“What can you tell me about him?”
“This is off the record?”
“Just between us.”
“You’re not recording this?”
“Nope.” I raise my palms. “I’m just listening.”
Gina looks around, then slides a little closer to me on the bench. “Aiden was part of a recent patient surge we’ve had. The Kabul Kids, we call them. A lot of them got shook up after Kabul fell.”
“And after what happened with the evacuation, right?”
“Evacuation?How aboututter disaster? Aiden says it was like passengers on a sinking ship running for the last lifeboats, kicking and screaming to get the last spot.”
“That’s how it looked to me too. Not our finest hour.”
Gina stares out over the grass. “Some of those patients had done two or three tours over there. They lost friends. Lost limbs or parts of their skulls. And then, after twenty years of promising the Afghans a better life, we just let the Taliban walk in and take over. Indays! We had a lot of PTSD patients who were consumed with guilt, shame, a sense of loss.”
“And Aiden? What was his issue?”
“Rage, pure and simple,” says Gina. “And I don’t blame him. He was furious at the way things got swept under the rug, with no one held responsible. After all the hearings and investigations, howmany Defense or State Department officials were fired? How many generals were disciplined or forced to retire?”
Simple answer. “Not one.”
“Right,” says Gina. “He told me that he could have been brought up on charges if he lost a piece of equipment in the field, but then seven billion dollars’ worth of military gear gets left behind for the Taliban, and no one says anything. He talked about the double standard all the time.”
I turn the topic back to Aiden’s hospital stay. “How long was Aiden a patient here?”
“About two months. He self-admitted, without a doctor’s referral.”
“What was he like?”
“Kept to himself, mostly,” says Gina. “He told me he checked himself in because he didn’t want to scare his wife and kids. He said he’d put them through enough already.”
“You said Aiden’s issue was rage. Did you ever see him get angry or violent?”
“Hold on,” says Gina, suddenly nervous again. “Should I be telling you this stuff?”
“I could get a warrant for the hospital records, but that would take time I don’t have. Besides, I’d rather hear it from somebody who knew Aiden Phillips. Somebody who understood what he was going through.”
Gina checks her watch. “They’ll be looking for me upstairs …” She starts to stand.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Just tell me what you saw. What you heard.”
She takes a deep breath and settles back down. “Okay. We had a new doctor on our wing. Dr. Tosi. Army captain. Full of himself. The kind of guy who thought he pissed golden honey.”
“Yeah. I know the type. I served with a few.”
“So I heard that Tosi was leading a group discussion and one of the vets had had a moment. He was shaking. Didn’t want to join the conversation. Tosi started pushing him and pushing him. And finally, Aiden spoke up and told Tosi to leave the guy alone.”
“Then what happened?”
Gina rubs her face. “I guess it escalated from there. Tosi kept saying it was his session, his patients, his rules. Aiden told him to back off. Tosi told Aiden to sit down and shut up. That’s when Aiden jumped up and punched him out. Absolutelyflattenedhim. Everybody just sat there, stunned. Aiden said something like ‘Session’s over.’ Then he went back to his room, packed up his stuff, and took off. That was the last time I saw him.”
Interesting.I suppose that explained the checking himself out of the facility against medical advice. “Did the VA or the doctor press charges?” I ask.
Gina shakes her head and cracks a small smile. “Dr. Tosi filed a complaint, but it went nowhere. They couldn’t find any witnesses. All the other patients said they were taking a bathroom break when it happened. Within a week, Tosi was gone. Transferred to Fort Hood.”
