by D. B. Carew
But Chris also knew that he himself had fared only marginally better as a child. His father had also become indifferent towards him after his mother was murdered, and it was sheer luck that Chris had a maternal aunt who stepped forward to raise him from a young age. He had grown up with many unanswered questions about his mother and the circumstances surrounding her murder. Now he was left with one more question. Had his mother known about Ray?
But his biggest fear, now that he knew about his and Ray’s biological connection, was that he might share unhealthy personality traits with his half-brother. Was he really that different from him?
NINE
Chris arrived at his office to find a scribbled note from David Evans, his manager, attached to his computer monitor, informing him that an emergency meeting had been called for nine o’clock that morning. He scrambled to the conference room and grabbed one of the last remaining chairs. Scanning the room, he noticed that the assembled group included psychiatrists, nurses, social workers, psychologists, and family practitioners. None of his co-workers knew what the meeting was about, and the suspense hit its peak when Florence Threader, their director, made her entrance. At five feet eight inches tall and broomstick thin, she cut an imposing figure. The room fell silent.
“Thank you for making yourselves available on short notice,” Florence said, taking over the meeting.
Chris watched her scan the room, getting the distinct impression that she was searching for someone. And when her eyes met his, he had the uneasy feeling that this someone was him. He looked away.
“I wish I could say good morning to you all, but the fact of the matter is this isn’t a good morning.” She held a newspaper in her hand. “I trust you’ve all seen the story in today’s Tribune?” Heads nodded and bodies shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Florence continued. “The popular perception is that we’re releasing mentally disordered offenders into the community without considering the needs of their victims or accounting for the risks our patients may pose to the general public. While we know that’s not the case, recent events haven’t helped shake that fear.”
To emphasize her point, she held up a copy of the Tribune from the previous week with the headline Patient Missing from IFP. “As you know, Perry Matthews was reported missing when he failed to return on time from a day leave. He returned an hour later with the explanation that he’d missed his bus connection. But in that hour, all hell broke loose.”
Chris recalled the situation clearly. Florence was referring to the fact that part of the protocol for dealing with unauthorized absences involved IFP staff informing the local RCMP detachment of a missing person. In Perry’s case, the RCMP broadcast his absence on their Twitter feed along with an unflattering photo of the man; a short while later, the Tribune was reporting the incident on its website. Florence was livid.
“There’s not a week goes by without IFP being in the news for one reason or another,” she went on in a strained voice. “And now with a provincial election on the horizon, it’s become standard procedure for politicians of every stripe to proclaim their ‘tough on crime’ stance, with our patients paying the price for getting lumped into that category. I had an unpleasant call this morning from the Minister of Health about this particular incident, asking questions about our process for allowing patients access to the community. As you all know, we rely on the Ministry of Health for funding, so upsetting the Minister generally doesn’t help our cause.”
She sighed and pointed to that morning’s Tribune. “Today’s article on Ray Owens will only add fuel to the fire, and no doubt there’ll be a firestorm of misconceptions that all of our patients are dangerous like him.”
She loosened her grip on the paper and placed it on the table. “That being said, we can’t be blind to public perception, and we can’t lose their confidence in the work we do. As a result, I’ve ordered a review of our community access process. And until that review has been completed, I’m placing patient leaves on hold. The only exception will be patients attending community programs with our staff. I know this is going to affect a lot of people you’re working with, and you’ll be fielding concerned calls from patients and their families. I’ve asked David to lend support to you in that regard. And our communications department has prepared an FAQ for easy reference. Don’t think of it as a script, but more of a guideline that I want you to follow. Any questions?”
No one spoke up. Everyone was either too surprised or too intimidated to question the director.
“No? Good. Have a nice day.”
Chris did have questions he wanted to ask. Instead of cancelling day leaves, why not hold a press conference to explain the robust process for determining a patient’s access to the community, including the fact that community access privileges were granted on a gradual basis and only after careful consideration? Why not take a proactive approach and provide public education about mental illness and the forensic system? Why not talk about the positive stories of patients who’d made a successful move from hospital to community?
He was debating the merits of raising these questions when Florence approached him. “Can I speak with you for a minute?” He knew he had no choice in the matter.
“I understand you’re working with Dr. Stevenson on the Marvin Goodwin case.”
Chris nodded. He was about to say something but Florence beat him to it. “There’s a prime example of what I was talking about. There’s a lot of anger right now toward that young man, someone we at IFP see as obviously mentally compromised. The media are all over this case. The Tribune tried to get information from Marilyn, and she wisely informed me about it. Have they tried speaking with you?”
“No. I—”
“Do not speak with anyone. It’s not my style to micromanage, so I won’t do that here. I actually wanted Gerald assigned to this case, but David suggested otherwise. As long as you’re working it, don’t speak with the media. Don’t talk to anyone about this case. And that goes especially for Lucy Chen. I don’t want you talking with her about Ray Owens either. Is that understood?”
“I understand.”
“Good. I’m anticipating the assessment of Mr. Goodwin will be done soon and he can be discharged from IFP back to Surrey Pre-trial without any complications.” She paused and gave Chris a perturbed look. “Why is it that I continue to learn more and more about you and your personal life through the Tribune? Your family connection to Ray, for instance. Why didn’t you disclose that with me when he was admitted here?”
“I only found out recently myself and ... uh ... I am still coming to terms with it.”
“Are there any more revelations you are ‘still coming to terms with’ that I should be aware of?”
Chris shook his head.
“Good. We can do without any more distractions, can’t we?” With that, she marched out of the room.
Watching his director file away reminded Chris of a tornado, touching down and causing chaos before storming off in another direction to lay waste. He hoped he was right and he didn’t have any more surprises for his director—or for himself. He didn’t think he’d fare well in another dust-up with Florence.
TEN
Back in his office, Chris dialled the number for Marvin’s brother, but the call went unanswered. He was preparing to go to Alpha Unit when Gerald Reed appeared at his door. Chris had mentored his younger colleague when Gerald first joined the social work department, and Gerald in turn had supported Chris when he was recovering from his experience at Woodland Park. The two occasionally got together outside of work for hikes at Cypress Provincial Park or kayaking in North Vancouver’s Deep Cove.
“I saw Threader the Shredder talking with you after the meeting. Everything okay with you?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “She said she tried getting you assigned to Marvin’s case. Did you know that?”
“David mentioned it. He told her that you and Marilyn work well as a team. He’s getting pretty good at countering her moves. It’s good to see. Speaking
of which —” Gerald was smiling widely now “— how’s it going with you and Stephanie?”
“We’re good,” Chris responded coyly.
“How good? Like ‘friends with benefits’ good or ‘this is getting serious’ good?”
“I’d say we’re ...” Chris realized he hadn’t talked openly about his feelings for Stephanie with anyone other than his counsellor. “Things are really good.”
“I’ll bet they are,” Gerald laughed. “She’s got this Jennifer Lawrence thing going on.”
Chris shook his head. “She’s got a Stephanie Rowe thing going.”
“Wow. You really are smitten.” Gerald picked up on his friend’s awkwardness and laughed. “Don’t mind me. I know how gutted you felt when your marriage ended. It’s good to see you happy, that’s all.” His tone turned serious. “How’re you feeling about the Owens interview? I know you didn’t want your family connection to him out there for everyone to know.”
Chris shrugged. “Not much I can do about it, is there?”
“He sure managed to get people riled up.”
“Just what he wanted, an audience.”
“I heard the lines lit up at the CBC, some taking Owens to task for his bullshit interview of manipulation, while others actually believe he’s got a point and is a victim of ‘the system,’ if you can believe that. Even the Children’s Ministry waded into the debate. Did you hear their statement?”
Chris shook his head. “What’d I miss?”
“They’re in full damage control mode over what Owens said about the foster care program. They said they’re proud of the program, and they threw out a bunch of numbers to back up their claims of the success they’ve had with kids in their care. Owens hit a nerve, even though he was talking out his ass.”
Chris felt a headache coming on and tried to remember whether he had any ibuprofen left in his office.
“Oh, and that reporter, Chen, from the Tribune? She’s been talking about her experience with Ray, about how she was ‘creeped out’ by her interview with him. She’s tweeted so much about it, she’s actually trending right now. It’s a freaking gong show.”
“Bloody hell! That’s exactly the kind of reaction he was going for. He knew he’d ruffle feathers. Now he’s sitting back laughing at the shitstorm he’s created.”
“Do you think there’s any truth to what he said?”
“That’s the thing about Ray. He’s not stupid. He zeroes in on a vulnerable situation so he can capitalize on it. I’m sure he saw the news coverage on the child welfare system, the complaints about underfunding and understaffing. He took advantage, and you can bet it wasn’t because he wanted to improve the situation. He grabbed an opportunity to stir the pot and see what would happen. Damn it!”
Chris’ head was throbbing now and he badly wanted a drink. His alcohol consumption had increased substantially since his attack by Ray in Woodland Park. He was well aware, however, that when he drank anything stronger than beer, he could never stop at one.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”
“It’s not your fault, Gerald. That’s what he does. I’d better get used to it because he sure as hell isn’t going to stop anytime soon.”
“How are you doing?”
Chris shrugged. “Days like this make it hard to forget about him. It’s damn near impossible to do it!”
“Is it true you’re seeing a counsellor?”
The question caught Chris by surprise, and he could feel his cheeks beginning to flush. He wasn’t over-the-moon excited about having to see Nathaniel in the first place. He was even less thrilled that others knew.
“Hey, I think it’s good,” Gerald backpedalled. “You can always talk to me, too, if you want.”
Chris nodded. “I know, and I appreciate it.” He looked at his watch. “I guess I should be going.”
Chris approached Alex at the Alpha Unit nursing station to get an update on Marvin.
“There’s not much to tell you. He keeps to himself and doesn’t say a word to anyone.”
Chris told him about the call he had received from Marvin’s brother. “Has anyone called the unit about him?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but we did get a fax from a doctor’s office.”
“Anything interesting?”
“There’re a few reports. One said he was identified as having language problems as an infant and was referred to a child psychologist. That’s all I’ve read so far. It’s filed in his chart.”
“Thanks. I’ll take a look.”
Chris flipped through Marvin’s chart until he found a report with Dr. William Bond, Family Physician on the letterhead. Chris skimmed the contents. It was a consultation letter from April 2003 in which Bond requested a psychological assessment on Marvin. It stated that Marvin had been noted as a toddler to be developmentally delayed, with difficulty speaking and interacting with others, challenges that were formally identified in his kindergarten year. The report stressed the need for a speech/language therapist. Another report, this one from 2005, highlighted Marvin’s functional deficits and his designation as a child with special needs. It, too, included a request for specialized educational services, such as one-to-one special assistants and a modified school program.
Chris looked for information about Marvin’s family. He was rewarded for his efforts with a letter from 2012 from Dr. Bond to the Ministry of Child and Family Development in which Bond highlighted the need for specialized support for Marvin at home. The letter referred to Marvin’s diagnoses of mental retardation and autism, and emphasized the fact that Marvin’s mother, Eleanor Goodwin, was the primary caregiver and experiencing caregiver burnout. “Ms. Goodwin’s efforts in providing care for her son have been nothing less than heroic, choosing to care for her son in her family home rather than placing Marvin in a group home. But in light of her own recent medical difficulties, a bulk of this responsibility has fallen to Marvin’s brother who appears ill-equipped to meet this challenge. I implore you to consider providing respite support for the Goodwin family as well as a life-skills worker to assist Marvin with his Activities of Daily Living.” According to the fax cover letter, this was the last known record for Marvin at Dr. Bond’s office.
Chris was left with more questions. What had happened to Marvin between 2012 and now? Had he had any support or had he fallen through the cracks? What were his mother’s medical problems? Was she still alive? And where was his father through all of this? Chris made a mental note to contact Dr. Bond’s office with the hope of finding some answers. But for now, he’d try his luck with Marvin.
“Okay if I see Marvin in the interview room?” he asked Alex, handing back the chart.
“The room’s free. Do you need anyone to join you?”
“No, I should be fine.”
Chris walked to the interview room. Alex showed up a few minutes later with Marvin, who looked groggy.
“Did I wake you?” Marvin gave no response apart from rubbing his eyes.
“Do you remember me? I’m your social worker, Chris.”
“Social worker, Chris.”
“Yes. I just wanted to let you know your brother called me. Michael says hi.” Marvin made brief eye contact.
Chris decided to return to the tactic that had worked before. “Can you write down your address?” he asked, handing Marvin a piece of paper and a pen.
Marvin scribbled something on the paper and passed it back to Chris. “Home,” he said.
Chris read what looked to be a house number and street address. “Is this your home?”
“Home,” Marvin repeated.
“That’s good, Marvin. Does Michael live there with you?” No response. “How about anyone else?” Still nothing. “Is there anything else you want to write down for me?”
The young man pulled the paper to him and wrote some more before handing it back to Chris. It was another address. “Is this where your brother lives?”
“No! Home!” Marvin shouted. Chris co
uldn’t tell if he was agitated or frightened. Either way, it was clear that he was done with questions. He looked away from Chris toward the door.
“Okay, I’ll come back tomorrow. I’ll walk you back to your room.”
“Room.” Marvin made brief eye contact with Chris before walking with him back to the nursing station to be escorted to his room.
Chris wasn’t sure what had set Marvin off, but it seemed to have something to do with the second address. Why? Nonetheless, he took it as an encouraging sign that Marvin had shared more information with him. He was curious to find out what that information meant.
He had some time before the afternoon shift change for nurses and healthcare workers. He headed to Beta Unit to follow up on a call he’d received earlier from staff about another patient, Paul Butler. Paul had been admitted to IFP from Courtenay four months earlier. Back then he heard voices in his head and was convinced his computer was sending him disturbing messages. His mother couldn’t get him admitted to her local hospital because he wasn’t considered a risk to himself or others—that is, until he threw his computer out the window and threatened his mother. That was when Paul was admitted to IFP for a court-ordered assessment.
Dr. Stevenson had completed the assessment, with Chris helping by collecting information from Paul’s mother. Courtenay Provincial Court found Paul not criminally responsible on account of a mental disorder, and he was now actively involved with treatment for his schizophrenia. Paul’s treatment included taking daily medication, which helped take away the voices he’d been hearing as well as his bizarre thoughts about his computer. He also participated in psychosocial programs to learn more about his illness and steps toward maintaining wellness. In addition, Paul was attending vocational programs.
Chris entered the unit and said hi to one of his patients sitting in the dining room playing cards with his primary nurse. He saw Paul talking on the patients’ phone. When Paul saw Chris, he looked excited and finished his call. “I was talking to my mother,” he said as he approached Chris. Paul was dressed neatly in blue jeans and a black Nirvana T-shirt.