Ezekiel, p.1
Ezekiel, page 1
EZEKIEL
MADMAN,
MASTERMIND
OR MESSIAH?
BOB
GOODWIN
EZEKIEL: MADMAN, MASTERMIND OR MESSIAH?
© Bob Goodwin 2021
ISBN: 978-0-6481533-6-8 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-0-6481533-7-5 (eBook)
Cover design by Spiffing Covers
www.spiffingcovers.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher at info@storiesandplays.com
Bob Goodwin AUSTRALIA
To my own warped and disturbed brain.
Thank you for the inspiration and the sleepless nights.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Defence Mechanisms - 1998
Chapter 2 - Breakfast
Chapter 3 – Off to School
Chapter 4 – A Search for Meaning
Chapter 5 – Growing Up
Chapter 6 – A Party for Some
Chapter 7 - Shopping
Chapter 8 – Evil Rising - 2004
Chapter 9 – Running - 2006
Chapter 10 – Boys will be boys
Chapter 11 – The Serial
Chapter 12 – School Days
Chapter 13 – Tallon Chapman
Chapter 14 – Cathy Johnson
Chapter 15 – The Review
Chapter 16 – Plan B
Chapter 17 – Plan B or C?
Chapter 18 – Friday Bloody Friday – Part 1
Chapter 19 – Friday Bloody Friday – Part 2
Chapter 20 – What’s the Story?
Chapter 21 – Visiting Hours
Chapter 22 - Discharge
Chapter 23 – What’s in a Name?
Chapter 24 – The Interview
Chapter 25 – What’s Next?
Chapter 26 – The Kaufman List
Chapter 27 – The Arrest
Chapter 28 – The Gang - 2008
Chapter 29 – Home Visitors
Chapter 30 – New discoveries
Chapter 31 – Crossing the Boundary
Chapter 32 – The Report
Chapter 33 – Getting Hungry
Chapter 34 – Music to my Ears
Chapter 35 – Strengthening Bonds
Chapter 36 – A Detailed Plan
Chapter 37 – Date Night – Part 1
Chapter 38 – Date Night – Part 2
Chapter 39 – A New Beginning
Chapter 40 - Appointments
Chapter 41 – Care and Concern
Chapter 42 – Father Dear Father
Chapter 43 – Day Leave
Chapter 44 – M.I.A.
Chapter 45 – The Wash Up
Chapter 46 - Medications
Chapter 47 – One Year Later – A Difficult Future
Chapter 48 – Different Strokes
Chapter 49 – The Restart
Chapter 50 – Life at the Ridge
Chapter 51 – Give Me Strength
Chapter 52 – Happy Families
Chapter 53 – The Business – Part 1
Chapter 54 - Observations
Chapter 55 – The Business – Part 2
Chapter 56 – Bedtime Stories
Chapter 57 - Rita
Chapter 58 – The Gold Coast
Chapter 59 – Cabarita Beach
Chapter 60 – 12 Months Later
Chapter 61 – The Chapmans
Chapter 62 – The Return
Chapter 63 – Ezekiel’s Monologue
About the author
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Defence Mechanisms - 1998
The chair on which Ezekiel Jeremiah Kaufman sat made him appear smaller than he really was. Not that he was short for his age, in fact, at one inch short of four feet he was precisely in the middle of the bell curve for seven-year-old boys. The upright polished timber chair was upholstered on the back and seat with firm cream coloured leather padding.
Ezekiel’s feet swung in the air as he flicked through an old copy of a Newsweek magazine featuring “John Lennon 1940-1980” on the cover. Ezekiel had selected it from a stack of Newsweek and other magazines on a small table in the waiting room. The edge of the Newsweek was protruding from the rest and the young boy felt drawn to it even though it was towards the bottom of the stack. Beside him on the chair was a sketch book with a pencil protruding slightly from the wire ring binding of the pad.
Ezekiel’s father, Joshua, had been sitting across the desk from fifty-eight-year-old psychiatrist, Linda Hartnell for the past twenty minutes discussing his son.
‘He gets ridiculed at school by other children,’ said Joshua. ‘They mock him about his bald head and lack of eyelashes and eyebrows. Calling him cue ball, snowman and other things that I care not to repeat.’
‘I see.’ Hartnell gave a gentle, but slightly lopsided smile. ‘When did you first notice his hair loss?’
‘His hair fell out when he was eighteen months of age. To be precise it started on the fifteenth of August 1992. We remember the time well, as it was a few days after the Barcelona Olympics had finished. His hair fell out quickly, started that very evening, then all gone over just one week. He’s been that way ever since. We’ve seen several specialists and tried various remedies, but nothing seems to help.’
‘Hmmm… did anything of note happen at this time? Any traumas? Illnesses? Serious family issues?’
‘We’ve gone over that many times in the past. There was nothing notable within the family and nothing that an eighteen-month-old would have been aware of. This was the same day that sixteen-year-old Camilla Maudsley, was abducted and her body found in the bush some hours later.’
‘Ah… Maudsley… yes… I remember her distraught father on the TV. But such a young child as yours…’ the psychiatrist shook her head causing her thick dark hair in a bob style to brush against her cheeks. ‘What you say would be correct… a child at such an early age would have no knowledge or genuine understanding of such a dreadful thing.’
‘He did exhibit some odd behaviour on this day just prior to his hair loss. That’s why the date is carved into our memory. And he has done some peculiar things since. Not often. Maybe once or twice a year.’
‘What was this first thing?’
‘It was on that August day. He woke early, which in itself wasn’t particularly unusual. He was lying on the lounge floor playing with some coloured wooden building blocks, then he suddenly stopped playing, sat up and stared at the ceiling. After a short silence, he picked up two wooden blocks, a red one and a blue one, and banged them together as he said the words, bad man over and over for maybe half a minute. Then he stopped and went back to playing normally. He knew a few words back then – Lady, Man, Daddy, Mummy, Baby, Good, Bad and a few others.’
‘I see… so thinking back on that. What you’re saying is that even after family discussions there was no clear precipitating factor identified for his behaviour?’
‘There was nothing,’ said Joshua with a shrug of his shoulders.
‘Fair enough,’ said the psychiatrist giving a little flick wave with the fingers of both hands. ‘And what other odd things since?’
‘Talking to himself…’
‘Well, that’s pretty normal for young ones,’ interrupted the doctor.
‘Not at night sitting up in bed with outstretched arms.’
‘Hmmm…’ she nodded. ‘And?’
‘Sitting cross-legged in the backyard for ages doing nothing. Some random episodes of trembling and shaking. Ezekiel is also sensitive to touching, doesn’t much like being hugged or cuddled. He has seen doctors before and thankfully all physical tests have been normal. A couple have said that it’s possible he could be somewhere on the autistic spectrum.’
Linda Hartnell put a pair of glasses over her narrow nose, lowered her head and scribbled down some notes as she responded. ‘I know of no links between alopecia totalis and any mental illness or autism. Yes, it can cause anxiety in some and I have even seen depressive illness in some adults, but this you see is cause and effect, not a link as in a syndrome or genetic disorder. And as far as I can tell, and from your description, anxieties are not a serious problem with your boy.’ The psychiatrist looked up and over the top of her glasses. ‘Is there any family history of mental illness?’
‘Oh… well…’ Joshua looked away and put a hand to his cheek then brushed his nose with his fingers. ‘Possibly… I’m not really sure. Probably not.’
‘Okay,’ nodded Hartnell now removing her eyewear. ‘And possibly or probably not means what exactly?’
‘My father, Ezekiel’s grandfather, was told once he had paranoid schizophrenia. This was years ago. I think it was a mistake. He takes no medicine and has no treatment. Holds down a job doing brick-laying.’
‘Who said he had that?’
‘I don’t know. It was years ago. I was a teenager, and I wasn’t involved.’
‘Did he go to hospital?’
This was part of the chat that Joshua had expected but had hoped to avoid. He opted for a sanitised version of the truth. ‘I was only told that a brick fell on his head, and he started saying some odd things. I think he spent a few days in some hospital until he settled.’
‘I se e,’ nodded the doctor. ‘Head injuries can do that sort of thing.’ She picked up her biro and used it as a prop as she spoke. ‘As far as Ezekiel is concerned, it is possible that schizophrenia can develop in the early years or even as a teenager.’
‘Is that what you’re thinking?’
‘Let’s say it’s just a vague thought and an extremely remote possibility. There is evidence to suggest some heredity or familial links with schizophrenia, but I see no reason to be concerned at this time.’
‘Okay, but really, as a family we have no real concerns for our son,’ added Joshua. ‘The teachers at the school spoke to us and advised us to come and see you. They were concerned at his behaviour or rather lack of. He never retaliates when provoked. Never seems to get upset. Never says a bad word about anyone. Somehow this is seen as some sort of problem. He does tend to be a bit solitary at times.’
‘As you have said he interacts well with his younger sister, tries to teach her things he knows. He is obviously interested in reading and drawing,’ the psychiatrist nodded in the boy’s direction. Ezekiel had put down the magazine and was now sketching away with his pencil. ‘And he tries hard to understand the world around him. Honestly, this is completely normal behaviour for his age. His level of tolerance to others I believe is more than likely to be a personality factor and at this point I can only say that it appears to be a positive one.’
‘Should he cry and get upset at times?’
‘Most children do. Some more than others.’
‘Ezekiel cried thirty seconds after he was born. Neither his mother nor I have heard or seen him cry since.’
A short time later, at Dr Hartnell’s request, Ezekiel and his father had swapped seats. Joshua promised he would not interrupt the conversation and would allow his son to speak freely.
The young boy was now dwarfed by a different, but far more comfortable pale blue leather lounge. Ezekiel’s shiny blue eyes stood out like beacons as he lay back against the chair. He slid his hands over the thick rounded arms of the lounge and smiled.
‘You like that seat young man?’ asked Hartnell.
‘It is smooth and soft.’ Ezekiel put his face close to the leather. ‘It smells.’
‘Smells bad or good?’
‘Mostly good.’
‘Okay,’ the psychiatrist nodded then raised her eyebrows as she gave a fleeting glance to Joshua.
Ezekiel briefly studied her narrow face and tilted smile then sat up a little before once more studying the Newsweek magazine.
‘And happy birthday for yesterday.’
‘Thank you,’ replied the boy without raising his head. ‘Why did someone shoot John Lennon?’
‘That was a very sad day – a few years back now. Does that sort of thing upset you?’
‘He was a good man. I liked his songs.’
‘Me too.’
‘Huh…’ Ezekiel raised his head. ‘I think you are too old,’ he continued with a big sigh as he let himself fall back again into the soft leather, his feet dangling in the air.
‘And what would I be too old for?’ The doctor pushed out a grin that emphasised the crow’s-feet around her eyes.
‘You are too old to like his songs.’ The boy put his attention back to the magazine and casually flicked through looking at other pictures.
‘I’m getting old,’ conceded Hartnell with a nod. ‘And yes, you are probably right. I do prefer classical music.’
‘He has started over again now.’
‘You mean John Lennon?’
‘With God. Starting over with God.’
‘I see.’
‘That was his last hit song – Starting Over.’
‘Ah ha,’ nodded the doctor now getting the connection. ‘Does everyone start over with God when they die?’
‘No. Not everyone.’
‘I bet you learn this at school in religious classes.’
‘No.’
‘Perhaps at church?’ asked the psychiatrist. Joshua leaned forward and raised his hands about to butt in, but stopped, heeding the earlier arrangement.
‘No. God lets me know things at times,’ said the boy. Joshua rolled his eyes and mouthed a silent Oh dear.
The psychiatrist took a moment to study Ezekiel who’s only interest seemed to be the Newsweek. While still sitting Hartnell wheeled her office chair across the rug and around the desk next to her young patient.
‘If you don’t mind.’ She gently took a light grip on the magazine and removed it, lay it on the desk, then leaned forward. ‘God talks to you?’
‘A bit… sort of… not often. That is okay is it not? God must talk to other people too.’ Ezekiel now picked up his sketch pad.
‘I expect he does,’ nodded Hartnell.
‘Does he talk to you, doctor?’
‘Unfortunately not. Tell me how he sort of talks to you?’
‘I feel it inside.’ He pointed to his chest. ‘I know it inside.’ He tapped his head with the pencil.
‘Do you actually hear God’s words being spoken?’
Ezekiel looked briefly to the ceiling. He knew this question. Grandad Ezra had spoken to him of this before. The truth can be told in different ways his grandad had said, choose your words with care.
‘I get a feeling inside. It warms me,’ replied the seven-year-old.
‘That must feel rather good.’
‘It comforts me,’ smiled Ezekiel looking back at the doctor.
‘Do you feel that warmth now?’
‘Yes.’ He opened his pad and added a few touch ups to his latest drawing.
‘Goodness me!’ exclaimed the doctor. ‘That’s an exceptional drawing for a seven-year-old.’
‘I had a few lessons last year.’
Joshua couldn’t help himself. ‘Apparently he’s five years ahead of his age with his art,’ he said, then quickly covered his mouth and sat back, realising he was supposed to be quiet.
‘Is that someone you know?’ asked the doctor. The sketch was from waist up and depicted a young man with dark hair shaved short on the sides. The face was narrow and was pushing out a smile through clenched teeth. The man was wearing what looked like a denim jacket over a dark t-shirt and a NY baseball cap. While the drawing had a cartoonish quality to it, the eyes looked dark and menacing with the right eye narrower than the left.
Ezekiel held out the drawing and looked it over. ‘More like someone I have thought up. It is not that good. Would you like to have it?’ He didn’t wait for an answer and pulled the page out of the ring binding and held it out for the psychiatrist.
‘Thank you. Very kind. Would you mind signing your name on it for me?’ He wrote Ezekiel in the corner and passed it over. ‘I’m impressed.’ She reached back and placed it on the desk.
Linda Hartnell tried other angles to illicit any symptomatic evidence but there was nothing. She concluded this was part of the child’s personality - a defence mechanism to deal with potential threats and stress. And indeed, the religious thoughts seemed reasonably compatible with the overall belief system held by the Kaufman family – albeit more so with some than others.
The psychiatrist helped Ezekiel out of the chair and the two walked over to Joshua. ‘We all use ways to help us deal with our anxieties and I believe your son has his own somewhat unique way of doing just that.’ She put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘This is a form of sublimation and is considered to be a healthy way of coping,’ she told Joshua. ‘I have no need to see him in the near future unless you are concerned. I would recommend a return in a year or two if you can. And with your permission I’m happy to forward a brief letter to the school principal.’
‘That would be helpful. Thank you,’ replied Joshua. The two shook hands lightly. Doctor Hartnell bent slightly and took the seven-year-old’s hand and gave him a reassuring shake too. ‘Nice to have met you, young man. And thanks again for the drawing,’ she smiled. Ezekiel returned the smile and father and son proceeded through the door as the doctor opened it.
Ezekiel turned his head back and spoke in a clear, solemn, and slightly deeper voice. ‘And they, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear, yet shall know that there has been a prophet among them.’
Chapter 2
Breakfast
It was Tuesday morning, the day following the appointment with the psychiatrist, when Joshua finally managed to catch up with Ezra, his father. The bricklayer, dressed and ready for a hard day’s work, had left his converted shed in the backyard and entered the kitchen of the three-bedroom house. As he flicked on the kettle Joshua, wearing flannel pyjamas, walked in.
