By Gary Fields
The Wall Street Journal
Originally published on June 7, 2013
Suzanne Lankford for seven years has tried and failed to get long-term mental-health care for her son. When she hears news of a gun rampage or other violence, she gets chills.
"Whenever I see the parents saying they tried to get help, I think, 'That could be me,' " she says.
Ms. Lankford has watched her son, Joshua Rockwell, today 28 years old, barricade himself inside a room to ward off imaginary assassins. He once knocked her out with a blow to the head. She called the police on him after recognizing him in a mall security video of an armed robbery. Charges are pending.
He was later charged with attacking and harassing a nurse and law-enforcement officer. That trial has been delayed several times.
After Ms. Lankford's punch to the head, she asked her son's doctors about his treatment. She received a standard answer: Privacy laws prevent his doctors from talking to her without his permission, because he is an adult. His lawyer declined to comment citing the pending charges. Mr. Rockwell, who is in custody, declined to comment through his mother under the advice of his attorney.
When America began dismantling its government-run mental institutions a half-century ago, the U.S. started creating privacy protections and made it tougher to forcibly hospitalize people. The goal was to allow the mentally ill to live something close to a regular life.
Today, after a series of high-profile shooting rampages, many with links to mental illness, the U.S. is re-examining this approach. Some of the loudest voices for overhaul are from the families of the mentally ill—a first line of defense.
"We have been asking for information on Josh's medications, on his treatment plan…so that we can help him meet those obligations, but we're locked out," Ms. Lankford says. "I don't know how this story ends."
The entire story is here.
