Saturday, September 01, 2007
Killer's Parents Describe Attempts Over the Years to Help Isolated Son - Washington Post
Sometimes, Hyang Im Cho would become so frustrated with her son, Seung Hui Cho, that she would shake him. He rarely spoke. And when he did, it was just a few words, barely above a whisper. He never looked anyone in the eye. It was as if he lived walled off in a world of his own. Try as she might -- with countless visits to counselors and psychologists, treatment with antidepressants or art therapy, and attempts to find him friends at basketball camp or taekwondo or church -- no one could break through.
Like any mother, she wanted her son to fit in. Like any immigrant, she felt that no sacrifice was too great to make sure he found a place for himself in this new country, even if it meant overcoming the deeply ingrained stigma in Korean culture of admitting mental illness.
She knew he was troubled and isolated. But it wasn't until her son killed 32 students and teachers at Virginia Tech on April 16 that she knew just how twisted his private world had become.
...
The panel's report, formally released yesterday, paints the most complete portrait to date of Cho's frail and sickly childhood; his hopeful middle and high school years bolstered by intensive psychological therapy, medication and a supportive school environment; his misplaced aspirations to become a famous writer; and, as that dream slipped away, his descent into madness.
The report also provides for the first time some perspective from Cho's family. They were shocked when they learned of his violent writings. Cho had always been so secretive, typing away on his computer but refusing to share what he wrote. They had no idea that he had been briefly hospitalized at a psychiatric institution during his junior year at Virginia Tech and had been declared mentally ill. The son, the hospital and the court never told them.
"We would have taken him home and made him miss a semester to get this looked at," the Chos told the panel. "But we just did not know . . . about anything being wrong."
...
Cho began his college career as a business information technology major but, by the time he was a sophomore, decided to switch to English, which was one of his weakest subjects. Nevertheless, he was convinced that he could be a great writer. ...
Later that year, after his sister found a rejection letter from a New York publishing house, [his sister] noticed that he became increasingly depressed and detached. His English grades ranged from B's to D's, and his rage grew as he felt no one understood him or his talent.
...
[He] saw an art therapist and a psychiatrist who diagnosed a severe social anxiety disorder. "It was painful to see," one of the psychiatrists told the panel. The Chos took turns leaving work early to get their son to his sessions every week. In art therapy, Cho made houses out of clay that had no windows or doors. Sometimes, when the therapist explained that his artwork showed how inadequate he must feel, Cho's eyes would fill with tears. ...
Sometimes, Hyang Im Cho would become so frustrated with her son, Seung Hui Cho, that she would shake him. He rarely spoke. And when he did, it was just a few words, barely above a whisper. He never looked anyone in the eye. It was as if he lived walled off in a world of his own. Try as she might -- with countless visits to counselors and psychologists, treatment with antidepressants or art therapy, and attempts to find him friends at basketball camp or taekwondo or church -- no one could break through.
Like any mother, she wanted her son to fit in. Like any immigrant, she felt that no sacrifice was too great to make sure he found a place for himself in this new country, even if it meant overcoming the deeply ingrained stigma in Korean culture of admitting mental illness.
She knew he was troubled and isolated. But it wasn't until her son killed 32 students and teachers at Virginia Tech on April 16 that she knew just how twisted his private world had become.
...
The panel's report, formally released yesterday, paints the most complete portrait to date of Cho's frail and sickly childhood; his hopeful middle and high school years bolstered by intensive psychological therapy, medication and a supportive school environment; his misplaced aspirations to become a famous writer; and, as that dream slipped away, his descent into madness.
The report also provides for the first time some perspective from Cho's family. They were shocked when they learned of his violent writings. Cho had always been so secretive, typing away on his computer but refusing to share what he wrote. They had no idea that he had been briefly hospitalized at a psychiatric institution during his junior year at Virginia Tech and had been declared mentally ill. The son, the hospital and the court never told them.
"We would have taken him home and made him miss a semester to get this looked at," the Chos told the panel. "But we just did not know . . . about anything being wrong."
...
Cho began his college career as a business information technology major but, by the time he was a sophomore, decided to switch to English, which was one of his weakest subjects. Nevertheless, he was convinced that he could be a great writer. ...
Later that year, after his sister found a rejection letter from a New York publishing house, [his sister] noticed that he became increasingly depressed and detached. His English grades ranged from B's to D's, and his rage grew as he felt no one understood him or his talent.
...
[He] saw an art therapist and a psychiatrist who diagnosed a severe social anxiety disorder. "It was painful to see," one of the psychiatrists told the panel. The Chos took turns leaving work early to get their son to his sessions every week. In art therapy, Cho made houses out of clay that had no windows or doors. Sometimes, when the therapist explained that his artwork showed how inadequate he must feel, Cho's eyes would fill with tears. ...
Labels: mental illness, murder
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