A woman in her late 20’s was admitted to the psychiatric unit in Denver in the mid 1970’s because she was suicidal. She was assigned to the chief fourth-year resident, but he was nervous and ineffective, and asked for someone else to care for the patient. I, as a second-year resident, was assigned. She was not only depressed, but was angry. She said that prior to admission her plan was to shoot and kill as many police as she could, knowing that at the end of the event the police would kill her.
I saw her on the unit for a few weeks, and she improved a bit and was no longer actively suicidal or homicidal at the time of discharge. I was relieved to discharge her from the inpatient unit, but then she asked me to be her outpatient psychiatrist. I nervously agreed. I saw her in my office, which was in an old building about a block from the general hospital. She described being very depressed, but not suicidal. A day or two prior to the second outpatient session, I received a phone call from a woman who wanted to talk to me, but refused to give her name. This woman then told me that my patient was suicidal, had taken an overdose that week, but had not “successfully” killed herself. She said that my patient owned two handguns which she planned to use aggressively.
When the patient came to the second outpatient appointment, she was still somewhat groggy from the overdose. I kept notes, as usual, but soon ended them. She acknowledged taking an overdose a few days previously. I asked about her handguns. She said that she had two of them, and had put the handgun in a safe cabinet. She then asked to go to the bathroom. I told her that before agreeing to allow her to leave my office and go to the bathroom, it was important for her to tell me what she had done with the second handgun. She again asked to go to the bathroom, and I insisted that before going to the bathroom she needed to tell me about the other handgun. She eventually said that the handgun was loaded, was in a gun holder, and was inside the chest of her sport coat.
She acknowledged that she was suicidal, and I emphasized that she needed to return to the inpatient unit immediately. I told her that she needed to give me the handgun, but then I quickly changed my wording and said that I needed to take the handgun myself. She opened her sport coat, and indeed the handgun was held by a leather weapons holder. I slowly moved my hand to take it, but she grabbed my wrist and stopped me. We kept that position for some time, and she eventually let go of my wrist. I took the handgun and put it inside of my desk. It was heavy, and was very real.
We then walked to the hospital, and went to the psychiatric unit. The nursing staff examined her physically, and found 40 bullets.
During the hospitalization she was angry and miserable. She dumped her lunch on my head at one point in the treatment. She finally discharged, and convinced the police to return her weapon, which they did once she promised to be safe. I never heard or read anything about her after that moment.