I IMMEDIATELY RETURNED TO DALLAS. I felt it was imperative to share my findings with Dr. Harvey Davisson, a clinical psychologist and former professor at Baylor University. In turn, he shared my investigative report with another psychologist, who told Dr. Davisson, “A man like Jason is a walking time bomb.”
Psychiatrists have called “intermittent rage disorder”—now referred to as “intermittent explosive disorder”—the Jekyll and Hyde syndrome. Like most people, I knew what that meant from a layman’s point of view, for Hollywood had created an entire industry loosely portraying such psychiatric disorders in horrific detail, from the knife-wielding Norman Bates in Hitchcock’s Psycho to the homicidal seductress played by Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. However, it wasn’t until I returned from Los Angeles, interviewed physicians, and immersed myself in the literature of impulsivity and neuroleptic drugs that I truly came to appreciate and understand the clinical reality of how a seemingly normal and healthy individual could—in a matter of minutes—become a homicidal maniac.
To properly understand Jason’s medical condition, and to truly convince myself that he was indeed capable of cutting the throat of his stepmother and slashing her would-be visitor to death, I had to first understand the complex biological and environmental factors that governed his behavior. The myriad of medical journals and books I consulted went a long way toward helping me. Ultimately, it was a team of prominent doctors who specialized in rage disorders—foremost among them Dr. Jan Ford-Mustin of Austin and Dr. Christine Adams of Houston—whose books I referred to.
Dr. Harvey Davisson and Dr. Charles Keller patiently guided me through books and other research works and fielded my questions that gave credibility to my research. None of these doctors, of course, could or would presume to diagnose Jason’s particular case without personally evaluating him.
The most natural place for me to begin was with the condition that Jason himself and physicians at Cedars-Sinai and St. John’s hospitals had indicated was the source of “organic” malfunctions in his brain: epilepsy. As I quickly learned—and contrary to popular belief—epilepsy is not a specific disease, but a group of symptoms related to a number of different mental and physiological conditions. The one thing all of these conditions have in common is an excessive and intermittent electrical activity of the neurons in the brain. This abnormal electrical activity results in brief electrical “overloads” or discharges that are followed by sudden, recurrent changes of mental functions or movements. These changes, or “seizures,” commonly include loss of memory, muscle spasms, and other involuntary movements.
Perhaps most interesting to note in the larger picture of epileptic-related conditions is the profound effect that age, environment, stress, and other contributing factors such as alcohol and drug abuse, have on the type and regularity with which a person with epilepsy experiences seizures. Also interesting to note is the fact that epileptic conditions can be degenerative and that it is not uncommon—as I believe to be the case with Jason—that a patient who is diagnosed as suffering from one kind of epileptic condition as a child manifests another condition as an adult.
Despite eighty or more years of clinical research into the various manifestations of such conditions, psychologists have never fully understood what causes the excessive electrical brain activity that is at the root of the illness, or why and how that activity manifests itself in the way it does. In some patients, genetic inheritance appears to be the important factor, while in other cases a blow to the head at an early age creates a scar on the brain which becomes a source of electrical irregularity. Alcoholism on the part of the mother during pregnancy can also be a factor. Brain tumors and strokes are clearly another possible cause, though to a lesser degree.
I could only speculate about the origins of Jason’s condition. By his own admission, there was a long history of alcoholism in his family, especially on his mother’s side. I couldn’t help but wonder whether his father’s documented abusive behavior against Nicole couldn’t also have contributed to Jason’s condition. Perhaps O. J.—in an explosive rage—had struck his young son in the head, just as he was believed to have hit Nicole. Ron Shipp had said that O.J. beat Jason, so this possibility couldn’t be dismissed. It could also explain why right up through the time of the murders, and perhaps including the night of the murders, O.J. consistently sought to bail his son out of trouble. Could it be that O.J. ultimately blamed himself?
Regardless of what may have caused Jason’s condition, there was no question that he manifested many, if not all, the classic symptoms of epileptic seizures, and that both his parents, despite what appears to have been an early denial of his condition, accepted the fact that their son had epilepsy.
This did not mean, however, that Jason was given the long-term treatment he needed. Drugs such as Dilantin, Lithium, and Tegretol, as well as Depakote—the one Jason was prescribed—only mask or lessen the symptoms of the condition, but do not cure the underlying problem. To treat the illness in the most effective way, patients must make important lifestyle changes that include a regimented diet and a stable emotional environment. While the quality of Jason’s diet is not certain, the emotional environment certainly did not show any signs of stability. It is also important that anyone with epilepsy refrain from the use of alcohol and mind-altering drugs, especially those such as cocaine and LSD, which attack the central nervous system and are known to trigger seizures. Jason, by his own admission, had been abusing such drugs since the age of fourteen, when he was first taken to St. John’s Hospital.
In all likelihood, Jason had suffered from some form of seizure or epileptic condition since his very early childhood. Since his condition had gone undiagnosed until his teens, it is reasonable to believe that the type of seizures he may have suffered from were what is known as “petit mal,” which is short in duration, lasting only a few seconds. Patients diagnosed as suffering from this condition are known to stare blankly out into space and momentarily lose conscious awareness of what is going on around them. The activity or behavior that is in progress when a seizure begins ceases during the attack and resumes immediately when the seizure is over.
Though Jason’s medical information did not indicate he suffered from this type of seizure, I could well imagine this contributing to his poor academic performance and seeming inability to concentrate or sometimes do as he was told. He was not being disobedient, but rather literally didn’t hear what was being asked of him. And the more stress and discomfort he experienced from his momentary lapses of consciousness, the more frequently he may have suffered from them.
Tonic-clonic, or “grand mal” seizures, which Jason was diagnosed as having as a teenager, result in a sudden and complete loss of consciousness. The patient falls down, his or her arms and legs stiffen and then begin a rhythmic jerking. Frequently, the patient bites down on his or her tongue and his or her bowels let loose. Again, the record of what may actually have occurred in Jason’s case is not clear, but it is entirely conceivable that Jason’s documented use of cocaine, which predated his visit to St. John’s Hospital, may actually have triggered this second and more obvious manifestation of his illness.
Jason’s continued use of cocaine, along with LSD and other psychedelic drugs that affect the central nervous system, clearly contributed to his experiencing, a few years later, yet another epileptic condition: temporal lobe seizures, which are most often associated with the various Jekyll and Hyde syndromes, among them, intermittent explosive disorder (IED) and impulsive control disorder (ICD).
IRD “attacks,” as they are frequently described, vary widely in their intensity and manifestation. However, one of their most common features is that patients invariably realize that a seizure is coming on. Jason experienced something known in medical terms as an “aura,” which may be anything from an unpleasant smell, an abdominal sensation, a distortion in perception, or an actual hallucination. These are accompanied by uncontrolled spasms or irrational behaviors that are grossly disproportionate to any provoking events and which the patient later regrets—if indeed he or she remembers them at all. Patients suffering this disorder can be cool, calm, and collected one moment, then suddenly irrational and prone to angry outbursts the next. After an attack, the patient is momentarily confused and cannot remember details of the episode.
Not all rage disorders appear to be organically based, but an astonishing number of epileptic patients suffer from them. The one characteristic all have in common is that impulsive aggression involves a hair-trigger response to provocation, with a loss of behavioral control. The important thing to note here is that the aggression is truly impulsive, there is no planning or premeditation involved, and invariably violence is directed at a family member or someone with whom there is an intimate or close relationship. An argument or stressful event frequently triggers the attack, but that argument or event doesn’t warrant or explain the degree of violence shown.
The interesting point here is the seemingly contradictory aspects of these attacks. The individual is conscious and communicative on some level and, at the same time, unable to process information in a rational manner. For example, the victim of rage attack may be in the midst of an apology, but the perceived offender processes the apology in a way that only increases his or her state of anger and decreases the power to control impulsive behavior. Another characteristic of rage attacks is that the type of physical violence displayed is unusually primitive, and that once the violent activity begins, it becomes repetitive. As many patients report, “Once it gets started, I can’t stop.”
Even the experts are at a loss to understand exactly what is going on during such an attack, but the accepted explanation is that the neurons in the brain undergo a sudden and powerful discharge, almost like a micro-electrical storm, that creates a kind of “noise” that breaks down or confuses the normal brain filters. Patients suffering from such an attack are often unable to prioritize and sort perceptual and sensory stimuli. Physicians believe that the patient’s aggressive or violent actions, whether directed toward the self or others, are a result of this inability to sort out stimuli, and represent a patient’s efforts to alleviate internal distress and to organize the experience by focusing their attention on an outwardly directed action.
The challenges facing psychologists trying to diagnose and treat patients suffering from such a condition are phenomenal—not only because the patients themselves do not necessarily remember what they have done or how they have acted, but even when they do have partial recollection of their actions, the line between what is real and what is imagined becomes blurred. There is also the additional problem of diagnosis stemming from the fact that CAT scans and EEGs don’t always reveal the brain dysfunction unless the psychologist is lucky enough to be testing the patient when such a rage is taking place. And since many patients will only suffer an attack once or twice a year, this is rarely the case.
It is also quite apparent in these attacks that there is clearly some higher-order process of mental association going on. The patient can and does communicate and, on some level, demonstrates many attributes of someone who is aware of what they are doing. Nor is the target of their abuse random. Invariably the victim of their outbursts is a spouse, a lover, friend or parent. As one study revealed, there is something specifically about intimate relationships that generates the violence. Clearly some high-order process of mental association between the meaning of the target person to the perpetrator and the context of the violence must direct and influence the act of violence.
It is not surprising that a great many people suffering from some form of this condition are drawn to a life in the military. And this, according to at least one psychiatrist, is frequently the best place for them. The structured, drug-free environment, stable living conditions, regular meals, regimented lifestyle, and opportunity to release violent tendencies acts like a soothing force upon them. This, as I knew, was certainly the case with Jason, whose life at the Army and Navy Academy in Carlsbad represented some of the happiest, if not the happiest years in his life.
Jason left the structured environment at Army and Navy to attend USC in Los Angeles, where drugs and a “free” and “open” environment were the norm. It is no wonder he fell to pieces, not only gaining a disproportionate amount of weight, but also suffering from severe depression, which ultimately resulted in his three suicide attempts.
There were many other parallels I could find between Jason and particular individuals and circumstances mentioned in the articles. In fact, examples of people suffering from IRD in the textbooks and articles I read were truly startling.
There was twenty-eight-year-old “Chuck” who was serving a prison sentence for assault with a knife. At the time of the incident, he claimed to have been intoxicated with alcohol and other drugs and had no apparent memory of what had happened. “I have a blackout about it, but the guy came at me, and I just sort of tried to throw a scare into him . . . I feel real bad about it.”
Like Jason’s incident with Paul Goldberg, the owner of the Revival Café, Chuck’s story held a special relevance, for Chuck, like Jason, had had a previous history of suicide attempts, drug and alcohol abuse, automobile-related accidents and perhaps even an attention deficit disorder as a child.
Later questioned about his strong history of violence, Chuck replied, “Well, I’ve always had a bad temper.” He described how, when he felt himself to be in a potentially threatening situation, he would just let himself go, “all or nothing, like a hair-trigger. I would just explode, I couldn’t control it.” Such a statement, I knew, could easily have been made by young Jason after his teenage rampage at Rockingham with the baseball bat.
Another example given was eighteen-year-old “Robert,” who had been having epileptic seizures since the age of nine. They occurred approximately twice a week, when he would suddenly hear a strange and indecipherable voice—as did Jason—followed by a ringing in the ears before losing consciousness. Observers noted a stare, drooling, stiffening, and then jerking movements.
Robert’s personal history was studied. Like Jason, he came from a broken home. Also like Jason, his moods would change unpredictably on a daily basis, and he tended to be irritable, frequently raising his voice in arguments and often hitting the wall in anger. He also suffered from insomnia. And during one particular seizure, he attacked his stepmother over a trifle. She slapped him, and it triggered a violent attack. Later in life, Robert reported hearing voices telling him to kill his family, and he had actually stalked various family members with a knife. And he too, like Jason, had been suicidal.
Yet another case was that of a young man, “Chris,” who committed a particularly gruesome act of violence after attending his wife’s office party. About thirty people were eating and drinking and chatting at the party, when Chris’s wife disappeared. He went to look for her. After ten to fifteen minutes he found her and insisted they leave the party together. He was quite angry, though he didn’t express that anger to her. He believed she had been cheating on him and had gone off into a car with a man, when in reality she had been standing out on a balcony with three or four coworkers. She didn’t tell him this, nor did he tell her that he suspected she cheated on him. They drove home. She went to bed. He stayed up watching television.
Chris’s next memory was of seeing his wife lying in a pool of blood on the floor of their bedroom. He called her relatives and the police and when asked what had happened he said, “I must have hit her.” He pleaded guilty in court, saying only that, “I must have done it.”
He truly did not know what had happened. I could well imagine that this had been the case with Jason when he had punched his hand through the window, or the time he had taken a pair of scissors and stabbed himself. He too appeared to have been in a state of “dissociative” rage with enormous physical arousal. And once he returned to his “normal state,” he really could not remember what had happened. The memory never registered.
Chris’s wife, however, remembered clearly. “I was asleep when he grabbed me. He pulled off the covers and then yanked me out of bed by the hair. The light was on in the bedroom and I could see his face. It was terrifying.” His expression was grossly distorted: His mouth was pulled down at both corners. His teeth were clenched, his jaw protruded, his nostrils flared, and his eyes “were sort of blank.” He started to punch her with a closed fist, first in her stomach and side, then in her face. “He was in a completely uncontrollable rage.”
There was one other example that caught my attention—that of a construction engineer. He was known to be demanding and irritable, but had no major problems with the men he worked with. Then one day he went out with his wife and some friends, casually drinking. That was the last thing he remembered before waking in the middle of the night with the house trashed and his wife gone. He had a vague sense he had caused the problem, but could not remember anything. His wife later filled in the details. He had gotten upset about the dinner being cooked in a certain way, and he had screamed at her, pushed her, and began hitting her with a frying pan. There were three other occasions when “he became someone else” and exploded. The only constant he could recall was that he had been drinking.
That Jason suffered to some degree from these problems was obvious and everywhere apparent in these documents. Prior to what he admitted to as his “attacks,” he had a shortness of breath, he sometimes heard voices and then lost memory of what he did or said. He too, like almost all others who were actually diagnosed, suffered depressive moods, excessive irritability, insomnia, fear and anxiety, not to mention drug and alcohol abuse. In short, Jason was a textbook example of intermittent explosive disorder.
Now, having read this material, I felt genuine sadness for Jason. In many respects I wished I hadn’t studied this subject in as much depth and detail as I had, for one can’t help but feel empathy and pain for someone whose mental illness is uncontrollable. Tracking down a man who has kidnapped a child, or someone who killed their wife for an insurance claim—which I have done many times—fills the investigator with a certain desire to right a wrong, to seek justice for the sake of justice. In studying rage disorder and the things that might have led Jason to commit the murders, I was filled with no sense of justice at all. Rather, I felt sickened at the range of human illness and at the same time, compassion for Jason and a desire that he should be helped, not hunted.