Without Jonathan Pincus, my partner in crime, there would be no story to tell. Teacher, colleague, superb clinician, and friend, thank you.
I am indebted to Abby Stein who read through an early draft of this book and, in a lovingly ruthless or ruthlessly loving fashion, got rid of whatever she found to be timorous, extraneous, or less than on target.
I am grateful to Leona Nevler, my editor at Ballantine Books, who gently but firmly forced me to grapple with the Shawcross tale, although she knew it would be a painful case for me to revisit. “It will make it a better book,” she insisted, and I think she was right. I was flattered that she made few changes in the rest of the manuscript and thereby, for better or for worse, made sure that my voice was heard.
For the past decade, Catherine Yeager and I have worked together closely, not only at Bellevue, but also in prisons from coast to coast. Cathi and I shared many of the adventures recounted in this book, including the Shawcross case and the visit with an executioner. Cathi recalled certain aspects of cases that I preferred to forget, and she insisted I include them. I am eternally grateful to her not only for her help with this book but also for her courage and friendship.
Vanda Henry has been more than my secretary. True, for the past five years she has typed draft after draft of each chapter. But she has done much more. She has formed cordial relationships not only with our patients but also with our death row inmates (who call her collect) and with each attorney with whom we have worked. I treasure her skills, her graciousness, and her loyalty during especially hard times.
In March of 1997, Cheryl Kissel stole Jonathan Lazear’s New Yorker. She has confessed. In the “Crime and Punishment” issue she read an article about me and my work and brought it to her boss’s attention. When Jonathan Lazear called me to ask if I had ever thought of writing a book about my work, an almost complete Guilty by Reason of Insanity lay under Vanda’s desk, set aside in favor of more pressing work. I sent the book to him. He liked it. He thought other people would, too. He became my agent. He sold it. All this within eight weeks. Had Cheryl not swiped the New Yorker, and had Jonathan Lazear not made that phone call, Guilty would still be stashed under Vanda’s desk. Jonathan, am I glad you called!
My husband and children are my biggest fans and severest critics. I am grateful to Luciano, the newest member of our family, for his enthusiasm and encouragement. Eric delights me with his visual take on the book. He sees each chapter as a separate screenplay and shows me possibilities I never before envisioned. Gillian has spent hours with me, listening attentively as I read parts of the manuscript aloud. I have heeded her advice. Thanks to Gillian, rhythms and cadences have been revised and a number of highfalutin phrases were rolled up in yellow paper balls, tossed on the living room floor, and turned into cat toys for Ptolemy.
The years during which this book was written have not always been easy. Without Mel’s support, guidance, wisdom, and love the book would not have been completed. I dedicate it to him with love.