In retrospect, I can see how often Dylan expertly allayed our concerns whenever we raised them. I don’t know whether he was managing himself, or us—whether he was hoping whatever was wrong would get better, or that we wouldn’t notice how bad it was. He’d always been the kid we could rely on to do the right thing, the kid who wanted to take care of everything himself. So when he said he was okay, we believed him.
His journals indicate a major sea change had taken place in his thinking. The entry on the twentieth of January reads: “im here, STILL alone, still in pain.” He has not died by suicide, and he is angry. The syntactical irregularities noted by Dr. Langman come fast and furious, to the point that much of the entry is almost incomprehensible. “I love her, the journey, the endless journey, started it has to end. we need to be happy to exist timely. I see her in perfection, the halcyons. Love it, endless purity.”
It is possible that he was drunk, but there is a sense of fantasy becoming reality for him. “The scenarios, images, pieces of happiness still come. They always will. I love her. she loves me. i know she is tired of suffering as I am. it is time. it is time.” On the twenty-third of January, three days later, he secretly attended the Tanner Gun Show with Eric and Robyn, where they bought the shotguns they would use in the massacre and met Mark Manes, the young man who would sell him a TEC-9 semi-automatic pistol.
The irony is that I was never happier than I was in the winter of 1999. The weekend after Tom’s surgery, Byron came over in the afternoon and the three men of the family worked on their respective cars, car parts scattered across the garage. Tom was not able to use his arms much, but he could give advice and oversee the work, and the three of them joked and helped each other.
I stayed inside where it was warm, working on a painting while a pot of homemade chili simmered on the stove. When the guys came inside, I watched a Denver Broncos game on television with them, just so I could bask in the pleasure of having my family together. Time was flying—Dylan would be off to college in the fall—and I didn’t want to miss a single moment. After Byron headed home, Dylan and his dad drove off to rent a movie in Tom’s cherished, carefully maintained classic car. On the way back, Tom let Dylan drive it for the first time, and Dylan came home puffed up with pride.
It had been an absolutely perfect day, a thought I recorded in my diary before bed. I feel so lucky and thankful, I wrote. This day was golden.
Of course, I have wondered many times about the ease of Dylan’s deception. As it does for many people living with thoughts of suicide, making a plan may have made it easier for Dylan to function, and thus to mislead us into believing his life was turning around. It can be hard to differentiate between someone who is genuinely getting out of a cycle of depression, and someone who feels relief because they know they’re going to die. (Dr. Dwayne Fuselier, who spent much of his career with the FBI in hostage negotiation, tells his students to pay attention when a crisis negotiation seems to be going well for the same reason—sudden cooperation may mean the hostage taker has made a decision to die.) But I still cannot reconcile the kid cracking up with me over Alec Guinness in Kind Hearts and Coronets with the boy I saw on the Basement Tapes, a boy who had already started making plans to slaughter innocent classmates.
The deception was universal. Two days after our chili dinner, Tom and I received an unexpected phone call from Dylan’s Diversion counselor. Unless we had any objections, he was recommending early termination from the program for both Eric and Dylan. This was terrific news. Early termination from Diversion is rare, awarded to only 5 percent of participants. Both boys had done exceptionally well, the counselor told us, and he was convinced they were on solid ground. It was ten weeks before the massacre.
People tend to find this detail particularly upsetting, but it does not surprise me. If I didn’t know what was in Dylan’s mind—the child I bore and raised, who sat on my lap and emptied my dishwasher—then what on earth could a stranger have known? In his book The Anatomy of Violence, Dr. Adrian Raine cites a study in which children are left in a room and told not to peek at a toy when the experimenter leaves. Whether they do peek or not is caught on tape, as is their response—truthful or deceitful—when the experimenter returns and asks them if they did.
When the “did you peek?” interviews were shown to undergraduate students, they guessed correctly which kids were lying only 51 percent of the time, only a little better than sheer chance. Next, the researchers brought in customs officials, who, as Dr. Raine points out, have lots of experience sniffing out people traveling with contraband. These seasoned professionals correctly guessed which kids were lying only 49 percent of the time, which is worse than flipping a coin.
The researchers then brought in police officers to view the tapes. They guessed correctly 41 percent of the time—significantly worse than chance. You’d think it would be easier with the youngest children, but even four-year-olds could convincingly fool the pros. Somewhat gleefully, Dr. Raine sums up the study results: “Parents, you think you know what your kids get up to, but actually you don’t even have a clue with your own toddler. That’s how bad the story is. Sorry, mate, but you really are as hapless as I at figuring out who a psychopathic liar is.”
It is a cold consolation to me. It does not surprise me that Dylan and Eric were able to deceive their teachers, a school counselor, Eric’s psychiatrist, and the Diversion specialists. But, until April of 1999, I would have told you Dylan couldn’t have fooled me.
? ? ?
The week after the call from Dylan’s Diversion counselor, his college acceptance letters started to arrive. Dylan had been accepted to one school in Colorado, wait-listed at another, and accepted to two in Arizona. He seemed lukewarm about the Colorado school, but pleased to have some options in Arizona.
Life is falling into place for him, I thought as I arranged a dinner with the Harrises to celebrate the boys’ termination from Diversion. Though we had made efforts all year to keep the two apart, our concerns about their relationship had receded. Certainly, Eric had shown us he was impulsive and emotional, but he was under the close supervision of his parents, and he’d started seeing a therapist. The boys were about to graduate from high school, their mistakes behind them, and I was pleased for the families to be able to recognize their accomplishment. Life gives few enough opportunities to celebrate, and we had a great deal to be thankful for.
Some weeks earlier, I had asked Dylan about his friends’ plans. He said Nate, Zack, and some of the others were off to college; Eric was hoping to join the Marines. Before our dinner with the Harrises, I asked Dylan for an update on Eric’s plans. Joining the Marines had fallen through, he told me. Eric would be living at home, working, and attending community college instead.
During this conversation, Dylan had a faraway look, which made me worry he was having second thoughts about his own college plans. After an initial flurry of excitement over a warmer climate, he’d withdrawn, becoming even more pensive and quiet than usual, as if he had something on his mind.
“You’re sure you want to go away?” I asked. Some of our friends’ kids had started their college careers at community colleges closer to home, and I wanted to remind him there were other options. “I definitely want to go away,” he said, sounding decisive. I nodded, believing I understood: he was nervous, naturally, but ready, too. I think now he was talking about his own death.
A couple of days later, we got written confirmation of the early Diversion termination. In his final report, dated February 3, Dylan’s counselor wrote:
PROGNOSIS: Good
Dylan is a bright young man who has a great deal of potential. If he is able to tap his potential and become self-motivated he should do well in life.
RECOMMENDATIONS: Successful Termination
Dylan has earned the right for an early termination. He needs to strive to self motivate himself so he can remain on a positive path. He is intelligent enough to make any dream a reality but he needs to understand that hard work is part of it.