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About SamAbout Sam
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Unfortunately, Sam had a wild and extensive paranoid delusional system which interfered with his ability to handle most of the everyday responsibilities of life. At various times, he believed he was with the CIA, FBI, or one of several other top-secret spy organizations. Other times, he believed he was the victim of a CIA or KGB campaign to harm, or discredit him. He had myriad permutations of these basic themes, but one feature of his delusions was constant: Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac was his lover and partner in crime in his twisted relations with the CIA.
He considered all of Ms. Nicks' lyrics and public utterances to be messages to him. He based most of his day to day decisions and activities on those messages. Like most delusions, this one started out as a relatively harmless belief. But, like kudzu, little crazy thoughts grow wildly, and soon he started calling, writing and trying to visit Ms. Nicks at her home. Then he started following Fleetwood Mac to concerts around the country. Sam was in full stalk mode by this time. His intense manner and flights into delusion-land were more than a bit scary to those around him.
Apparently, since his stalking Ms. Nicks had crossed state lines, the FBI was pulled into the investigation of young Sam. Because of his delusional nature, he immediately began to incorporate them into his crazy thinking. So, although it was true that the FBI was out to get him, he thought it was because of his CIA "job" not because he was stalking someone. Oh, what a tangled web.
What I haven't told you yet is that Sam was incredibly violent at times. He'd been taken to jail and to the loony bin several times for attacking family and friends. Another detail of his life I haven't shared is that he was an expert marksman. He had a veritable arsenal of weaponry and even in his rages, he maintained control over his mastery of them. He'd shot up the home of his last therapist (they didn't tell me that until much later) while the poor guy's family cowered on the floor. Although he hadn't killed anyone, this made him very scary. Nobody wanted to be his first. I had been assigned Sam when I first started working at the agency, you know, give him to the greenhorn. Sadly, for me, he had taken to showing up at the doorsteps of those assigned to help him carrying weapons, spewing threats and foul language at 3 AM. He was at my door within two weeks of his being assigned to me. His first visit to my abode came at an early morning hour. He was pounding on the front door of my townhouse while yelling obscenities at me. I stumbled down the stairs and opened the door to the sight of Sam, shirtless, aiming a rifle at my chest. At several points during this encounter, he shouldered his weapon as if to fire it at me. Aside from gurgling noises coming from my mouth, the only other noise I could produce was a soft "plopping" as turds trickled out of my boxers.
Eventually, I was able to talk him into putting the weapon down and leaving, but his visit was a harbinger of things to come. He did this at least five more times and at one point, he launched a phone campaign against me. Repetitive obscene and threatening phone calls day and night for days on end. Fortunately for me, he made such a pest of himself at my townhouse that the management booted my ass out for disturbing the neighbors. That solved my problem of his knowing where I lived.
The good news is that Sam was eventually shipped off to the loony bin and he forgot about me. The bad news is that he continued to become more delusional and aggressive. He came through our program several times after my first experience with him, but he never again focused his craziness on me directly. Near the end of my tenure in the mental health system, I had him back as a patient and he was very crazy.
I received word one morning, from the State Police, that Sam had been murdered. He had been seen hitch hiking on one of the freeways, and several motorists had called the State Police reporting strange behavior. By this time in his life, he'd become an overweight, longhaired and unwashed scum with a big fuzzy beard. He looked like a big mean biker. He'd been observed on all fours, face to the ground. An actual biker had stopped to render assistance to what he thought was a fellow biker. As he approached, he found that Sam was on all fours because he was eating ants from an anthill on the shoulder of the road. When the biker tried to convince him to stop, Sam screamed, leapt to his feet and attacked. The surprised biker made it back to his bike and pulled a pistol from his saddlebag, then shot Sam to death.
The subsequent investigation found that the biker had fired in self-defense, and so he was freed. Justice was served that day.
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