[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 158 (2012), Part 12]
[House]
[Pages 17206-17207]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                              {time}  2040
        EXTENDING SYMPATHY TO THE PEOPLE OF NEWTOWN, CONNECTICUT

  (Ms. KAPTUR asked and was given permission to address the House for 1 
minute.)
  Ms. KAPTUR. Mr. Speaker, I would like to rise in support of my dear 
colleagues from Connecticut and throughout our Nation in extending 
deepest sympathy and affection to the people of Newtown, Connecticut, 
as they bear the pain of human loss in the recent Sandy Hook Elementary 
School tragedy. Despite the heavy burden of grief they are carrying, 
the citizens of Newtown have truly inspired our entire Nation. Their 
spirit has lifted ours as they pay tribute to their children and the 
heroic teachers and school personnel who so nobly acted to save lives. 
Surely their extraordinary grace under pressure exemplifies what 
President John Kennedy defined as courage.
  Mr. Speaker, I am including in the Record the remarks of Liza Long in 
an article she published about her son, Michael. We must listen to her. 
And we must listen to the people of Newtown in memory of each of the 
precious spirits that have graced it, for their highest aspirations, 
for an America where this never happens again.
  In aiding us in this journey of faith, this article poignantly 
describes the condition of so many children in our country who are 
hurting and ill with unquiet minds that even medical science cannot 
fully explain. I commend President Obama for proposing a special 
commission to listen to mothers like Liza and to the people of Newtown 
as we shape a better future for us all.
  Mr. Speaker, I also wish to commend the new Senator-elect from Hawaii 
for her very poignant tribute of Senator Daniel Inouye with whom we had 
the privilege of serving these many years.

       [From The Blue Review, Dec. 16, 2012]

``I Am Adam Lanza's Mother'': A Mom's Perspective on The Mental Illness 
                        Conversation in America

                             [By Liza Long]

       Friday's horrific national tragedy--the murder of 20 
     children and six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in 
     Newtown, Connecticut--has ignited a new discussion on 
     violence in America. In kitchens and coffee shops across the 
     country, we tearfully debate the many faces of violence in 
     America: gun culture, media violence, lack of mental health 
     services, overt and covert wars abroad, religion, politics 
     and the way we raise our children. Liza Long, a writer based 
     in Boise, says it's easy to talk about guns. But it's time to 
     talk about mental illness.
       While every family's story of mental illness is different, 
     and we may never know the whole of the Lanza's story, tales 
     like this one need to be heard--and families who live them 
     deserve our help.

[[Page 17207]]

       Three days before 20 year-old Adam Lanza killed his mother, 
     then opened fire on a classroom full of Connecticut 
     kindergartners, my 13-year old son Michael (name changed) 
     missed his bus because he was wearing the wrong color pants
       ``I can wear these pants,'' he said, his tone increasingly 
     belligerent, the black-hole pupils of his eyes swallowing the 
     blue irises.
       ``They are navy blue,'' I told him. ``Your school's dress 
     code says black or khaki pants only.''
       ``They told me I could wear these,'' he insisted. ``You're 
     a stupid bitch. I can wear whatever pants I want to. This is 
     America. I have rights!''
       ``You can't wear whatever pants you want to,'' I said, my 
     tone affable, reasonable. ``And you definitely cannot call me 
     a stupid bitch. You're grounded from electronics for the rest 
     of the day. Now get in the car, and I will take you to 
     school.''
       I live with a son who is mentally ill. I love my son. But 
     he terrifies me.
       A few weeks ago, Michael pulled a knife and threatened to 
     kill me and then himself after I asked him to return his 
     overdue library books. His 7 and 9 year old siblings knew the 
     safety plan--they ran to the car and locked the doors before 
     I even asked them to. I managed to get the knife from 
     Michael, then methodically collected all the sharp objects in 
     the house into a single Tupperware container that now travels 
     with me. Through it all, he continued to scream insults at me 
     and threaten to kill or hurt me.
       That conflict ended with three burly police officers and a 
     paramedic wrestling my son onto a gurney for an expensive 
     ambulance ride to the local emergency room. The mental 
     hospital didn't have any beds that day, and Michael calmed 
     down nicely in the ER, so they sent us home with a 
     prescription for Zyprexa and a follow-up visit with a local 
     pediatric psychiatrist.
       We still don't know what's wrong with Michael. Autism 
     spectrum, ADHD, Oppositional Defiant or Intermittent 
     Explosive Disorder have all been tossed around at various 
     meetings with probation officers and social workers and 
     counselors and teachers and school administrators. He's been 
     on a slew of antipsychotic and mood altering pharmaceuticals, 
     a Russian novel of behavioral plans. Nothing seems to work.
       At the start of seventh grade, Michael was accepted to an 
     accelerated program for highly gifted math and science 
     students. His IQ is off the charts. When he's in a good mood, 
     he will gladly bend your ear on subjects ranging from Greek 
     mythology to the differences between Einsteinian and 
     Newtonian physics to Doctor Who. He's in a good mood most of 
     the time. But when he's not, watch out. And it's impossible 
     to predict what will set him off.
       Several weeks into his new junior high school, Michael 
     began exhibiting increasingly odd and threatening behaviors 
     at school. We decided to transfer him to the district's most 
     restrictive behavioral program, a contained school 
     environment where children who can't function in normal 
     classrooms can access their right to free public babysitting 
     from 7:30-1:50 Monday through Friday until they turn 18.
       The morning of the pants incident, Michael continued to 
     argue with me on the drive. He would occasionally apologize 
     and seem remorseful. Right before we turned into his school 
     parking lot, he said, ``Look, Mom, I'm really sorry. Can I 
     have video games back today?''
       ``No way,'' I told him. ``You cannot act the way you acted 
     this morning and think you can get your electronic privileges 
     back that quickly.''
       His face turned cold, and his eyes were full of calculated 
     rage. ``Then I'm going to kill myself,'' he said. ``I'm going 
     to jump out of this car right now and kill myself.''
       That was it. After the knife incident, I told him that if 
     he ever said those words again, I would take him straight to 
     the mental hospital, no ifs, ands, or buts. I did not 
     respond, except to pull the car into the opposite lane, 
     turning left instead of right.
        ``Where are you taking me?'' he said, suddenly worried. 
     ``Where are we going?''
       ``You know where we are going,'' I replied.
       ``No! You can't do that to me! You're sending me to hell! 
     You're sending me straight to hell!''
       I pulled up in front of the hospital, frantically waiving 
     for one of the clinicians who happened to be standing 
     outside. ``Call the police,'' I said. ``Hurry.''
       Michael was in a full-blown fit by then, screaming and 
     hitting. I hugged him close so he couldn't escape from the 
     car. He bit me several times and repeatedly jabbed his elbows 
     into my rib cage. I'm still stronger than he is, but I won't 
     be for much longer.
       The police came quickly and carried my son screaming and 
     kicking into the bowels of the hospital. I started to shake, 
     and tears filled my eyes as I filled out the paperwork--
     ``Were there any difficulties with... at what age did your 
     child.., were there any problems with.. has your child ever 
     experienced.. does your child have...''
       At least we have health insurance now. I recently accepted 
     a position with a local college, giving up my freelance 
     career because when you have a kid like this, you need 
     benefits. You'll do anything for benefits. No individual 
     insurance plan will cover this kind of thing.
       For days, my son insisted that I was lying--that I made the 
     whole thing up so that I could get rid of him. The first day, 
     when I called to check up on him, he said, ``I hate you. And 
     I'm going to get my revenge as soon as I get out of here.''
       By day three, he was my calm, sweet boy again, all 
     apologies and promises to get better. I've heard those 
     promises for years. I don't believe them anymore.
       On the intake form, under the question, ``What are your 
     expectations for treatment?'' I wrote, ``I need help.''
       And I do. This problem is too big for me to handle on my 
     own. Sometimes there are no good options. So you just pray 
     for grace and trust that in hindsight, it will all make 
     sense.
       I am sharing this story because I am Adam Lanza's mother. I 
     am Dylan Klebold's and Eric Harris's mother. I am James 
     Holmes's mother. I am Jared Loughner's mother. I am Seung-Hui 
     Cho's mother. And these boys--and their mothers--need help. 
     In the wake of another horrific national tragedy, it's easy 
     to talk about guns. But it's time to talk about mental 
     illness.
       According to Mother Jones, since 1982, 61 mass murders 
     involving firearms have occurred throughout the country. Of 
     these, 43 of the killers were white males, and only one was a 
     woman. Mother Jones focused on whether the killers obtained 
     their guns legally (most did). But this highly visible sign 
     of mental illness should lead us to consider how many people 
     in the U.S. live in fear, like I do.
       When I asked my son's social worker about my options, he 
     said that the only thing I could do was to get Michael 
     charged with a crime. ``If he's back in the system, they'll 
     create a paper trail,'' he said. ``That's the only way you're 
     ever going to get anything done. No one will pay attention to 
     you unless you've got charges.''
       I don't believe my son belongs in jail. The chaotic 
     environment exacerbates Michael's sensitivity to sensory 
     stimuli and doesn't deal with the underlying pathology. But 
     it seems like the United States is using prison as the 
     solution of choice for mentally ill people. According to 
     Human Rights Watch, the number of mentally ill inmates in 
     U.S. prisons quadrupled from 2000 to 2006, and it continues 
     to rise--in fact, the rate of inmate mental illness is five 
     times greater (56 percent) than in the non-incarcerated 
     population.
       With state-run treatment centers and hospitals shuttered, 
     prison is now the last resort for the mentally ill--Rikers 
     Island, the LA County Jail and Cook County Jail in Illinois 
     housed the nation's largest treatment centers in 2011.
       No one wants to send a 13-year old genius who loves Harry 
     Potter and his snuggle animal collection to jail. But our 
     society, with its stigma on mental illness and its broken 
     healthcare system, does not provide us with other options. 
     Then another tortured soul shoots up a fast food restaurant. 
     A mall. A kindergarten classroom. And we wring our hands and 
     say, ``Something must be done.''
       I agree that something must be done. It's time for a 
     meaningful, nation-wide conversation about mental health. 
     That's the only way our nation can ever truly heal.
       God help me. God help Michael. God help us all.

                          ____________________