Special kind of Mentally Ill

Father

  I had always been a tough guy, not easily frightened or alarmed. When I heard my kid was charged with multiple counts of murder, my toughness suddenly disappeared. I was scared, and horrified. Lenny was always different, and I knew that from the beginning. I saw him become so fearless at such a young age. He didn't mind watching the farm animals die, or give birth. He was smart, and brave. I admired this. I knew he'd make a good farmer. Starting at age 5 he would follow me around on the farm, and help out. He was always more interested in what the adults were doing, rather than the kids. I started to think he'd become a child prodigy. The first incident that set a small tick in the back of my head was when Lenny was 6. He was still a young boy, and he was still learning. I had found him under the deck with an old butchers knife we had thrown out. I asked him to bring it to me, and not to play with knives. He agreed and proceeded on by being alone. He was interested in any type of weapon. He'd ask all sorts of questions about them. I should've seen his idiotic questions as a sign. I figured he was just in a stage. He grew out of his weapon state by age 12. Middle school provided more opportunity for friends. He was socially awkward, and had such a difficult time making friends. He had seemed to show no interest in other kids company. I should've noticed that it was unhealthy. I figured he was just quiet and that he would grow out of it. I noticed as he got older he did make a group of friends and then started to take girls out. I was now less alarmed. Then he became a hell of a child. He was diffident and wouldn't listen to anyone. He loved to piss people off. He'd use girls, drink until he was black out drunk, become high on a daily and vandalize property. He was directed home by the police at least three times a summer. I'd ground him and force him to work on the farm. I'd direct him to his room around 10pm those nights and in the morning he'd be gone. Sometimes he'd leave for days until his friends parents would call. I was embarrassed and it made my wife and I look like awful parents. I would try to have stern talks with him and sometimes he would lye in his bed facing the wall, and other times he'd slam the door in my face. My wife was beyond upset about his behavior but soon we would get use to it. After two years of his high school career we looked at his behavior as normal. He would attended court many times for tickets and mips. He was on probation and house arrest his sophomore year. I wondered where I went wrong. Arnold, his older brother was always a great kid. He did well in school, and made good choices. My other kids were great too, I mean my daughter got pregnant at a young age, but other than that they made wonderful choices. I started to think once that Lenny would turn out to be a criminal. I was right. When people talked to me about Lenny I would defend him, I'd stand up for him. He is my kid, after all. Teachers told me that Lenny would become a felon and die early in life. I yelled at them. They warned me, so now I regret my choices to stand up for him. I wish I would've listened and prepared myself the upcoming events. When I found out that Lenny was responsible for the town tragedy I was beyond upset. I didn't know how to react. I watched my wife break down, while I stood frozen. What was I suppose to think? My son was a monster, and I never knew. After his process of punishment they released to us his book. He had been writing it. He wrote how he couldn't feel and that is when everything clicked together. He was a sociopath, and I ignored it. Jackie had triggered his killing sprees. He wrote specific details that shocked me more than anything ever had. I felt bad for him, but then I felt angry. It was his fault, he still chose to kill. The book made me understand. After his sentence my wife and I were directed to get individual counseling. I began to hate my own son. I discussed this with my therapist and it was normal for me to feel that way. I still hate what Lenny did, but I can't hate my own flesh and blood, never.