Killers I have known
Hi writing a book twenty nine chapters on killers that I have known over the years. Tell me if you want the rest
Chapter 1. Silent Costs
Captain Phillip Wright of the Pittsburgh Police force stood some five feet six inches tall which greatly understates his physical presence which filled the room sucking all sense of safety out of it. I stood transfixed as he entered puzzled by his demeanor and which hardly match with the circumstances of our first meeting. There he stood, next to his tiny twelve year old son Michael who had come for therapy. "I want you to fix the boy", he virtually screamed at me, a tiny balding guy of forty trying to make a buck as a family therapist. Michael looked both sheepish and bizarrely enough psychopathic. I immediately felt his sheepishness was a ploy caused by being raised by this commanding presence he called Dad. When Michael said the word, it sounded more like a Marine recruit speaking to a Drill Sergeant, “Dad, YES SIR” could almost be heard obliquely in the background.
Emily Wright, the wife, I describe her that way because that was the role she played, a quiet appendage to her husband. She was small pity and blond, quite attractive, if you like your blonds looking like deer caught in headlights, and some men do. She seemed afraid to speak spontaneously. A situation, I grew quickly to understand. The parents seem hesitant to tell me of Michael's problem, but I insisted that it was useful to know what the heck I was supposed to treat.
"Well, he’s got a jerking off problem", said the Captain. I asked him to be more specific, but he insisted that I get it out of the boy, after all that was my job. As though I could drag stuff out of the kid, immediately I sense that the problem was not the boy, but the fact something the boy was doing could be causing embarrassment to the family, not a brilliant guess on my part I assure you.
Over the next few weeks, I began building a trusting relationship with Michael. He did have a problem with masturbation all right, and a problem with an authoritarian FATHER, and a problem with a silent fearful mother. Captain never beat or hit anyone by hand, he struck them with his presence that invoked fear, no not fear terror. Michael, it turned out masturbated all over the house, and frequently got caught by parents, and five year old sister, and the fear was quite real that neighbors would sound find out. He was not one to close window blinds, and since they lived in the city, well, you get the picture.
One day, The Captain came in with Michael happy about the progress that I had been making. Mike's behavior had been improving but was still problematic. The Captain started bragging out his SIXTEEN. He said how in Vietnam he had killed nine men, while working in the prisons another five and two more on the streets of the city. He was proud of the number of the action and his success. He said he had passed all investigations. They were clean kills. I have worked with many veterans, police and mafia folk over the years. I had never seen anyone brag as much about their work and never about killing. About the shear joy of killing, killing as a public service like taking out the trash. His face did glow and for the first time I saw him as he saw himself, a happy man involved in waste management. He really seemed eager to break twenty before retirement. I was taken aback, but entertained. I virtually applauded his work. I suddenly understand the behaviors of his wife, fear, and of his child telling basically to go fuck himself.
A couple of weeks later Captain Wright came in quite angry. He discovered that I was sending regular reports to managed care about his child, in order to get reimbursed, standard procedure for me. Wright flew into a rage. "Fuck, I am at the top of my profession, I plan on running for Congress, it could ruin me and my family, if that got out". He had reach the high levels of his union by than and was quite famous in Pittsburgh amongst the law enforcement community.
I insisted that I had no choice. He left in a huff, his gun still tuck in his belt. I think the discovery that his son had been making video tapes of his masturbatory actions and the possible exposure of these could not have been worst for a politician. While Michael was getting better fast, maybe because I was such a different role model of manhood. Yet Captain Wright would sacrifice his son's treatment for a political career. I guess you can mark up the souls of his wife and son as victims seventeen and eighteen.
When I read the political stories from PA, some days, I admire his success at least in that. Congress benefits from his presence I’m, but I also think of silent costs. I think of the victims. There is much to admire in Mr. Wright. He told me so himself.
Chapter 1. Silent Costs
Captain Phillip Wright of the Pittsburgh Police force stood some five feet six inches tall which greatly understates his physical presence which filled the room sucking all sense of safety out of it. I stood transfixed as he entered puzzled by his demeanor and which hardly match with the circumstances of our first meeting. There he stood, next to his tiny twelve year old son Michael who had come for therapy. "I want you to fix the boy", he virtually screamed at me, a tiny balding guy of forty trying to make a buck as a family therapist. Michael looked both sheepish and bizarrely enough psychopathic. I immediately felt his sheepishness was a ploy caused by being raised by this commanding presence he called Dad. When Michael said the word, it sounded more like a Marine recruit speaking to a Drill Sergeant, “Dad, YES SIR” could almost be heard obliquely in the background.
Emily Wright, the wife, I describe her that way because that was the role she played, a quiet appendage to her husband. She was small pity and blond, quite attractive, if you like your blonds looking like deer caught in headlights, and some men do. She seemed afraid to speak spontaneously. A situation, I grew quickly to understand. The parents seem hesitant to tell me of Michael's problem, but I insisted that it was useful to know what the heck I was supposed to treat.
"Well, he’s got a jerking off problem", said the Captain. I asked him to be more specific, but he insisted that I get it out of the boy, after all that was my job. As though I could drag stuff out of the kid, immediately I sense that the problem was not the boy, but the fact something the boy was doing could be causing embarrassment to the family, not a brilliant guess on my part I assure you.
Over the next few weeks, I began building a trusting relationship with Michael. He did have a problem with masturbation all right, and a problem with an authoritarian FATHER, and a problem with a silent fearful mother. Captain never beat or hit anyone by hand, he struck them with his presence that invoked fear, no not fear terror. Michael, it turned out masturbated all over the house, and frequently got caught by parents, and five year old sister, and the fear was quite real that neighbors would sound find out. He was not one to close window blinds, and since they lived in the city, well, you get the picture.
One day, The Captain came in with Michael happy about the progress that I had been making. Mike's behavior had been improving but was still problematic. The Captain started bragging out his SIXTEEN. He said how in Vietnam he had killed nine men, while working in the prisons another five and two more on the streets of the city. He was proud of the number of the action and his success. He said he had passed all investigations. They were clean kills. I have worked with many veterans, police and mafia folk over the years. I had never seen anyone brag as much about their work and never about killing. About the shear joy of killing, killing as a public service like taking out the trash. His face did glow and for the first time I saw him as he saw himself, a happy man involved in waste management. He really seemed eager to break twenty before retirement. I was taken aback, but entertained. I virtually applauded his work. I suddenly understand the behaviors of his wife, fear, and of his child telling basically to go fuck himself.
A couple of weeks later Captain Wright came in quite angry. He discovered that I was sending regular reports to managed care about his child, in order to get reimbursed, standard procedure for me. Wright flew into a rage. "Fuck, I am at the top of my profession, I plan on running for Congress, it could ruin me and my family, if that got out". He had reach the high levels of his union by than and was quite famous in Pittsburgh amongst the law enforcement community.
I insisted that I had no choice. He left in a huff, his gun still tuck in his belt. I think the discovery that his son had been making video tapes of his masturbatory actions and the possible exposure of these could not have been worst for a politician. While Michael was getting better fast, maybe because I was such a different role model of manhood. Yet Captain Wright would sacrifice his son's treatment for a political career. I guess you can mark up the souls of his wife and son as victims seventeen and eighteen.
When I read the political stories from PA, some days, I admire his success at least in that. Congress benefits from his presence I’m, but I also think of silent costs. I think of the victims. There is much to admire in Mr. Wright. He told me so himself.
