"Hi, Mr. Goren." I walked into the reception area of my office behind him. I could see him jump. He was running a little early.
"Bobby." He corrected me.
He watched me take off my coat and hat. I moved my hands to smooth my skirt, but stopped myself, because I knew he was waiting for me to smooth my skirt, check my blouse (which was actually a sweater today), and run my hands across my hair.
"Bobby." I corrected myself, noticing he had shaved. I moved around him to unlock my office door.
"Come on in." I said. This time, instead of sitting in the middle of the couch, I watched him walk across my office to the window. He placed his hand on the glass.
"Not as cold today." He said. I watched him, thinking he did not sleep well the night before.
"I only got about 4 hours last night. But, I ate a good lunch today." He offered. I nodded. Today was day three, tomorrow I had a 30 minute in person meeting with his Captain to make my preliminary recommendation, which I would follow-up with a brief written statement.
"Sleeping and eating are very, very important." I said. He remained standing with his hand on the glass.
"Very, very important." He parroted my words.
"I have an appointment with your Captain tomorrow." I offered, he turned to face me. I didn't see any point in not mentioning it. In as much as NYPD was huge, I felt fairly certain that my meeting with Captain Ross would make it onto Bobby's radar. Someone would see something, or say something, and so on.
"What is your Captain going to say to me?" I asked. He looked at me for a long moment, and I could almost see him visualizing the conversation. Again, I was reminded of how intelligent he was, how insightful. I wondered what could possibly interfere with his judgment to make him act so seemingly rash at times. It was one thing to appear erratic in an interview to put a suspect off balance, it was another to be erratic and put your partner or your Captain off balance.
"That I've been erratic in my behavior, jeopardizing my partner, the squad. That I have shown a complete disregard for the chain of command. That I have been acting paranoid." He offered.
"Paranoid." This time, I parroted him. He was leaning back against the windowed wall, looking at me. I was leaning back against my desk, looking at him.
"Paranoid." He said the word again.
"Are you, paranoid?" I asked. I did not think he was, I wondered what he thought, and I also wondered what made others think that he was.
"No." His answer was simple, immediate.
"Why would your Captain say you were paranoid?" I asked, I was forming a guess. Bobby's body language probably undermined what he was saying. I could see that when he was tired, or distracted, his inflection was off, his body language was off. I had met Captain Ross before, and I suspected the Captain was listening more to how Bobby was acting that what he was saying.
"I don't know." Bobby said. And I saw, I saw what Captain Ross probably saw. I watched how he moved his hands, his body. The way he looked around the room, without looking at me.
"What are you doing?" I asked, seeing if I could get him to focus on his movements. He looked down at his hands. I could see him thinking about my question.
"I can't," He started to say, "I can't not," he moved his hands, but didn't finish his sentence.
"I'm not suggesting that. I'm just pointing out, that it could be that Captain Ross is focused more on your behavior than what you are saying." I offered, and I could see him considering what I said.
"Your partner. What is she like?" I asked. Again, he seemed agitated, he looked out the window.
"Does she gesture a lot when she talks?" I asked, giving him something more specific to think about.
"No. She's kind of still, her voice, even." He replied.
"And the Captain, is he able to listen to her?" I asked.
"Yes." He said, furrowing his brow.
"I'm not suggesting that you fundamentally change. But, you could probably adapt a bit so that your Captain can focus more on what you are actually saying." I offered. Again, he looked at me.
"You mentioned your partner, she is still." I offered a leading statement.
"Yes." He said, moving across the office. I watched him walk around, looking at things.
"When you went undercover into the prison, she was aware of your plans." I put some focus into the conversation. I moved to sit in a chair, hoping he would do the same. After a long moment, he did. Though, unlike the previous two days, he did not sit in the middle of the couch, he sat in the chair facing me.
"Yes, she was aware of my plans." He confirmed something that was already established.
"Is she always aware of your plans?" I asked.
"Used to be more that way I guess." He looked at me and thought a bit.
"Do you trust her?" I asked, watching him pick at the fabric of his pants near his knee. He nodded affirmatively. Again, I had to wait him out, watch him organize his thoughts before he started speaking. Finally he did say that he trusted her, that she was an exceptional partner, that she had his back each and every day on the job. But again, it was the things he didn't say, and the way his body language read as he was talking, that I sensed some unevenness in their partnership.
I had enough NYPD associated clients to know that partnerships were kind of a 24/7 deal. A lot of marriages were threatened by partnerships. Good partners shared an interesting connection. And for the most part I could sense this as Bobby talked about Detective Eames.
I talked with him a bit further. I was trying to gauge whether he had a conscious disregard for the consequences of his actions or whether he could not accurately comprehend the consequences of his actions. I knew he was intelligent enough, and trained enough, to see actions play out many steps down the road.
"How did you think this would end?" I asked.
"I, uh, I didn't." He admitted. I was interested in this.
"You didn't?" I asked.
"I just, I uh, was thinking about Donny, about his safety, my captain was not receptive to my concerns." Bobby said. I listened to him talk some more, about Detective Eames's role, about Captain Ross, about his inability, in this case, to see beyond his immediate thoughts.
I listened carefully, I listened to his words, and his affect. I watched his body language. In the end, I concluded he was not a danger to himself or on the job. But, I knew that he needed sleep. Sleep deprivation, especially played out over time, did strange things to people's mental operations.
"I am concerned that you are not sleeping. I think that this plays a large part in what your Captain describes as erratic behavior. I think this lack of sleep is detrimentally affecting your judgment and your thought processes." I let him know what I was thinking.
"When I meet with your Captain, I am going to state that I see no reason why you cannot return to your duties." I held his eyes as I talked. "But you need to sleep."
"Sleep." He said, scratching his head.
"Keep in mind, my recommendation is simply a piece of all of this. The disciplinary panel will be weighing a lot of information." I added.
"Sleep." He said again.
"Right, sleep." I offered. "I have a few more strategies." I looked toward the spectacularly comfortable chair.
"Do I get to take the chair home?" He asked, a bit sheepishly.
"No, but I can tell you where I bought it." I smiled. And, as he lay there with his eyes closed, I walked him through a few more strategies, in terms of relaxing, in terms of sleep. This time he did not actually fall asleep, which was a good sign. The first day, he had been so sleep deprived, that as soon as he relaxed he fell asleep. This time he was a bit more rested, so he was able to listen to me.
When I was done talking, I watched him move slowly to sit up and face me. He looked at me, tilting his head to one side a bit.
"When I came here, I didn't not think I would be leaving thinking about sleep." He offered.
"I think you think a lot. I think you know your circumstances very well." I candidly offered. In the past three sessions, it was clear to me, that his life was chaotic, emotionally painful, which explained why he was a detached adult who found personal relationships difficult. But, he was also very cognizant of all of those things.
"The one thing that you mentioned changed over the past year was that you have been unable to sleep." I offered. "That adds up."
He looked at me, and I noticed he was holding my I-pod in his hands. He was thumbing through my play list. I walked to him, gently taking my belonging from his hands.
"I have a colleague. If you are interested in seeing someone, I think she could probably help you think through some things, related to your family." I was purposefully obscure. My colleague was an expert in family processes, especially families of schizophrenics.
It didn't matter so much that his mother was now deceased; he still grew up with her, in her house. Also, my colleague could probably help him think through the anger he currently held for his brother Frank. He had mentioned to me that the last time he saw his brother he had told Frank that if Frank was standing on a bridge getting ready to jump that he would not do anything he would simply wait for the splash. And, while Bobby probably tried to convince himself that was true, I knew that Bobby would not be completely unaffected by that "splash."
I handed him a business card. I watched him place it in his pocket, though I doubted he would use it.