by D. B. Carew
“Yeah, and homelessness. Many patients end up on the street because they can’t afford or find available housing. Not to mention the problems with addiction, and now with the fentanyl crisis, I often worry that someone I worked with will overdose. Then there are my patients who cycle through the hospital on a regular basis. They get discharged when they’re stable. But either they don’t have adequate services in the community or they don’t follow through with appointments and medication, so they get sick again. They commit another crime, get charged and incarcerated, and are admitted back with us. The cycle continues.”
“The criminalization of the mentally ill,” Nathaniel said.
“Yeah, it takes its toll.” Chris massaged his temples to ward off a looming headache.
“I can see the impact it has on you, just from watching you talk about it,” Nathaniel said.
“You’re not the only one. Deanna wanted me to leave my job and look for something less stressful when we were married but ...” Chris’ voice trailed off.
“Do you think your job had a negative impact on your marriage?”
“It didn’t help,” Chris quipped. “But no, I have to own my part with that.” He thought back to Deanna’s parting words. Chris, I think it would be best if Ann Marie and I moved out for a while. The words stung him as intensely now as they had nine months ago. In the end, it was Chris who moved out.
“How do you feel about that now?”
Chris paused briefly, subconsciously fidgeting with his left finger, as if twirling a phantom wedding ring. “The warning signs were there, but I didn’t see them, or didn’t want to see them. I remember Deanna saying I was spending too much time at work, that I was bringing it home with me, both literally and figuratively. She also said she felt distant from me, that we weren’t connecting in any meaningful way. It’s crazy when I look back on that now, but there was a part of me back then that actually thought it was more Deanna’s problem than mine. I thought she was looking too hard to find a problem.”
“What do you think the problem was?”
“Oh boy, where do I start?” Chris said glumly. “I guess if I’m being brutally honest, part of the problem goes back to what I was saying earlier about my mother’s murder. It’s taken a long time for me to realize that there’s a part of me that’s afraid to commit fully in a relationship out of fear that I’ll lose them.”
“The way you lost your mother?” Nathaniel said.
“Yeah.”
“That’s pretty insightful.”
“Better late than never, I suppose.”
“How are things between you and Deanna now?”
“We’re okay. After our separation, I made a commitment to be the best father possible to Ann Marie. As part of the agreement, we decided that Ann Marie would live with her mother, and I see her on Tuesdays and most Saturdays. It works out pretty well.”
“And you’re seeing someone now, Stephanie, is it?”
Chris nodded. “Yeah. We’ve actually known each other about ten years. When I first discovered I had feelings for Stephanie, she was seeing someone and ended up getting engaged. We kinda went our separate ways for a while after that. Her engagement broke off and by the time we reconnected a few years later, Deanna and I were married.”
“How are things between you two now?”
“Good. But sometimes I feel guilty, like maybe I don’t deserve to be happy. Pretty messed up, I know.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Relationships are complicated and require constant work by both partners to be successful. But I believe everyone deserves to be happy.”
Chris stayed silent.
“Speaking of relationships,” Nathaniel continued, “I’d like to touch back on Ray Owens.”
Just hearing Ray’s name made Chris feel sick to his stomach. “What do you want to know about Ray?” “Well, you’ve said previously he was admitted at your hospital on two occasions, correct?”
“Yeah. And both times, he was considered fit to stand trial and responsible for his charges, meaning he knew full well what he was doing when he committed his crimes. In fact, the second time, after what happened at Woodland Park, he actually got himself admitted at IFP just to be a shit disturber and harass me.” Chris saw Nathaniel’s look of surprise. “I’m not kidding. He told me as much himself. He faked hearing voices and thought he was too smart for the psychiatrist, but she saw right through him. We all did.”
“So what was the outcome of that admission?”
“Dr. Stevenson did the assessment and also asked Psychology to see him for psychopathy testing. We don’t normally request this type of testing because there isn’t a strong link between psychopathy and a severe and persistent mental illness. But she wanted to do one with Ray for the very fact that he didn’t exhibit symptoms of mental illness. Anyway, the testing confirmed what was suspected, that he had significant psychopathic traits.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for starters, Ray tested high for superficial charm and glibness as well as pathological lying. He was callous and highly manipulative—he lacks empathy. He exhibited poor behavioural control and refused to accept responsibility for his actions. He showed no remorse for the pain he caused others.” Chris took a deep breath. “He makes me so mad, especially when he attempts to make a mockery of the mental health and forensic system by trying to fake that he has a mental illness. He gives a bad name to those who struggle with genuine symptoms of mental illness, for those who do respond to medication and other forms of treatment.”
“So Ray is currently in custody waiting for his next court date?”
“Yep.”
“In your whole description of Ray, you left out what I would consider one of the most important aspects, that he’s your brother.”
“Half-brother. I’m not in denial, if that’s what you’re wondering. But it’s also something that obviously I’m not proud of, so I don’t make a point of announcing it to everyone.”
“Are you ashamed of your biological connection?”
“Yeah. I despise everything he stands for. But there’s nothing I can do about it, and he knows it, and he reminds me of it every chance he gets.” Chris felt his anxiety rising. He looked through the booklet Nathaniel had given him and tried a breathing exercise, counting back from ten to one. The anxiety slowly began to subside.
“That’s very good, Chris. I’m impressed.”
“Thanks. I’ll check these exercises out.”
“Please do, and let me know what you think.”
Nathaniel looked at the clock on his wall. “I’d suggest we stop here for today. How does that sound?”
“Sure,” Chris said. He suddenly felt mentally drained.
Nathaniel seemed to pick up on this feeling. “We covered a lot of ground this afternoon. It would be natural to feel tired, overwhelmed even. But it won’t last.”
Chris got up and headed for the door. “Hope so. I look forward to the day when Ray is a distant memory.”
As he exited the building, Chris texted Stephanie, “Survived it,” and added a smiley face emoji.
SEVEN
Chris headed to his apartment in Burnaby, located about fifteen kilometres from Stephanie’s condo. Stephanie was hosting a dinner for her mother, so Chris resigned himself to being alone for the evening. He’d left it up to her to decide when the time was right to introduce him to each of her divorced parents, and evidently tonight was not the night.
He had his own share of family drama. An argument with his father three months earlier had ended with Chris declaring that the next time he would see the old man would be at his funeral. So it was a pretty safe bet that he wouldn’t be introducing Stephanie to his father any time soon, let alone inviting him over for supper.
On the other hand, he would have given the world for a chance to introduce Stephanie to his mother. In his heart, he knew his mother and Stephanie would have liked each other.
He surveyed his sparsely decorated living room and was reminded that Stephanie’
s entry into his life brought with it hope for a new beginning. He smiled as he recalled her suggestions for livening up the apartment, starting by adding colour to contrast the boring eggshell walls and equally unimaginative beige carpet. Lately, she’d also hinted at larger plans, plans involving them getting a place of their own. She’d shared her vision for their future and wanted to hear his. But Chris’ vision for the future was clouded by uncertainty. He wasn’t sure if it was fear of commitment or something else that held him back, but it was uncertainty that kept him up at night.
A phone call interrupted his gloomy thoughts. “Daddy! What are we doing tomorrow?”
“Hi, Sweetie!” Hearing the excitement in his daughter’s voice instantly elevated Chris’ mood. “I was thinking that we could pick out a movie to watch back here, and maybewe could go to the Vancouver Aquarium with Stephanie on Saturday. Would you like that?”
“Yes! Can we go to Wilbur’s, too?”
Chris thought for a moment. Wilbur’s restaurant had been a date-night destination for him and Deanna before Ann Marie was born, and afterwards it had become part of their weekend tradition as a family. It somehow felt wrong to take Stephanie there with his daughter, at least at this point, so he opted for an alternative. “How about the White Spot on the way to the aquarium? They’ve got great milkshakes.”
“Yay! I can’t wait!” his daughter squealed. “Mommy wants to talk to you now. Love you, Daddy.” She was gone before Chris had a chance to say I love you back, and he could hear her sharing the news of their outing with her mother.
Deanna came on the line. “So you’re taking our little angel to the aquarium on the weekend.”
“Yeah, and I ... was thinking Stephanie would join us, if that’s okay with you.”
After what Chris felt was an endless pause, Deanna responded. “Yeah ... yeah, it’s okay. Walter has joined us many times. Uh, I don’t mean many times, but the three of us have gone to movies and the beach together. Uh, gosh, this is bit awkward, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, Dee. I can come up with something else.”
“No, no. It’s fine. When will you be picking Ann Marie up tomorrow?”
“Is six o’clock okay?”
“Sounds great. We’ll see you then.”
“Thanks, Dee.” After he hung up, it struck him that Deanna had sounded a little subdued, and he wondered whether he’d caught her off guard about Stephanie. Still, ever since he’d brought their relationship out into the open with Deanna, he’d felt a huge weight lift off his shoulder.
He reached for his iPod and soon the Tragically Hip was resounding through his apartment.
EIGHT
Chris awoke the next morning feeling poorly rested and out of sorts. His sleep had been disturbed by another bad dream, but he considered himself lucky because he couldn’t remember what this one had been about, unlike the usual nightmares full of rotting corpses that were imprinted into his memory. He figured these nightmares, all stemming from his ordeal in Woodland Park, would likely be a focus in his sessions with Nathaniel.
Opening his door to grab the morning paper, he did a double take when he read the headline Exclusive: Interview with Ray Owens. He knew the Tribune’s Lucy Chen was working on a series of stories about the murders at Woodland Park. She’d approached him several times for an interview about his discovery of the body of James Carrier as well as his rescue of Carrier’s daughter, Elizabeth. What she was really after, Chris figured, was some juicy tidbits on his fateful encounters with Ray.
Ordered by his director not to talk to anyone in the media, however, he had turned down all of Lucy’s requests. That hadn’t stopped her from running an earlier story featuring him under the headline Reluctant Hero of Woodland Park. She’d done her research, he had to admit, and had managed to dig up information about the murder of his mother when he was a young boy.
Now, still reeling from the fallout of that story, including the unhappy memories it had stirred up, he was staring in disbelief at Ray’s name on the front page. As repulsed as Chris was with the idea, he couldn’t resist reading the article.
Lucy prefaced the piece by outlining her repeated attempts to get permission to interview Ray. Administration officials at the West Coast Correctional Centre had finally agreed to permit the interview, provided she adhered to their strict guidelines, including their insistence that she follow a pre-approved list of topics covered in a question-and-answer format.
The article opened with a description of the interview room at the correctional centre, then described Ray as “malodorous, with yellow-stained teeth, greasy-looking skin, and unkempt thinning grey hair.” He wore an orange correctional jumpsuit, and he was supervised by two burly male guards.
LC: Mr. Owens, your current charges include two counts of murder in connection with the deaths of James Carrier and Dale Goode. You’ve also been charged with the attempted murder of Chris Ryder. Have you —
RO: Actually, Lucy, you’ve got that wrong. The Ryder charge is completely bogus. There was no attempt at murdering him. What happened there was nothing more than simple assault. And as far as the other charges go, I intend to show that I can’t be held responsible for what allegedly happened. I wasn’t in my right mind. But I’m not gonna talk any more about that ’cause this is still before the court, and I have nothing but respect for the court, even though they have a clear bias against me.
LC: Why did you agree to be interviewed?
RO: I’m glad you asked that, Lucy. Unlike Chris Ryder, who thinks he’s too good to talk to common folk like you and me, I believe in giving the people what they want. Let’s face it, you do, too, which is why you’re here. People want to hear what I have to say ’cause they know I’m gonna give it to them straight up.
LC: What kind of message do you want to convey?
RO: That I’m not the monster I’ve been made out to be.
LC: Can you elaborate on what you mean?
RO: I’d love to. I know it’s popular right now to think that I’m a bad person and I’ve “allegedly” done bad things. But I’m not bad at all. I’m just a guy who happens to hear voices telling me to do bad things. I reached out for help but it was never there for me.
LC: Are you suggesting you’re a victim?
RO: Exactly! I’m a victim! I read an article the other day in your fine paper about the dismal state of social services for young children in care. When I reflect on my life, I realize I too am the victim of a broken social services system. I was taken as a young, defenceless child and thrown to the wolves. Dumped in foster homes where I was abused and victimized, time and time again. Did I give up? Hell, no! I picked myself up and got on with life. Now I hear these terrible voices that tell me to do horrible things. Have I given up? Hell, no! I’m a survivor.
LC: There are people who think you’re a dangerous man. Some experts have gone so far as to say that you should remain in prison for the maximum amount of time. How would you respond to these statements?
RO: Like the so-called experts who put me in foster care to be abused and victimized? Let me tell you something. There are kids today being beaten and bullied at the hands of foster families and incompetent government officials that have no business being near children. Those kids today are going to be tomorrow’s criminals if nothing’s done to fix that broken system. Are those the “experts” you’re talking about? And what about the “experts” at IFP who say I don’t hear voices. What do they know? Look how I’ve been treated my whole life. They’re the ones who should be on trial, not me. Experts? What a joke!
LC: We’re down to our final question. What would you say to your victims and their families if they were here right now?
RO: I’m disappointed in you, Lucy, ’cause you twist things around so I come across looking like the bad guy. Listen, I’ve had some crappy things happen to me, but I’ve dealt with ’em and always landed on my feet. But since you’re so interested in families, maybe you should ask my brother, Ryder, how he feels.
&n
bsp; LC: Ryder? Chris Ryder? Are you saying Chris Ryder is your brother?
RO: That’s right!
LC: How?
RO: Ha! Your investigative journalist skills aren’t as sharp as you thought, are they? I’m willing to bet there’s a lot you don’t know about Ryder.
LC: What can you tell me about you and Chris Ryder being brothers?
RO: Well, I can tell you my father knocked up some woman who turned out to be Ryder’s mother. For some reason, my old man stuck with Ryder’s mother and ditched me, even though I was born first! The way I see it, Ryder’s the one who should have been abandoned, not me.
LC: Did you ever meet your mother?
RO: Never got the pleasure. I got thrown to the wolves of the Ministry while Ryder got a silver spoon.
LC: How long have you and Mr. Ryder known this?
RO: Our time is up for today, Lucy. You’ll have to ask my dear brother that yourself. And if you’re talking to him, tell him I said hi.
Chris stared blankly into space, dumbfounded at what he’d just read. The Tribune slipped out of his hands and fell to the floor in a mess of scattered sheets.
His shock eventually gave way to anger. He was angry with Lucy for interviewing Ray and giving him an audience to fulfill his narcissistic need for attention. He was angry with Ray for using every opportunity he could to harass him, while completely dismissing the pain and torment he had inflicted on so many people. But Chris was mostly angry for allowing himself to be manipulated by Ray’s games. He hated Ray, hated that they were half-brothers, and especially hated that now the whole world would know they were related.
When Ray first boasted three months earlier that they shared the same father, Chris had hoped against hope that it was nothing more than a taunt. But his father confirmed the fact, as well as the fact that Ray had been placed in Ministry care. Chris had then done research on Ray’s time with the Children’s Ministry. He knew that Ray had gone on to wreak havoc on his foster sister and foster mother, leading to his removal from the home and the start of a very long record of juvenile and adult criminal offences.