Cold Case 8-14: Abnormal Psychology

[valrush]

COLD CASE: ABNORMAL PSYCHOLOGY

A former employee at a psychiatric hospital comes to the cold case unit with questions about a suspicious death from 1973.

PREVIOUSLY ON COLD CASE

Scotty heard a knock at the door to his apartment. He opened the door and found Lilly on the other side. “Lilly. Well, if this isn’t the definition of déjà vu. Only this time my nuts aren’t in a sling.”

“Are you sure about that? Do you really think Mr. Reese will back off?” asked Lilly.

“He has no need for me now. I did him a favor; I got his brother out of prison. It’s done,” insisted Scotty.

“I wish I had your confidence,” Lilly responded.

“Why would he go back on me now? I gave him what he wanted,” Scotty replied.

“Did you? You don’t know what this guard wants! How do you know he won’t call in another favor? How do you know he won’t sell the information to another guard? How do you know he won’t just turn you in for kicks? I can’t even imagine what the DA might be thinking!” Lilly shouted.

“Well, I’ll deal with that when it happens!” insisted Scotty.

“You can’t possibly be this naïve! This guy owns you, Scotty! He owns us now!” Lilly informed.

“I told you that I would do my best to keep the fallout in your direction to a minimum!” Scotty responded.

“What if you can’t?” asked Lilly.

“I didn’t ask for your help with this, Lilly! You came to my place and volunteered!” insisted Scotty.

Lilly through her hands in the air. “Whatever. I didn’t come here to argue.”

“Then why did you come here?” Scotty asked.

“Well, we’ve been through hell these past few weeks. I wanted to see how you were now that the crisis has been averted,” Lilly explained.

“Is that really all?” asked Scotty. Lilly closed the door behind her as she moved toward Scotty and kissed him. “Okay … again really?”

“Well, you did say it was déjà vu all over again,” insisted Lilly as they kissed again.

[valrush]

1

The following story is fictional and
does not depict any actual person or event

Elton John: “Crocodile Rock”

 
May 19, 1973

Arthur Litman was a red-haired man in a plaid shirt and blue jeans. He sat behind the wheel of a blue Chevrolet Vega as his wife Charlene, a heavier woman with short blonde curls and wearing a yellow dress, sat beside him struggling with a roadmap of Upper Darby, PA. Her hand reached out from under the map to turn down the volume of the Elton John song playing on the radio.

“Charlene, we’re almost there. Let him listen to his music!” insisted Arthur regarding their sixteen-year-old son Shawn, a deep blonde-haired boy in jeans and a red and white striped shirt, seated on the brown back seat.

“Stop coddling him! That singer is a bad influence. All you have to do is look at him to know he’s not right either!” Charlene replied.

“You don’t have to do this, mom,” Shawn spoke up suddenly. “I won’t do it again, I swear. I can change.”

“I want to believe you, Shawn! But that last little stunt of yours didn’t leave us much choice! Do you really think that was how I wanted to spend my holiday?” asked Charlene.

“I think this is the place,” Arthur intervened. Arthur turned the car into a parking lot surrounded by thick green hedges in front of a four-story, red, brick building with a white sign in the front with the words ‘BRYCEMAN-STYLES INSTITUTE’ written in heavy black letters. “Well, this doesn’t exactly look like something out of a horror film.”

Charlene exited the car and retrieved a bag out of the trunk. Arthur returned the music to the radio as Shawn started reluctantly to leave the car.

A dark-haired man with glasses in a white suit greeted Charlene and Shawn at the glass doors as they entered. Shawn turned pale at the sight of him. “Charlene Litman. We’re here to see Dr. Bryceman.”

“I’m Dr. Bryceman; I believe we spoke over the phone. This must be Shawn,” said the doctor as he extended a hand. Shawn said nothing as he shook with a combination of anger and fear.

Charlene pulled the doctor aside. “Please tell me you can extract this evil from my son. I don’t know what else to do; I feel like such a failure.”

“You are concerned for your son, Mrs. Litman; that tells me that you are not a failure. But your son isn’t ‘evil’. He’s sick. I understand that there is a certain stigma associated with mental health facilities, but I genuinely believe that we can help. With the right combination of therapy and commitment to change from Shawn; I believe that he can be cured.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Charlene. She took Shawn by the arm and escorted him to the gray reception area where they checked him in.

Cold Case Soundtrack: “The Window”

The bloody body of Shawn Litman was found behind the Bryceman-Styles Institute near the rear hedges on top of shards of shattered glass.

[valrush]

It was already late morning by the time Lilly and Scotty arrived at the station and approached detective Nick Vera. “Don’t worry; you’re not the last ones here. The old man hasn’t even shown up yet.”

“Stillman’s late? When was the last time that happened?” Scotty asked.

“I couldn’t tell you. Meanwhile, I’m stuck behind this desk going blind on research,” Vera explained.

“I see that: ‘Bryceman-Styles Institute’. What is all of this?” asked Lilly as she glanced at Vera’s computer.

“It was a mental hospital just outside of the city back in the mid 1960s-early 1970s. Miller and the rookie are talking to someone who worked there. He came in saying he had questions about a kid who supposedly jumped from the third floor,” Vera explained. “So the choice is yours. You can either go blind with me or go deaf in the conference room.” Lilly and Scotty moved past the desk and headed for the glass doors of the conference room.

Kat Miller and Andrew Darius were seated across from a heavy, bald, Afro-American man dressed in blue. They jumped around when they heard the motion of the glass doors. “So you made it. Detectives Rush and Valens, meet Chet Lewis. He came in with questions about a suspicious death at a place where he used to work,” Miller informed.

“The Bryceman-Styles Institute, Vera showed us the research. What can we do for you Mr. Lewis?” asked Lilly.

“I used to work maintenance at that place. One early morning in late June, 1973 I got a call saying that they needed me to come to work early to help them replace a window. When I got there I saw a body being loaded onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. The paramedics said something about jumping and an obvious DOA,” Mr. Lewis explained.

“I don’t suppose you got a name,” asked Andrew.

Chet nodded. “Nobody gave me a name directly, but I heard these two orderlies talking later that day about this kid ‘Shawn’ and how he jumped the night before. I didn’t get a last name.”

“I’m somewhat familiar with the mental health system in this area; I’ve never heard of this place. Was it some kind of rehab clinic?” asked Scotty.

“You’ve never heard of the place because it was privately held and it closed later that year. But I guess you could call it that; only they didn’t treat addiction there,” insisted Mr. Lewis.

“What did they treat there?” asked Lilly.

Chet took a deep breath before speaking. “You have to understand it was 1973; they had different theories about how the mind worked back then.”

“What did they do?” asked Miller.

“Homosexuality, the place specialized in what they called ‘conversion therapy’,” Chet explained. Andrew’s head jerked upward. “My oldest daughter just came out to my wife and I recently; she brought her partner home to meet the family over her winter break from U-Mass. That’s what brought all this up for me again. I didn’t think about it back then, but something about the story I heard doesn’t add up. Why would a jumper jump through glass?”

Lilly took Scotty out of the room and into the adjacent hall. “He has a point. That doesn’t exactly link up with the ‘jumper’ profile. He could just as easily have been pushed.”

Scotty shook his head. “Or pushed to the limit. There are still groups that believe in conversion therapy now, and they’re not known for fooling around. Either way, my gut tells me this hospital wasn’t exactly clean.”

[valrush]

2

John Stillman joined the others down in file storage. “We don’t usually beat you here. What gives?” asked Lilly as the group approached him with a file.

John shook his head. “Tell me about it. My alarm picked this morning to crap out on me. I woke up to a call from Miller saying we had something on an old job, and by the time I left my place traffic was a nightmare. So what exactly do we have?”

“What we have are questions regarding this kid?” said Scotty showing John the file with Shawn’s picture clipped to the first page. “Shawn Litman: white male, sixteen years old and patient at the Bryceman-Styles psychiatric institute. The hospital claimed that his death was the result of a suicide attempt caused by jumping from a third-story window in the central common room on the night June 23, 1973.”

“It also lists his condition requiring psychiatric care as being ‘homosexuality’ just like Mr. Lewis said,” Lilly explained. “It also mentions a prior suicide attempt. Apparently Shawn was admitted to the ER at Jefferson Memorial on the night of May 12, 1973 after inhaling a full bottle of aspirin.”

“That’s probably why the cops didn’t question it back then,” insisted Stillman.

Andrew spoke up. “I’m still confused by this. You can put someone in the nuthouse for being gay?”

Stillman nodded. “For a long time that was viewed as a disease among other things. But the early 1970s were a time of major social changes. Alex Comfort’s ‘The Joy Of Sex’ was becoming a household read, Roe v Wade went before the supreme court, and mental health professionals across the country were trying to determine whether homosexuality was in fact curable. Then in December 1973 the APA voted to remove it from their Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of mental illnesses.”

“All the kid needed to do was make it six more months,” Miller said solemnly.

“I have a cousin who came out two years ago; he made the announcement at our 4th of July barbecue. My dad just turned to my uncle and said ‘I guess I owe you $10.’” Andrew added.

“I still say that if it was possible to change someone’s sexual desires, we would have stamped out pedophilia a long time ago. I still can’t believe that we still have the occasional crackpot out there who thinks gays can be changed,” Scotty added.

“But still, the police report notes the presence of numerous shards of double-insulated glass. That would take some force to break, and yet nothing seems out of place in this picture,” said Lilly regarding a picture of what would have been the third floor common area. Four heavy chairs appeared to be placed neatly around a coffee table.

“So either the kid had a running start or he was pushed,” Miller insisted. “And my instinct says he got into it with someone. The coroner’s report lists the presence of numerous burn marks on the body; someone tortured the hell out of this kid.”

“Gay bashing,” Stillman sighed.

“There’s nothing in the hospital records about him being burned,” Lilly informed.

“It could have been therapy. Remember that case from a few years ago about that tomboy girl who underwent electro-convulsive therapy,” Scotty insisted.

“But those burns would be at the sides of the skull. These are anywhere but: hands, chest, inner thighs,” Lilly explained.

“Either way, I think these doctors were covering something,” insisted Scotty.

“Good luck getting a shrink to break privilege,” Andrew added.

“The family might cooperate with us,” insisted Vera who entered with a file of his own. “I found records at the courthouse for Bryceman-Styles. It appears that a malpractice suit was filed against Dr. Robert Bryceman by Arthur and Charlene Litman in August of 1973. It looks like they fought the hospital until mid December when the place shut down.”

“Because they didn’t have a disease to treat anymore. Only one of the doctors was named in the suit; what about the other guy?” asked Lilly.

“Maybe he was there that night,” Miller added.

“Or maybe there was some parting of the ways between them. Lilly and Scotty, see if you can find the family; maybe they can tell us something about what happened there. The rest of us will be trying to find anything we can on this place,” insisted Stillman

[valrush]

Lilly and Scotty tracked the Litmans to their one-floor home on S Creek Rd. in West Chester. Arthur Litman stood in front of the yellow painted home watering a rose bush. He wore a multi-colored shirt and tan shorts. His hair was now completely white. Charlene Litman sat on a wicker bench on the front porch. She wore a blue dress with white spots and her hair had also gone completely white. “Are you Mr. and Mrs. Litman?” asked Scotty.

“That would be us. Who wants to know?” asked Arthur.

Lilly and Scotty showed their badges. “Detectives Rush and Valens, Philadelphia police. We’re here about a lawsuit you filed back in 1973 regarding your son Shawn and his time at a place called Bryceman-Styles.”

The aging couple froze simultaneously. It seemed like forever before Arthur spoke up. “He jumped from a third-story window because nobody tried to stop him. So we sued. End of story.”

“Maybe not. Someone just came forward who is questioning the hospital’s chain of events. It has us thinking that your son’s fall may not have been entirely self motivated,” insisted Lilly.

“We were just hoping you could tell us more about Shawn or the hospital,” Scotty explained.

Charlene stood up. “I’m going to put on some coffee.”

“Don’t even think about leaving me out here alone! You have no right to leave!” insisted Arthur.

“You didn’t corner the market on grief, Arthur! I lost him too!” Charlene replied.

“You were the one who said we had to send him to that place!” Arthur added.

“What choice did we have after what he did? What were we supposed to do, waif for him to swallow a second bottle of pills?” Charlene demanded.

“That’s in our files too,” insisted Scotty.

“I can’t imagine what the two of you went through, but we need to know the truth if someone hurt your son. There is evidence suggesting that your son was repeatedly attacked with something hot. Did you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Shawn? Maybe somebody who knew what he was,” asked Lilly.

Charlene took a long breath. “You mean gay. I doubt it. It might be commonplace to ‘come out’ these days, but we didn’t even know until that day…”

[valrush]

The Kinks: “Lola”


“I had just come home from a trip to the grocery store. I had walked through the front door onto the linoleum of the kitchen when I heard a voice come from the adjacent living room. ‘You’re very pretty.’

“We have a daughter too. She was a little older then Shawn and came home from school that weekend. I thought it would be her on the other side of that door. ‘Sharon, do we need to have another discussion about house rules?’ I threw open the door and dropped the bag of groceries I was still holding. A jar of pickles broke open on the floor. What I saw looked like Sharon kissing a boy, but it wasn’t her. It was Shawn in a long, black wig and his sister’s orange dress. ‘What the hell? … Barry!’

Barry jumped upward from the sofa where they were seated followed by Shawn. Barry was a brown-haired boy and he was dressed normally: jeans and a Phillies shirt. ‘Mrs. Litman!—‘

“’Mom!—‘

“’What is going on here, Shawn?’ I asked as Shawn ran up the stairs and locked himself in his room.”

[valrush]

“I tried talking to him later, but he wouldn’t speak. Then later that night I heard a noise from the upstairs bathroom. That’s when we found Shawn collapsed on the floor next to an empty bottle of aspirin. I spent Mother’s Day in a hospital waiting room while my son’s stomach got pumped,” Charlene explained. “I think I will make coffee now.” She slowly walked inside.

“So who exactly was this ‘Barry’?” asked Scotty.

“Barry Jordan, he and Shawn were on their high school baseball team together. They were friends … or partners? I don’t know what to call them after that,” Arthur informed. “Are you satisfied, detectives? Do you think you will bring Shawn back with what you’re doing?”

“No, but if someone hurt him, we can get justice for him,” insisted Lilly.

“What we went through when we lost Shawn breaks up most couples. We tried to make it work because we still had another kid, but it took us years to get back to a good place again,” Arthur insisted. “I understand that you have a job to do, but I don’t think my wife and I could survive having this dug up a second time.” He turned away and walked back to the house.

Lilly and Scotty walked back to their gray police car. Lilly stopped before getting in and tucked one of her business cards into the hinge of the flag holder on the Litman’s mailbox. “That’s a risky move; they might consider it harassment. They didn’t exactly sound open to digging this up again,” insisted Scotty.

“Or it leaves the lines of communication open in case they decide to talk later,” Lilly replied.

“Speaking of talking, I think we should,” Scotty spoke up.

“There wasn’t even the possibility of a gay athlete back then. This Barry was essentially outed because of Shawn; that would certainly give him motive,” insisted Lilly.

“Don’t play this game, Lilly. It’s happened twice now; I don’t think we can ignore this anymore,” Scotty added. “We’ve both dated cops before; it doesn’t usually end well. Added to that is the fact that you’re technically still seeing someone. How is Ryan anyway?”

Lilly sighed. “I don’t know.”

“You mean he doesn’t know,” Scotty responded.

“No, I mean I don’t know, because I can’t get in touch with him. Every contact I have for him keeps sending me to voice mail,” Lilly explained.

“Well, when you do finally reach him, what are you going to say? Are you going to break up with him? Are you going to tell him about us?” Scotty asked.

Lilly began to sweat. “I don’t know!”

“Well, you need to figure out what you want, Lilly! You keep coming to my place! You’ve obviously thought about us before! I’m just curious as to why you’ve chosen to act on it now?” asked Scotty.

“You haven’t exactly turned me away! Have you thought about us before?” asked Lilly. Scotty froze. “We have to report to the others and see if we can find anything on Barry Jordan.”

[valrush]

Stillman and Darius tracked Dr. Robert Bryceman to a tan office building on Frankford Ave. His hair was now completely white and he wore glasses now. The office had a Penn University diploma hanging on the right wall as they entered, but the room was otherwise devoid of frames. “We were business partners, me and fellow Dr. Vincent Styles. But if you’re asking about a former patient I’m afraid that confidentiality extends after death.”

“I understand that; I also understand that lawsuits are a matter of public record. Once the Litman’s sued it would be public knowledge why Shawn was a patient in your hospital,” insisted Stillman.

“There were two of you, and yet you were the only one named in the lawsuit. Why was that?” asked Andrew.

Robert sighed. “We alternated nights on call at the hospital back then. I just happened to be the therapist on call that night. I was in my office catching up on paperwork when I heard a commotion outside. I ran from my office and found the third-floor common room window completely shattered, and Shawn’s body on the ground below covered in blood. Nobody got there in time to stop him; I never realized how understaffed the place was until that night.”

“So you just assumed that he jumped through a window?” asked Stillman.

“I’m saying that I didn’t see anyone else in the area, so that’s how I wrote it up. Not that the lawsuit mattered once the APA declared our work invalid and shut us down,” Robert explained.

“You still sound disappointed by that,” Andrew responded.

“Well, I never got to fully examine my hypothesis that homosexuality can be changed,” insisted Robert.

“It sounds like this is something that you still believe in. You do realize that most of the medical profession wildly disagrees with you,” Andrew replied.

“And do you know why that is the case? Have you ever heard of the Stonewall Riots?” asked Robert.

John nodded as Andrew turned to him. “Gay bar in New York City that was the site of many police raids and later gay rights protests in the 1960s.”

“The gay rights movement was becoming more organized at that point. They put pressure on the APA to have homosexuality removed from the DSM. Even now if you look at their old documents, you’ll see that they even cited ‘changing cultural attitudes’ as one of the reasons for voting to remove homosexuality from the DSM.

“Politics cured homosexuality, not science. In the end I still maintain that it comes back to that old psychiatrist joke: ‘how many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb? Just one, provided the light bulb wants to change.’ If anything, Shawn seemed to embody a commitment to change…”

[valrush]

Stevie Wonder: “Superstition”


“Shawn sat across from the two of us in a brown, leather chair. The two of us sat in similar chairs and we were all separated by a red, metal desk. As I recall, Vincent had light brown hair and wore a gray suit and thin glasses. We had been sitting there for a while waiting for Shawn to speak. ’Shawn, this process doesn’t work if you don’t communicate with us. If you want to change, we can help you. But it has to be something that you are committed to. What is it that you want?’

“’Think hard about that, Shawn, because right now you are headed down a risky path. Your condition leads to serious issues down the road: sexual promiscuity, clinical anxiety, substance abuse,” I added.

“Shawn leaned back in his chair. ‘I guess … I want my life back. I want my baseball team back, I want my friends back, and I want my family to stop thinking of me as some kind of freak. I guess I just want to be normal—‘

“’You!’ Shawn turned around at the voice. A brown-haired boy rushed through the metal door.

“’Son, we are in the middle of a session,’ I responded.

“’Barry! What are you doing here?’ asked Shawn.

“’Like you don’t know! Your wonderful mother squealed on me to my family! Now I’m stuck in this nuthouse too!’ Barry shouted.

“Shawn just stared back at him before he finally spoke. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know!’

“’Stuff your apologies, Shawn! Do you think that is going to help me? I lost everything because of you! As far as I am concerned, I have nothing to lose now!’ insisted Barry. Then he charged out of the office.”

[valrush]

“We recommended splitting the two of them up to the families, but I don’t think either one could afford anything farther away,” Robert added.

The phone in Stillman’s pocket went off and he left the office. “What you said to Shawn, did you actually believe that?” asked Andrew.

“I’m somewhat embarrassed to say it now, but back then it was believed to be true. And given Shawn’s prior suicide attempt I didn’t think it was much of a reach,” Robert replied. “But I stand by what I said earlier. While I don’t necessarily see anything wrong with being gay, the fact remains that it has never been scientifically proven or disproven that homosexuality cannot be changed.”

“I’m assuming this Dr. Styles was of a similar mind. Do you know where we could find him?” asked Andrew.

Robert shook his head. “We lost touch after the hospital shut down. I couldn’t tell you what he’s doing now.”

“Did Shawn ever get into it with this Barry again?” asked Andrew.

“Not that I know of, and if you are going to start asking about another patient I don’t think I can talk to you anymore,” insisted Robert.

Stillman called out. “Darius!”

Andrew stood up and walked out into the white-painted hall. “I can’t figure out if this doctor knows something, or if he’s just a crackpot.”

“Well, I just got a call from Scotty. Apparently this whole thing started when Shawn’s mother caught him with a boy by the name of Barry Jordan. It sounds like they used to be on the baseball team together,” Stillman explained.

“So they knew each other for awhile. It also sounds like Barry blamed Shawn for what happened to him,” Andrew added.

Stillman nodded. “Then they wind up at the same hospital together. There you have it: means, motive, and opportunity.”

[valrush]

3

Vera and Miller tracked Barry Jordan to a pet store in the King Of Prussia Mall. He wore a red vest over a white button-down shirt, tan shorts, and appeared to have grown slightly since he was sixteen. “We’re looking for Barry Jordan,” said Vera.

“Well, you found him. What do you need?” Barry asked.

The pair flashed their badges as Vera spoke up again. “Philadelphia homicide, we’d like some answers regarding a kid you used to know by the name of Shawn Litman.”

Barry took a step backwards. “Shawn killed himself almost forty years ago.”

“Well, we’re thinking he may have had some help making that decision,” insisted Miller. “Do you remember a place called the Bryceman-Styles Institute? You should since you and Shawn were there at the same time.”

“You mean hell on earth. Yeah, I remember,” Barry said solemnly. “How do you even know I was there?”

“Some people are still talking about how you fought with Shawn when you were there. It sounds like you blamed him for being put in that place,” Vera explained.

“We heard you used to be quite the pitcher in high school; you had a lot to lose. In 1973 there wasn’t even the possibility of an openly gay athlete. Then Shawn’s mother catches the two of you and outs you to your family,” Miller explained.

Barry shook his head. “Yeah, I had one fight with Shawn while I was there, and I apologized to him the next day. I realized it wasn’t right to blame him for what his mother did,” Barry explained.

“So maybe you wanted her to pay. But since you didn’t have access to her, maybe you would settle for somebody with a slight family resemblance,” insisted Miller.

“Shawn’s body had a series of burn marks on it; somebody wanted him to suffer, and you definitely had motive,” Vera insisted.

Barry pointed a hand at Miller. “I’ll talk, but not to you, and not here.”

He motioned to the employee men’s room behind the counter. Vera followed him in and closed the door. “You want to talk about scars, detective, because I have them too.” He lifted up his shirt and showed Vera his chest. A series of deep brownish red circles dotted the lower half of his body.

“Who?” Vera asked slowly.

“Who do you think? The people that ran that hell hole. They called it ‘aversive therapy’. They would show us suggestive pictures of male stimuli and then shock us with a stun gun. I don’t know what was worse, the shock treatments or the nausea,” Barry explained.

“Nausea?” Vera asked.

“Syrup of ipecac, they would show us the same stimuli and then inject us full of the stuff to make us dizzy. I’m telling you, that place was like a Nazi camp,” Barry said with visible shaking. “I didn’t hurt Shawn, detective; he was the one person I trusted in that place…”

[valrush]

Neil Young: “Heart of Gold”


“I was a few paces away from the therapy room on the third floor. I was leaning against the wall fighting off a spell of nausea and trying to get back to my room when Shawn saw me. ‘So they put you through the wringer again.’

“’What do you think they are saying about us in school? It’s been a few weeks; I’m sure they know that we’re not there by now,’ I asked just trying to get my mind off of my latest session.

“’School would be out for the year by now, but I’m sure they were talking about us by the end,’ Shawn replied. ‘Let me ask you something; the ladies that work here are certainly not ugly by most standards. Do you feel anything when you’re around them?’

“’Right now all I fee is dizzy and tired,’ I responded.

“’I’m serious. They’ve been doing this to us for weeks, and I still don’t get … excited when I look at a girl. I still just want to be with you,’ Shawn said.

“’Don’t let the shrinks hear you say that; they might up the voltage,’ I warned.

“’Well, speaking of rooms, we should get you back to yours. If you’re too weak to stand, just hold on to me,’ Shawn replied.

“’If they see us together, they will send both of us back in there,’ I said with alarm.

“’You can’t just stand here all day,’ Shawn told me.

“I took Shawn’s arm and we started walking back to my room, but not before we were caught. ‘What’s going on here?’

“We turned around to face Dr. Styles. He had light brown hair and a mustache and was dressed in a white coat. ‘Dr. Styles, I’m just taking Barry back to his room.’

“’And you know the rule, Shawn. If a patient requires assistance, they call either me, Dr. Bryceman, or one of the nurses,’ Dr. Styles replied.

“’Meanwhile, what happens to Barry until the nurse gets there?’ Shawn asked.

“’Rules are rules, Shawn,’ said the doctor. ‘I thought it might be good for the two of you to have a friend here, but now I’m not so sure.’.”

[valrush]

“They tried to split us up after that. They put us on separate floors, and alternated our therapy and meal sessions to keep us apart,” Barry added.

“What do you mean they tried to stop you?” asked Vera.

“We still saw each other in passing, and we found strategic places to leave notes for each other,” Barry explained. “Most teenagers get to brag about their first love; we had to keep everything secret.”

“Did you see Shawn on June 23, 1973?” asked Vera.

“That was the night Shawn jumped. No, I wasn’t there. That day was a special family support day when the patients’ families came to the hospital to show their support for them. I told my parents what they were doing to us and they pulled me out of there. I guess they figured that they would rather have me gay than dead. Obviously Shawn wasn’t as lucky; I don’t think anyone came for him,” Barry insisted. “I have to get back out there or my manager is going to eat my ass for lunch.”

Barry left the room. Vera followed and rejoined his partner. “So what did he have to say behind closed doors?” asked Miller.

“Let’s just say Scotty might have been on to something,” Vera responded.

[valrush]

“Did you see where Stillman came in late again today?” Vera asked of Lilly and Scotty at the station the next morning.

“Yeah, maybe it’s time for him to invest in a new alarm clock,” insisted Lilly.

“Well, maybe I’m just being paranoid because of everything else that’s happened with Will, but I’m wondering if something else isn’t going on. You know this is not like him,” Vera added.

A dark-haired woman in jeans and a deep blue blouse approached the cluster. Lilly turned around to face the new arrival and saw that Charlene Litman was chasing after her. “I’m looking for detective Lilly Rush,” the woman said.

“Mrs. Litman, what are you doing here?” asked Lilly.

“Trying to talk some sense into my daughter,” insisted Charlene.

“That would make you Sharon Litman,” Scotty added.

“Yes, and I stopped by my parents’ home last night and found this card stuck in the mailbox. I asked them why cops were visiting them, and they told me,” Sharon explained. She then took a file from under her right arm and dropped it on Lilly’s desk. “This is the file my family kept regarding the lawsuit they filed against Bryceman-Styles. Believe me, it was not easy wrestling this away from my mother.”

“You are wasting your time, Sharon. Opening this can of worms again will not bring back your brother,” Charlene replied.

“Well, isn’t that lucky for you since you never wanted any of us to speak to him again anyway?” asked Sharon.

“Again, I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving the doctors in charge of him. I’m tired of apologizing for a judgment call that I made forty years ago!” insisted Charlene.

“I would say it was a pretty significant judgment call!” Sharon shouted.

“You think I don’t regret that decision! You think I don’t at least question whether what I did was right!” Charlene asked.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I said after we buried him; you do not have the right to regrets or grief!” Sharon replied.

“What?”

“You always put the way Shawn was on dad for spoiling him! Well, look at all the good shutting him out did! That didn’t exactly change him, did it! When are you going to consider the possibility that that was just who Shawn was regardless of anyone?” Sharon shouted. “For you sake I hope Shawn can forgive you, because I don’t think I ever will!”

Scotty stood up and placed himself between the mother and daughter. “Okay, would everyone go to their neutral corners please! I understand that this is tough, but our first priority is to find out what happened to Shawn before we can assign blame to anyone! What happened, Sharon?”

“He would call the house every few days begging for someone to come and get him out of there. My mother wouldn’t even speak to him, but I would…”

[valrush]

Todd Rundgren: “Hello, It’s Me”


“I was home one afternoon when I heard the phone ring. I picked up the receiver and an operator came on saying something about a toll charge. I recognized the number and said I would accept the charges. She connected me, and I soon heard Shawn on the other end. ‘Hello, Shawn.’

“’You said my name. I guess that means she’s not home,’ Shawn said.

“’No, mom is out right now, but she will be back any minute so I don’t know how long we have,’ I told him.

“’Right now I think you are the only one I can trust. You have to get me out of here,’ Shawn said with panic in his voice.

“’I don’t blame you for being scared, but you are still a minor, Shawn. I don’t have the authority to get you out of there,’ I explained

“’They’re doing some kind of family therapy thing here next week. You have to convince them to come to that. Maybe if they see what we go through here—‘

“’Shawn, if I could convince mom of anything, I would have been on the all cake diet by the time I was seven,’ I responded.

“’I’m serious. I don’t think this aversive therapy of theirs even works. All they’re doing here is torturing people,’ Shawn said.

“’Shawn, you say that about every doctor you have ever seen. That won’t—‘

“’Wrong number!’ my mother shouted. She wrestled the receiver out of my hands and slammed it back down on the hook. ‘I told you what those shrinks said; they will say anything to get out of treatment. Believe it or not, Sharon, I miss Shawn too, but we will see him again when they make him well.’”

[valrush]

“I became a social worker because of what Shawn went through; you can’t make somebody well if they were never sick to start with,” Sharon added.

“That family therapy day was near the time Shawn fell. Did you see him that day?” asked Scotty.

“I wanted to, but I was working that day. I was still your classic broke college student at that point,” Sharon informed.

“What about your parents?” Scotty asked. He looked up and noticed that Mrs. Litman had left the area.

“I doubt it. My father deferred to my mother who still just doesn’t get it; she still thinks Shawn came out that day on the couch with that kid Barry. But I was the closest one to him in our family, and as far as I am concerned, Shawn came out when he was four years old,” Sharon replied.

That’s when Vera spoke up. “How is that even possible?”

“Most boys hate playing dress-up with their sister, but not Shawn. He would dance around my room in my clothes for hours sometimes. Sometimes I would steal my mother’s makeup, and Shawn would be right by my side trying to copy what I did with it. When I heard that he jumped, or I guess supposedly jumped … in the end he must have thought even I had given up on him,” Sharon sighed. “I won’t let him down again. Screw my mother; you have my unquestioning support.”

[valrush]

4

Scotty hung up the phone at his desk the next day. “Well, it doesn’t look like we’re getting anything out of Barry’s family. So far we have liver failure on the dad in 1991, a heart attack on the mother two years later, and we can’t seem to find anyone else. Did you see anything of interest in that stack of papers?”

“Still looking,” Lilly responded. “Are there any other interesting phone calls I should know about? Have you heard anything regarding the Dent case?”

Scotty shook his head. “Nothing from the DA or Mr. Reese. So far it’s been quiet.”

“Well, just keep me posted,” insisted Lilly. “The Kyle Ambros case.”

“What about it?” Scotty asked.

“Talking to that group of friends about risking it all by getting romantically involved with a friend; that’s what brought all of this to the surface for me. It got me thinking about all the failed attempts at relationships I’ve had. It also got me thinking about the one successful relationship that I’ve had in the past eight years, and that’s been with you. Until all of this started happening, you were the most consistent person in my life,” Lilly explained.

Scotty sighed. “I guess I would be lying if I said I never thought about the possibility, but that doesn’t make it a good idea. We work together, you’re still … whatever you are with Ryan, and there is a family issue to think about.”

“Christina? I don’t think she would be in any position to judge either of us seeing as how she was using you the whole time you were together. Besides, she has a kid now; she has her own life now,” Lilly reminded him.

“A life that includes an addiction to Oxy. Something like this could send her straight back to the pills again,” Scotty explained. “Timing is everything with stuff like this. Hell, just look at Shawn Litman. If he hadn’t been outed when he was, he might never have been sent to that hospital and he might still be alive.”

“He might even be married now depending on where he lived, or he might have caught AIDS in the early 1980s. It’s very difficult to predict the future. I know there are a lot of variables with this, but I am still willing to explore it,” Lilly replied. Then she went back to the papers. “Wait, here’s something interesting. The plaintiff’s witness list from the lawsuit has Dr. Vincent Styles as a potential witness for the plaintiffs.”

Scotty leaned over Lilly’s shoulder. “He was going to testify against Dr. Bryceman? Maybe they subpoenaed him.”

“I can’t find any subpoena in these records, and in any case they must have had reason to think that he knew something if they were listing him as a witness at all,” insisted Lilly.

“It sounds like it might be time to track down this doctor,” Scotty replied.

[valrush]

Vera and Miller tracked Dr. Styles to an office building in West Chester. There was a large, red sofa placed along the far right wall on gray carpeting. His wood-paneled walls were scattered with pictures of him with a wife and children. His hair was now completely white as compared with some of these pictures.

But the decoration that caught Vera’s attention first was a small rainbow flag placed just to the left of the center of his oak desk. “That’s an interesting decoration,” insisted Vera.

“I have a few same sex couples who come to me for counseling. I’ve found that this puts them a little more at ease around me,” Dr. Styles explained.

“The real question is does it put you at ease?” asked Miller.

“I don’t think I follow,” Vincent replied.

“We know what you used to do at Bryceman-Styles. We know about the aversive therapy you performed on patients like Shawn Litman,” Vera replied.

“And as I told you, I can’t discuss a former patient,” insisted Vincent.

“But you were willing to talk about him once. We have the records from when Shawn’s mother filed suit against Dr. Bryceman. Your name was on a witness list for the plaintiff; you were going to testify against Dr. Bryceman. I’m just wondering what made you turn on your partner,” Miller responded.

Vincent sighed. “At that point we were having some differences of professional opinion regarding the effectiveness of our treatments.”

“You started to feel guilty about torturing kids,” Miller said.

Vincent closed his office door. “As I said before, I counsel same sex couples. If it got out what I used to do, I’m finished.”

“We’re not talking to your patients,” insisted Vera.

“We started our hospital in 1967. We were both committed to the same theory at that point,” Vincent explained.

“That homosexuality could be cured,” Miller added.

“But by 1973 we were still not seeing much in the way of results to that effect. Robert stuck to his old guns, but I was having doubts. In the end I came to believe as most do; conversion therapy is dangerous and ultimately ineffective. Plus it lumps everyone together as either 1s or 6s,” Vincent explained.

“1s or 6s?” asked Vera.

“Have you ever heard of the Kinsey Scale, detectives? It was developed by a psychologist named Alfred Kinsey in the 1940s; it is essentially a six point scale of human sexuality where 1 represents someone who is exclusively straight and 6 represents someone who is exclusively gay with levels of bisexuality in between. It is believed by most that anyone claiming that conversion therapy made them straight must have been bisexual to start with,” Vincent explained.

“From what we hear, it sounds like your former partner is still going against the grain on this,” Vera added.

“I’m not surprised. He was a stubborn bastard then, and he’s a stubborn bastard now. I’m guessing he still refuses to look at the facts. Conversion therapy might make someone resist the impulse to engage in homosexual activity, but it does not make them attracted to the opposite sex. It only results in more confusion for the patient,” insisted Vincent.

“It could send someone over the edge, and make them desperate enough to jump through a third-floor window,” Miller responded.

Vincent threw his hands in the air. “I wasn’t there that night; I can’t speak to that. But I knew Shawn’s fragile state toward the end; it didn’t exactly surprise me when I heard…”

[valrush]

David Bowie: “The Man Who Sold the World”


“There was one particular day when Shawn became assertive with me. ‘I’m not going back in there again! There’s no way!’

“’Shawn, if you want to get better, we can’t give up. We have to keep going with the treatments every day,’ I insisted.

“’I’ve been here over a month, and I don’t feel any different! Meanwhile my own mother hangs up on me, my father is afraid to go against her, and you won’t even let me speak to Barry anymore!’ Shawn yelled.

“’Shawn, please stay calm. We separated you from Barry for your own good. He was a trigger for your behaviors,’ I explained.

“’There’s only one problem with that; I still think about it! He is still ‘triggering’ me! Are you deaf? I’m trying to tell you that your ‘therapy’ doesn’t work!’ Shawn responded.

“’I understand your frustration, but you have to believe me when I tell you that it takes time,’ I explained.

“’How long? I’ve some of your other patients; some of them look pretty old! How long have they been here? How much better are they now?’ Shawn asked. I have to admit that I had no answer so I just froze. ‘That’s what I thought! I’m starting to think you two are the real crazy ones!’

“I called to him as he stormed off. ‘Shawn, please come back! Shawn!’ But he just went back to his room and slammed the door. I didn’t see him again for the rest of the day.”

[valrush]

“I’m embarrassed by what I used to do, but that was when I started questioning what we were really accomplishing at that place,” Vincent added.

“And that was when you decided to testify against your partner,” Vera responded.

“I decided it would be for the greater good to put aside my personal opinion of Mrs. Litman and get my opinions on record. But then she settled out of court,” Vincent explained.

“It sounds like you still have an axe to grind. What exactly was your personal opinion of Mrs. Litman?” asked Miller.

“She had basically cut off all contact with Shawn. I called her at home the day before the hospital’s family day and explained the delicate state that Shawn was in, and I strongly recommended that she come to see him,” insisted Vincent.

“But she never did?” asked Miller.

“Granted I had other concerned relatives to deal with that day, but I don’t remember seeing her,” Vincent informed.

“Well, how late did these family day visits usually go?” asked Vera.

“We let them stay for pretty much the whole day until about 11:30 PM,” Vincent explained.

“Thank you for your time,” said Vera as the pair left. “Doesn’t that sound a little out of character her going against a doctor’s advice?”

“That could have been around the time Shawn fell,” insisted Miller.