I have been writing this week about persons with mental illnesses who have committed murders and how our legal system, the victims, and society deal with these crimes.

This blog is the final one in this week’s series and I want to share it with you because it presents yet another perspective on death and insanity.

Like Wednesday’s blog, today’s is about someone whom I admire. Joe Bruce and I met when I was giving a speech in Maine. You might have seen him on television because his family’s case has received a lot of attention.

Joe and his wife, Amy, lived in Caratunk, a picturesque town of about 110 residents nestled in the state’s northern hills.  Joe is a rugged, friendly man, who worked as a senior technician for the Maine Department of Transportation before retiring several years ago. Amy, served as the town’s treasurer. Their son, William – known as Willy – is the oldest of three boys. The family lived in a 100-year-old farmhouse that sits near the banks of a winding, rock-strewn stream.

To outsiders, their lives may have seemed picturesque, but something was wrong with Willy.