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PSYCHOLOGICAL
ASSESSMENTS:
You are a psychotherapist who has just met Gary White
PSYCHOLOGICAL
ASSESSMENTS:
You are a psychotherapist who has just met Gary White.
Please design a Psychological Assessment for him. Assessment must include
(a) client’s Social/Behavioral history; (b) Medical Evaluation; (c)
Psychosocial Assessment; (d) diagnosis based on DSM V criteria; and (e)
appropriate Treatment.
Narrative/Case Study:
Gary Cooper White
Gary Cooper White was born in Jersey City, New Jersey. He moved to Georgia the year he began school,
when his mother’s husband, number three of five, got a job in a mill
there. Some of the feeling you get from
the resulting combination of accents is, inevitably, lost in the transcription
from the police tapes. But I’ve tried to
note questions, interruptions and clear changes in emotion that came through in
his voice.
The police found him a particularly cooperative
witness. He got somewhat violent while
being taken to New York on the plane, but he’d offered no resistance to those
in Ohio who found him. At that point he
was eager to unburden himself. Back in New York, he never denied the murder;
he wanted the circumstances to be
understood. He seemed to think that
almost anyone in the same situation would have committed the same murder…this
was the most notable quality of his confession—that Gary White, who had brutally
assaulted and murdered Theresa Dunn a few hours after meeting her in a
Manhattan singles spot called Mr. Goodbar, had a very clear sense of himself as
the victim of the woman he had murdered.
He had just come up from Florida, where he had a very young
(sixteen) and pregnant wife. There was a
warrant out for his arrest (armed robbery) and he couldn’t work there. In South Carolina a careless driver gave him
a hitch and left his jacket on the seat between them. From the pocket White extracted a wallet
containing more than thirty dollars and enough identification to get him jobs
in North Carolina and Virginia. Each of
which he left after his first paycheck.
He was a handsome man, from the photos that are
available. Blond and square-jawed…It
wasn’t difficult for him to get jobs or pick up girls…He arrived in New York
with the intention of staying with a friend from his unit in Vietnam until he
could find a job. But his friend was no
longer at the…address he’d given White.
He wandered around…and that night found himself in a place which he eventually
recognized as a gay bar. It was there he
met George Prince…who some days later would give the police the information
they needed to find Gary in Cleveland.
Gary told George how he’d come to New York for a job…only to find his
buddy gone. George offered him a place
for the night. One of the few
contradictions within White’s confession is that he at first claims not to have
realized George was a homosexual who would want him, while at some later point
he says he knew George was gay but figured he could handle it.
The way he handled it was to have sex with George for a week
or so without ever suggesting…that all he really wanted was a place to stay
while he found a job. Only when George
brought another man onto the scene did Gary rebel and then he seems to have
been more perturbed by the idea of the extra man as a witness than by the notion of a third sexual partner…He became
increasingly hostile to George…
As in his dealings with Theresa, Gary lacked any sense of
having done something wrong or avoidable.
He was bitter toward George for forcing him to have sex while admitting
that no actual force was involved. He
could not see any way in which he had exploited George. (His response at a later date, when he was
being interviewed by a court-appointed psychiatrist who asked if he thought
people would criticize the idea of taking money, food and lodging from someone
you didn’t like, was, “But he was just a dumb ugly queer!”)
He seems to have lived always with the sense of fighting for
his life with his back against the wall, a context in which otherwise insane
acts seem quite reasonable. The supreme
irony of his situation being provided by the fact that the police who searched
his clothing…found more than a hundred dollars in fives and tens tucked into
the hem of his coat lining. He was
startled when they asked him about the money…He had saved it for his pregnant
wife…He hadn’t wanted to mail the cash or risk going into a Southern post
office for a money order…When he arrived in New York he had six dollars in his
jeans and never remembered the money in his coat until the cops found it on
January 13th, not quite two weeks after the murder of Theresa Dunn.
She’s sitting on the last
stool, you know, against the wall. I
wouldn’t even have noticed her except she’s reading a book. In a bar.
Not looking at the TV…I don’t care…The bartender says something about
her…It was like he was trying to introduce us…she started on my accent.
‘Where’d you-all get that accent?’ Where
the fuck did she think I got my accent?
I got it from my mama and the rest of them. Anyhow, we’re talking and after a while she
pretends like she can’t hear something I’m saying and she moves over next to
me. Tells me she’s a teacher. Boy, some of the people they got teaching
kids, I’m keeping mine out of school…Anyhow, then starts yawning, says she’s
tired. Do I feel like having a drink up
at her place? I figure what the hell…she
didn’t turn me on, but she wasn’t all that bad and it’s a flop for the night. I’ll go home with this crazy chick, get some,
you know. Get away from George. So we go up to her place.
‘How come you was reading in
the bar’ I asked her. ‘Why shouldn’t I…I
like to read and I like to sit in bars.”
I don’t say nothing. (Gary states
he’s been in jail and Theresa relates she hit a cop at a demonstration). ‘Did you have the limp then?’ I ask. I figure that’s why they didn’t book her,
she’s got something, this funny walk, like a short leg or something. ‘No,’ she says. ‘I have an ingrown toenail.’
I don’t say nothing. I’m thinking maybe George won’t even go back
to his place. I could go back there and
get away from this crazy broad and maybe even get a night’s sleep.
…Then she says to me. ‘You
queer like your friend?’
‘No, cunt,’ I say.
God is my witness, I never
talked that way to a woman in my life.
She just…anyhow, she sort of yawns…And she says, ‘I think you are. I think maybe if I feel like getting laid tonight
I oughta go back downstairs and find someone straight.’
Naturally that pisses me
off. All I need is for this miserable
cunt to go back down there and tell everyone I’m a queer. As soon as I get pissed off…I get a little
turned on, right? So I say to her.
‘You’re not going nowhere.’
‘Mmmm,’ she says. ‘Maybe
you’re right.’ She starts to get
undressed. ‘Maybe you’re right. I’m
going to sleep.’ Getting undressed like
I wasn’t there. Then she says to me I
should slam the door on my way out, so naturally the next thing you know I’m
balling her, right? (A long silence.) We
went a good long time, I don’t know, fuck…what’s the…yeah…so then we’re
finished and I’m feeling okay. You know,
relaxed. The only thing in my head now
maybe I can get some sleep. Now I don’t
have to hear any more of that queer shit.
And I close my eyes and…(His voice trembles and he has
difficulty continuing. After a while
another voice prods him gently. With
great effort he forces himself to start talking again, although his voice
cracks.) And then…then…I’m half asleep
and this voice says, ‘You can go now.’
At first it didn’t even hit me. The words.
I didn’t know what she was talking about…she starts tapping my arm. I don’t say nothing…Then she says, cool as
anything. ‘Because you ain’t sleeping here.’
That really jolted me.
It like…like…all of a sudden I’m wide awake and spinning. My head.
The rest of me is…I’m paralyzed.
I’m so tired I can’t move…’Why?’ I ask her.
‘Because I don’t want you to.’
‘Why don’t you want me to?’ I’m stalling…I don’t give a fuck
why. My head is…the blood’s pounding in
my head.
‘Cause I hardly know you,’ she says. (His laugh crosses with a sob. Then there is another long pause.)
‘I just fucked you pretty good, didn’t I?’
‘Okay,’ she says.
‘Just okay.”
That really…anyhow…I say to her, ‘Fuck you, I ain’t going
nowhere.’
That blows her mind.
‘What’re you talking about?’ she screams at me. ‘Where the fuck do you
think you are?’
She sounds scared, y’know?…’I’m right here, cunt…And I’m staying
until I get some sleep.’ I don’t know
what the hell I said if for. I was awake
by this time. I shoulda just…but the
idea of this lousy broad shoving me out (voice cracks again)…like I was a piece
of shit.
Then she says, ‘If you’re not up in one minute I call the
cops.’ And she reaches for the
phone…like she’s really gonna do it and I grab the phone pull it so fucking
hard the thing comes right outa the wall, I had no idea, and I threw it across
the room. Then I think I went out for a
minute…no, I mean blank…I don’t remember…everything was red or something…and
the next thing I know she’s half across the room and I’m going after her and
she starts screaming and I gotta cover her mouth so the neighbors don’t hear. By this time all I want is out. For her to shut up so I can let her go and get
the fuck outa there. I swear to you,
that’s the truth, all I wanted was out and she wouldn’t let me out. If she would’ve just stopped struggling I
woulda got outa there. But she wouldn’t
stop. She was trying to bite my hand
that’s over her mouth. (Long
silence. The other voice asks a
question.) Mmm…Yeah…that’s when I decide
I better tie her up. Just tie her and
gag her good enough to get outa there before she gets loose. I get her back to the bed so I can do
it. (Long pause. When he resumes, his voice has gone
completely dead. As though he’s
reporting something seen at a distance and not of any particular
interest.) I get her back with my arm
around her face. I get her down. I don’t know how to tie her, to tie her first
or gag her first. Gag her. I figure I can use the phone cord to tie her
hands…and then…I don’t know what happened next…(The other voice says something,
and for the first time he sounds angry at the intervention.) What difference does it make? I killed her, I said I killed her, I don’t
know, I…Yeah…I know, I know. All right.
When I first put the pillow down over her face it was just
to shut her up. I tried one hand but she
kept biting. I put the pillow over
her…it was, like, her mouth. I mean, I
thought in my mind I was covering her mouth.
Then, I don’t know, we was both naked.
I got turned on. (Other
voice.) Yeah. That’s what I mean…mmmm…So I (voice) No. I tried but while I’m trying to…get in…(he
chokes on the words)…all of a sudden she makes a big kind of…I don’t know, I’m
not thinkin’ about the pillow and she gets it off and starts screaming and I’m
scared shitless because of the neighbors and before I know it I pulled the lamp
off the table and smashed it down on her head.
It was like I wasn’t thinking…It was like someone else was doing
it. I remember I’m looking down at her
just before I bring it down…she’s scared…but it’s like I had nothing to do with
it…Then, when I saw the blood…I saw she was out…and I got scared more. The phone was ringing, maybe it was the
doorbell, I don’t know, something was ringing and it didn’t stop. I got crazy.
I was afraid to leave. I started,
I don’t know, running around the place, then I wanted to…(breaks)…make sure…I
knew how bad it was and I…I better make sure.
I got out my knife and I stabbed her.
(He is crying as he talks.) I
stabbed her all over. I don’t know why I
stabbed her. I stabbed her in the…all
over. I don’t know why, I don’t know if
I knew she was dead. There was no life
in her. I think I went to sleep.
…When I woke up…(He breaks of…and then the other
voice.) I still don’t see what
difference it…all right, all right. (But
now there is a huge effort involved in his speaking, and his voice breaks frequently). I was freezing. When I woke up I was freezing…I was…(voice)…I
was in her…I was coming…I don’t know how…(voice)…Yeah. I knew.
I was crying…I was…I think I was trying to warm her up. It was weird ‘cause it was like…she was my
friend. Then I, it hit me what a spot I
was in…I got dressed and I went downstairs.
(Rossner, 1975, pp 3-15)
References
Rossner, J. (1975). Looking for Mr. Goodbar. Simon &
Schuster: New York.
Social/Behavioral
History: Here you document the client’s behavior (i.e., understanding,
perceptions, and interactions with others), as well as any environmental
influences. NOTE: any and all
information documented should pertain to the client’s maladaptive behavior.
Medical Evaluation:
Determine if a General Physical
Examination and/or Neurological Examination is necessary for diagnosis.
Psychosocial
Assessment: Here you determine and document which psychosocial assessment
tool(s) you will use. Your options are
Psychosocial, Biological, or mixed methods (using both types).
Diagnosis: Render diagnosis, based on established DSM V
criteria, after careful consideration of client’s symptoms and test results.
Treatment: Treatment
Options include Biological and Psychosocial approaches. Determine appropriate treatment for diagnosed
disorder.
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