I am Adam Lanza's Mom

[Tiger Wench]

No you aren't - you are a certifiable nut job in your own right who is also an unfit mother to your three other children.  When I read this, I was speechless with stunned shock and anger - SHE will be responsible if her son commits an act of violence.  If she (and the deadbeat dad who is allegedly some hig powered attorney) wants to play Russian Roulette with her own life, FINE.  But those other three kids deserve to grow up safe - what happens to them if their brother slits their mom's throat in the middle of the night?  Toting around a tupperware full of sharp shiny objects is not an answer - what happens when he is 16?  18?  Bigger than you?  STUPID BITCH.

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.

(Originally published at The Anarchist Soccer Mom.)

Liza Long is an author, musician, and erstwhile classicist. She is also a single mother of four bright, loved children, one of whom has special needs.

[War Eagle!!!]

No you aren't - you are a certifiable nut job in your own right who is also an unfit mother to your three other children.  When I read this, I was speechless with stunned shock and anger - SHE will be responsible if her son commits an act of violence.  If she (and the deadbeat dad who is allegedly some hig powered attorney) wants to play Russian Roulette with her own life, FINE.  But those other three kids deserve to grow up safe - what happens to them if their brother slits their mom's throat in the middle of the night?  Toting around a tupperware full of sharp shiny objects is not an answer - what happens when he is 16?  18?  Bigger than you?  STUPID BITCH.

I don't understand why you are angry at this woman?

She is obviously trying to get help. What do you want her to do?

[Snaggletiger]

Good thing he didn't call her Gus.

[Godfather]

Good thing he didn't call her Gus.

[Tiger Wench]

I don't understand why you are angry at this woman?

She is obviously trying to get help. What do you want her to do?

She is not "trying" to get help.  She does not think he belongs in prison.  She wants to "just pray for grace and hope for the best."  You should Google her backstory - I was not exaggerating when I said she was certifiable in her own right. 

As a mother, I understand why she would not want to give up on her son, but she has THREE OTHER CHILDREN who deserve a normal life. If she wants to play Russian roulette with her own life, that is her choice - but she has an obligation to keep those other three children safe!! She is also a single mom - so what happens to those three when their brother cuts their mom's throat in the middle of the night? The mental health care system in this country is definitely broken, and it is not going to be fixed in time to help her son. As sad as it is, and as callous as it makes me seem to say this, her oldest boy sounds damaged beyond repair - if institutionalizing or incarcerating him keeps her alive, and her kids alive, not to mention someone else's innocent kids alive, then that's what needs to happen. Hearing her apologize some day after her son commits an attrocity because she did not want him to go to prison is not going to make anyone feel any better. And God help her if it is my child he hurts some day.

[Tiger Wench]

I have personal experience with someone who was obviously a danger to himself and those around him.  He was a paranoid schizophrenic after years of drug abuse.  His wife left him and took his son when he started hearing the voices in his head, but because he had not hurt anyone YET, the cops could do nothing.  His mom criticized the wife for not living up to her "sickness and health" vows.  So this 6'4" 300 pound man moved back in with his well to do parents.  His mother kept him sheltered at home and pretended there was nothing wrong.  Until the night when he cut all the power and phone lines and started shooting through their pecan orchards at the "DEA guys" who were after him.  The (barely 5'10 inch) dad walked to a neighbor and called the cops.  This got him a 15 day hold, but the mom refused to press charges.  Back home he came.  Mom had a stroke and died not long thereafter, and the other brother had his brother committed.  But again, dad got him out of the hospital because the crazy guy did not like the way the meds made him feel. 

So he came off his meds, got a shotgun, went into the back bedroom and listened to the voices that told him to kill himself.  Fortunately his dad was not home, and they lived way out in the country, or this could have been a whole lot worse.   His wife absolutely did the right thing when she left him and took their child.  The mom was totally in the wrong. 

In this instance, the family had all kinds of money - but they thought they could keep him at home.  This VERY large man was the human equivalent of a rabid dog - unstable, prone to fits of rage, fits of depression, conversations with voices... and he refused to take his meds.  Not much two elderly people could do to make him.  The crazy guy belonged in a secure facility.  In some instances, that's all you can do - and you owe it to society to make sure someone this damaged cannot hurt innocent people.

[Townhallsavoy]

I have personal experience with someone who was obviously a danger to himself and those around him.  He was a paranoid schizophrenic after years of drug abuse.  His wife left him and took his son when he started hearing the voices in his head, but because he had not hurt anyone YET, the cops could do nothing.  His mom criticized the wife for not living up to her "sickness and health" vows.  So this 6'4" 300 pound man moved back in with his well to do parents.  His mother kept him sheltered at home and pretended there was nothing wrong.  Until the night when he cut all the power and phone lines and started shooting through their pecan orchards at the "DEA guys" who were after him.  The (barely 5'10 inch) dad walked to a neighbor and called the cops.  This got him a 15 day hold, but the mom refused to press charges.  Back home he came.  Mom had a stroke and died not long thereafter, and the other brother had his brother committed.  But again, dad got him out of the hospital because the crazy guy did not like the way the meds made him feel. 

So he came off his meds, got a shotgun, went into the back bedroom and listened to the voices that told him to kill himself.  Fortunately his dad was not home, and they lived way out in the country, or this could have been a whole lot worse.   His wife absolutely did the right thing when she left him and took their child.  The mom was totally in the wrong. 

In this instance, the family had all kinds of money - but they thought they could keep him at home.  This VERY large man was the human equivalent of a rabid dog - unstable, prone to fits of rage, fits of depression, conversations with voices... and he refused to take his meds.  Not much two elderly people could do to make him.  The crazy guy belonged in a secure facility.  In some instances, that's all you can do - and you owe it to society to make sure someone this damaged cannot hurt innocent people.

Would you advocate euthanasia in these cases? 

[Godfather]

I enjoy my other personas, it gives me someone to chat to at my lovely tea parties.

[Godfather]

Good thing he didn't call her Gus.

BTW Snags...you might want to watch yourself at the next X-gate.  Wench is going to kick your wife's purse....hard.

[Godfather]

I enjoy my other personas, it gives me someone to chat to at my lovely tea parties.

I agree

[Tiger Wench]

Would you advocate euthanasia in these cases?

No - but neither do I advocate having damaged people with known violent tendencies be free to wander the streets and shoot up schools and malls and movie theaters.  If that kid in the story above goes postal one day, the mother should be held criminally liable if this was a known problem.  Denial in the name of "protecting" your kids can only go so far before you have an obligation to society.

But forget that - what about her other three kids?  They are all under the age of 10 but know the safety plan on what to do already when their brother has an "episode".  Yeah, that's a normal way to grow up.  Don't they get a say in all this?

[AUChizad]

You should Google her backstory - I was not exaggerating when I said she was certifiable in her own right.

http://gawker.com/5968983/writer-of-i-am-adam-lanzas-mother-blog-post-criticized-as-unfit-mother-with-own-history-of-violent-tendencies-mental-illness

Writer of ‘I Am Adam Lanza’s Mother’ Blog Post Criticized as Unfit Mother with Own History of Violent Tendencies, Mental Illness [UPDATE]
Neetzan Zimmerman

Wall Street Journal social media director Liz Heron notes that the life cycle of viral content is composed of two phases: "Uncritical mass sharing" followed by "semi-informed backlash."

It may have taken a few days, but mommyblogger Liza Long's massively viral essay "I Am Adam Lanz's Mother" has finally entered its second phase.

Writing yesterday on her own blog, academic Sarah Kendzior points to a number of overlooked aspects of Long's parenting style that "tell a different story" than that of an overwhelmed mother dealing with a mass murderer in the making.

Linking to blog posts written by Long in 2010, Kendzior attempts to paint a portrait of a woman with her own history of mental illness and violent tendencies.

Long's "Adam Lanza" — then 11 — had already been incarcerated four times at the behest of his allegedly abusive father, at least once "for not doing his chores."

Long writes about calling the boy's parole officer if he refuses to quit messing around in the back seat of the family car. She talks openly about sending the child to jail yet again to "let the state take care of you." She describes a strong desire to "throttle" her children. And she discusses going "stark raving mad" during a bitter divorce from her "handsome, successful attorney" husband, and calls insanity "fun" and "highly recommended."

After many responded with varying degrees of anger to Kendzior's post, she released a response saying Long's latest post must be set in the context of her previous posts.

She also notes that Long does little to obscure her son's identity, and her child "does not deserve to have his mother embark on a media tour promoting him as a future mass murderer."

Another post critical of Long entitled "You Are Not Adam Lanza's Mother" was also published yesterday. In it, the writer goes after Long's substance rather than her claims.

It chastises Long for a lack of "any real evidence" to suggest that her son will commit the same kind of "rage murder" that took place at Sandy Hook. Further, taking Long's assertion that her son is mentally ill at face value "dehumanises the mentally ill" by "reducing 'mental illness' to 'outward behaviour.'"

The post concludes:

    You are NOT Adam Lanza's mother. The sort of quasi-solidarity expressed in "We are [oppressed people]" or "I am [dead person]" appropriates the experiences of people who are unheard, in this case the victim of a mass homicide, and uses that to bolster a narrative that doesn't even attempt to discover or represent the experiences of those they claim to speak for. Don't do that.

Beyond the criticism of Long's motives and dime-store analysis of her son's psychology exists the real story of how Adam Lanza came to be.

Relatives, friends, and acquaintances have come forward since Friday's tragedy to describe Lanza's real mother Nancy as a gun-loving survivalist who feared the imminent collapse of the world economy and home-schooled her troubled, autistic son and "battled" with Newtown's public school system.

Whoever Liza Long is, she is not Nancy Lanza.

UPDATE: Liza Long and Sarah Kendzior have apparently settled their differences and released a joint statement calling for "affordable, quality mental health care for families" as well as "support for families who have a relative who is struggling."

The statement reads, in part:

    Our nation has suffered enough in the aftermath of Newtown. We are not interested in being part of a ‘mommy war'. We are interested in opening a serious conversation on what can be done for families in need. Let's work together and make our country better.

[AUChizad]

http://sarahkendzior.com/2012/12/16/want-the-truth-behind-i-am-adam-lanzas-mother-read-her-blog/

Want the Truth Behind “I Am Adam Lanza’s Mother”? Read her blog.
Posted on December 16, 2012

Update: Please see my joint statement with Liza Long. We do not want to be part of a “mommy war” and want to steer this conversation in a productive and respectful direction.

Update: Please see my follow-up post “A brief response on Liza Long”

Liza Long, the woman who wrote the viral post “I Am Adam Lanza’s Mother”, is being held up as a heroic woman warranting sympathy for bring the plight of her mentally ill son to the public.

Her blog tells a different story. Long has written a series of vindictive and cruel posts about her children in which she fantasizes about beating them, locking them up and giving them away. In most posts, her allegedly insane and violent son is portrayed as a normal boy who incites her wrath by being messy, buying too many Apple products and supporting Obama.

I feel uncomfortable speculating about someone’s private life based on a blog. But since these children are likely to be the object of enormous media attention, someone should be paying close attention to the words of their mother.

These children could be in real danger if her goal was to capitalize on the Newtown tragedy by creating a media campaign designed to give her sympathy. If I am wrong about this, I truly apologize. But there is a 13-year-old boy who has already had his reputation destroyed and who may be facing serious harm.

This “national conversation” on mental illness needs to include the mental illness of mothers and the online privacy of their children.

According to the blog, Liza Long is going through a bitter divorce and has violent and paranoid fantasies about her family. The father of the children is also portrayed as abusive.

Below, some excerpts:

On wanting to throttle her kids and give them to the state, in blog post titled I Quit!

Dear Progeny of Mine who cannot be in the car together for more than five minutes without erupting into screams that make a Japanese horror flick seem tame by comparison: No, you cannot ever have computer time again. Not ever. Your “I love to fart on you” song may seem whimsical or even clever to you, my dear seven year old. But it makes me want to throttle you.

And you, the 11 year old in the back, if you even touch your brother again, I will call your parole officer.  I quit! Let the state take care of you and your compulsive inability to stop poking people.

And five year old, please only cry like that if you are facing imminent death—not if you drop your lollipop on the car floor, where it joins a two year food supply of discarded candy, fruit snacks, and cracker crumbs. Believe me, life will throw you much tougher challenges, and at this rate, you will be nothing but a fluffy cheerleader who drops the ball at the first sign of a chipped manicure.

On her allegedly violently insane son, described pre-Newtown massacre as a normal boy:

Those of you who aren’t parents should really take my advice and stick with a puppy.

Because the puppy will never grow up to be a teenager.

Confession: My teen is driving me nuts. Oh sure, the rest of you see this poised, self-confident, polite young man who always holds doors open and helps little old ladies cross the street and can magically make your iPad work. Sure, he’s a straight A Boy Scout who can play anything in the key of Coldplay on the piano and writes English essays that make his teacher weep for joy.

What you don’t see is him shooting rubber bands at his siblings while he is supposed to be cleaning the Room of Doom. I have asked him to clean said room, every day for the past two months, roughly 14.7 times per hour. If you have a teenage son, you know the room I am talking about. There’s no point in even trying to guess if the clothes are clean or dirty, or what that strange bloodlike substance on the wall is, or where the two year supply of cookie crumbs ground into the carpet came from. Do not, under any circumstances, look under the bed.

My son’s room also features a bizarre altar decorated with icons and product boxes for every single Apple item ever produced. The only thing missing is a candle. A picture of Saint Steve Jobs smirks benevolently down on this collection, which I must confess I didn’t realize was a collection—to me, it looked like a lot of old product packaging that needed to be tossed.

“No, Mom!” my son screamed as I started toward the shrine with a garbage bag in hand. “That’s Apple stuff! Steve Jobs personally designed those boxes. By himself!”

Um, okay.

In addition to worshiping Steve Jobs, my son is an Obama-loving Democrat. All day long I have to listen to him go on and on about how President Obama and Steve Jobs have made the earth a paradise right here and now, set to a Coldplay soundtrack (okay, at least the kid has decent taste in tuneage).

This is, of course, revenge for my own Ronald Reagan-loving years in a Carter-Dukakis-Clinton household. I still love Ronald Reagan.

On her bitter custody battle with her ex-husband

We are in therapy because said father decided that he would abdicate his parenting responsibilities to the juvenile correction facility (i.e., he had his 11 year old incarcerated for not doing his chores, something I will admit I have fantasized about but never really considered as a viable parenting technique)…

And the very fact that I am even considering the possibility of thinking about option three tells you everything you need to know about just how bad that situation really is. The situation where he abandons his 14 year old son at a mental hospital. The situation where he has his 11 year old son incarcerated—four times!

I have a 12 minute recording made a few months ago in which he outlines the vast conspiracy theory by which I allegedly contrived to take his children from him. It’s not his fault, he says. It’s his violent and destructive children, he says. It’s my fault for encouraging them to accuse him of abuse, he says. He has to protect himself and his new wife, he says.

Indeed.

Safety is never anything more than a pretty illusion for any of us, at any time. We are all just one car accident, one cancer diagnosis, one unimagined catastrophe away from death. But what makes this situation bad—no, intolerable—is that someone, somewhere, for some reason, is actively seeking to destroy me.

On forcing her son to climb a mountain despite the fact that he is in physical pain, then having Abraham-Isaac murder fantasies

I am not going to even pretend I wasn’t tempted—a sudden picture of Jesus standing on a mountain top with Satan, surveying the world, flashed through my mind. But my confidence factor was a mere 25%–in other words, I was only 25% sure that I could cross the space beneath me and cling to the other side. Nate started playing with his rope, putting a few “Man vs. Wild” moves into practice as he swung the teal nylon cord across the abyss, catching it on the opposite side. I had already made my decision when I said to him, with utter calmness, “Crossing that crevasse is a selfish act. If you want to do it, I will stand here and take your picture when or if you reach the summit. But it’s selfish. And I will not follow you.”

I was speaking to myself. But Nate heard me. For several minutes. he thought about what I said, and in the end, he too decided not to cross. I knew exactly how courageous that decision was.

“Why do we do this to ourselves, Mom?” my son had asked a few weeks before, as he moved with aching slowness down the back face of Timpanogos.

Why do we climb mountains? I think there are two reasons. We climb because we want to push ourselves to the limits of our physical endurance; we want to see just how far these sacks of skin and bone can take us. And we climb because there simply isn’t any other way to experience what we feel when we stand on the summit, feeling for a brief moment what the gods feel. No photograph, no mere description, can do it justice—that sense of absolute awe and wonder and pure freedom that assaults your every sense when you are quite literally on top of your world.

Why then do we choose not to summit a mountain? That question is more difficult for me. We choose because when we reach the moment of decision, we find ourselves insufficiently aware, informed, prepared. We choose not to succeed at some things because the risks outweigh the benefits. To give up something that you value greatly for those you love is to know the meaning of sacrifice in the Biblical sense. As I turned back from Mr. Regan’s taunting summit, as I wedged my body between sheer rock faces with vertical drops of more than 30 feet, as I scavenged for handholds in flaking granite, I thought of Abraham, knife poised above the body of his innocent son. Why does God give us these urges, then tell us not to act on them?

On her own mental breakdown due to the divorce and custody battle, a constant theme in the blog

The story goes a little something like this. Last year I woke up and found myself living in a McMansion in one of those well appointed “lifestyle communities” replete with waterfalls and acres of precisely trimmed Kentucky bluegrass and 2.7 luxury SUVs per capita.

And I realized that my daydreams all involved a)my own death; or b)federal prison.

I had four beautiful children. A fluffy college degree in Classics (omnia Gallia in tres partes divisa est, etc.). My husband was a handsome, successful attorney. I taught Sunday School. I served on a local school board. I was, in short, a soccer mom.

So I did what any reasonably bright person would do under the circumstances. I went stark raving mad.

Insanity is great fun. I highly recommend it. Unfortunately, dealing with the fallout from the nuclear blast that was my attempt to regain consciousness has proven somewhat more difficult than I expected. Especially for my kids.

Here’s what he got: the house, the minivan, 50% custody.
Here’s what I got: the Steinway, and the ability to solve the Rubiks Cube.
Learning to make my own way in the world: priceless.

[Snaggletiger]

BTW Snags...you might want to watch yourself at the next X-gate.  Wench is going to kick your wife's purse....hard.

Hussell.  ur doin it rite

[bottomfeeder]

Would you advocate euthanasia in these cases?

I do. Starting with Bill O'Reilly.



That wasn't a kid, "...it was just a dog with two legs."

http://theintelhub.com/2012/12/17/drone-operator-asks-did-we-just-kill-a-kid-commander-tells-him-it-was-just-a-dog-with-2-legs/

[CCTAU]

I think this mothers post was a cry for help. She knows her son is sick, but this isn't "Minority Report" where precogs put you in prison for a crime you might committ. She wanted him in a mental facilty, not a prison. So I sort of understand where she is coming from. But at some point in time, you have to protect everyone around you, not just the one kid. God bless these parents trying to navigate waters that our government refuse to even acknowledge!

But there is no excuse for ever allowing the mentally ill an opportunity to hurt others!

[bottomfeeder]

God bless these parents trying to navigate waters that our government refuse to even acknowledge!

But there is no excuse for ever allowing the mentally ill an opportunity to hurt others!

Don't tell the gubermint that. They might decide to drone you.

[Tiger Wench]

Even a day later after I have chilled out a little...

I think I would rather medicate my violent, mentally disturbed son into a drooling slug than risk the lives of my other children.  You never stop loving your children, but in this case, it would be an act of love to take whatever steps are necessary to keep him from causing grievous harm to himself or some innocent third party.  Both avenues suck - but one way for sure keeps everyone alive.

[Townhallsavoy]

Even a day later after I have chilled out a little...

I think I would rather medicate my violent, mentally disturbed son into a drooling slug than risk the lives of my other children.  You never stop loving your children, but in this case, it would be an act of love to take whatever steps are necessary to keep him from causing grievous harm to himself or some innocent third party.  Both avenues suck - but one way for sure keeps everyone alive.

Why not come up with a medication that makes them 100% manipulated? 

Hard labor.  Less mentally ill people to commit violent acts. 

Win-win?

[bottomfeeder]

Even a day later after I have chilled out a little...

I think I would rather medicate my violent, mentally disturbed son into a drooling slug than risk the lives of my other children.  You never stop loving your children, but in this case, it would be an act of love to take whatever steps are necessary to keep him from causing grievous harm to himself or some innocent third party.  Both avenues suck - but one way for sure keeps everyone alive.

I take meds everyday so I don't off on motherfuckers. I just hope they don't cut me off.