Tiny Ill. town rattled by killings blamed on teen - 2 dead - antidepressants prescribed within weeks of murders

[Guest guest]

http://www.westport-news.com/news/article/Tiny-Ill-town-rattled-by-killings-blamed-on-teen-1318522.php

Tiny Ill. town rattled by killings

blamed on teen

JIM SUHR, Associated

Press

Updated 03:51 p.m., Friday, April 1,

2011

LOOGOOTEE, Ill. (AP) — Barely more than a post office and

a Lutheran church,

Loogootee and its 23 residents enjoyed the tranquility

befitting a sleepy little town hidden among cornfields and

weeds. Few appeared quieter than Clifford Baker, a teenager

who passed the time riding around shirtless and barefoot

on his bike and four-wheelers.

But the 16-year-old who last summer shot himself in the

torso with one of his uncle's rifles the same day the

bullet-riddled, bound carcass of his dog was found on

railroad tracks next to his home now awaits trial in the

slaying of his two neighbors. The killings have left many

residents of Loogootee — a place where some still believe

that hoot owls portend bad omens — to question why no one

intervened earlier on his behalf and whether such an

out-of-the-way place has the resources to prevent such

bloodshed or help the community recover.

A week or so after Baker was released from a St. Louis hospital with a

prescription for an antidepressant, court records show, Mahon, 60, and Debra Tish, 53, were found

slain, each repeatedly shot in the head last August as

they slept in their home about 100 paces down the cinder

road from the teen's home.

Baker, who was 15 at the time, has pleaded not guilty and

is being held on $2 million bond as he awaits a trial

scheduled to start in May.

"He was a quiet kid in a quiet town. So what in the world

made him go down there and kill those two people?"

shrugged Crain, who

has lived on the outskirts of Loogootee (pronounced

LOH'-guh-tee) for two decades. "If there was a reason, I

hope it comes out."

Baker has shed little light. "I have nothing to say," he

told the judge at an early hearing last fall.

At a pretrial hearing, an Illinois State Police

investigator claimed that Baker, one of only two teenagers

in town, admitted carrying out the killings while in a

haze of marijuana and prescription pills. As the officer

testified, Baker sat with his head bowed, at

times sobbing.

A judge now is weighing a request by Baker's attorney, Monroe McWard, to have the

teen's videotaped confession tossed out on claims that

Baker didn't have the mental wherewithal to voluntarily

give it. And McWard is exploring whether the teen's

behavior, after he wounded himself with the rifle, became

erratic when he was prescribed an antidepressant while

undergoing psychiatric tests at one of two hospitals in

the buildup to the deadly shootings.

Baker's father, with whom the teen lived, has refused to

publicly discuss his son's issues. But an aunt, Alberta

Clymer, insisted that Baker was tormented for years. In

grade school, she said, the boy's bashfulness left him

easy prey to teasing by classmates. Baker was raised by

his grandmother until she died a few years ago, and then

he went to live with his dad, Clymer said.

The bloodshed "is insane. Nobody can make sense of

something like this," she added, faulting the system for

not psychoanalyzing him longer — or better — after he shot

himself and before he allegedly killed. "He should have

gotten some more counseling to find out what was eating

at him."

Moments later, Clymer teared up.

"When I look at him, I remember the little boy who would

come sit on my lap and ask if I loved him," she said, her

voice cracking with emotion. "He felt he wasn't loved all

his life."

Citing privacy laws, state mental-health officials won't

publicly discuss whether they ever provided services to

Baker, who has been found mentally fit to stand trial.

But this much is known: Anyone in the town 80 miles east

of St. Louis who needs state-provided mental health

services can get it in Fayette County.

Lorrie Rickman-, head of the Illinois Department of Human Services' Division of Mental Health,

said there's an office in the county seat of Vandalia

where experts are poised to intervene to help a child in

crisis if they're made aware — even by anonymous tipsters.

She said there's no apparent record of anyone having

reported Baker as someone in need of help.

Boesky, a psychologist and expert in teen behavior,

said violence like the Loogootee killings can be

especially scarring for small communities where "everyone

knows and trusts everyone. ... Something like this changes

the view of how safe the world is, how unpredictable the

community is."

"Teens like this don't just snap," she said. "People tend

to write them off as weird or odd and don't get them the

help they need."

At least for a time, the killings left emotions raw in

the Illinois hamlet that originally was a mill town about

the time Illinois became a state in 1818 and later became

Loogootee, by most accounts in homage to a towering

"look-out" tree Native Americans and later settlers used

to give warning of the approach of strangers, stagecoaches

or menacing prairie fires and prospered in the late

19th century.

Loogootee resident Margaret

, 47, said she remembers waking up in her

trailer home the morning of the murders and seeing the

town swarming with police.

"Waking up to two senseless murders was like, 'Wow. Who

do you trust? Who do you not trust?"

Crain, a rodeo company's co-owner, recalled that Baker's

truancy from junior high school landed him for a time in

alternative schooling.

"You could tell he was kind of a lonely boy. My heart was

telling me this boy needs some guidance."

[Guest guest]

http://www.westport-news.com/news/article/Tiny-Ill-town-rattled-by-killings-blamed-on-teen-1318522.php

Tiny Ill. town rattled by killings

blamed on teen

JIM SUHR, Associated

Press

Updated 03:51 p.m., Friday, April 1,

2011

LOOGOOTEE, Ill. (AP) — Barely more than a post office and

a Lutheran church,

Loogootee and its 23 residents enjoyed the tranquility

befitting a sleepy little town hidden among cornfields and

weeds. Few appeared quieter than Clifford Baker, a teenager

who passed the time riding around shirtless and barefoot

on his bike and four-wheelers.

But the 16-year-old who last summer shot himself in the

torso with one of his uncle's rifles the same day the

bullet-riddled, bound carcass of his dog was found on

railroad tracks next to his home now awaits trial in the

slaying of his two neighbors. The killings have left many

residents of Loogootee — a place where some still believe

that hoot owls portend bad omens — to question why no one

intervened earlier on his behalf and whether such an

out-of-the-way place has the resources to prevent such

bloodshed or help the community recover.

A week or so after Baker was released from a St. Louis hospital with a

prescription for an antidepressant, court records show, Mahon, 60, and Debra Tish, 53, were found

slain, each repeatedly shot in the head last August as

they slept in their home about 100 paces down the cinder

road from the teen's home.

Baker, who was 15 at the time, has pleaded not guilty and

is being held on $2 million bond as he awaits a trial

scheduled to start in May.

"He was a quiet kid in a quiet town. So what in the world

made him go down there and kill those two people?"

shrugged Crain, who

has lived on the outskirts of Loogootee (pronounced

LOH'-guh-tee) for two decades. "If there was a reason, I

hope it comes out."

Baker has shed little light. "I have nothing to say," he

told the judge at an early hearing last fall.

At a pretrial hearing, an Illinois State Police

investigator claimed that Baker, one of only two teenagers

in town, admitted carrying out the killings while in a

haze of marijuana and prescription pills. As the officer

testified, Baker sat with his head bowed, at

times sobbing.

A judge now is weighing a request by Baker's attorney, Monroe McWard, to have the

teen's videotaped confession tossed out on claims that

Baker didn't have the mental wherewithal to voluntarily

give it. And McWard is exploring whether the teen's

behavior, after he wounded himself with the rifle, became

erratic when he was prescribed an antidepressant while

undergoing psychiatric tests at one of two hospitals in

the buildup to the deadly shootings.

Baker's father, with whom the teen lived, has refused to

publicly discuss his son's issues. But an aunt, Alberta

Clymer, insisted that Baker was tormented for years. In

grade school, she said, the boy's bashfulness left him

easy prey to teasing by classmates. Baker was raised by

his grandmother until she died a few years ago, and then

he went to live with his dad, Clymer said.

The bloodshed "is insane. Nobody can make sense of

something like this," she added, faulting the system for

not psychoanalyzing him longer — or better — after he shot

himself and before he allegedly killed. "He should have

gotten some more counseling to find out what was eating

at him."

Moments later, Clymer teared up.

"When I look at him, I remember the little boy who would

come sit on my lap and ask if I loved him," she said, her

voice cracking with emotion. "He felt he wasn't loved all

his life."

Citing privacy laws, state mental-health officials won't

publicly discuss whether they ever provided services to

Baker, who has been found mentally fit to stand trial.

But this much is known: Anyone in the town 80 miles east

of St. Louis who needs state-provided mental health

services can get it in Fayette County.

Lorrie Rickman-, head of the Illinois Department of Human Services' Division of Mental Health,

said there's an office in the county seat of Vandalia

where experts are poised to intervene to help a child in

crisis if they're made aware — even by anonymous tipsters.

She said there's no apparent record of anyone having

reported Baker as someone in need of help.

Boesky, a psychologist and expert in teen behavior,

said violence like the Loogootee killings can be

especially scarring for small communities where "everyone

knows and trusts everyone. ... Something like this changes

the view of how safe the world is, how unpredictable the

community is."

"Teens like this don't just snap," she said. "People tend

to write them off as weird or odd and don't get them the

help they need."

At least for a time, the killings left emotions raw in

the Illinois hamlet that originally was a mill town about

the time Illinois became a state in 1818 and later became

Loogootee, by most accounts in homage to a towering

"look-out" tree Native Americans and later settlers used

to give warning of the approach of strangers, stagecoaches

or menacing prairie fires and prospered in the late

19th century.

Loogootee resident Margaret

, 47, said she remembers waking up in her

trailer home the morning of the murders and seeing the

town swarming with police.

"Waking up to two senseless murders was like, 'Wow. Who

do you trust? Who do you not trust?"

Crain, a rodeo company's co-owner, recalled that Baker's

truancy from junior high school landed him for a time in

alternative schooling.

"You could tell he was kind of a lonely boy. My heart was

telling me this boy needs some guidance."

[Guest guest]

http://www.westport-news.com/news/article/Tiny-Ill-town-rattled-by-killings-blamed-on-teen-1318522.php

Tiny Ill. town rattled by killings

blamed on teen

JIM SUHR, Associated

Press

Updated 03:51 p.m., Friday, April 1,

2011

LOOGOOTEE, Ill. (AP) — Barely more than a post office and

a Lutheran church,

Loogootee and its 23 residents enjoyed the tranquility

befitting a sleepy little town hidden among cornfields and

weeds. Few appeared quieter than Clifford Baker, a teenager

who passed the time riding around shirtless and barefoot

on his bike and four-wheelers.

But the 16-year-old who last summer shot himself in the

torso with one of his uncle's rifles the same day the

bullet-riddled, bound carcass of his dog was found on

railroad tracks next to his home now awaits trial in the

slaying of his two neighbors. The killings have left many

residents of Loogootee — a place where some still believe

that hoot owls portend bad omens — to question why no one

intervened earlier on his behalf and whether such an

out-of-the-way place has the resources to prevent such

bloodshed or help the community recover.

A week or so after Baker was released from a St. Louis hospital with a

prescription for an antidepressant, court records show, Mahon, 60, and Debra Tish, 53, were found

slain, each repeatedly shot in the head last August as

they slept in their home about 100 paces down the cinder

road from the teen's home.

Baker, who was 15 at the time, has pleaded not guilty and

is being held on $2 million bond as he awaits a trial

scheduled to start in May.

"He was a quiet kid in a quiet town. So what in the world

made him go down there and kill those two people?"

shrugged Crain, who

has lived on the outskirts of Loogootee (pronounced

LOH'-guh-tee) for two decades. "If there was a reason, I

hope it comes out."

Baker has shed little light. "I have nothing to say," he

told the judge at an early hearing last fall.

At a pretrial hearing, an Illinois State Police

investigator claimed that Baker, one of only two teenagers

in town, admitted carrying out the killings while in a

haze of marijuana and prescription pills. As the officer

testified, Baker sat with his head bowed, at

times sobbing.

A judge now is weighing a request by Baker's attorney, Monroe McWard, to have the

teen's videotaped confession tossed out on claims that

Baker didn't have the mental wherewithal to voluntarily

give it. And McWard is exploring whether the teen's

behavior, after he wounded himself with the rifle, became

erratic when he was prescribed an antidepressant while

undergoing psychiatric tests at one of two hospitals in

the buildup to the deadly shootings.

Baker's father, with whom the teen lived, has refused to

publicly discuss his son's issues. But an aunt, Alberta

Clymer, insisted that Baker was tormented for years. In

grade school, she said, the boy's bashfulness left him

easy prey to teasing by classmates. Baker was raised by

his grandmother until she died a few years ago, and then

he went to live with his dad, Clymer said.

The bloodshed "is insane. Nobody can make sense of

something like this," she added, faulting the system for

not psychoanalyzing him longer — or better — after he shot

himself and before he allegedly killed. "He should have

gotten some more counseling to find out what was eating

at him."

Moments later, Clymer teared up.

"When I look at him, I remember the little boy who would

come sit on my lap and ask if I loved him," she said, her

voice cracking with emotion. "He felt he wasn't loved all

his life."

Citing privacy laws, state mental-health officials won't

publicly discuss whether they ever provided services to

Baker, who has been found mentally fit to stand trial.

But this much is known: Anyone in the town 80 miles east

of St. Louis who needs state-provided mental health

services can get it in Fayette County.

Lorrie Rickman-, head of the Illinois Department of Human Services' Division of Mental Health,

said there's an office in the county seat of Vandalia

where experts are poised to intervene to help a child in

crisis if they're made aware — even by anonymous tipsters.

She said there's no apparent record of anyone having

reported Baker as someone in need of help.

Boesky, a psychologist and expert in teen behavior,

said violence like the Loogootee killings can be

especially scarring for small communities where "everyone

knows and trusts everyone. ... Something like this changes

the view of how safe the world is, how unpredictable the

community is."

"Teens like this don't just snap," she said. "People tend

to write them off as weird or odd and don't get them the

help they need."

At least for a time, the killings left emotions raw in

the Illinois hamlet that originally was a mill town about

the time Illinois became a state in 1818 and later became

Loogootee, by most accounts in homage to a towering

"look-out" tree Native Americans and later settlers used

to give warning of the approach of strangers, stagecoaches

or menacing prairie fires and prospered in the late

19th century.

Loogootee resident Margaret

, 47, said she remembers waking up in her

trailer home the morning of the murders and seeing the

town swarming with police.

"Waking up to two senseless murders was like, 'Wow. Who

do you trust? Who do you not trust?"

Crain, a rodeo company's co-owner, recalled that Baker's

truancy from junior high school landed him for a time in

alternative schooling.

"You could tell he was kind of a lonely boy. My heart was

telling me this boy needs some guidance."

[Guest guest]

http://www.westport-news.com/news/article/Tiny-Ill-town-rattled-by-killings-blamed-on-teen-1318522.php

Tiny Ill. town rattled by killings

blamed on teen

JIM SUHR, Associated

Press

Updated 03:51 p.m., Friday, April 1,

2011

LOOGOOTEE, Ill. (AP) — Barely more than a post office and

a Lutheran church,

Loogootee and its 23 residents enjoyed the tranquility

befitting a sleepy little town hidden among cornfields and

weeds. Few appeared quieter than Clifford Baker, a teenager

who passed the time riding around shirtless and barefoot

on his bike and four-wheelers.

But the 16-year-old who last summer shot himself in the

torso with one of his uncle's rifles the same day the

bullet-riddled, bound carcass of his dog was found on

railroad tracks next to his home now awaits trial in the

slaying of his two neighbors. The killings have left many

residents of Loogootee — a place where some still believe

that hoot owls portend bad omens — to question why no one

intervened earlier on his behalf and whether such an

out-of-the-way place has the resources to prevent such

bloodshed or help the community recover.

A week or so after Baker was released from a St. Louis hospital with a

prescription for an antidepressant, court records show, Mahon, 60, and Debra Tish, 53, were found

slain, each repeatedly shot in the head last August as

they slept in their home about 100 paces down the cinder

road from the teen's home.

Baker, who was 15 at the time, has pleaded not guilty and

is being held on $2 million bond as he awaits a trial

scheduled to start in May.

"He was a quiet kid in a quiet town. So what in the world

made him go down there and kill those two people?"

shrugged Crain, who

has lived on the outskirts of Loogootee (pronounced

LOH'-guh-tee) for two decades. "If there was a reason, I

hope it comes out."

Baker has shed little light. "I have nothing to say," he

told the judge at an early hearing last fall.

At a pretrial hearing, an Illinois State Police

investigator claimed that Baker, one of only two teenagers

in town, admitted carrying out the killings while in a

haze of marijuana and prescription pills. As the officer

testified, Baker sat with his head bowed, at

times sobbing.

A judge now is weighing a request by Baker's attorney, Monroe McWard, to have the

teen's videotaped confession tossed out on claims that

Baker didn't have the mental wherewithal to voluntarily

give it. And McWard is exploring whether the teen's

behavior, after he wounded himself with the rifle, became

erratic when he was prescribed an antidepressant while

undergoing psychiatric tests at one of two hospitals in

the buildup to the deadly shootings.

Baker's father, with whom the teen lived, has refused to

publicly discuss his son's issues. But an aunt, Alberta

Clymer, insisted that Baker was tormented for years. In

grade school, she said, the boy's bashfulness left him

easy prey to teasing by classmates. Baker was raised by

his grandmother until she died a few years ago, and then

he went to live with his dad, Clymer said.

The bloodshed "is insane. Nobody can make sense of

something like this," she added, faulting the system for

not psychoanalyzing him longer — or better — after he shot

himself and before he allegedly killed. "He should have

gotten some more counseling to find out what was eating

at him."

Moments later, Clymer teared up.

"When I look at him, I remember the little boy who would

come sit on my lap and ask if I loved him," she said, her

voice cracking with emotion. "He felt he wasn't loved all

his life."

Citing privacy laws, state mental-health officials won't

publicly discuss whether they ever provided services to

Baker, who has been found mentally fit to stand trial.

But this much is known: Anyone in the town 80 miles east

of St. Louis who needs state-provided mental health

services can get it in Fayette County.

Lorrie Rickman-, head of the Illinois Department of Human Services' Division of Mental Health,

said there's an office in the county seat of Vandalia

where experts are poised to intervene to help a child in

crisis if they're made aware — even by anonymous tipsters.

She said there's no apparent record of anyone having

reported Baker as someone in need of help.

Boesky, a psychologist and expert in teen behavior,

said violence like the Loogootee killings can be

especially scarring for small communities where "everyone

knows and trusts everyone. ... Something like this changes

the view of how safe the world is, how unpredictable the

community is."

"Teens like this don't just snap," she said. "People tend

to write them off as weird or odd and don't get them the

help they need."

At least for a time, the killings left emotions raw in

the Illinois hamlet that originally was a mill town about

the time Illinois became a state in 1818 and later became

Loogootee, by most accounts in homage to a towering

"look-out" tree Native Americans and later settlers used

to give warning of the approach of strangers, stagecoaches

or menacing prairie fires and prospered in the late

19th century.

Loogootee resident Margaret

, 47, said she remembers waking up in her

trailer home the morning of the murders and seeing the

town swarming with police.

"Waking up to two senseless murders was like, 'Wow. Who

do you trust? Who do you not trust?"

Crain, a rodeo company's co-owner, recalled that Baker's

truancy from junior high school landed him for a time in

alternative schooling.

"You could tell he was kind of a lonely boy. My heart was

telling me this boy needs some guidance."