A Mother's Reckoning: Living in the Aftermath of Tragedy(72)

I felt strongly the boys should be separated, but Mrs. Harris did not want to remove the central friendship in her son’s life at a time of crisis. I understood, but felt Dylan needed some distance. We agreed to keep them apart for a while, at least.

There were good times as well as bad. One night, Byron called after capriciously quitting another job. I was so discouraged with both of my sons, I did not know what to do. After Tom had gone to bed, Dylan sought me out. He listened carefully and quietly to my worries about Byron and made a few suggestions while supporting the way I’d handled the call. When I was done venting, he did his best to cheer me up. That night, I felt grateful he had not been sent to jail.

During that interim period, he and a friend started a fantasy baseball league. The activity seemed wholesome and I liked the boy he started it with. Eric did not participate. Dylan also did the sound for a production of The Music Man, which we attended at the end of February. There’s nothing like a school play to make parents feel proud, and we certainly felt proud of Dylan that night.

Still, we were relieved when the Diversion program finally started in March. During the intake process, Dylan was asked to select problems pertaining to him from a long list. Eric checked many of these, including anger, suicidal thoughts, and homicidal thoughts, but Dylan marked only two: finances and jobs.

The intake included an extensive assessment of our family. I stated that Dylan sometimes seemed “angry or sullen” and his behaviors were at times “disrespectful and intolerant of others.” That certainly was my feeling about him that year, especially after the arrest. He never raised his voice, swore in our presence, or talked back, but I could hear disrespect in his voice sometimes when he talked about others. It was the worst thing, in my experience, that could be said about Dylan.

Later, these comments would be seen as incontrovertible evidence that we ignored warning signs and set the stage for violence by tolerating belligerence. At the time, though, I was simply eager for the counselors to know the worst about him, so the experts handling his case would be able to help him if he needed it.

When the counselors questioned Dylan, he admitted to using marijuana a couple of times. This surprised us, so Tom followed up with questions when we got home. Dylan didn’t want to say where he’d gotten the drugs, but eventually confessed that the pot had belonged to his brother. Tom confronted Byron, and warned him that if he brought illegal drugs onto our property again, he’d turn Byron over to the police himself.

Juvenile records are usually sealed, but after the tragedy Dylan’s Diversion reports were released. They stated that Tom and I had “kicked” our older son out of the house for using drugs. That brought me up short. The decision for him to leave home had been Byron’s, made in consultation with a family counselor, and the move itself had been completely amicable. Plus, Byron was still very much in our lives after he moved out; we saw him for dinner at least once or twice a week. In the Diversion interview, Dylan said he loved his brother but that marijuana use was “a waste of time and money.”

He claimed to have used alcohol “a couple of times,” although his journals would reveal he was self-medicating heavily. After he died, I learned that his nickname, on the Internet and among some of his friends, was VoDKa, the capitalized D and K a play on his initials.

Dylan was upset to discover that Tom had confronted Byron about the pot, and Tom explained he’d do anything to keep his boys safe. After the tragedy, though, Tom blamed himself for Dylan’s secret life and worried he’d unwittingly damaged their relationship by violating Dylan’s trust. Had Dylan held back from telling us he was scared of Eric because he knew his father would talk to the Harrises? And of course Tom would have, if he’d had any inkling of the lethal dynamic between the two boys.

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Years after the tragedy, I picked up a parenting magazine in a waiting room featuring an “ethical parenting” quiz. I got all ten questions “right” except for “Would you read your child’s private journal?” The correct answer, according to the parenting magazine, was “no.” I know it would have been my answer too, when Dylan was alive, but it would not be my answer now.

When we search our children’s rooms or read their journals, we risk that they will feel betrayed. However, they may be hiding problems they cannot manage by themselves.

When Dylan was asked by the counselor to talk about his family relationship, he said it was “better than most kids’.” He said Tom and I were “supportive, loving, dependable and trustworthy.” In response to the question “What impact has this [arrest] had on your family?” Dylan answered, “A bad one. My parents were devastated as well as I.” And to the question “What have been the most traumatic experiences in your life?” Dylan responded, “The night I committed this crime.”

After interviewing Dylan and our family, the writer of the treatment status report concluded, “Based on history, it does not appear treatment is indicated.” Despite this, when we finally met Dylan’s Diversion counselor in March of 1998, it was the first thing I asked: Did she think Dylan needed therapy? When Dylan joined us, she asked him if he thought he needed a therapist, and he said no. I was a little disappointed she didn’t give us more guidance—I already knew what Dylan thought. But Dylan kept assuring us he’d simply made a stupid mistake. “I’ll prove to you I do not need to see anyone.” We agreed to monitor the situation, and to change course if necessary.