Lucas Family Journey

Why Did He Do It?

On April 16, 2008, police found Daniel James Lucas, a 27-year-old graduate student at UC Berkeley, dead in his apartment. The apparent cause of death was suicide. Dayna, his mother and my best friend, told me the tragic news days later.

In late May, we celebrated Dan’s beautiful life and spirit in what was the most amazing memorial service I’ve ever attended. It was as unique and loving as this family is unique and loving. Those left behind have said goodbye in various, creative ways. We are trying to emerge from the shock and horror of such a sudden, tragic loss.

I started psychotherapy for the first time in my life. Despite other tragic losses and dealing with serious mental problems, I never ‘took to the couch’ before now. The first session was filled with the question of why Dan died. Why did Dan give up on himself or us? Why did we have to lose him?

Why did a handsome, intelligent, athletic, loved and loving man commit suicide at the prime of his life? Did he not realize how loved he was? Did he not know how much his family would hurt? Did he not have enough of something?

Since Dan’s death, I’ve heard many people comment about their perceived “sins of omission” as Dayna phrased it. The calls that were never made. The letter that didn’t get written. The call for help that wasn’t answered well enough.

Even though I had not seen or spoken with Dan in almost 10 years, I questioned myself. I feared exactly what happened and voiced that fear only 6 months earlier, but then backed down. I resigned myself to the reality that there was nothing any of us could do. From my many conversations with Dayna over the years, I knew Dan was sporadic about taking medication. Since I take similar medicine, I knew discontinuation was dangerous.

Dayna just assumes fault. She’s now combing every piece of evidence she can find to prove to us that she’s right about that. “Maybe if I hadn’t put him in the bathroom for time outs when he misbehaved”, she pondered. Does she honestly believe that putting 8-year-old Dan in the bathroom until he completed his temper tantrums set the wheels in motion for his suicide? No. I don’t think that she does believe that. Why then would she ask the question?

Why do any of us search so hard for culpability in this act of violence against a beautiful person? Are we all just hurting out loud or do we really believe we failed Dan? Could anyone or anything have saved Dan? Did any of us let him down?

I have no answers, just thoughts. Not only am I not an expert in mental health issues, I’m not an expert on any issue. I’m just a friend of a very hurt and sad family, feeling very hurt and sad myself. Just like everyone else I suppose, I’m trying to ease the hurt any way that I can. Right now exploring the questions posed is my way of easing the hurt.

In the almost 20 years I’ve known the Lucas family, I’ve share many precious moments and experiences. The Lucas household in Charlotte was Grand Central for the neighborhood kids. In that home, not only were you always welcomed, you were celebrated. You could be your true self in that home and with that family. Life was celebrated. Passions were encouraged. Creativity and individuality were rewarded.

Dayna and Peter exposed their kids, Greg and Dan to all aspects of life and gave them the freedom and respect to make their own decisions. Although themselves atheist, they attended a Unitarian Church regularly so their children would have a spiritual community and the chance to make their own decisions about life.

Dan and Greg could pursue any passion and choose their own path through life. They did choose their own paths. They pursued many passions.

From the outside, Dan had it all. Parents who loved him and each other. A best friend who happened to be his adoring older brother and fellow free spirit. Financial freedom to explore the world physically through travel and intellectually through academic pursuits at leisure. He had friends and extended family stretched across the nation and the planet. Dan had options.

While Dan’s life was certainly financially comfortable, he was not pampered or spoiled. Dan did not hunger for or demand material possessions. He valued human connection and had genuine compassion for others.

I met Dan when Dayna became a co-worker. He was 8 years old and cutting his own hair. Dayna cut their hair when they were small. She decided that it was time for them to go to the barber. Greg went without incident. Dan refused. Since Dayna would not give in and continue to cut his hair for him, he took matters - and scissors - into his own hands. He did a decent job of cutting his hair most of the time. It wasn’t too bad for unskilled hands. Perhaps even quite good for 8-year-old, unskilled hands.

Resistance to changing the haircut routine was but one example of Dan’s inflexibility. It quickly became apparent to me that Dan was not comfortable in his own skin. He was not only very easily agitated, he was agitated to the extreme. Being the center of attention embarrassed him. Not being the center of attention angered him.

To some degree that’s called “being a kid.” But Dan’s temper tantrums were extreme. Once –because he wanted to go home instead - he refused to join Dayna and Greg for lunch in a restaurant. He remained in the car sulking. He later came in to report to Dayna that he ‘accidentally’ kicked a passenger window out of the car.

In many ways, Dan lived in his own world and he only sometimes visited us. Dan’s struggle was evident early.

Conversely, Dan was intellectually and emotionally very smart, inquisitive, musically and artistically talented, and adventurous. He could be very engaging and sweet.

This much we know, Dan was mentally ill. Dan suffered and shared that suffering for a long time. Dan’s mental illness was as real as any cancerous growth or any physical ailment.

I affectionately refer to the variations of mental illness as shades of color. No one has exactly the same brain functioning, so we all have different colors. I have serious ADD and anxiety, with a touch of OCD. Any depression I’ve suffered has been as a result of my inability to control my behavior or because of temporary episodes or circumstances. I have never been clinically depressed.

I related to Dan’s struggle very easily. I saw a lot of my 8-year-old self in his discomfort – physical and emotional. Although I was diagnosed late in life, stimulant medication changed my life in a matter of 20 minutes. I’ve never looked back. I’ll never return to that hell of obsessive worry and self defeat. If I couldn’t have the medication, I’d join Dan. I exaggerate about a lot of things. I can be dramatic. But about that …I am serious.

Dan was diagnosed with ADD early in life and treated with stimulant medications. He was on and off those medicines a lot. Nothing truly worked for him long term. Dan had some extended battles with depression. Conversely, Dan engaged in some extreme physical activities such as white water rafting.

Dayna thinks now that it’s possible that Dan suffered from bipolar disorder and was improperly diagnosed. That’s possible. That’s even likely. That explains a lot of inconsistencies. It explains why neither stimulant nor anti-depressant medication seemed to work for him.

From what I’ve learned from reading about depression and suicide, I think it is highly likely that Dan’s existing depression and other mental problems were exacerbated by some current challenge or problem that seemed insurmountable or otherwise unbearable. I think starting a doctoral program in physical chemistry at a prestigious university 3,000 miles from home counts as a major stressor. But by all accounts – from fellow students and faculty - Dan was adjusting well socially and excelling academically. No one at UC Berkeley saw this coming.

I also read that the most significant indicator of a completed suicide is prior attempts or furtherance of specific plans and threats. Dan had other melt downs. I don’t know if Dan had ever attempted or planned suicide before, but I know he had voiced suicidal thoughts before. Dayna says that he threatened to jump out of a window in a hotel when they visited family out-of-state. This happened before I met him.
Mental illness is real and - as we’ve seen – it can be fatal. If mental illness is as real as cancer, why do we question our role in this? I think we deny that reality for the same reason we deny any other painful emotional reality - because we can.

In the physical world, it does us no good to deny that our row boat has a hole it while we’re in the middle of the lake. Shortly, we’re going to get wet.

Without the context of physics and/or physical manifestations of actions or inaction, we see what we want to see. In the great expanse of our human capacity for abstract thought and symbolic reasoning, we explain away or conjure up anything we want to ease - or promote - our suffering. If we think it, it is. If we don’t think it, it isn’t.

With cancer, we cannot even pretend to make a difference. We accept that people get sick and some get better and some do not. The difference is not ours to make. At least intellectually we understand that no amount of love can make the difference in the physical world. We know that not everyone gets cancer. But because mental illness manifests and is masked by mental processing that we all experience, we deny that it is in fact an illness. We exaggerate the extent to which we can influence another person’s well being.

By denying that it is an illness, we allow ourselves to believe that something we could do or say could make a difference. Conversely, we believe that something we did or said made a difference. Because -unlike cancer- no one actually dies from suffering, we think that being loved enough will keep people with us.

Inherent in this belief is an assumption that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Few things are that simple and straight forward. It is a permanent solution, but how long does one have to despair before we allow them the option of leaving us? How deep does the well of despair have to be for suicide to make sense to us?

In the same way that some people survive physical illnesses and other similarly situated people do not, some of us survive our mental illnesses and some of us do not. The difference may be as simple as the degree to which we suffer – the degree to which our brains distort reality. The degree to which our brains distort reality is something that we can’t hear with a stethoscope or photograph with MRI.

Also, in the same way that some cancer can be successfully treated, some mental illness can be successfully treated. If only Dan had been properly diagnosed or found the right medication? Dan tried many medications and many combinations of medication. Dan was diagnosed early in life. Dan saw a psychiatrist days before he took his own life. Dan saw the psychiatrist twice a week for several weeks. If Dan was in fact misdiagnosed, it illustrates the point even more clearly, that we deny emotional realities that are too scary for us to accept. Or that we see what we want to see.

If Dan was in fact misdiagnosed as depressed rather than bipolar, that would explain why the medications didn’t work for him and in fact may have exacerbated his condition.

In many ways bipolar disorder is just now coming into the mainstream as distinct from depression and ADD? Medical professionals are human, and fallible. And often see patients only during the depressed cycle of the disorder. Does anyone ever go to the doctor complaining of euphoria, unbounded energy and a very high sense of importance?

Diagnosing mental conditions almost entirely relies on subjective reporting of the patient’s reality and circumstances. Objective assessment is virtually impossible in all but the most extreme circumstances.

Unlike cancer, mental functioning can be masked by a patient either intentionally by hiding facts. Patients can also hide facts by not knowing what it means to be healthy. In the same way that it’s difficult for treating professionals to discern a patient’s true mental state, its difficult for patients to know what is and isn’t significant. What is abnormal as opposed to what’s just me?

Any behavior that can rationally be explained by ordinary life stress, or eccentricity usually is explained and not treated or explored. And rightly so. The overwhelming majority of people with mental illness –even severe illness such as bipolar disorder and schizophrenia - do not kill themselves or others.

Suicide is an extreme response. But for those of us left behind, that reality provides little comfort.

Every pink ribbon advocating better breast cancer research reminds me that I miss my friend Gertrude. Prevention, treatment and cure of that illness are for those of us remaining. It won’t bring her back. I’ll always advocate for more mental health awareness, and better treatment options. But, doing so will always remind me of the many people who miss Dan.

Dan was loved. Dan knew he was loved. Dan loved. Dan spent quality time with his brother days before he took his own life. He spoke with his mother days before and partied with friends, perhaps hours before.

In addition to being a doting, loving mother, Dayna is a physician and was a practicing pediatrician at the time of Dan’s birth. Dayna always knew where Dan was in his emotional life. She was very present in his life. If she stood back and watched, it was only out of respect for Dan to make his own decisions about his life. Dayna believed Dan when he said he was ok. She had no reason not to believe him.

Dayna believed me when I said that I feared for Dan. She has always feared for his wellbeing. “What can I do?”, she asked. “Nothing”, I answered. My answer was followed by a grimace. I shuddered at the horrible thought of this beautiful family losing Dan. I agreed with Dayna then, and I agree now, there was nothing she could have done.

Even if she disregarded his legal and moral right to govern himself, she wouldn’t know whether she needed to force the pills down his throat or remove them. Did she need to pack his bags and bring him back to North Carolina, or let him make up his own mind about whether the stress of Berkeley was too much? Given the accounts of the people around Dan at the time of his death, including the treating psychiatrist, no commitment order could have been secured.

But there must have been something we missed? Since such a beautiful, loving person is no longer with us, we had to have missed something. This reality makes no sense.

If we assume that Dan was emotionally healthy but just sad or hitting his academic wall, this reality makes no sense. If we accept that Dan was very psychologically ill, this reality makes sense but is still very tragic and sad.

Mental illness is real. Dan was as human as anyone else on the planet. Dan was as susceptible to withdrawal side effects as anyone else stopping anti-depressants. Dan was at the mercy of his brain functioning just as much as any one else on the planet. We can only deduce that Dan’s brain registered danger where none existed. Dan’s brain registered failure, where none existed.

Dan lived his life fully. To the extent that Dan had a choice in the matter, we should respect that it was his decision to make. No one can decide for any one else what quality of life is sufficient to justify continuing. No one can decide for any one else, how much despair justifies a final exit.

We don’t forcibly restrain people without some objective indication that they are a threat to themselves or others. You’re a threat to yourself when you don’t want to die but feel that you’re being compelled by some outside force. I don’t think anyone truly wants to die. I think they just want the hurting to stop.

Because the overwhelming majority of people living with major depression and mental illness do not take their own lives, we’re cautious in favor of individual autonomy and individual liberty. And rightly so.

We can never know what price Dan paid to remain with us for 27 years. We want to believe that there was an answer out there for him, if he’d only shared with us his pain. If only our medical intervention for mental illness were as advanced as it is for physical illness. We don’t know that for sure. None of us had any answers for him when we knew he was suffering. We could not make any promises. If there was anything what so ever that could have been done to ease Dan’s suffering it would have been done long, long ago.

If we believe that Dan was overwhelmed with withdrawal, and did not have a choice, we should lobby for better education about the side effects of discontinuing these medications. And maybe for better medications.

Why did Dan leave us? I don’t know. I believe he did so because he suffered from a very real illness that he decided he could not conquer. Did any of our sins of commission and omission contribute to Dan’s death? Absolutely, unequivocally no. Dan was loved, cared for, protected, respected, and admired. He was never ignored. None of us let Dan down. Dan did not let us down. Dan’s illness was very real.

I won’t let the circumstances of Dan’s death detract me from the real work to be done here. I will celebrate and honor Dan’s beautiful life. I will continue living mine with as much peace and acceptance of reality as possible.

We can and should honor Dan by taking care of ourselves and each other the best that we can. We start to emerge from the well of despair by accepting nothing we did caused Dan to want to leave us. Dan didn’t want to leave us. Dan found the peace he needed and the peace he deserved the only way he knew possible. We didn’t fail Dan and Dan didn’t fail us. Mental illness is real. Dan’s mental illness was fatal.

To the extent that we can learn from any life experience, its ok for us scour our interactions with Dan to find ‘pearls of wisdom’ and to mature emotionally. That’s healthy. Its also good to re-live the many, many good times to remind ourselves that Dan was a sweet and loving boy who became a sweet and loving man.

Punishing ourselves for being alive when our loved one isn’t, is natural and understandable. But it is not ok. And it is not healthy. More every day I accept that Dan is gone. More every day I’m determined to find peace with that unchangeable reality. More every day I’m determined to help my best friend find peace with that unchangeable reality.