April, 2005, Troy, Massachusetts
Alice Defreitas sat in her backyard. She was not pleased to be writing a treatment plan at home. She was glad she insisted on getting Wifi, despite her husband's skepticism. "At least I can do this outside", she rationalized.
Client: Gail Pamela Chelselom
DOB: 4/19/57
DOA: 4/01/05
Primary Diagnosis: Gail carries a diagnosis of Schizophrenia, Undifferentiated and shows signs of PTSD.
MOM!
Gail was allegedly involved in the "Profile Rock Murders of 1979-1980..."
Mom! Mom! Mom!
Alice tilted her head. Her daughter Susan was waving at her with both hands.
What honey? Mommy's working right now. Are you hungry?
Alice leaned her small frame forward and drew breath. This was clearly important.
"Maybe I'm CRAAAAZAAAAAYYYYY??? MAYBE I"M CRAZZZZZZAYYYY"
Alice snapped shut her company laptop and stood up.
"How about youuuuuuuuuu?"
She picked up Susan and swung her around. Work could wait.
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October, 1979, Assonet, Massachusetts.
"It's too fucking windy", she thought as she flicked her lighter. She only finished one cigarette on the ride over. It was her first one, the base tobacco for the day. It wasn't pleasurable but rather what she needed to start with if she wanted to feel 'normal' for the rest of the day. She had slept for most of the day as yesterday was particularly rough.
"Hey"
The word "Why?" kept drumming her her mind, keeping in time with her pounding hangover. "Why the fuck am I out here with this crazy fucker?"
"Hey!"
He's just as bad as the last daddy. He barely keeps me safe, he keeps laying hands on me, and he's way too into that heavy metal shit...."
"HEY BITCH!"
Gail felt his hands clamp on her shoulders.
"I'm fucking talking to you!"
Carl spun her around. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched the lighter from it.
"What? Fuck, you coulda just asked!"
Carl sneered at her. He wouldn't tolerate this amount of insubordination. Especially in front of the new girl. He put the lighter in his pocket and grabbed her jaw.
"Change your fucking attitude!"
Gail went from annoyed to afraid quickly.
"Or I'm changing the plan".
Doreen was starting to wonder about her new friends. She'd had heard about Carl and Gail before meeting. They had partied together before but this was the most time she'd spent with them.
"I'm better off without them". She figured she would stick around with them tonight and slip out tomorrow morning.
Carl released his grip on Gail and walked towards his new employee.
"I want to show you something"
Gail wanted nothing to do with what was about to happen. In her deeply unhappy life, this was her biggest regret.
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March, 2005, Weston, Massachusetts.
Richard Carpenter was thumbing through a stack of intake paperwork. The bureau of psychiatric services was in the process of transferring a client to a less restrictive environment. Her clinical team had determined she was ready for a community-based mental health program.
Gail was transferred from Riverbridge State Hospital to Dalpole for a 6 year sentence before being transferred back. Her competency restoration was postponed due to an incident in which she committed manslaughter on a fellow client.
Richard got up from his desk and went to his fridge. He took out a bag of baby carrots and a humus container. "It's going to be one of those nights" he thought as he dipped his first carrot into the spread.
This LICSW doesn't know how to spell "premeditated", apparently. He made a note to remember her name so that he can dislike her more with greater justification.
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May, 2005, Cohannet Massachusets.
Robert, "Tommy Boy" Thomas had his eyes on the road. He already was a pretty good driver but the recent shakeup at work incentivized him to be extra cautious behind the wheel.
"Rob"
There was what he liked to call "a nuclear pothole" 20 yards from the light. He weighed the pros and cons of swerving around it. He didn't want to jostle 97 Petit Marquis, FFS but driving into it. He also didn't want the client to think he was "swerving because he's drunk". Robert wasn't drunk. A little hungover, sure, but that's only because he drank 2 more Ganny's than he originally planned last night. There so light, it's easy to lose track on a Sunday night. Especially if you're 26 and hate your job.
"Rob"
"I wish the little guy hadn't seen me last night", he thought as his mind drifted from driving safely. Robert's dad was a drinker too. And not a particularly fun one either. Robert was at least proud for not getting mean and handsy when he drank, like dad did. He was, at the time, on the slow path towards sobriety. Last Sunday was a mini-relapse, so to speak.
"What do you think? Isn't it pretty?". Gail pushed her flip-phone into Robert's field of vision. It was a blurry picture of a butterfly she saw while waiting outside at the suboxone clinic.
Robert felt a flash of energy erupt from his right arm. He wanted to smack his passenger upside the head. He didn't. He wasn't his father. "I'm trying to drive you fucking pincushion" he thought. He gently nudged the phone out of the way. "That's nice. Why don't you show me that after we've parked", he said.
"Fine! Don't be rude!", Gail shouted before slamming his car door. Robert bit his tongue. It was 3:30, and soon the shift would be over. He lit a cigarette as he waited for his client to buy her own cigarettes. He made a mental note to not give her any cigarettes when she ran out. Fuck you, Gail, he thought.
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November, 1979, Assonet, Massachusetts.
It was another sleepless night for Gail. She had been staying with Carl's "buddy" Steve for 3 days. The $50 she and him scrounged up was not enough. Their host required more payment. Carl told him to "make him happy. Remember, you're a servant". She was grateful he didn't join in too. Gail had had terrible daddies before. Carl was different. Still terrible but also a cultist. A cult of one she thought. She told him what she thought he wanted to hear but she knew it was nonsense. Doreen might have bee been a believer.
Steve was still asleep, that lucky fucker. At least this gave her an opportunity to snag one of his Newports. She hoped he wouldn't notice. She didn't know where Carl was. He left yesterday afternoon to go score. They had been laying low for the past week. Doreen's remains had been found. It was only a matter of time. Gail had been to jail before for a couple months. She wondered if a longer stay would be better than this.
She went outside. Steve lived about half a mile from where Doreen. The gravity of what they did made it feel close. No matter where she went after. The trees on Steve's road loomed over her like they did at Profile Rock. They were watching. Gail lit the cigarette and took a drag. Her own vapor entwined with the smoke. She looked at the underside of her arm. It was lined with cuts in varying states of healing. She decided she needed some more. She pulled a straight razor from her pocket and started to work on her arm. She lost track of time and didn't notice the Plymouth Satellite pulling up Steve's driveway. The lights were on but the siren wasn't. Despite immediately dropping the razor in shock, possession of a dangerous weapon would be added to her already lengthy list of charges.
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June, 2005, Troy, Massachusetts
Alice was putting in her notes for billing. The work itself was hard enough. Making sure your employer gets paid so that you can a get a fraction of that income gave it a sticky aftertaste. I don't know why I thought it would be easy. It started one way but she wondered if that applied to the intervention or her entire career.
It didn't seem that complicated. The group home staff asked Alice to have a talk with Gail about demanding more support than what they could give. I mean sure, you have to be friendly with "them" but she's knocking on the office twenty four-fuckin'-seven. She remembered the guy they kept calling "Tommy Boy" putting a little stank on the them. He's kinda gross. He smells like a fish who smokes.
Alice invited Grace to the office while the staff were out running errands. They took the time to remove every other client's personal health information. The group home staff thought it would've been easier for Alice to meet in Grace's apartment. She felt the small change of setting would make Grace feel heard. Like they were taking her concerns seriously. Don't forget; she's part of the team too! They rolled their eyes when Alice said that. This experience reminded her why.
Gail tapped on the door. It was barely audible. The staff often missed it the first couple times during her daily knocks. It often lead to her feeling slighted and pounding hard on the 4th or 5th try. Both Alice and the under-under grads she usually didn't interact with suspected there was a little passive-aggressive edge to this. Alice opened the door.
"Thank you for coming Gail!"
