very new, relatively unexplored field. In the trial of Charles "Tex" Watson, an accomplice in the grisly Charles Manson murders, these factors made psychiatric testimony a muddled and somewhat subjective affair. The main question--it being the 1960's--was whether Charles' followers were operating under the influence of drugs when they massacred and mutilated seven people in Los Angeles. Much of this particular chapter is a description of the trial, rather than the events leading up to the murder, and a whole lot of hostility toward psychology from the author. The thing I would like to focus on is, first of all, the effect of drugs on the brain. Would the murderers, and Tex Watson in particular, have been in a right state of mind considering the amount of drugs that they experimented with? The jury found Tex guilty, without any trace of insanity present, after a long trial muddled with difficult psychiatric evaluation. Second of all, the ethical issue at hand concerns consumption, a topic we will discuss later in class. The book asserts that "the murders appeared to be the dark side of...sensory abundance." As much as I like the hard and fast diagnosis of drug addiction for the Charles Manson murderers (it's a little more comforting to know that people can't be sane when committed such nightmarish murders), I can't help but look at the terrifying effects of consumption on these followers. Their only sickness, in my view, came from an attraction to the lifestyle Manson offered and an obsessive need to disregard traditional--and sane--values to get it.

Nine psychiatrists and one psychologist were called to testify for Tex Watson's case, which was tried separately from the other Manson murderers. There simply was no agreement on drugs' effect on the brain and whether or not Tex was psychotic. When asked if Watson was psychotic during the murders, some said yes and some said no. When asked whether drugs affect the physical brain in the long term, not just a person's psychology, again some said yes and some said no. When asked whether Tex was psychotic, the psychiatrists gave a few possible diagnoses but again these could not be agreed upon. The district attorney even said to one of the witnesses, "Doctor, in all deference to you and your profession, isn't it true that your testimony about these things is pure unadulterated guesswork?" In a lot of ways, at this point in the history psychology, it was. This clouded information, according to the author, served only to mislead the jury into thinking that the information was internally consistent scientific knowledge. I admit the hostility toward psychologists made it difficult to get through this chapter without getting frustrated, but it does raise good points about how things should go in the courtroom. The expert witnesses should serve to give the jury as accurate a picture as possible of a crime, not to present differing opinions on things they are not sure about. Sometimes it is best to simply admit to not knowing something.

So, to my first question: knowing what we know now, is it reasonable to believe that the drugs had an effect on Tex Watson's brain when he and the rest of Manson's cohorts committed the murders in Lost Angeles? Most of the drug use in this group was in the hallucinogen family--LSD and the like. These drugs exert their effect mostly on perception, causing distortions that we typically call "trips." Trips can last anywhere from a few minutes to a few days, depending on the drug and the environment. They can also vary based on a person's mood; if a person is less than relaxed and calm the trip can be a negative, dangerous experience. LSD is also considered a not-very-dangerous drug, although it is a Schedule I drug in the US (meaning that is illegal to make, take, or distribute). This is probably due to cases like the Manson case, where use of hallucinogens obviously had serious consequences, more than the fact that the drug itself is dangerous. Hallucinogens are not known to be addictive or to have long-term effects, which means that Tex Watson--if he was not actually high when he committed the murders--had full conscious awareness of his crimes.

One thing that all the psychologists agreed on was that Watson had a "weak, passive personality."Whether or not he was psychotic, his mind was the kind that Manson attracted. He had basic human desires to be accepted and to experience pleasure, but he found it hard to assert himself and pursue those goals independently. It was easier to follow someone else, let him do the work and reap the rewards of a high-class California lifestyle. In doing so, however, Watson compromised his value system. To me this is the most terrifying part of the story. We as a society like to do things the easy way--to get the reward, not to earn it. What ethics and values do we compromise to cut corners in the pursuit of getting stuff? This story for me was a reminder of where my focus should lie. I really like Hays' idea in his chapter on Revelation that we shoud "look defiantly to the future, when all things will be subjected to the authority of God." As Christians we are called to reject the seduction of the world, keeping our focus on the ultimate goal. A goal that does not leave room for cutting corners.

Sorry this one was a little all over the place, but the implications about consumerism stood out to me more than the ethical questions about NGRI this time around. See you all next week!

Kelsey

Leonard Smith: The Odds are Stacked

Author bias may have clouded this week’s chapter, but the facts are there and the ethical and emotional issues are certainly available for discussion. This is the story of Leonard Smith, a man who just couldn’t seem to catch a break. His difficult early life, his rocky relationship, and his constant job fluctuation make him a poster child for the idea that life just isn’t fair. The author points out that his life can serve to explain why he murdered Lyman Bystock, a successful baseball star, but he raises the question: does it excuse such conduct? The juries in both of his trials (a second was required due to a hung jury) thought so. He received a not guilty by reason of insanity charge and walked out of jail following seven months of psychiatric treatment and evaluation. The author has little to no tolerance for this story and this idea: … “there is no principle of criminal law or American jurisprudence that suggests that culpability for crimes is to be measured by the hardness of the violator’s life.” I’m sure many (probably all) of you can agree with this at face value. So what was it about Leonard that made it possible for a jury and several psychiatrists to ignore this idea?

Lenoard’s early life was marked by a rocky family life. His biological father had left when he was three and he realized early on that four of his five brothers and sisters had different last names. This inability to make a lasting bond with his dad wracked his entire life; as you will see, much of his life was spent trying to maintain the perfect family and father image. As Leonard grew older, he watched even more marriages fall apart. Both his sisters’ husbands left them and both his sisters either attempted or successfully committed suicide. After such a tragedy, Leonard realized how necessary it is to keep trying; both of his sisters had stopped trying to early and life and swallowed them whole. Leonard desperately wanted his life to be a success, but it is easy to see how vulnerable his family history and genetic code may have left him.

To some degree, Leonard was able to achieve his goals. He graduated from high school and went to work with a local railroad company, with his eyes set on becoming a train engineer. During this time he met Barbara Smith, a young woman (18 years to Leonard’s 23) who had given birth the previous year. Soon the two moved in together and Leonard began looking forward to a life with a pretty girlfriend, a good job, and a baby to whom he could he the father he never had. He knew (or thought he knew) what a good family structure ought to look like and he was determined to make his own that way. That was where his relationship troubles started…and continued for a number of years. He and Barbara frequently diverged on expectations and violent arguments became a frequent reality in their relationship.

Leonard’s job life fell apart soon as well. He did eventually get his dream job as an engineer but his long commute and tardiness got him fired. He tried several other jobs that all similarly seemed to end in failure. This was not for lack of trying; Leonard had a high school degree and completed a federal job training program in hopes of getting on the right path. In the midst of all this, he and Barbara broke up and he fathered an illegitimate child, who he never met. He and Barbara did eventually get back together, get married, and have a child together. Barbara even went back to school and learned to be a court reporter. None of this seemed to alleviate their rocky and violent relationship, however. Barbara eventually left again and made steps to file for divorce. At this point Leonard became withdrawn; the author describes that he “didn’t seem to want friends. He was obsessed with getting Barbara and the kids to return and with their being a family again.” He made several attempts to work things out and when it finally looked like the two might be a family again, Lyman Bystock arrived in his hometown of Gary, Indiana. Through mutual friends, Barbara and Lyman met that night and Leonard happened to see the two of them walking together on Johnson Street. This set him off and he killed Lyman that night.

Leonard’s first defense? He was unable to recall the shooting. He claimed that he remembered the sight of his wife and some man and then a blank. Yet this added to the list of reasons why an insanity defense could be viable for him in court, a list that included family history and Leonard’s obsession with maintaining a good home and family life. Dr. Hogle, the psychiatrist hired for the first trial, concluded that Leonoard was sane. The jury, however, couldn’t get past his stressful history and his past with Barbara and the trial ended in a hung jury. The psychiatrist hired in the next trial explained that Leonard was a schizophrenic personality and, if pushed too far, would not be able to control himself. This explanation helped give reason to the jury’s sympathy and, as stated earlier, Leonard was off with a NGRI verdict within a year.

So what constitutes a “schizophrenic personality?” Schizophrenia as a disorder can manifest itself in a variety of ways. There actually is not a discrete definition (which is excessively frustrating for psych majors like me who like their disorders categorical and easy to identify). Leonard certainly demonstrates some of the symptoms of this disorder: paranoia, withdrawal, delusions/obsessions, and (alleged) blackout. Additionally, we know that schizophrenic symptoms are quite heritable, and the actions of his sisters also suggest schizophrenia or at least depression. Finally, schizophrenic symptoms are brought on or worsened by stressful situations…and Leonard’s situation definitely provides an idea breeding ground for these symptoms. Yet for all of this evidence I still have a hard time believing that Leonard’s symptoms caused him to be out of control. Reading his story I noticed the symptoms, but they did not seem severe enough to impair his being a coherent man with power over his morals.

Now for the ethical situation at hand: is the difficulty of a life EVER grounds to dismiss a person’s actions? Leonard’s unlucky life led to a possible mental disorder and a definitely a constant feeling or instability. Yet he made a choice to kill Lyman Bystock. To me the jury’s mistake was in defining justice as a reward for a difficult life. After all, they might argue, doesn’t Jesus bless the meek and the mourners? Doesn’t Leonard deserve a break? I would say, first of all, that yes of course Jesus blesses these people. But he blessed the meek and the mourners because they choose to make the right choice in the face of adversity and they choose not to let a tragic situation get the better of them. Leonard did try but he unfortunately couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. Who knows where he—and Lyman—would be if he had made the choice to hold on a bit longer?

Presinjit Poddar: A Blame Game

The title of today's chapter is "Presenjit Poddar: A Kiss of Death" is a title that sounds straight out of a Mary Higgins Clark novel...and the story has about all the elements of one: unrequited love, an innocent young woman, and the crazed man who just wants to be with her. The trial that came out of this one is also a landmark in the history of psychology. Tarasoff v. Regents of the University of California, Berkley brought about the mandate that therapists have a "duty to protect" when it comes to individuals who are in danger of harming themselves or others. The question the end result of all this raises is one of responsibility, but we'll get to that later. First I will introduce you to this interesting cast of characters and allow you to make your own decisions about who was responsible for their tragic end.

Prosenjit Poddar was in love. An exceptionally bright--some would say genius-- exchange student from the lowest caste in India, his socioeconomic situation and dedication to his studies had left him little time to think of girls. That was until he met Tanya Tarasoff, a fellow student at the University of California, Berkley, at an international student dance on campus. Tanya was a flirtatious young woman of mixed heritage who took some interest in Poddar. Although she would dance and chat with him, even call him on the phone, she was in no way exclusively pursuing him. In fact, she danced and chatted with many other men at these dances. Poddar's interpretation of Tanya's signs, however, was that she cared especially for him. Despite his long-time friend Mistree's advice to let it go, he could not shake his attraction to her nor his questions of whether she felt the same. This is all fairly normal; let's face it, girls send more than their fair share of mixed messages and to an exchange student unfamiliar with American culture you can imagine this would cause a bit of anxiety and stress.

Soon, however, Poddar's puppy-love turned into an obsession. He began recording his and Tanya's conversations with microphones in his room and listening to them over and over, trying to clarify what they meant. This practice began to take up his every waking hour, even causing him to miss a few quarters of classes. In the end, Poddar acquired over 40 hours of conversation and still felt that he did not have a clear answer. Once he even proposed marriage to Tanya; her answer was still unclear to him and he began to feel a deep sense of rejection and disgrace. That was when he first confided to Mistree that he could kill Tanya. And that he could kill Mistree if Mistree told anyone. He confided similar threats to his co-workers, but they did not warn anyone or call the police. Eventually Mistree brought him to two psychotherapists--Dr. Gold and Dr. Moore--but Poddar was very distrustful of Dr. Moore and never told him the name of the girl he was threatening. Dr. Moore, however, was nervous enough to call the police. The police interviewed him in the presence of Tanya's brother Alex (who was his roommate at the time--yeah, this story is weird) and neither the police or Alex seemed to take the treats seriously.

You can probably see where this is going. Eventually Prosenjut Poddar stabbed Tanya Tarasoff to death in her home. The psychiatric testimony diagnosed him with paranoid schizophrenia, but Poddar actually did not receive a Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity charge. He was found guilty of second-degree murder (murder without premeditation). Eventually even this charge was dropped on the grounds that the jury did not have enough information about diminished capacity to make an informed decision Poddar did serve five years in prison, but he was eventually sent home with no crime on his criminal record. The companion case, Tarasoff v. Regents of the University of California involved Tanya's parents, who were suing the University for the psychiatrist's failure to warm them of the danger Tanya was in. Because Poddar had not been held legally responsible, the court decided that Dr. Gold and Dr. Moore should also not be held responsible for Tanya's death. Essentially, no one in this case was found guilty; no one failed in any duty that may have prevented Tanya's death.

So, who was at fault in this case: Poddar? The people who heard his threats but did not follow up on them? Tanya for leading him on? Was this crime actually preventable? An interesting question....one that I feel has no clear answer. I think one thing that can come out of this tragic story is our duty to our fellow man. I've been saying that we are called to "do justice and love mercy," and one way you can reinterpret this is as saying, "Look out for each other!" Take people seriously, be honest with them, go with your gut and report a concern as soon as you begin to feel uncomfortable. Working from this framework may not have prevented Tanya's murder, but those involved may have thought twice before allowing Poddar to make the choice. Yes, it was ultimately his choice, his crime, his fault (I believe)...but it could have been influenced by the right people looking out for him.

That's about all. I wish I could report a happier outcome to this case but that doesn't really seem possible. In any case, have a good week.

Kelsey

Dan White: Too Much Mercy?

Dan White was your everyday Irish-Catholic, strongly moralistic policeman-turned-public-figure. His goals in life usually involved contributing to the lives of others in some way. He served as a firefighter and received a medal for rescuing a woman and her child before being elected to a supervisor position on the San Francisco board. While the part-time supervisor job required him to give up his job as a fireman, Dan could see even more opportunities to do good. He was elected because most people saw him as a down-to-earth, honest guy who would take their voices seriously. The fact that this man found himself on trial for the murder of supervisor Harvey Milk (yes, the Milk from the Oscar-winning 2008 film) and Mayor George Marscone is a shock. Yet, as you will see, the fact that he was not charged for Capital Murder is even more shocking.

So how did this upstanding man become a murderer? Isn't that always the first question in these cases? Dan began to feel unsatisfied with his supervisor decision pretty quickly.He missed his firefighter job, he was attempting to run a business, and he was upset at the lack of time he had for his wife and newborn son. In November 1978 he suddenly, some would say impulsively, resigned. Less than two weeks later, peer pressure brought him back to Mayor Marscone's office, but this time to ask that his resignation be withdrawn. This was supposed to be an easy process--Marscone seemed eager to have Dan back on the job--but it instead incited a long, protest-filled ordeal that ultimately left Dan unable to come back. He felt betrayed by Marscone and worse off than ever. Not long after, Dan walked into City Hall with a loaded revolver and, calm as you please, murdered both Marscone and Milk in turn.

The mental illnesses that five psychotherapists diagnosed Dan with was "unipolar depressive reaction," "manic-depressive illness, depressive type," "episodes of depression," and "depression of a fairly severe degree." Honestly these diagnoses are all different ways of saying clinical depression. Depression is an episodic disorder, meaning that a sufferer is not depressed at all times but has certain "low points" that last for about two weeks. During these low points some common symptoms are periods of sleeplessness, loss of appetite, and depressed mood. The disorder, especially the manic-depressive one, is highly genetic and Dan attested that most of him family was accustomed to "moods." Yet my biggest problem with this diagnosis has nothing to do when it's right; while all people are very much able to do crazy, out-of-control things, it is unclear how depression would augment this possibility. Even so, the jury agreed with the psychologists and, possibly, found sympathy for Dan. He was sent to prison, but on voluntary manslaughter, the lowest sentence he could have gotten.

So what does this have to do with ethics? First of all, I encourage you all to read this case and judge for yourselves. While the verdict may seem completely unfair--I admit, it seems that way to me--only those who witnessed the trial know how it played out. These people are the only ones that can give us a firm opinion on the matter. But back to my thoughts: To me, this seems like a case where a sympathetic jury offered too much mercy to the defendant. Going back to God's commandment to "do justice and love mercy," I think it is possible to have one more than the other. One is usually easier than the other in different situations. When it came to Dan White, the jury seemed eager to find something, anything that could prove why this morally upstanding, friendly man could kill two officials. They wanted him to be treated mercifully from the get-go (again just my thoughts since I truly cannot know what was running through their minds). A lot of times it's the opposite; it is easier to pass justice onto a lonely, hardened criminal and let mercy go out the window.

I guess what I want you to take away this week is an awareness of times when you might be more inclined to mercy than justice or vice verse. In discussion board this week we kind of touched on this when we talked about getting rid of important people in our lives for God. There comes a point when we must find that balance between merciful and forgiving and just and tough with the people in our lives who need it. Have a good week :)

Kelsey

Introduction: Presenting the Disparity Between Psyc and Law

Dr. Winslade does not like to candy coat his opinions.

The introduction to "The Insanity Plea" is always impassioned, to the point of being hostile at some parts. He begins with a list of frequent complaints people have about the criminal justice system (courts are soft on crime; the rich can afford bett

er lawyers; corrupt police; etc.) then boils them all down to one major complaint: people go free. He goes on to discuss the problem of guilty people who plead insanity who go free. This is a problem, according to Dr. Winslade, because "we are trouble by the question of how to assign responsibility." The way the criminal justice system chooses to solve this problem in an insanity case is to refer to an expert, a psychiatrist. This is supposed to make us feel better...but does it actually give us a definitive knowledge about whether or not the criminal was in his right mind? He then talks awhile about our "ambiguous and ambivalent attitude about killing and about killers," which is a fascinating idea but a completely different ethical topic to discuss.

Dr. Winslade's hostility comes out especially when he starts talking about psychiatrists and psychology in general. Of course it's also possible that I'm seeing this words through the eyes of a passionate psychology major , so I'll let the readers decide on this one. He cites two specific problems. The first is "the assumption that psychiatry is based on a scientifically tested theory and body of knowledge..." I would argue that that assumption is actually a valid one; we have specific clinical interviews and techniques, as well as neurophysiological tests, that can help us diagnose patients with severe brain disorders. However, Winslade does make the point that psychiatric testimony is usually based only on a series of interviews, which does have the potential to skew the diagnosis based on what the client says. The second is that psychiatry and the law are "philosophically incompatible." Basically, the law assigns responsibility, but psychiatry asks "why did they do that?" which can make things messy and less reasonable. Dr. Winslade makes it very clear that psychology and law should not try to compete in the courtroom. The cases in the book serve to "show the law and psychiatry at their worst, struggling openly to resolve their disagreements."

We haven't even gotten to the moral side of this issue and we're already preparing for an all-out battle.

But now that we are talking about morals, let me comment on one interesting issue Dr. Winslade brings up. In trying to answer the question of why we are so fascinated by violent crime, he directs us to our society's moral aspirations. Basically, we are a society driven to be perfect while believing that we are in fact perfect. By holding up this pretense of perfection, we are forced to hide our darker impulses. We are intrigued and terrified by violent crime because, in some ways, it is an opportunity to see what it would be like if for one minute we let our pretenses fall and gave our negative emotions free reign. Now, is this assumption saying we should drop the "act" and let our violence out whenever it feels caged? Not at all! However, I think that we as Christians should let go of moral perfectionism. God interceded for our everyday downfalls; we don't have to hide them or make sacrifices because of them! This is the basis of the New Covenant at the end of the Old Testament: it is unconditional and takes into account the human dilemma of fallibility. I guess I would really encourage an awareness of this covenant as you go about your week. Maybe it's best to let those imperfections happen with the knowledge that we are still children of God.

Have a lovely week!

Kelsey

Do Justice AND Love Mercy?

In the book of James we are told do "do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with [our] God." I want this to be a key thought as we wander through the criminal justice system and try to make sense of an emotional and controversial claim: not guilty by reason of insanity (NGRI). The legal definition of this claim is: "plea in court of a person charged with a crime who admits the criminal act, but whose attorney claims he/she was so mentally disturbed at the time of the crime that he/she lacked the capacity to have intended to commit a crime" (from legal-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com). In these cases the question is not whether the defendant committed the crime--he/she is assumed guilty in these cases--but whether he or she has the mental capacity to assume responsibility for it. A forensic psychologist provides an expert opinion on the matter and a finding of insanity (by insanity we mean a debilitating mental disorder) will lead to a "not guilty" verdict. The defendant will either go free or--by discretion of the judge--be confined to a mental hospital until his or her mental state improves sufficiently.

"But wait!" You say, before flinging a slew of counterarguments to and problems with this plea. You're not alone. It is obviously difficult to deal with something that could potentially allow a murderer to walk free. Luckily for me, though, this makes it a fascinating and emotional ethical issue. I hope to offer perspectives from my views as a psychology major as a Christian. I love neuroscience and understanding what certain disorders actually do to the brain, so hopefully I'll be able to explain that as I go through the case studies in my book: The Insanity Plea, by Dr. William Winslade and Judith Ross.

As a Christian, I would like really quick to go back to the verse I introduced. I believe this plea is a case where justice and mercy are hopelessly at odds. One one hand we have people who have committed heinous acts and on the other we have people who are seriously sick and may never get better. How do we bring them to justice while remaining merciful and sensitive to their issues? I'm excited to explore this through case studies, psychological resources, and the Bible.

Happy reading!

Kelsey