A story from a man from The Psychopath Test.

Hey! You may remember Steve Smith from my book The Psychopath Test. He was the young man who ended up at the Oak Ridge mental hospital - an unwilling participant in their radical experiments. They were trying to cure psychopathy by giving psychopaths massive amounts of LSD and making them strip naked and suck liquid food through straws that protruded from the walls. 

It proved a bad idea. It just made them worse.

Steve just sent me a part of a memoir he’s writing about his time there. I know he was there. I met him through a lawyer. He was part of a class action suit against the hospital. Obviously I can’t verify his extraordinary details below. But I know he was there.

Jon

I met Peter Woodcock in 1968 when I was 18 years old.
He introduced me to “The Brotherhood”.

Peter arrived in this place a decade before me. He knew nothing about the outside world but he heard about hippies.
I was a hippie so he wanted to be my friend.

At first I didn’t know why he was inside. He acted all love and peace and flowers.
He later told me he had murdered three children.
I was surprised to hear this. He didn’t look dangerous.
He was a small innocent looking guy. No one would ever be afraid of this guy.
If you lined up a hundred people he would be the last I would figure as a child sex murderer.

I was already traumatized by what happened to me. I just accepted him as part of my new existence.
When we weren’t locked in our cells we would be together.
He always followed me around asking questions.
He started combing his hair like me, walking like me and trying to imitate the way I talked.
We even tattooed ourselves with the same mark using a homemade rig and cigarette ashes.
( I have had it covered over but it’s still there)

Of course the doctors and guards noticed and saw it as an opportunity for some drug experiments.
No point in going into the details here but briefly it involved naked sessions in a padded room with no windows. Liquid food sucked in through straws in the wall. Sometimes this went on for many days.
It’s all documented in the links I will provide.
When patients tried to kill each other they would be restrained with straps made of seatbelts.
So
I got to know Peter very well in this time.
(See Jon Ronson The Psychopath Test page 75 )
He told me the details of the murders he committed…
It is still burned into my brain although I have never repeated it to anyone.

Some time passed before he told me about the visits he got once a month.
I knew he had no family so who would come to visit him.
With an important and secretive voice he told me it was “The Brotherhood”.
He said they were a sort of religious organization.
I said bible thumpers… no thanks not for me.
He said no not like that… These people are powerful… they can help you.
do you want to meet them?
I can arrange it.

What religion do you know of that goes to visit a three time child murderer every month?
Peter Woodcock was the worst criminal child killer in Canada.
He was Canada’s Hannibal Lecter
an unredeemable psychopath.
Do you think they wanted to save his soul?

At his next visit he asked if they would invite me.
then the following month they did.

The first meeting was awkward…
There were four men.. all older than 50.
And they were all German.
I stood beside Peter when they came into the visiting room.
Before any of them greeted me they each in turn put both hands on peters head and kissed him on the forehead.
Then Peter introduced me.
Not even a handshake … just a nod of their heads.

So from that day on I had a visit to look forward to.
Once a month Peter and I would be alone with these 4 men.
The inmates in this place didn’t get many visitors.

I can’t say much about how they behaved ,
what they said.. what we talked about.
I don’t think there was much talk of God or Jesus..
They would bring German food treats.
I recall laughing the first time I heard the word stolen.. I ate it with pleasure.

Their main interest seemed to be Peter himself.
As though he was important.
None of these men would interrupt Peter when he was talking. But if Peter interrupted one of them , they would shut up right away.
They were all so much physically bigger than both of us…
I always felt intimidated during these visits.
I tried to be polite.
It’s hard to describe but I thought they didn’t want me to be nice.
They were more friendly when I said something not so nice.
Have you seen pope Benedict smile?
Imagine that times four in a small room with a child killer.

I think I know now why Peter was important to them.
You need to understand the depth of evil in some people.
To them Peter was an icon of evil and I was Peters friend.

In these months the drug experiments were intense.
Sometimes I would visit with the brotherhood in a state of delirium.
I’m not sure what was real and what was hallucination.

The lead doctor in this experiment had contacts at the local highschool.
Some of the students were his outpatients.
One day he told me he was going to take me to the local high school to give a talk to the students about
the dangers of drugs.
WOW
I was so happy.
I had not seen the sky over my head for a long long time.

He took me out the heavily bared front door.
No hand-cuffs no guard.
I could have ran away… but I didn’t.
I thought I was important on that day.

The doctor drove his own car with me beside him.
Up to now every move I made was monitored by guards.
I was made to think I was dangerous.
This day I was a normal 18 year old.

I find myself on a stage in the school Gym with a panel of teachers and social workers.
The kids got to ask questions and the panel directed me to answer some of them.
I was dressed in institution cloths and that was embarrassing because ….
Well it just makes you look crazy.

These kids were about the same age as me.
Lots of pretty hippy chicks in the front row.
When the thing was finished I sat on the edge of the stage and talked to a bunch of
girls.
I think the panel thought I would be an example of why they should avoid drugs.
It didn’t work out that way.
The girls treated me like a rock star.
I was in heaven or a moment.

Then back to the bars and slamming doors.

The next day I got a visit.
Five girls from the high school!
The next day there were fifteen.
Then every day or two a bunch of them would come.
It was great
I can’t tell you…just the smell of girls hair…

It went on for a few weeks.
Then they cut it off.
I did get letters from some of them.

Then
I was released.

And the only place I had to go was to the Brotherhood.

I was locked up for eight months. No one came to visit and I got no letters.
What family I had would have nothing to do with me.
The youngest son was in a hospital for the criminally insane… what a shame!

Then the Review board decided I was not nuts and really didn’t belong in this snake pit.
Oh… I didn’t mention… I stole a car and got caught right away.
I did not kill anyone and had never hurt anyone in my life.
All of my fellow inmates were killers ,rapists , child molesters… monsters!
The real kind.

They had to let me go.
The car theft charge had been dropped seven months ago and there was no legal reason to hold me.
Problem was I had no place to go.
Then the brotherhood stepped in.
They offered to take care of me, give me a place to live and help me adjust to the outside.

I got back the same cloths I wore when I came in almost a year before.
A little smelly.
An empty wallet and some boots with a hole in both heels.
And
A buss ticket to Toronto and an address to the brotherhood house.
A guard was nice enough to give me a ride to the Greyhound station.

I wanted to go straight back to Yorkville Village but I didn’t even have money to eat.
So I walked to the House on Victor Street.

Mr. Brotherhood X and his wife were so happy to see me.
They said they didn’t think I would come.
They were both in their seventies.
The house was big… three stories made of brick.

I looked it up recently on Google and it’s still there.

They gave me a small room on the third floor.
Everything in the house was German.
Art, furniture, plates on the kitchen wall.
All German theme.
It was like stepping back to 1930s Berlin.
But nothing Christian.
No crucifix or bleeding heart Jesus.
Lots of old photographs of men in uniform.

I stayed there for a few days and only came out of my room to eat.
Mrs. X was very nice to me.
I didn’t know what to do. I was kind of screwed up from the past year of drug experiments.

I thought it’s only a matter of time until religion comes into it.
They will bible thump me eventually.
But it never happened.

One day I was alone in the house.
I started snooping around…
Looking in closets and such.
I went to the basement and found an old leather coat hanging on the wall.
It was stiff as a board but very cool.
A German officers great coat.
It even had a built in holster.
There was a tin of Dubbin in the kitchen.
I put newspaper on the floor and spent the day working the leather
with dubbin.
In a few hours it looked great again.

Mr. and Mrs. X came home and I showed him what I had done with the coat.
He was very excited and happy with me.
He told me it was his coat from the war.
Then he told me I could have it.
It was too big but I will wear it anyway.

Then he said something strange.
" I have that coat because of paperclip"
And he smiled and told me it looked good on me.

I didn’t have a clue what that meant but I was happy to have the coat.

In the next part I will tell you about my return to the town and the high school girls.
Then it gets creepy.