The man in Room 220 of the Multnomah County Courthouse reminds me of
Bruce Willis in Die Hard. He’s about 35, white, dressed in a
thick navy coat with a high collar, and his hair is closely
cropped.
When police brought “Willis” to Emanuel Hospital five days earlier,
he was agitated, disorientated, and delusional, telling a doctor he
thought the ER machines were weapons. He’d been sleeping on the streets
for several weeks, and had lost a considerable amount of weight since
his last arrest at the end of 2007, based on the booking photo I can
see being waved around by his parole officer—who should probably
be a little more discreet with it.
Because of his behavior, the doctor had placed an initial “hold” on
the man, committing him to Emanuel’s psych ward. Now, the district
attorney’s job is to prove Willis is a danger to himself or others, and
to keep him there at the psych ward—even though it’s against the
man’s will.
The county’s mental health investigator met Willis in his quiet room
at Emanuel. According to the investigator, he was difficult to
redirect, loud, diverting, tangential, and was demanding, “Where’s my
fucking cigarettes? Why am I in here?”
The issue is that the man’s belligerent behavior could also be
consistent with somebody who wasn’t mentally ill, but had been held
against their will in a psychiatric hospital for a few days. Just as
Bruce Willis is angry in Die Hard because Alan Rickman is
holding his wife and an office party hostage, irrational behavior at
civil commitment hearings sometimes has a rational cause: frustration
with the mental health system.
The hearing could go either way. Willis has shown up at his family’s
house over recent weeks with a heavily bleeding face and, according to
his family, has threatened suicide if they won’t help. He’s also come
into contact with a cop, following an alleged altercation at a Shell
gas station where his face was also covered in blood, according to the
officer, who testifies at the hearing.
As the county mental health examiner questions Willis, he tells her
he has recently fallen into the Willamette River. He’s unspecific about
how or why—he says “a wave came over” him while he was sitting on
a pier. Then he says that someone may have pushed him.
These incidents are weird, but not sufficient in and of themselves
to prove the nexus between the person’s mental disorder and his
imminent danger to himself or others. It’s not the court’s role to take
good care of the person, only to ensure he isn’t dangerous or in
imminent danger.
In Willis’ case, the court decides to commit him not only based on
the evidence presented, but on the manner of his conduct in the
courtroom. After demanding water repeatedly he left the room to pee,
only to return with the following statement:
“Okay. I’m going to lay it out for you. I work for the FBI. I do
pedestrian reconnaissance. You can contact the Senators Binder and
Binder, they represent me.”
The court examiners say they believe the man is in the manic phase
of bipolar disorder, and that his grandiose delusions are consistent
with such a diagnosis. They say the disorder’s symptoms are likely to
put him “up in people’s faces,” hence the evidence of possible fights
having taken place, and that it’s unlikely, if released, he can care
for himself. It’s also likely, the judge agrees, that he will end up in
a dangerous altercation if he is released.
“I hope you rot in hell you cock-sucking whore,” the man shouts
defiantly at the judge as he’s led off following her ruling. He may be
mentally ill, but I’m impressed with his independent streak. It may say
more about my own authority issues, but I can’t help thinking:
“Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.”
I stop just short of yelling it out.