The Psychopath Whisperer: The Science of Those Without Conscience (23 page)

It was far and away the smallest audience I had ever been asked to speak to. Nevertheless, I fired up my laptop and gave them my lecture on what I thought neuroscience was going to do for psychiatry in the next couple decades.

Vince had encouraged me to go big, so I laid it on a bit thick, talking about how neuroimaging might change how psychiatrists diagnose and treat patients with mental illness. And then I hit them with my brain imaging data on psychopaths.

As I finished, Dr. Schwartz started clapping, and then the rest of them joined in. They huddled up, and then Dr. Schwartz whispered something to Vince. Vince motioned for me to pack up my bag. We proceeded downstairs to the cafeteria, where I grabbed a bite to eat. Vince said I was to meet privately with Dr. Schwartz following lunch.

I peppered Vince with questions about what was going on, but Vince said that he had been sworn to secrecy.

“Do they have an MRI?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Do they have any neuroscientists?”

“No, nobody else here is trained in neuroscience.”

I had no idea why I was here.

Vince and I wandered the grounds for a bit. I had to admit the landscape was stunning.

When it was time for me to see Dr. Schwartz, Vince escorted me over to the main administration building.

Dr. Schwartz’s executive assistant, Ruth Black, directed me to the waiting room outside Dr. Schwartz’s office.

A short time later, Ruth’s phone buzzed. When she picked it up, she nodded and said, “Dr. Schwartz will see you now.” She escorted me through a set of double doors and into a large round office that looked as if it had been modeled after the oval office in the White House. Dr. Schwartz sat behind a large desk. Behind him, the windows looked out onto the manicured lawns of the institute. There was a seating area with two couches across from each other and two comfortable chairs at either end. Dr. Schwartz stood. We shook hands and then he gestured to the couch.

I thought briefly of lying down on the proverbial psychiatrist’s couch, but decided Dr. Schwartz might not share my sense of humor.

“You are probably wondering why you are here,” said Hank, as he asked me to call him.

I answered politely, “Yes. I am interested to know what all the secrecy is about.”

“The IOL is going to make a big investment in research, and we have been interviewing individuals to find out what area of psychiatry to target. We have considered genetics, neuroimaging, and a few other areas. Your talk today convinced us that neuroimaging has the potential to make enormous advances in diagnosing and treating mental illness.” Hank paused for effect as I processed the details of “making a big investment.”

He went on. “Also, I am a forensic psychiatrist by training, and I
really like your work in psychopathy. We might be able to help you do that work here since we hold the contract for all forensic mental health in the state in collaboration with the University of Connecticut Health Science Center.”

Interesting
, I thought.

“I’ve decided to partner with the Department of Psychiatry at Yale University in the recruitment of a director for the new research center we are creating. We have forged a relationship between the IOL and Yale and are planning to offer Yale faculty lines, funded by the IOL, to create a world-class psychiatric center.

“We have been interviewing potential directors for a while, but I have not found one who has inspired me or my committee. We have interviewed only a few select individuals and we have not advertised the center or our plans.”

So that’s why all the secrecy. They were stealth-interviewing candidates to direct the center.

“How is this funded?” I asked.

“A number of families have donated some money for this endeavor. One bequest was quite detailed and quite large. The donor wanted a research center to be formed to help improve mental health care in general and here at the IOL in particular. The IOL has a long and rich history of caring for the mentally ill. We have been focused on clinical training for much of the last hundred years and are planning to start doing more research again.” Hank was referring to the three-hundred-year history of the institute.

“Do you know the name Dr. Henry P. Stearns?” Hank asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “He was a psychiatrist who testified about moral insanity at the trial of Charles Guiteau in 1881.”

“I’m impressed,” said Hank. “I actually didn’t know that Stearns testified in that trial, but he was a famous forensic psychiatrist who ran this institute when it was called the Hartford Retreat for the Insane.” We went on to discuss Stearns’s legacy at the IOL.

Then Hank turned to me and said, “Dr. Kiehl, I’d like to offer you a position here at IOL. I want you to help me build a neuroscience center, recruit the right director and other junior faculty. I’ve already talked to the chair of the Department of Psychiatry at Yale
and they will offer you a faculty line. Apparently, they want you for another position and figured you would help them out in that endeavor as well.

“So I need to know your terms,” Hank continued. “What do you want in terms of salary and start-up package?” And with that he stood up and headed to the door.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to think about it,” he said, and left me alone in the room.

My mind nearly exploded. On the one hand, it sounded like a great opportunity. On the other hand, I would have to build a program from scratch. That might take a long time. At this point in my career, I needed to spend my time writing and publishing. My mind was racing.

I thought about my salary. I wasn’t sure where to start. I knew what salary my friends were being offered by other good schools. And I knew that start-up packages for new faculty ranged dramatically in size and scope. Start-up packages could include salaries for research staff, money for computers and equipment, and other expendables.

I decided to just throw out some big numbers for my salary and start-up package at Hank and try to buy myself some time while he checked with his committee.

I’d never been in a situation like this. During my past interviews, I was just dropped off in front of Human Resources, where they talked to me about salary ranges and benefits. There wasn’t really that much to negotiate.

After a few short minutes, Dr. Schwartz returned and sat down. He gently laid a manila folder on the table in front of me and then asked me if I had any questions.

Yes
, I thought to myself,
I have hundreds of questions
. But I instinctively trusted this man. I wasn’t sure why. It was the complete opposite of the feeling I had when interviewing psychopaths.

“Are you planning to buy an MRI scanner?” I asked.

“Yes. I am going to ask you to go buy one.”

My brain fizzled. Nobody asks a junior faculty member to buy an MRI.

“I need someone who understands the engineering of the system.
I need someone who can figure out what system will be the best for the next decade or so,” Hank said.

“Where are we going to put it?” I asked.

Hank got up and retrieved a large set of architectural drawings. He laid the plans of a large two-story building on the coffee table in front of us.

“I want you to redesign this building for the new research center. And you get to pick where the MRI will go. This building has been vacant for over seventy-five years and it has fallen into disrepair. It’s an 1870s English Tudor–style building that we want to completely gut and renovate. I want you to design the research center.”

I looked at the plans. I didn’t even know what
English Tudor style
meant.

Hank patiently waited for me to process the information he had provided.

He continued, “You designed the new MRI center at the University of British Columbia and helped them get a grant to fund their research scanner.”

How did he know that?
I wondered. Then I realized that my old supervisor, Dr. Liddle, whom I had helped write the grant and do the plans for the building, had written a letter of recommendation for me. Hank must have gotten hold of the letter from Dr. Clark.

Hank went on. “You are the right person for this job. And I like your enthusiasm and work ethic.” Hank confessed that he had called my former supervisors at UBC and talked with them while I was at lunch. Apparently, they had told him about my long days, nights, and weekends in prison. They had also emphasized that I was a tech guy who liked to play with MRIs.

“So what’s it going to take to get you to sign the papers?” He motioned to the manila envelope he had set on the desk in between us.

“I want you to leave this office knowing that you got a good deal, and I want to get on with making this research center a reality.”

“Well, if you are paying for the MRI and renovating the building, I guess I don’t need to have any of that included in my start-up package. All I need are funds to outfit and staff the MRI and start my research program.” I added, “This MRI-compatible equipment is not cheap. It will take several hundred thousand dollars to set up all
the hardware and peripherals for the MRI suite. And then I would need to have a couple of staff to start my projects.”

Hank nodded slowly and then asked, “What do you want for a starting salary?”

I made up a number, twice what all my friends were being offered for starting faculty positions at good universities.

“Okay,” Hank said. “This is what I am going to do. I’m going to give you a little more than you asked for your salary. And then I’m going to triple your start-up package.”

I was unable to breathe. I started looking for a pen so I could sign those papers before he changed his mind.

“I really need you to come here and help me get this program up and running. When can you start?”

“Tomorrow,” I said honestly.

Hank had a long laugh and then smiled at me. “Why don’t you finish up what you are doing in Vancouver, and then we will have you come out a couple times to meet with the architects. You can start to negotiate the MRI, and I’ll pay you as a consultant for that work. Then you start here full-time in July.” The start date was more in line with the academic calendar.

“Okay,” I managed to mumble.

And I signed the documents.

Ruth magically appeared and whisked away the paperwork.

“Now let’s celebrate with a drink and you can tell me more about your work with psychopaths. I’m fascinated.”

We spent the next hour discussing my research and Hank’s vision for the research center.

Vince Clark was smiling when I emerged from Dr. Swartz’s office. “How did it go?” he asked as we descended the stairs. “Did he make you a
say no
offer?”

“What’s a
say no
offer?” I had never heard the expression before.

“It’s an offer you can’t refuse, one that takes all the others out of contention. That’s what Hank said he was going to do.”

Ambushed. Well, it was the best ambush anyone had ever pulled on me. I couldn’t be too angry with Vince.

“Yes, he made me an offer I could not refuse. I am moving to Connecticut,” I replied and then it kind of struck me.

I was leaving Vancouver, my home for the last seven years. I recalled the first day I drove across the border in my little Toyota pickup truck loaded down with everything I owned, filled with excitement about starting graduate school. How quickly the time had passed.

That feeling of unbounded energy and excitement I felt then was back. Gone was the uncertainty about where I was going to go and whether or not I would be able to get a job. I was on to the next adventure in my life.

I returned to Vancouver and notified my landlord that I would not be renewing my lease next summer. I decided to take some time off between moves and hike part of the Pacific Crest Trail in the late spring.

I also started researching MRIs to buy and sought out advice from Richie Davidson, whom I had interviewed with at the University of Wisconsin, and who had wanted to hire me to work at the new brain imaging center he was getting funding for at the Madison campus. He understood my decision to take the job in Connecticut, telling me the IOL/Yale job was a great opportunity, one I could not pass up. Richie gave me lots of tips about buying an MRI. He told me to ask all the companies that sell MRIs to send their sales people over to meet with me. He suggested I have them all come at the same time and make them wait outside my office, signaling that they would all be competing against one another.

So I arranged to have representatives from GE, Phillips, and Siemens visit at the same time.

I had the Phillips rep come in first. He showed me the latest plans for their first attempt to break into the research MRI market. When I asked him how his system was different from the other vendors’, he didn’t have a good answer. He just claimed that he could beat any price because they were really trying to break into the market in Connecticut. Price was a secondary concern; our main objective was to get the best hardware. Phillips was off the table.

Up next were site visits for Siemens and GE. The best site for Siemens was Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston; and GE
offered to fly Hank and me to their headquarters in Wisconsin to show off their production facility.

Siemens had a head-dedicated MRI, the Allegra, that was state of the art, German built, and the current rock star in the brain imaging field. I was looking forward to testing it out. I also learned that the IOL had just partnered with Hartford Hospital, which had GE MRI systems in their radiology department. Siemens was interested in breaking into the market in Hartford; the price of the Allegra started to drop to make it more competitive. In the end, the price dropped by more than 30 percent, over a million dollars off the list price. Siemens really wanted the sale.

Siemens arranged for us to visit their flagship research site in Boston. I e-mailed my pal Larry Wald, a physicist, and gave him a heads-up that we were visiting. Larry is easy to spot in a crowd. He is a rather large man, standing well over six feet tall, with bright red hair. Larry shares my penchant for steak, and he is married to a vegetarian, so he is always willing to get out for a ribeye. Larry was the best physicist I had ever met. Brilliant technically and a pleasure to work with.