No Justice

It has been exactly one month since Kathy Faughey died. Life moves on. The world is now pre-occupied with other stories which excite, anger and titillate: Governor Spitzer’s resignation, his prostitute’s story, the dust up over Geraldine Ferraro’s remarks. The tabloids and TV stations have found other tragedies to sell. And Kathy Faughey the victim of a senseless rage so brutal as to be incomprehensible, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and becoming a(nother) casualty of our failed mental health system, is now the victim of our increasingly short attention span. A month ago she was the object of disbelief, concern, caring, pity, compassion, and confusion. Now she is off the radar, not thought of much if at all by those who a month ago read and watched everything they could about her wonderful life and awful death. What remains is the grief of her family, friends, colleagues, and patients. That hole in the heart that will never quite fill for her family and those who knew her well. That ineffable sadness, anger, and mystery for those who knew her not so well or, like me, knew her long ago.

Something else lingers. A question of justice. David Tarloff sits in jail awaiting a trial that may never come. What will be his punishment? What should be his punishment? What is just in his case? When I first learned of Kathy’s murder I expressed the fervent hope that her killer would be found, would resist arrest, and be shot to death by the police. The anger and the passion for revenge have subsided. I no longer believe killing David Tarloff would atone for Kathy’s death. It would just bring more pain to another grieving family. There is no justice in that. I do believe that David Tarloff should never again have the opportunity to hurt another human being. He should never again be free to refuse his medication and roam the streets fermenting his delusions into rage. That would be a form of justice adequate but not particularly satisfying.

I don’t really believe there can be any atonement, any reparations for Kathy Faughey’s death. Nothing can give her the years she rightfully had in front of her. Nothing can console her family’s grief or take away their deep horror in knowing the way in which she died. Any attempt to find meaning in her death would be another injury, another insult, another injustice. It was her life that was meaningful, not her death.

The meaninglessness of her death will be perpetuated – and replicated with other victims and other families - by a corrupt mental health system. A system that ultimately values money more than people. Upholds the individual’s civil right to be psychotic and homeless. Replaces institutionalization in hospitals with institutionalization in jails and prisons. Turns doctors and therapists into “providers,” and patients into “consumers.” Punishes providers who spend more than the allotted few minutes with consumers. Turns treatment into quantifiable units of productivity. Pushes consumer turnover rather than patient health and well-being.

There is no justice in this for Kathy Faughey. Nor for the mentally ill. Nor for the rest of us.