They met in the U.S. Army and fell in love instantly. Though they went their separate paths, they both had brief but failed marriages and then reunited. It was a second marriage for both of them as they muddled through their previous baggage from their first marriages.
He was a captain in the Army, 6 feet tall. She was a 5’2″ petite, bright, and smart medic. They clicked quickly and reconnected. As time grew, so did their love. They produced two sons, the apple of their eye. They were good kids: Boy Scouts, Eagle Scouts, honor students, church youth group, college. And their little family stayed happy.
Time passed. Many years later, Randy and Helen started to emotionally drift apart. Randy was now in his early eighties and was showing signs of severe forgetfulness. Cutting the grass and haphazardly falling down and unable to get up without the neighbor’s assistance. Urinating in the sink that was in the washer-dryer room. Having bowel movements in his pants, but unaware. Not remembering how to clean himself up with feces all over his hands. Driving his car in reverse at a stop light. Forgetting to feed the dogs.
Finally his wife Helen made an appointment with his physician. A cognitive test was performed and an MRI was scheduled. It was a confirmed diagnosis: late-stage Alzheimer’s disease. His brain would shrink. Cerebral atrophy. It was the evolution of Alzheimer’s disease.
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It was recommended that he enter a day care or memory care during the day to assist him, clean him, and feed him. By now he was 84 years old. But his wife said, “It wasn’t time to do that. He’s not that bad.”
Helen lost her balance and fell down that steep set of stairs. She crawled to her phone and called 911. She fractured her hip. Randy was unable to help her at home.
Physical therapy came in for Helen. A young man was the physical therapist. Helen and the physical therapist chatted during her therapy sessions at home. Randy grew paranoid, wanting to know who was this man that came to their house three times a week. They were awfully comfortable talking to each other. Randy suggested they were flirting with each other. He grew increasingly suspicious, so much so that the physical therapist requested to not go to their house anymore for safety reasons.
As his activities of daily living increasingly grew worse, his physician recommended that he be admitted into an assisted living facility at a memory care unit. Their sons begged their mom to admit their dad. But his wife said, “It wasn’t time to do that. He’s not that bad.”
His physician was aware of Randy’s paranoia of his wife. His physician was aware of Randy’s inability to make simple decisions of his own care. His inability to urinate or have a bowel movement in the toilet. Or take a shower. The basics.
His physician warned Randy’s wife of the dangers of forgetfulness, the dangers of paranoia, the dangers of Alzheimer’s. The MD asked his wife, does your husband own a gun? She replied, “Yes, but.” It was recommended that she lock up the gun. But she didn’t.
One morning Randy walked into the family room. His wife was watching TV. He had a fixed glare on his face. He stared at her but didn’t recognize his own wife. She was now a stranger to him. An intruder.
The gun was never locked up. Randy was 6 feet tall. Helen was a petite 5’2″ lady.
Another physical and another recommendation for Randy to go into an assisted living center. The paranoia grew. The accusations. The feces in his pants and his urine stains on his pants. But his wife said, “He’s not that bad.”
It was 0230. Randy woke up and saw a strange woman in bed with him. He thought she was an intruder. He pulled his gun out but had trouble pulling the trigger. But this was an intruder. He took his pillow and smothered her. Until her struggling body went limp.
That next morning he never went outside. He liked walking around the yard talking to the birds. But not today. And not tomorrow.
The neighbors grew suspicious. They hadn’t seen his wife in a few days. They were used to seeing her leave the house every day to do chores. But two days passed, then three days passed. No Randy and no Helen. The neighbors called the police for a wellness check.
When the police arrived, Randy welcomed them. He offered them a Coke. The smell and stench was unbearable. The police searched the house. Dirty dishes filled the sink. Feces surrounded the outside of the toilet. And there she lay. Her dead body. In bed. Mottled. Decaying.
Randy stated he knew nothing about this “intruder.”
Because of Randy’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s he was not taken to jail or prison. He was already a prisoner of his own mind. A severe Alzheimer’s patient who kills his wife typically does not go to a traditional prison. Instead, Randy, diagnosed with late-stage Alzheimer’s, could not understand the court proceedings or assist in his defense. He was found incompetent to stand trial. Due to his severe neurocognitive decline, the legal system diverted him from the correctional system into a secure medical psychiatric facility. He was acquitted of murder.
Helen’s death came a week before their golden wedding anniversary.
And those haunting words from his dead wife: “He wasn’t bad enough.”
Debbie Moore-Black is a nurse.
