Son’s attack shows gaps in mental-health care

This commentary was written by a Victoria-area mother. Although the Times Colonist rarely publishes unsigned opinion pieces, we believe her perspective is worthy of an exception.

The horrific Oak Bay killings eclipsed an unprovoked assault perpetrated by our son. Fortunately, his victim, an acquaintance, survived serious wounds, although who knows what lifelong deficits he might suffer.

In our son’s case, mentalhealth issues were uppermost. Are these two egregious events linked by mental-health matters?

Our son’s first words, “too hard,” were both accurate and prophetic. Despite this reality and every intercession we tried, he struggled along, enduring frequent firings and other misfortunes. Wherever there was a crack in the system, even as small as hairline, he would slip through.

Upon reaching the age of 40 in 2015, he found himself no longer able to cope with his anxiety and depression. His up-Island GP prescribed a heavy-duty psychotropic, but suggested no other strategies or resources.

His wife deserted him, taking his two sons, who had been his life, and forced the sale of his house, pocketing the lion’s share of the proceeds. Health issues ended athletic pursuits he had enjoyed. While he longed for a dog, all his abodes prohibited pets.

By December of 2016, he lived in an isolated trailer that lacked even diversions such as TV or internet access. Given provincewide housing issues, he was lucky to have even that. Our Victoria-based family could have provided emotional support, but he wanted to remain up-Island near his sons.

On Boxing Day 2016, he made his first suicide attempt and wound up on the psych ward. There, he answered “yes” when asked if he had ever thought of harming a child.

By law, the therapist had to report this response to Child Protection Services. In his case, as he had never been the least violent and was a totally devoted and involved father, his reply seemed more honest than predictive.

While I thought of raising this issue with CPS, I demurred. This turned out to be providential, or the headline might have read: “Two little boys killed by their father.”

When contacted by CPS, his wife reduced all contact, extending it to include us as paternal grandparents. CPS had been comfortable with our providing supervision on visits. For him, another loss was chalked up. Sadly, this might have been well-advised.

After two weeks on that up Island ward, he was released. No transitional treatment plan seemed to have been put in place. Unable to cope on his own, he came to live with us in Victoria.

Ours is a seniors-only apartment building where no one under 55 can stay, whatever the family hardship. Cognizant of this prevailing preference, and mindful of the rights of our neighbours, but with no other decent options available to him, we chose not to put our son on the street.

Although he was quiet, helpful and respectful, our neighbours took issue with his presence and began to harass him. Sidling up to him and telling him to leave was the mildest of these expressions.

In Victoria in the past 10 months, there have been three more suicide attempts that we know of. There have been numerous trips to psych emergency and several committals. He has cycled through six psychiatrists and experienced numerous cancellations and scheduling errors.

Most were mystified by the onset of his mental-health issues. An appearance in middle age is not typical. Several psychologists promised to refer him for full psychological testing, as he did not fit into any of the usual diagnostic categories. These tests never materialized.

The supportive housing he desperately needed would not be available for at least two years. The priority seemed to be to house those with substance-abuse problems, many from other provinces, in low-barrier housing, housing that was totally unsuitable for our son, who is a B.C. native and is normally sensitive, sweet, generous, well-spoken, cooperative and kind.

This meant he was released back to us, sometimes appearing at our door with no notice. Ten months of stress for us and counting. In our 70s, we felt ill-equipped to have our apartment transformed into a psychiatric ward. While not seriously concerned for our safety, we were aware of how many parents, especially mothers, have been butchered locally by delusional sons.

What could have been respite when he went out was even worse. Every time the phone rang or the door was knocked upon, we feared something awful.

On the evening before Christmas Eve, the knock we had been dreading came at 9 p.m. He had gone out to buy Christmas presents that morning but never returned. Our tree-trimming festivities were overlaid with anxiety.

To our horror, the police officer at the door informed us our son was in custody, but could not provide more information. On leaving, the officer wished us “Merry Christmas,” as if that were now remotely possible.

We never envisaged what we would learn the next day, Christmas Eve. He had slashed someone and had come within millimetres of being a murderer. After interacting with him, even the police detective was baffled about his motivation. Our son was totally bewildered by what he had perpetrated, and lacked insight into his action.

Now, he sits in jail, the only social housing that was available to him. He might be in close proximity to the filicidal father. Once, this would have a worst-case scenario for us as parents. Now, we breathe a sigh of relief that incarceration protects us and the public. Still, telling him he can no longer share or visit our home was excruciating.

Despite this grim outcome, where there is life there is hope, although we have little. Instead, we are besieged by hopeless thoughts about the next catastrophe being imminent.

Every week, the Times Colonist publishes the obits of mostly youngish men lost to suicide where hope has run out. The preponderance of males suggests men as a group are suffering. The collateral damage, as we can attest, is huge.

While not all tragedies are predictable or preventable, these might have been. So mourn and memorialize the little girls, but keep in mind the best memorial to them might be devoting serious attention to developing fully integrated mental-health services and supportive housing to prevent recurrences.

He could have been and might be your son. We never expected him to be ours.