Brushes with Madness

['Hamas' Jenkins]

Planet,

Today I was reminded of how often I live in a cocoon. I overheard some coworkers talking about a recent murder that happened in town, they then mentioned a past incident regarding a student and suspicious circumstances.

It turns out that a student committed suicide eight months ago by jumping off of a parking garage in town. Some months after his death, multiple witnesses came forward implicating him in the death of a professor, including bludgeoning and immolation, in a parking garage no less, eight years earlier. These witnesses claimed they were afraid to come forward for fear of reprisal.

It turns out that the now deceased student was a student of mine a few summers ago. He came off as a bit irascible, but it's difficult to conceptualize occupying a shared space with an alleged murderer for six hours a week.

Needless to say, spooky.

Any similar events from you all?

[beach tribe]

Damn, here goes....
My dads friend killed his wife. He borrowed my dads van to get rid of the body. It was never found. No charges were ever filed.
I know the mans name, and what city he lives in. Her body was thrown in the Mighty Mississip.
Dad swears that he found out he used the van for that.......because her ghost was in his kitchen when the guy was getting rid of the body. Said he confronted him about it and he confessed it to him.
My mom and dad both swear to seeing her sitting at the table in her night gown.

[Chief Roundup]

Don't know if you all remember hearing of the CSA, Covenant, the Sword, and the Arm of the lord. Some of those people use to work for my father on a large farm. They seemed like decent enough people just really poor and had some odd religious beliefs. They always worked hard, never drank, and helped the people of the area that were not part of their community after a tornado. I went to pick up some of the guys to work one day and they are blowing shit up. I asked if I could and that was when I got to shoot my first fully automatic rifle. I got to pull the pin and throw a hand grenade. I got to shoot a mortar round and stood next to Jim when he shot a rocket and blew up an old truck. I thought it was cool. I was very naïve in some ways but things were different back then too. I was in my mid teens when the encampment that those people lived on was seized. The FBI, ATF and other agencies used our farm as a launching point for the assault. It was the first time I ever seen an aircraft that can displace its sound.

[rico]

I worked in the mental health field for 5 years prior to making the decision to go back to school to pursue my Psychiatric RN Practitioner license, for I discovered that I had to expand my options somehow if I ever have any intentions of fully paying off my student loans, which wasn't going to happen with only a BA in Psychology at a private school. In those 5 years, I worked as a Service Coordinator/Internal Business Auditor/Intensive Psychiatric Rehabilitation practitioner. Had many brushes with madness while working there, especially in the Service Coordinator role. I won't get into those.

To the tl;dr police, this is a warning in advance. This is probably going to be too long, so don't read. I would also like to stress how incredibly sorry I am for it being so tl;dr.

I had numerous brushes with madness with a particular friend of mine in college. I wrestled at a D3 college. There was a guy on my team who was very hard-working, popular, nice, happy, intelligent, etc. He came from a respected family. His father owned the suit store in the city in which the college was located. I became good friends with him because the person on our team that I became best friends with (and still am) was this guy's best friend growing up. So he and I became pretty tight through our mutual friendship with my current and now longtime best friend.

Anyways.

Our mutual friend transferred to the University of Colorado prior to the beginning of our Junior years. Around the second semester of our Sophomore year, the guy in which my brush(es) with madness are in reference to started becoming very eccentric. He began speaking about how he wanted to become president of the United States, various political oddities, etc. He also raised his drug use to another level prior from what it was, in which it was already rather excessive. He maintained his toughness though. This guy, in preseason workouts, although not a good wrestler, would finish first in EVERY drill and would just totally dominate in long distance running. This, along with many other things made him come off to me as if he were indestructible.

By about 2nd semester of our Junior year, he became diagnosed with Schizophrenia. By this time, all of his MANY friends with an exception of myself and another person had abandoned him as a friend because everyone was becoming weirded/creeped out by him. Therefore, he was at my house all the time and was at my house the day that he was picked up and taken to the Psych ward and initially given his diagnosis of Schizophrenia. To be completely honest, I cringed whenever he arrived at our place because he really was starting to creep me out as well. However, I remained a loyal friend to him with hopes that maybe in a prolonged period of time, I could help him (although I knew the chances of that happening were low due to how stubborn he was). Not to mention, my best friend who was in Colorado was constantly worried about him and always implied that he wanted me to be supportive of the guy.

When we were Seniors, he joined the cross country team in addition to the wrestling team. He was a football stud in high school and had never run cross country before. He quickly became the team's top runner and once he proved to everyone on the team and presumably himself that he could beat anyone on the team in a long distance race, he quit, but continued to run. He would run 10-15 miles a day and picked up smoking in the process. He would smoke (no exaggeration) 4-5 packs of Marlboro reds per day. He would smoke while running. He would light up cigarettes between every mile. His logic was that he wanted to "prove that he was tougher than cigarettes and any physical ailment that can result from them, including cancer."

A couple weeks before Easter our Senior year, he woke me up at 6:30 A.M. by hitting me in the face with a wine bottle and blowing smoke in my face. Now, if any other friend of mine or anyone else in general would have done this to me, I would have become pissed off and may have instantly resorted to shoving/punching, but this is one of very few people who I have encountered in my life who I was intimidated by, for deep down, I thought he was capable of pulling off some serious shit if provoked.

So I asked him what I wanted and he insisted that I top off the wine he had along with an 18 pack of Budweiser that he brought with him. I was already hungover from the night before and hadn't gotten to sleep until 4 A.M., but agreed to drink with him. After finishing this off, he insisted that we go to a couple bars. We drank at the bars until roughly 6 PM.

We were both annihilated as hell and contacted one of our friends who resided on the outskirts of town. On a windy side-road, to be more specific. This was the one friend who I mentioned above, who was the only one along with myself to remain friends with him. He had been friends with this guy since they were in JH.

With very, very poor judgment on my part, I hopped in his car, knowing full-well that the guy was intoxicated and we drove to our friend's place. I knew it was a bad idea, yet at the same time, if I were to tell the guy that I didn't want to ride with him, he would surely perceive it as a sign of disrespect...something he did not respond well to.

When we got on the curvy, windy road that our friend lived on, this guy was driving anywhere between 85-105 miles per hour. I was so scared that I literally felt like I could piss my pants. On both sides of the road, there were steep ditches, one which led to a bluff.

I had my hand on the "oh shit" handle and saw a curve about 50 yards in front of us that was close to being a 90 degree angle. I looked at him, who was looking straight ahead with a glazed, lifeless expression on his face, then back at the road, then back at him and before I knew it, we had approached this curve and I shit you not, he didn't even make an attempt to successfully make the turn with his car...he just drove straight ahead and in his little Hyundai car, we drove straight into a bluff at approximately 95 miles per hour. In retrospect, I honestly thought he was trying to kill himself at that moment and was willing to take me with him.

The front of his car crumpled like a pop can. While this happened, everything seemed to be going in slow motion. In the little time I had to think, I thought I was either a dead man, or was going to be severely injured. Miraculously though, I ended up with only a bump on my elbow from my elbow hitting the passenger side window. My friend didn't end up with a bump or scratch.

We both crawled out through a broken window and had to literally pull ourselves out of the car and climb the ditch to get to the road. By the time we pulled ourselves back on the road, there was an elderly couple who had run about 200 yards to get to us and were panicked and out of breath due to running. The first words out of the guy's mouth was, "oh my God, we heard that crash all the way from inside our house with the television on, how many people are dead?!?! How many people are hurt?! How many people are still in the vehicle?!?!" My friend still seemed glazed and lifeless as he had prior to driving the car into the bluff and didn't respond. I responded to them by saying, "it was just us two, and we are ok." The old guy then said, "you have got to be kidding me, we thought for sure someone had to have died from that. We saw how fast you were going when you drove by. We called the police to have them help you out, hopefully they can help you get your car pulled out."

After hearing this, my friend's demeanor went from "glazed and lifeless" to completely infuriated. He ran up to this old guy, shoved him and shouted, "call them back now!!! Tell them that it was nothing! Tell them we are ok!!!" The old guy said something along the lines of, "son, I really think the police can help you out. And it's too late, I already called them. I was trying to help you boys." My friend grabbed this old man by the shirt and got his face within a couple inches of the old man's face and said, "call the police and tell them not to come, right now, or I will ****ing kill you."

It was just a few seconds after my friend began threatening this old man that 3-4 cops pulled up. When they saw the car, their first question was, "oh my God, how many do you think are dead or injured?" We informed them that we were the only people in the vehicle and they were shocked.

They gave my friend a breathalyzer and he blew something like a .31. They cuffed him up and sent him to jail. They questioned me a bit. They were very curious to know if I knew anything about the Xanax, Adderall and half ounce of dank that they found in his glove box, in which I denied having any knowledge. They asked me if I had a ride, which I didn't, so they drove me to my house.

I woke up at 10 A.M. to a call from my friend who said he had been running laps in the drunk tank (community jail cell for people recently arrested) until he blew zeros and that he just blew zeros and needed me to pick him up. I agreed.

When I picked him up, he was irate as hell with me. Initially he was pissed off that I didn't "break him out of jail." I responded in a manner that I became accustomed to with the thousands of conversations I had with him prior to that in which he was being out of line. My tactic was to tell him why I didn't do what he wanted me to do, while giving him a compliment simultaneously. I said, "well man, I didn't figure you wanted me to because you are tougher than jail and would be able to blow zeros whenever you felt like it." He shook his head as if he understood and respected my response.

Then he started tripping on me about the crash itself. He started screaming at me, asking, "why the **** didn't you get us out of that shit?!!?!?!" I had no idea what he meant and asked, "what do you mean?" He yelled back, "you know exactly what I mean!! Why didn't you lift my car out of the ditch and throw it back on the road so we could have sped off before the cops got there!!!!" I was like, "duuuude.....your car is totaled. You can't even drive it anymore, it's so bad." He yelled, "stop making ****ing excuses!!! You could have uncrumpled it and put it back together...and we would have drove off and I wouldn't be in this mess right now!!!! It's all your fault!!!" He was dead serious. And I was pretty strong back then...had to cut weight to wrestle 197 pounds that year and was in the weight-room a lot, and this guy evidently classified me as his "strong" friend. I replied, "dude, who the hell do you think I am? The Incredible Hulk?!? I am not strong enough to do that!?!?!" He interrupted, "BULLSHIT!!! You are the strong one of our crew!! You could have done it!!! It's all your fault!!! I replied back to him, in probably the most confrontational fashion that I ever had with him and said, "what the **** is wrong with you!?!? I am not THAT strong and even if I were, we wouldn't have gone anywhere because your car parts are destroyed and I know NOTHING about cars!! And what 'CREW' are you talking about?!!?!? We aren't the ****ing X-Men. And if we are in some sort of super-human 'crew,' what's your role?!?! The guy who drives cars into bluffs at almost 100 MPH?!?! It's NOT my fault this happened. It's yours, for driving when you shouldn't have and for pussing out instead of attempting to make that turn!!!"

I had no idea what his response to this would be, for I had never argued with him and the only person I had ever seen who wasn't too scared too argue with him (over a song being played at a party) had been punched in the face and had his life threatened by him for a week following the dispute.

He was silent for a bit and after a minute or two, responded with, "your a good friend, Swaff. Can you please drive me to my Dad's house?" I agreed and drove him to his Dad's place, which was a cabin on the Mississippi River in East Dubuque, Illinois. When we got there, he asked me to follow him to the sandbar in front of his cabin and gave me a shovel and told me to start digging in the spot he was going to dig at. I was confused as hell, but was used to being confused in my interactions with him and I helped him dig, wondering what in the hell he had buried on his sandbar. We dug through about 4 feet in the sand and he finally dragged out a safe. He had a key on his chain to open the safe and inside it was a bunch of bars of silver and gold.

He said calmly, "I have these scattered all over the area. They are my treasures that people will be searching for in a couple centuries. I know you won't tell anyone. Now, drive me to the bank. I need some money to buy a new car." The bank gave him several thousands of dollars for his silver and gold. He hooked me up with a silver bar and a gold coin for assisting him.

I remember thinking, "my God, my friendship with this guy, literally couldn't get any weirder." I was wrong.

Two weeks later, on Easter Sunday, I got the call from my roommate that he had shot his stepmom in the head with a shotgun and followed this by shooting himself in the head. The shit he used to babble about regarding his stepmom and his feelings of disdain for her leading to this is something that would take me forever to explain. To put it in short, if it were anyone who I knew he despised more than anyone else in the world, it was undoubtedly her.

This was obviously about as heinous of an act as possible, but to be perfectly honest, I was simultaneously surprised and not surprised. I was surprised, for I don't think anyone ever expects to experience something like this in their lifetime. Yet, at the same time, it didn't surprise me that he did this, for I thought he was fully capable of it....that's why I was so freaking intimidated by him.

During the investigation, it was discovered that he carried a handgun in his backpack with him everywhere he went. This was extremely eye-opening to my roommates and I, for we rarely ever saw him without his backpack. And he was at our house every day, for multiple-hour increments. He even ran with his backpack. It made me wonder how close he ever came to using it on someone. It also made me relieved that I made the decision to somewhat "cater" to the guy and made it a point to not piss him off.

It was this situation that showed me how much a person can change when they develop a serious mental illness. This guy went from one of the most popular kids in our college to a murderer and it was all a result of the symptoms of schizophrenia he experienced combined with the substance abuse he engaged in which increased the frequency and severity of his symptoms.

For those who are still reading, here are a couple links to the story:

http://www.whbf.com/Global/story.asp?s=6348756

http://www.kcrg.com/news/local/6960812.html

[rico]

Oh, and outside of work, I had another encounter with another crazy who became a murderer who committed suicide.

I've had 2 speeding tickets in my life. One of them was a month after I turned 16 years old. I was clocked at 101 miles per hour in a 55 zone. My license was suspended for 140 days. This was a very long 140 days because I grew up in the country, on a horse farm, 7 miles outside of a town that has 1200 people in it. So I experienced social freedom for the first time in my life for a month and I screwed it up.

The other time was for going 31 in a 25 in a rival town to my hometown. I was passing through on my way home from college. The guy who gave me the ticket was a total douche-canoe. I mean, just blatantly rude and sarcastic, had a smartass, smirk on his face, etc. It just seemed that he was going out of his way to be a prick. Something seemed very "off" about him, and it seemed like it was something more than him simply being disrespectful to me because I was from a rival school.

After he wrote me the ticket and I was allowed to leave, the thought, "go kill yourself, asshole" probably crossed my mind (although I wouldn't have meant it literally in my thinking...it would have just been my way of thinking to myself, "go **** yourself, asshole). Ironically though, about 6 months later, he did.

This dude got in an argument with his girlfriend/baby-momma, shot her, shot their son, shot their dog, called his best friend who happened to be the police dispatcher at the time, reported what he did and what he was going to do, which was commit suicide, which he did.

Crazy.

And this douchebag was buried in an obscure cemetery in the middle of nowhere, where all my relatives on my father's side are buried. In fact, it's probably where I will end up, for I think my grandfather reserved 10 plots in addition to his own presumably to keep the family together after we have passed away. Every Memorial Day when I visit my grandfather's grave, I check out this guy's gravestone out of sheer curiosity because every time I've ever seen it, there has been something either written on his gravestone or placed on top of his gravestone to indicate that he is still hated by a few people out there. For example, every year there are always empty shotgun shells identical to the ones he used in the shooting, placed on his grave. I've also seen a Satan figurine, a laminated sign with the words, "burns in hell" and an arrow pointing towards the ground, a hot wheels cop car with the words, "murderer pig" written on it, etc. A couple years ago, there was a little note written and placed in some flowers that read, "I ****ed your baby-mama." Although it didn't say, "your baby-mama," it actually said the girl's name. This was written, presumably because it was rumored that he did what he did because his gf/baby-mama had been messing around on him with a couple guys and it made him "snap."

Some of the shit you'll come across at cemeteries is interesting. There is another girl buried at that cemetery who died by accidentally driving her car over a ravine and into the Mississippi some 15 years ago. There was a passenger, a very popular girl, in the car with her. Last year, someone placed a hot wheel of similar color to the car she drove, taped it to what appeared to be a toy that had a river on it...looked like something that would be used while playing with Army hero toys. This was placed on top of her gravestone. Makes me wonder if it is someone trying to stir the pot, someone being a jackass or if someone is genuinely holding a grudge against her for being the driver in that accident and blames her for the other girl being killed...?

['Hamas' Jenkins]

Originally Posted by rico

I worked in the mental health field for 5 years prior to making the decision to go back to school to pursue my Psychiatric RN Practitioner license, for I discovered that I had to expand my options somehow if I ever have any intentions of fully paying off my student loans, which wasn't going to happen with only a BA in Psychology at a private school. In those 5 years, I worked as a Service Coordinator/Internal Business Auditor/Intensive Psychiatric Rehabilitation practitioner. Had many brushes with madness while working there, especially in the Service Coordinator role. I won't get into those. l

Jesus. ****ing. Christ. That was, literally, the most terrifying thing I've ever read.

[Cheater5]

Originally Posted by beach tribe

Damn, here goes....
My dads friend killed his wife. He borrowed my dads van to get rid of the body. It was never found. No charges were ever filed.
I know the mans name, and what city he lives in. Her body was thrown in the Mighty Mississip.
Dad swears that he found out he used the van for that.......because her ghost was in his kitchen when the guy was getting rid of the body. Said he confronted him about it and he confessed it to him.
My mom and dad both swear to seeing her sitting at the table in her night gown.

That's pretty creepy, dude.

[rico]

Originally Posted by 'Hamas' Jenkins

Jesus. ****ing. Christ. That was, literally, the most terrifying thing I've ever read.

Is that response in regards to the first paragraph that was quoted, like in a sarcastic way? Or was it directed to the story that followed regarding my friend?

I've read enough of your posts on here and I'm assuming your response was serious and directed towards the story about my friend. And with that said, it was terrifying. I was scared shitless of the guy...and your toughest of "tough-guys" or people who just don't seem to have to "cooth" to interact socially respectable and appropriately with the average person in every day social situations, were not "tough-guys" or lacking cooth (sp?) when in the presence of this guy in his final two years of life. And he wasn't a physically imposing figure. In fact, he was pretty small. What made this guy so scary was the vibe that he gave off that he wasn't full of shit when he made threats or said he was going to do something. I think most people knew that if he were to say, "I'm going to kill that guy," it didn't mean, "boy, I'm pissed at that guy," but it literally meant that he wanted to kill the person. People generally caught on to the legitimacy of his threats/proposals.

Obviously, I think that's why a lot of people began avoiding him. Nobody wants to be around someone who they think is capable of snapping and hurting or even killing them. It was such a difficult situation for me. For one, I don't like giving up on people...if I become friends with someone, I try to be as loyal and as devoted as possible. Secondly, I felt a bit pressured to be his friend by my best friend (who would consider this guy to be his best friend for they grew up together). He knew, probably to a greater extent than me what was going on with him and it bugged him that he wasn't able to be there for him. Hell, now that I think about it...maybe he caught on to it more quickly than everyone else, which may have been a factor that influenced him to move to Colorado...because he knew how terrifying things could ultimately end up being for him if he stayed around. I'll have to ask him about that in Vegas next month....that conversation may not go well.

It was a total "between a rock and a hard place" situation for me...especially when it got to the point where this guy and I were actually friends opposed to simply sharing a mutual friend. With me being one of the two people in the area to willingly affiliate themselves with him, he became that much more dependent on us.

And he had his redeeming qualities. He was extremely stubborn, which was frustrating in many situations, but added value to his friendship, for he was stubbornly loyal and would do ANYTHING to help you if you needed it, even if it may have potentially severely inconvenienced him.. You could seriously count on him to be there for you through any difficult situation and could trust him in terms of not making moves on a girl you were seeing, sticking up for you if someone is speaking negatively about you behind your back (and inadvertently scaring them in the process), etc. Those characteristics of unconditional loyalty and accountability with his friends seemed to be part of his personal "code," something he followed until he ceased to maintain his own existence.

And as I mentioned in the story, his father owned the suit store in the community and he always wore apparel from the store...even prior to developing Schizophrenia. The girls were crazy about him when he was a Freshman and Sophomore because he was real cool and always dressed real nice. He would wear a nice suit just to go to class. He would RUN 10 miles in dress clothes. However, in the last 2 years, he changed his selection to the trench-coat looking apparel from his father's store (topped off with a brown Sublime cap that didn't match the black trench coats he would generally wear). What in the hell is up with crazy, homicidal people developing an affinity for trench-coats?

When I google links to the story, I always see his mugshot that they used in the newspaper when this all went down (that was presumably taken when he wrecked his car), which provokes an array of feelings for me. He appeared angry as hell in that picture and appeared that way a lot those last two years, which sucked because he used to be notorious for how frequently he smiled and how happy and cool he was. The last two years, if he was smiling, it was usually an indicator that he was manic and was laughing about something connected to his inner delusions. So that smile went from being one of the positive things that defined him to something indicative of his inner demons. Sad.

One thing that I haven't been able to shake since this happened was how I (and others) felt after it happened. I am going to feel awful admitting this and to be honest, I don't know if I have ever admitted to anyone with an exception of my roommates/close friends on drunken nights who secretly felt the same way. But when he was gone, I was sad. We all were sad. It was a horrific situation. But along with the sadness, there was a simultaneous, conflicting, deep-seeded feeling of...UGH.....relief....? And I hate putting it that way and maybe there's a better way of putting it because it's not like he did it and I was like, "oh, I'm so relieved that he's finally gone." I was genuinely heartbroken about it. However, I was sick as hell of being scared every day when he was around, which was all the time. I mean, the dude almost freaking killed me in that car crash. And I was scared of him or at least of what I thought he was potentially capable of for a year a half before the crash even took place.

Put it this way, before it happened, I was a month or two from graduating college and moving back home. I think I was more excited about moving home to be away from him than I was anything else that people are normally excited about such as; attaining my degree, entering the "real world," etc. Deep down, being his friend was exhausting due to the excessive negative baggage that came along with it. I didn't want him to do what he did (ESPECIALLY to his stepmom). I didn't want him to die or commit suicide, but I was surely counting the days to when I didn't have to deal with him anymore. I really wish that he would have graduated with me and that he was still alive today and that I could still maintain friendship with him, but only really have to deal with him whenever I came back up for a visit. I have no idea what he'd be doing or where he'd be now if that were the case, but it's such a shame that he had to take another life along with his own.

To this day, I have never met anyone tougher than this guy....this guy had a physical pain tolerance that exceeding what I even thought was possible. I just wish the internal pain tolerance matched that.

['Hamas' Jenkins]

It was a completely legitimate response. I just didn't want to quote the entirety of such a long post.

[rico]

Originally Posted by 'Hamas' Jenkins

It was a completely legitimate response. I just didn't want to quote the entirety of such a long post.

Yeah, I figured so. It's all good, mang!

[Jewish Rabbi]

Originally Posted by rico

Yeah, I figured so. It's all good, mang!

Have you posted that story on here before? I got some serious deja vu reading that.

****ed up.

[Lex Luthor]

Originally Posted by Bo's Pelini

I'm surprised none of the older CP generation has chimed in with the dude from KC who was like Dahmer. If you went to the Westport Flea Market in the 80's you probably crossed paths right?

http://www.chiefsplanet.com/BB/showp...9&postcount=37

[MeatRock]

Originally Posted by rico

I worked in the mental health field for 5 years prior to making the decision to go back to school to pursue my Psychiatric RN Practitioner license, for I discovered that I had to expand my options somehow if I ever have any intentions of fully paying off my student loans, which wasn't going to happen with only a BA in Psychology at a private school. In those 5 years, I worked as a Service Coordinator/Internal Business Auditor/Intensive Psychiatric Rehabilitation practitioner. Had many brushes with madness while working there, especially in the Service Coordinator role. I won't get into those.

To the tl;dr police, this is a warning in advance. This is probably going to be too long, so don't read. I would also like to stress how incredibly sorry I am for it being so tl;dr.

I had numerous brushes with madness with a particular friend of mine in college. I wrestled at a D3 college. There was a guy on my team who was very hard-working, popular, nice, happy, intelligent, etc. He came from a respected family. His father owned the suit store in the city in which the college was located. I became good friends with him because the person on our team that I became best friends with (and still am) was this guy's best friend growing up. So he and I became pretty tight through our mutual friendship with my current and now longtime best friend.

Anyways.

Our mutual friend transferred to the University of Colorado prior to the beginning of our Junior years. Around the second semester of our Sophomore year, the guy in which my brush(es) with madness are in reference to started becoming very eccentric. He began speaking about how he wanted to become president of the United States, various political oddities, etc. He also raised his drug use to another level prior from what it was, in which it was already rather excessive. He maintained his toughness though. This guy, in preseason workouts, although not a good wrestler, would finish first in EVERY drill and would just totally dominate in long distance running. This, along with many other things made him come off to me as if he were indestructible.

By about 2nd semester of our Junior year, he became diagnosed with Schizophrenia. By this time, all of his MANY friends with an exception of myself and another person had abandoned him as a friend because everyone was becoming weirded/creeped out by him. Therefore, he was at my house all the time and was at my house the day that he was picked up and taken to the Psych ward and initially given his diagnosis of Schizophrenia. To be completely honest, I cringed whenever he arrived at our place because he really was starting to creep me out as well. However, I remained a loyal friend to him with hopes that maybe in a prolonged period of time, I could help him (although I knew the chances of that happening were low due to how stubborn he was). Not to mention, my best friend who was in Colorado was constantly worried about him and always implied that he wanted me to be supportive of the guy.

When we were Seniors, he joined the cross country team in addition to the wrestling team. He was a football stud in high school and had never run cross country before. He quickly became the team's top runner and once he proved to everyone on the team and presumably himself that he could beat anyone on the team in a long distance race, he quit, but continued to run. He would run 10-15 miles a day and picked up smoking in the process. He would smoke (no exaggeration) 4-5 packs of Marlboro reds per day. He would smoke while running. He would light up cigarettes between every mile. His logic was that he wanted to "prove that he was tougher than cigarettes and any physical ailment that can result from them, including cancer."

A couple weeks before Easter our Senior year, he woke me up at 6:30 A.M. by hitting me in the face with a wine bottle and blowing smoke in my face. Now, if any other friend of mine or anyone else in general would have done this to me, I would have become pissed off and may have instantly resorted to shoving/punching, but this is one of very few people who I have encountered in my life who I was intimidated by, for deep down, I thought he was capable of pulling off some serious shit if provoked.

So I asked him what I wanted and he insisted that I top off the wine he had along with an 18 pack of Budweiser that he brought with him. I was already hungover from the night before and hadn't gotten to sleep until 4 A.M., but agreed to drink with him. After finishing this off, he insisted that we go to a couple bars. We drank at the bars until roughly 6 PM.

We were both annihilated as hell and contacted one of our friends who resided on the outskirts of town. On a windy side-road, to be more specific. This was the one friend who I mentioned above, who was the only one along with myself to remain friends with him. He had been friends with this guy since they were in JH.

With very, very poor judgment on my part, I hopped in his car, knowing full-well that the guy was intoxicated and we drove to our friend's place. I knew it was a bad idea, yet at the same time, if I were to tell the guy that I didn't want to ride with him, he would surely perceive it as a sign of disrespect...something he did not respond well to.

When we got on the curvy, windy road that our friend lived on, this guy was driving anywhere between 85-105 miles per hour. I was so scared that I literally felt like I could piss my pants. On both sides of the road, there were steep ditches, one which led to a bluff.

I had my hand on the "oh shit" handle and saw a curve about 50 yards in front of us that was close to being a 90 degree angle. I looked at him, who was looking straight ahead with a glazed, lifeless expression on his face, then back at the road, then back at him and before I knew it, we had approached this curve and I shit you not, he didn't even make an attempt to successfully make the turn with his car...he just drove straight ahead and in his little Hyundai car, we drove straight into a bluff at approximately 95 miles per hour. In retrospect, I honestly thought he was trying to kill himself at that moment and was willing to take me with him.

The front of his car crumpled like a pop can. While this happened, everything seemed to be going in slow motion. In the little time I had to think, I thought I was either a dead man, or was going to be severely injured. Miraculously though, I ended up with only a bump on my elbow from my elbow hitting the passenger side window. My friend didn't end up with a bump or scratch.

We both crawled out through a broken window and had to literally pull ourselves out of the car and climb the ditch to get to the road. By the time we pulled ourselves back on the road, there was an elderly couple who had run about 200 yards to get to us and were panicked and out of breath due to running. The first words out of the guy's mouth was, "oh my God, we heard that crash all the way from inside our house with the television on, how many people are dead?!?! How many people are hurt?! How many people are still in the vehicle?!?!" My friend still seemed glazed and lifeless as he had prior to driving the car into the bluff and didn't respond. I responded to them by saying, "it was just us two, and we are ok." The old guy then said, "you have got to be kidding me, we thought for sure someone had to have died from that. We saw how fast you were going when you drove by. We called the police to have them help you out, hopefully they can help you get your car pulled out."

After hearing this, my friend's demeanor went from "glazed and lifeless" to completely infuriated. He ran up to this old guy, shoved him and shouted, "call them back now!!! Tell them that it was nothing! Tell them we are ok!!!" The old guy said something along the lines of, "son, I really think the police can help you out. And it's too late, I already called them. I was trying to help you boys." My friend grabbed this old man by the shirt and got his face within a couple inches of the old man's face and said, "call the police and tell them not to come, right now, or I will ****ing kill you."

It was just a few seconds after my friend began threatening this old man that 3-4 cops pulled up. When they saw the car, their first question was, "oh my God, how many do you think are dead or injured?" We informed them that we were the only people in the vehicle and they were shocked.

They gave my friend a breathalyzer and he blew something like a .31. They cuffed him up and sent him to jail. They questioned me a bit. They were very curious to know if I knew anything about the Xanax, Adderall and half ounce of dank that they found in his glove box, in which I denied having any knowledge. They asked me if I had a ride, which I didn't, so they drove me to my house.

I woke up at 10 A.M. to a call from my friend who said he had been running laps in the drunk tank (community jail cell for people recently arrested) until he blew zeros and that he just blew zeros and needed me to pick him up. I agreed.

When I picked him up, he was irate as hell with me. Initially he was pissed off that I didn't "break him out of jail." I responded in a manner that I became accustomed to with the thousands of conversations I had with him prior to that in which he was being out of line. My tactic was to tell him why I didn't do what he wanted me to do, while giving him a compliment simultaneously. I said, "well man, I didn't figure you wanted me to because you are tougher than jail and would be able to blow zeros whenever you felt like it." He shook his head as if he understood and respected my response.

Then he started tripping on me about the crash itself. He started screaming at me, asking, "why the **** didn't you get us out of that shit?!!?!?!" I had no idea what he meant and asked, "what do you mean?" He yelled back, "you know exactly what I mean!! Why didn't you lift my car out of the ditch and throw it back on the road so we could have sped off before the cops got there!!!!" I was like, "duuuude.....your car is totaled. You can't even drive it anymore, it's so bad." He yelled, "stop making ****ing excuses!!! You could have uncrumpled it and put it back together...and we would have drove off and I wouldn't be in this mess right now!!!! It's all your fault!!!" He was dead serious. And I was pretty strong back then...had to cut weight to wrestle 197 pounds that year and was in the weight-room a lot, and this guy evidently classified me as his "strong" friend. I replied, "dude, who the hell do you think I am? The Incredible Hulk?!? I am not strong enough to do that!?!?!" He interrupted, "BULLSHIT!!! You are the strong one of our crew!! You could have done it!!! It's all your fault!!! I replied back to him, in probably the most confrontational fashion that I ever had with him and said, "what the **** is wrong with you!?!? I am not THAT strong and even if I were, we wouldn't have gone anywhere because your car parts are destroyed and I know NOTHING about cars!! And what 'CREW' are you talking about?!!?!? We aren't the ****ing X-Men. And if we are in some sort of super-human 'crew,' what's your role?!?! The guy who drives cars into bluffs at almost 100 MPH?!?! It's NOT my fault this happened. It's yours, for driving when you shouldn't have and for pussing out instead of attempting to make that turn!!!"

I had no idea what his response to this would be, for I had never argued with him and the only person I had ever seen who wasn't too scared too argue with him (over a song being played at a party) had been punched in the face and had his life threatened by him for a week following the dispute.

He was silent for a bit and after a minute or two, responded with, "your a good friend, Swaff. Can you please drive me to my Dad's house?" I agreed and drove him to his Dad's place, which was a cabin on the Mississippi River in East Dubuque, Illinois. When we got there, he asked me to follow him to the sandbar in front of his cabin and gave me a shovel and told me to start digging in the spot he was going to dig at. I was confused as hell, but was used to being confused in my interactions with him and I helped him dig, wondering what in the hell he had buried on his sandbar. We dug through about 4 feet in the sand and he finally dragged out a safe. He had a key on his chain to open the safe and inside it was a bunch of bars of silver and gold.

He said calmly, "I have these scattered all over the area. They are my treasures that people will be searching for in a couple centuries. I know you won't tell anyone. Now, drive me to the bank. I need some money to buy a new car." The bank gave him several thousands of dollars for his silver and gold. He hooked me up with a silver bar and a gold coin for assisting him.

I remember thinking, "my God, my friendship with this guy, literally couldn't get any weirder." I was wrong.

Two weeks later, on Easter Sunday, I got the call from my roommate that he had shot his stepmom in the head with a shotgun and followed this by shooting himself in the head. The shit he used to babble about regarding his stepmom and his feelings of disdain for her leading to this is something that would take me forever to explain. To put it in short, if it were anyone who I knew he despised more than anyone else in the world, it was undoubtedly her.

This was obviously about as heinous of an act as possible, but to be perfectly honest, I was simultaneously surprised and not surprised. I was surprised, for I don't think anyone ever expects to experience something like this in their lifetime. Yet, at the same time, it didn't surprise me that he did this, for I thought he was fully capable of it....that's why I was so freaking intimidated by him.

During the investigation, it was discovered that he carried a handgun in his backpack with him everywhere he went. This was extremely eye-opening to my roommates and I, for we rarely ever saw him without his backpack. And he was at our house every day, for multiple-hour increments. He even ran with his backpack. It made me wonder how close he ever came to using it on someone. It also made me relieved that I made the decision to somewhat "cater" to the guy and made it a point to not piss him off.

It was this situation that showed me how much a person can change when they develop a serious mental illness. This guy went from one of the most popular kids in our college to a murderer and it was all a result of the symptoms of schizophrenia he experienced combined with the substance abuse he engaged in which increased the frequency and severity of his symptoms.

For those who are still reading, here are a couple links to the story:

http://www.whbf.com/Global/story.asp?s=6348756

http://www.kcrg.com/news/local/6960812.html

Did Not Read. Wall O' Text.

[patteeu]

Originally Posted by MeatRock

Did Not Read. Wall O' Text.

It's a pretty interesting story.

[Dr. Gigglepants]

Originally Posted by patteeu

It's a pretty interesting story.

Ha, yep. I read the first 10%, then the last 30%. It was good enough I went back and read what I skipped.

[MeatRock]

Originally Posted by patteeu

It's a pretty interesting story.

Dammit. You talked me into it.