2.
"So you got anything for me Sweets?" Booth asked stopping into Sweets office later that afternoon.
"I might. If I do, then remember, you promised to check it out." Sweets said still looking at his computer and scribbling notes down.
"Yeah I did." Booth said recalling the promise. "Angela got an ID on the victim, Kyle Cooper. Not much else yet. What do you have?"
"Danvers Mental Asylum." Sweets said aloud. "It was established in 1886 and for years it was a state institution. By 1960 the way that people treated the mentally ill was starting to change, it was no longer lock someone up – out of sight out of mind. Medical illness was being cured or at least cared for with soft science doctors like myself."
Booth was nodding along looking at the pictures of the historical and imposing looking structure Sweets handed him. He gave Sweets a look at his closing line.
"But some places like Danvers continued to operate as a private institution. What's interesting is that I can't find many records of Danvers having been checked out by any inspections and routine visits. If they are using electro shock therapy, and to excess, they should be exposed."
"You think our guy was a patient here?" Booth asked.
"Yeah, this place is like, ten miles from that dump site. This place was notorious for its cruel treatments back in the day. If something went wrong they may have dumped a body where they thought no one would find it." Sweet suggested.
"I don't know Sweets." Booth said looking at the photos of the pre-turn of the century limestone structure. The photos gave Booths chills just looking at them with the wrought iron gates that surrounded it. It looked like it belonged in a scary movie but it just seemed too out there for him.
"I thought you were going with my suggestion." Sweets said unamused.
"Well sure, but this is pretty out there. Besides, what do I know about going to an nut house?"
"This is what made the field of psychology what it is today Booth. Places like these did far more harm than good for thousands of people who were locked away because people didn't understand them. Many of them just suffering from what we could today call post-traumatic stress syndrome, depression, alcoholism…"
"Alright, alright Sweets. We'll go out there later this afternoon okay?" Booth said. "You can take the lead on this one. I'll stand back and make sure the crazies don't try and bite me." He said leaving.
"They're not zombies Booth." He called after him.
It was afternoon and Sweets sat waiting and ready to go with his paper work. Finally his cell phone as Booth was calling.
"Hey Sweets, we'll have to go tomorrow. Bones has got me looking thru these remains again." Sweets knew that meant he was following a different lead.
"I understand." Sweets said and abruptly hung up. What's the point of my being a profiler if no one listens to me Sweets wondered to himself.
Well I believe me, so I'm going, I was the lead anyway. Sweets told himself and picked up all his research and headed out the door.
If the place looked imposing in the old timey photos it looked positively spooky now. The place was run down but still operational as Sweets pulled up to the gates. He flashed his badge at the gate and was quickly granted admission inside. By the time he walked thru the front door he was greeted by the director of the institution, having been alerted by the gate keeper.
"I'm Devlin Richards, director here, what can I help you with?" The man said sitting across from Sweets in his office. The man was older and seemed jumpy.
"I'm checking to see if you know anything about a patient here, Kevin Cooper?" Sweets asked showing him the photo that Angela had sent over.
Sweets quickly noticed the man's eyes shift when he mentioned the name, he knew him.
"No, I'm sorry, I don't." The director lied, Sweets could tell.
"Are you sure, I'm pretty sure he was a patient here." Sweets pushed to see how the man would react.
"Yes, we keep good records and I'm know all of our patients personally."
Sweets knew both of those thing were a lie as he had seen one computer when he came in and long since neglected file cabinets outside the office. This place was huge so it was doubtful the man knew everyone.
"Can you tell me a little bit about the work you do here ?" Sweets wondered why someone without a degree in psychology or psychiatry would be appointed to such an important position.
"We work with the mentally ill of course. Some of them are a danger to society or a danger to themselves. We treat them."
For a man who was supposed to be in the same field as Sweets, Sweets was surprised he seemed to know so little of it what went on. He saw red flags everywhere and was making a note to call in authorities to check out this place as soon as he left.
"Is that all Mr. Sweets?"
"It's Dr. Sweets." Sweets corrected to see the man's reaction. He seemed nervous. "Before I go, could I get a tour of the facility?"
"I don't think that would be possible Dr. Sweets." The man said looking down at his desk, Sweets wondered if the man had any idea how obvious it was he was hiding something.
"Why is that, it seems pretty standard in any reputable institution, is there a problem Mr. Richards?"
"Of course not!" He said standing up nervously. "Right this way."
Sweets followed along with the director down the halls to several administrative offices.
"I was hoping to see where you work with your patients." Sweets specified.
"Oh, yes." The man said and the quicker he tried to walk ahead of Sweets the faster Sweets walked to keep up. "Here we are." He said showing him to a rec room where several senior citizens seemed left behind in front of old televisions and check boards they had no real ability to play on.
"Are all of your patients like this?"
"Well, they are content. I know it's not fancy but this is a private institution, we rely on the family's money to put their kin here. We stretch it as far as we can." He said leading Sweets down the hall, he still seemed uncomfortable. "We do what we can with what we have. Do you have family Dr. Sweets?"
"No, I don't." Sweets said and thought it an odd question. He sure as hell wouldn't refer any of them here.
The two men entered the hall, one was a large man in white arguing with a smaller man who walked with a hunch and twitched to a specific rhythm.
"Perhaps we should go back this way." Mr. Richards suggested.
Sweets was about to turn when the two men's argument escalated and the orderly resorted to thasing the patient.
"Hey!" Sweets shouted appalled at the sight. Soon additional orderlies arrives to help the first orderly with the patient who screamed out in pain and confusion.
"We don't need to see this Dr. Sweets." Mr. Richards said leading him away.
"Yeah, I think I do!" Sweets said pulling away from the director. "I think a whole lot of people need to see this." Sweets said pulling his phone out of his pocket. He was almost shaking he was so upset at the sight. The director was nervous and Sweets was glad, he needed to be. Sweets didn't notice the director motion to the orderlies down the hall.
"Dr. Sweets, please hang up the phone."
"What?" Sweets said in time to turn and see the two enormous orderlies over him.
With a swift movement Sweets phone was removed from his hand.
"What are you doing? This is ludicrous. You need to be shut down." Sweets shouted as he was wrestled to the floor.
"I don't think that will be happening Dr. Sweets." Mr. Richards said as he motioned to an orderly who approached with a syringe. Before Sweets could argue the room faded to black.
"Hey Sweets, okay so my lead didn't pan out." Booth said entering Sweets office but found no one was there. "Sweets?" Booth asked again and walked closer to his desk. It was clean and clear or any papers. Booth shrugged and figured the doctor must have gone home for the evening.
Sweets woke with a strange taste in his mouth and a foggy head. As his eyes slowly opened he inhaled a damp smell and quickly began to blink as he tried to remember where he was.
He looked around and saw he was in a room, small with a window that was covered in bars. He couldn't get up because his hands were in medical restraints at his sides along with his ankles. His suit was gone and he was wearing hospital scrub like attire. Sweets shouted out for help, he wanted to get this matter cleared up immediately.
After what ended up being a half hour of shouting a large and unhappy orderly arrived at the door. He came in highly irritated.
"Oh, finally, look, there's been a mistake. I'm…" Sweets began but the orderly punched Sweets in the face. Sweets reeled from the pain.
"Shut up!" The orderly shouted. "You keep shouting like that and I'll give you something to really shout about." He turned to leave.
"Wait, I'm not supposed to be here." Sweets said trying to stop his head spinning from the mighty blow.
"That's what they all say." The orderly said as he left.
Sweets lay on the bed, unable to move and tried to see the window over him. He suddenly had the feeling of what false imprisionment must feel like. But he reminded himself to stay calm, sure he didn't have any family but his friends would come looking for him. They could find him, right?"
Minutes turned to hours and Sweets tried to stay calm but the cool and damp room made it difficult. He was about to fall asleep when the metal door creaked open again.
"He says he doesn't belong here." The orderly's voice said as Mr. Richards came in.
"Oh good, Mr. Richards, there has been a mistake…"
"There's no mistake Kyle." He said.
"What? I'm not Kyle…" Sweets head was swimming in the bad dream he was surely having.
"Yes, we thought we lost Kyle Cooper didn't we?" Mr. Richards said to the orderly who nodded in agreement with whatever the director was asking him to believe. "Glad to have you back. Just in time for treatment!" He said happily and leaned in closer to Sweets. "You need to know how things work around here son. You asked for the tour remember?"
The man walked from the room as he no longer exuded nervousness but instead a sense of confidence as he was now in charge of Sweets fate. Sweets was wondering who to blame, himself for egging him on or Richards for being insane.
Sweets felt a quick prick in his arm and saw the orderly withdraw another needle. Sweets began to get to a haze with the idle thought that he hoped it were sterile.
Sweets was pushed down the hall in a wheel chair with a squeaky wheel. Sweets noticed because the noise kept him aware. His mind was awake but he found that all of his muscles were tired and he couldn't move them. He felt like rag doll being escorted to some place.
That place soon had a name, the electro shock therapy room.
Sweets eyes swan as he desperately tried to roll off the table he was placed on to escape.
"Whoa Denny, better secure him." One of the orderlies said to the other.
"Got it." Denny answered and began to place straps across Sweets body to keep him firmly placed on the table.
If it weren't for the medications Sweets surely would have hypervenalated which, he assumed was the point of the drugs, to render him motionless while he had to endure this.
"Did Richards say where to start Stevens?" Denny asked.
"He said the usual." Stevens responded and Sweets was immediately concerned when he saw the men fumble with machinery they knew little about operating properly. He knew this was why this was so dange... Argh! Sweets stopped thinking as a blinding pain took over. It stopped for a few seconds and began again at different intervals.
Sweets wasn't sure how long it went on but by the time he was returned to his room he wasn't sure why they needed to strap him to his bed again, he had no power to move. He couldn't even hold in his own drool.