The Boy with an Ordinary Name

This first group of kids, of course, was a challenging bunch. Yet, over the years, I would encounter clients who would be even greater threats to my safety as well as my sanity.

During the following several weeks after my first day at the orphanage, in fact, the client composition would change dramatically. A few of the kids would discharge—and be out of sight and nearly out of mind forever—and others would take their place, others of a far more dangerous and disturbing nature.

One of these replacements was Mikey Smith, a boy with an unassuming, typically ordinary name. Mikey Smith—must be the football team's backup tight end … or glee club member … … or friend’s second cousin … or someone else mundane and harmless.

But Mikey Smith belied his name. Mikey Smith was a psychopath. An undersized, thirteen-year-old psychopath driven by circumstances to inflict torment upon others.

One day Mikey told me how he had literally stabbed his step-father in the back. In a raspy, soft, serene voice he said, "He was on a ladder cleaning the gutters. I ran up the ladder and stabbed him in the back with a kitchen knife."

"What? What'd you do that for?" I asked.

"Because he deserved it."

“He deserved it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

"Why did he deserve it?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

"Cause he is an evil man."

"Why do you think he’s evil?"

"He would whip me with a belt, call me 'stupid,' beat my mom. Punched my sister in the face once. I couldn't take it no more. So I stabbed him.” Mikey smiled

He continued: “It was funny. He has a fake leg, and after I stabbed him he tried to chase me. I ran away and laughed at him; he looked so stupid limping after me. He was yelling, "I'm gonna kill you, you little fucker!' But I just laughed at him."

"Gees.” I shook my head. “So … what happened later? I mean, didn't you have to go home and face him eventually?"

"Nah. My mom called the cops. And the ambulance came, and they took my dad to the hospital. The cops found me at a friend’s house and took me to juvie hall. Then I came here."

"Man." I didn’t know what else to say. I did know, however, from that day on to watch my back around Mikey.

***

One day, Mikey became aggressive and destructive in his room. I don’t recall exactly why, but it was likely because he didn’t get his way with something. Mikey often became aggressive simply when told ‘no.’”

What I do remember well is this:

A fellow staff member and I ended up having to physically restrain Mikey (manually hold him prostrate and face down against the floor, keeping his arms tight against his sides—for his and our safety alike) in his room. His neighbor on the RTU, a boy named Ronny Jones, started throwing pens and pencils into Mikey’s room. In spite of our firm prompts to stop, Ronny laughed and continued as if it were a game. Even from the floor, Mikey smiled and laughed heartily as if his restraint were part of some grand joke—whose punch line was his twisted life.

Mikey was a wiry, slippery, and tough kid. He managed to wriggle an arm free and grab one of Ronny's makeshift weapons. Just as he was going to stab me with it, I managed to snatch his wrist. He then bent his wrist and angled the tip of the pen against my skin and thrust as hard as he could: he managed to draw a short, crooked blue line up my wrist but fortunately did not pierce my skin.

Eventually my coworker and I were able to wrest the pen free from Mikey, and someone else helped out and was able to confront Ronny, forcing him to stop encouraging Mikey's frenzy and feeding him weapons. We collectively managed to take control of the situation and end the two thugs’ episode of terror. For the time being, anyway.

***

It wasn't long after that incident that Mikey and Ronny stirred an even greater, and comedic, madness.

One day I was on the RTU alone with Mikey and Ronny, as my two coworkers, Travis and Stacy, took the eight or so other RTU clients to the gym. Mikey and Ronny were prohibited from going off the unit with their peers because of earlier negative behaviors. So here I was, stuck in a small locked milieu with the two most volatile kids in our care. Naturally, the two took advantage of the situation to foment chaos.

They began running throughout the unit, climbing and overturning furniture, tearing down curtains and posters, and running into their peers’ bedrooms and taking their toys. I tried my best to keep up with them, but as soon as I got a hold of one, the other would be off pillaging; as I made for the other, the one would slip free.

Finally, I had an idea: I would toss one into a locked space called the Seclusion Room. The other, I would then be able to snatch up and control.

So, l captured Mikey and corralled him into the Seclusion Room. It was more or less a proverbial “padded room” in which we occasionally placed clients who were violently out of control and displayed little hope of calming down anytime soon. Except this room wasn’t padded: rather, it had concrete and steel walls, a hard tile floor, and a medium-sized thick-paned window on one side through which the staff could observe clients inside the room.

Very curiously, Mikey did not resist going into the Seclusion Room and actually smiled brashly as he entered it. I thought his response odd, but I attributed it to the insane psyche of Mikey Smith.

I tracked down Ronny and seized him by the arm, dragging him out of a peer’s bedroom and into the living room. I sat him down on a couch and firmly directed him to sit there quietly for a while. I then walked over to the Seclusion Room to check on Mikey.

Now, here’s where the story gets humorous.

I peered through the window of the Seclusion Room to check on Mikey. To my astonishment, inside the room with him was a podium that was usually kept just outside the Seclusion Room and used as a hard surface for staff to write on and keep up a log to document the use of the Seclusion Room. Somehow—through real magic or deception—Mikey had gotten that podium into the room with him.

Perplexed, I used my magnetic key to release the heavy electronic locks that secured the thick metal door of the Seclusion Room. With a gentle thunk the locks released and I opened the door and removed the podium.

“I don’t know how you did it, Mikey,” I said, “but don’t do it again. You need to stay in here until I let you out.” Mikey smiled mischievously. I shut the door once again, this time carefully observing to make sure the door was flush and the locks indeed fastened securely.

I didn’t know how he had done it. I thought perhaps the Seclusion Room door had malfunctioned or I had not shut it properly. Whatever happened, I didn’t feel comfortable at all being alone on the unit with Mikey and Ronny.

I then went into the staff office to call down to the gym for assistance. Ronny had remained on the couch as instructed when I had checked on Mikey, but now as I was on the phone, Ronny snuck away.

Suddenly, Mikey went running past the office window.

“What the—?” I said, then to my coworker on the phone: “Hang on, Travis, I got a kid on the loose!” I laid down the receiver and went chasing after Mikey. I was getting rather irritated now and was intent on getting Mikey back into that room. Then, I would find Ronny and give him a piece of my mind for wandering off.

I captured Mikey and then returned him to the Seclusion Room, but when I opened the door, inside stood Ronny.

“What the—?” I yanked Ronny out and threw Mikey back in, sat Ronny on the couch again, and then returned to the phone.

“Travis, you still there?”

“Yeah. What the hell’s going on up there?”

“Dude, you will not believe what has been happening. What the—?” Now, Ronny and Mikey were chasing each other in the living room, running in circles and giggling like carefree children. I dropped the receiver.

This time, as I threw Mikey back into the Seclusion Room, I checked his pockets and found a small, round piece of shiny metal in one of them. It was about the size of a dime and looked like a watch battery. It was the functioning component of a magnetic key! That’s how he was getting out of the Seclusion Room—using this key, which had obviously broken off the plastic housing of a fellow staff member’s key and which Mikey then found.

Mikey struggled with me as I took the key away from him, but I managed to seize the key and to shove him deep into the Seclusion Room as I slammed the heavy metal door shut before he could get his footing and try to dash out. His affect had changed, and now he was livid and belligerent. He began banging on the door, cussing me out, and spitting on the window. My, how the tables had turned.

Ronny came running toward the Seclusion Room when he heard the commotion, but I cut him off and told him in no uncertain terms to “Sit down!” on the couch. At that moment, the main door to the milieu opened up, and Travis and Stacy walked in with the other kids.

“What’s going on?” Travis asked.

“Dude,” I said, shaking my head, “you simply won’t believe it.”


********

© 2008 David Lee Cummings