Savage Grace - Natalie Robins (48 page)
They caught him I think about twenty-four hours later in his hotel room. He was put in a cell—they were going to charge him with attempted murder. He was only in there for forty-eight hours, because I got three psychiatrists to sign him into the Priory, a private hospital in Roehampton. Then I got hold of Brooks, who was in Brittany with Sylvie, and I made him come over to England. I said, “Look here, your son is in a very bad state, he must have treatment.” He said, you know, “It’s just fun and games”—those were his words. And I said, “Brooks, no it’s not.
You
weren’t present, you haven’t seen what’s been going on, you haven’t seen the way he treats Barbara.”
Well anyway, Tony left the Priory shortly afterward.
I’d reckoned he was dangerous ever since I first knew him in Cadaqués, where he was sort of semicontrolled by a whole lot of very peculiar hippies.
I shan’t forget him sitting in the flat with all his clothes and shoes painted with gold stars, two days before he killed her. I remember I had to go to Paris that evening, Wednesday, and Saturday morning when I got back it was all over the newspapers.
I opposed the efforts of Michael Alexander and Heather Cohane and the others to get him out of Broadmoor. I didn’t think it was a very good idea.
NEW YORK
REPATRIATION
FORMER BROADMOOR PATIENTS
have reported that after their release they missed the orderly, controlled life they had gotten used to and sometimes even become fond of. When the time came for Tony Baekeland to leave, would he also find life on the outside chaotic and threatening?
New York City had changed in the eight years since he had last seen it, but his old neighborhood, to which he would be returning—the Seventies on the Upper East Side—had remained pretty much the same, although a few fashionable new shops, boutiques, and restaurants had opened.
Brooks Baekeland
There were three alternatives for Tony once the right strings were pulled in high places in London and his release achieved: one, that he be released in some innocent person’s custody and undergo private medical treatment from time to time since he would be considered well; two, that he be transferred to some place like Payne Whitney in New York, which I enraged some by dubbing “Pain Witless”; and three, that he go straight to the equivalent of Broadmoor in America—that is, a state institution.
Every one of these alternatives was clearly idiotic—the first and second if for no other reason than that they were beyond my means, so far beyond as to be preposterous; and the third alternative was too tragic to think of.
The fact is, there is nothing that I know of in the world like Broadmoor, at least when I knew it. A gentleness, a kindness, a compassion, and a civilized concern by civilized people for the cruelly wounded within its walls—or the fatally malborn—are the first things that strike a foreign visitor. And Tony
was
happy there—as long as the tiger slept. And the tiger did sleep until Maguire—under pressure, I believe, from higher-ups to send all the foreigners back to their own countries—began to take away the drugs that made the tiger sleep. And the tiger awoke!
I began to receive a stream of violent—and obviously paranoid—letters from Tony, one of which I sent, as an example, to my psychiatrist brother. I called Maguire from Italy, where I was living then, separated from Sylvie. I told him—and I later reinforced it by telegram—that letting Tony go would be absolutely irresponsible, that I would send him copies of the letters I had been getting from Tony ever since he had been taken off “the drugs that dull the rage,” to quote myself, and I repeated then what I had said and written before: that I would be happy to make a gift every year to the British government that would
more
than compensate them for the cost of their care for my son.
Dr. Thomas Maguire
Brooks Baekeland talked to me about payment, but of course you can’t pay for anybody in a public hospital where there are no private patients.
I think he thought that perhaps I was trying to get rid of Tony, that we considered him a burden on the state—he had some sort of notion like that. But indeed it wasn’t true, because in this country we
keep
patients—not alone at Broadmoor but in all the hospitals. We as doctors are under no pressure whatever to send patients anywhere else unless they have recovered sufficiently or we think they would do better in their own cultural environment.
Letter from Dr. Thomas Maguire to the Undersecretary of State, Department of Health and Social Security, London, August 9, 1979
Broadmoor
Dear Sir,
I wish to recommend repatriation for Antony Baekeland to his homeland, the United States of America. His dossier is voluminous and complicated but I have chosen certain medical reports and other communications, which I herewith enclose, that detail his history and treatment, up to the moment of his mental health review tribunal hearing on 22 October 1974.
During 1975 in spite of vigorous physical therapy his mental illness remained largely unchanged. I wrote of him then: “He presents as a chronic schizophrenic, blunted in affect, with vague superficial interests, and lacking insight into the grave, disabling nature of his mental illness. He tends to upset other patients by making vicious and malignant allegations about them. At present the more gross symptoms of his psychosis are controlled by medication.”
His disorder gradually came more and more under control so that he was able to take part beneficially in group psychotherapy. At this stage, however, he was quite unable to engage himself in any occupational therapy, but since then he has succeeded in settling down at recreational painting, at which indeed in the past, it is said, he showed more than average talent.
In the beginning of 1979 he was commended by nursing staff for his increasing ability to socialize more normally; much of his former hostility, bitterness, and resentment had eased off and he was capable of cooperation and helpfulness on the ward scene. My consultant psychotherapist colleague noted a definite improvement with willingness to engage more earnestly in treatment. He was now showing true insight and appreciation of the realities of his situation.
It was at this point that I reduced his medication in order to establish whether his psychosis was in remission. He has now been without medication for a period of nearly six months: his improvement has been fully sustained. For quite a long time he has been requesting repatriation and I have tried to elicit information about hospital placement for him somewhere in New York.
Because of the nature of his offence, the fact that he is mentally ill and lacking in insight and cooperation when motively ill, and because of his previous propensity for indulging in drug misuse, it is absolutely necessary that his placement in hospital should involve such a degree of security and supervision as to ensure continuing treatment and rehabilitation without the risk of his absconding.
It is with all this in mind that I formally recommend that Antony Baekeland should now be repatriated to a hospital in New York, where his rehabilitation may be more realistically carried forward within his own culture and near his relatives and friends.
Yours faithfully,
Thomas Maguire
Consultant Forensic Psychiatrist
Elspeth Wilkie
I was working in the U.S. Embassy in London in a consulate capacity, and Antony Baekeland’s repatriation was just sort of a routine thing—it was paperwork going across the desk. Ultimately, because of overcrowding or just the idea that he was responding to treatment, it was agreed that he could be returned to the United States. All we had to do was satisfy ourselves through the State Department that arrangements could be made for him to be transferred to the U.S.—he had to have two escorts, for instance. We also required an understanding from the authorities at Broadmoor that he go into a similar institution in America—that is, for the criminally insane.
I do know that Broadmoor won’t release somebody without first being satisfied that they’re okay. I mean, the British people would feel guilty if they released somebody just willy-nilly onto the streets of New York or wherever.
Michael Alexander
The
doctors
said he could go, so you see, I wasn’t intervening in that side of it. All
I
said to them was, “Now you’ve said he can go, let him go. Don’t make him hang around.”
I used to have to reassure Tony every time I went to see him, “It won’t be much longer now—just keep your cool and don’t give them any aggravation. We’re doing our best for you.” And I must say, he played it very cool.
Letter from Antony Baekeland to James Reeve, August 14
,
1979
Broadmoor
Dear James,
Michael Alexander is going to the Home Secretary to speed my release from here. It’s awfully nice of him: he has been such a good friend.
How goes the sale of your house? My grandmother sends her love; I found when she was last here that she had suffered a
coup d’âge
—very frail she is, and I feel I must be with her soon. She also has hallucinations: she was very funny—evidently she imagined that her sister was staying with her—she bought extra food for her and so forth, and then when she failed to show up at meals became convinced that she was hiding under the bed! When she was staying in the village here, on her way to the loo late one night she saw a huge baroque lighted staircase spiraling up from the hall. She also imagined that a young cousin of mine was sleeping with her and got out of bed onto the floor in the middle of the night to give him more room. All funny but rather worrying.
My Papa’s young wife left him in Feb. for a young American sculptor to whom he had introduced her and he is very blue about it and writes me long heartrending letters. He and I are great friends now and I plan to visit him and long to spend time with him—he has a little fishing boat and a charming house right on the water in Cadaqués and the mountains and hills are lovely for walking. The wife and American lover go to stay with him there toward the end of the month—rather odd.
How is your work? Just read
Under the Volcano
—funny and macabre—he describes Mexico so well—I don’t know if you have been there.
Got a long letter from Rosie Rodd Baldwin in Turkey—may go out there, too. Plan plan plan—there is little else to do. Just wait, I guess. A visit from you would be most welcome.
Much love,
Tony
James Reeve
My last visit was before I left for a trip to India, and he was just sort of teetering on the brink of would he be let out or wouldn’t he. It was awful, because this whole talk of his being let out started about a year and a half before he
was
let out. And it was a terrible business of waiting. I remember him telling me about a visit he was expecting from somebody in the embassy. He was in an absolute state about it—I mean, you can imagine! He kept closing his eyes, searching for words. But he later wrote me that it had gone well, and that was a great relief to him.
Although Tony was rather fond of Dr. Maguire, he sometimes regarded him as the one who was standing in his way to freedom. I once wrote Dr. Maguire to ask what I could do to help, and he never answered. Miwa was the one who was in touch with Maguire all the time—she really did beaver away on Tony’s behalf. She was like a terrier with a rat, you know. She wouldn’t let go, come hell or high water.
Letter from Antony Baekeland to Miwa Svinka-Zielinski, Undated
Broadmoor
Dear Miwa,
James came by for a flying ten-minute visit yesterday. It was so good to see him and he tells me that you are still rooting for me. I think you are super. I just wrote to my uncle Fred Baekeland if he could help me get into a hospital in N.Y.—hopefully, as I am well now, I won’t have to spend long there. My doctors have plans to repatriate me in “a matter of months.” Dr. Maguire is just waiting for all the red tape to go through. Things move so slowly.
It will be a wrench (hard to believe, I know) to leave Broadmoor: I have become very accustomed to life here.
Still, it will be good to be home. Life is going to be such a new thing for me.
Love,
Tony
Miwa Svinka-Zielinski
When I visited him in late 1979, he told me that all he wanted was to go to New York and stay with his grandmother. He said to me, “I love Nini. I’d like to serve her. I want to cook for her. I want to do everything for her.”
I saw Dr. Maguire at that time and had a very friendly conversation with him. He told me Tony was improved, but I didn’t want him just let loose in New York. I wanted to find some halfway house for him.
Letter from J.W. Bone to Miwa Svinka-Zielinski, February 5, 1980
Broadmoor
Dear Mrs. Zielinski,
It has been agreed that due to the conditions currently prevailing in America with regard to psychiatric treatment and the excessive cost of private treatment, Tony should be returned to America without any statutory supervision entailed. We are, of course, apprehensive as to the situation that will greet Tony when he arrives in New York and, while he states quite emphatically that he wishes to take up residence with his grandmother, Mrs. N. Daly, we feel that this may not in fact be appropriate. I would be grateful therefore if you could furnish me with any information as to those members of Tony’s family or his circle of friends who might be able to offer Tony both accommodation and support.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Yours sincerely, J. W. Bone
Senior Social Worker
Telegram from Cyrus R. Vance, Secretary of State, Washington, D.C., to American Embassy, London, March 7, 1980
H.E.W. HAS ADVISED THAT IN A PRELIMINARY REQUEST TO SOCIAL SERVICES IN NEW YORK THEY WERE INFORMED THAT DUE TO LIMITED SPACE PROBLEMS HALFWAY HOUSE FACILITIES WOULD BE UNOBTAINABLE FOR NEAR FUTURE IT WOULD BE BEST TO RECOMMEND A HOSPITAL IN NEW YORK UNTIL FACILITY COULD BE OBTAINED H.E.W. HAS ALSO ADVISED THAT REQUEST TO PLACE BAEKELAND IN HALFWAY HOUSE PROGRAM SHOULD COME DIRECTLY FROM HOSPITAL IN THE U.K. VANCE
Dr. Thomas Maguire
I arranged for Tony to go to a halfway house called the Richmond Fellowship. I had it all arranged.