Sanjay S. Rao, MD

Every guideline and lecture on suicide risk assessment includes the message: “Do not use suicide contracts.” Yet, as forensic psychiatrists, we continue to see medical records that rely solely on the patient verbalizing, agreeing, or signing that they will be safe, in order to justify medical decision-making. A recent case we reviewed involving a grossly psychotic male spotlighted the meaninglessness of suicide contracts. In an attempt to understand the impulse by clinicians to use suicide contracts, we decided to review the topic.

Suicide risk assessment is a confusing and poorly explained skill in our field. Suicide risk assessment tools are well-intended. They are meant to identify and stratify risk, and help guide medical decision-making. Popular tools are startlingly different. How can two scales represent adequate psychiatric knowledge yet be completely different? SADPERSONS¹ is widely used and still considered standard of care yet has nothing in common with the Columbia–Suicide Severity Rating Scale (CSSRS).²

For those of us working in forensic settings, we are aghast that neither assessment is modified for use in correctional settings or accounts for essential risk factors of suicide in jails and prisons (placement in solitary, significant charges, homeless, etc.) Yet, they are widely used in jails and prisons across the country. This can be extrapolated to all of us who work with specific populations yet are asked to follow generic scales by administrators.

In reviewing the literature, we are surprised to see the lack of acknowledgment that many tools used in suicide risk assessment have little to no evidence. Despite their numerous appearances in medical records that we review, we are not aware of existing evidence for asking patients whether patients are suicidal on an hourly basis, for psychotropic treatment other than lithium and clozapine (Clozaril), and for safety plans that involve telling the patient to call 911. Of even greater concern, suicide risk assessments themselves may have limited value because of a lack of evidence as suggested by large study findings. It may surprise some to learn that the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) in the United Kingdom includes the following statement in its guidelines: “Do not use risk assessment tools and scales to predict future suicide or repetition of self-harm.”³

In 2017, Carter et al.⁴ reviewed 70 studies using suicide risk scales to stratify patients in higher-risk groups for self-harm or suicide, during a follow-up period. The study reviewed biological tests such as the dexamethasone suppression test and 5-hydroxyindoleacetic acid; as well as psychological scales, including Buglass & Horton, SADPERSONS, the Beck Hopelessness Scale, the Beck’s Depression Inventory, Manchester Self Harm Rule, and the Edinburgh Risk Rating Scale. Their conclusion was clear: “No individual predictive instrument or pooled subgroups of instruments were able to classify patients as being at high risk of suicidal behavior with a level of accuracy suitable to be used to allocate treatment.”

Despite the bad reputation, one must admit that suicide contracts intuitively feel right. Just as we ask patients whether they believe they will stay sober in the future, or ask patients if they will be compliant with their psychotropics, asking them if they feel that they can maintain safety seems relevant. Reading through the literature, one can even find articles promoting this approach. In 2011, researchers simply asked 147 patients in psychiatric hospitals considered to be high risk for suicide whether they would engage in self-harm in the following weeks. They followed those patients for 15 weeks after their discharge for acts of self-harm. They concluded that “self-perceptions of risk seem to perform as well as the best [standardized assessment tools] the field has to offer” for the prediction of self-harm^.5 We are unconvinced that juries would find suicide contracts irrelevant despite the lack of evidence. American society values individual autonomy and self-decision making. Patients telling their clinicians, “I will be OK” is relevant to suicide risk assessment. One can argue that the problem is not with the suicide contract itself, but with its blind use as a marker of safety.

The standard of care dictates that we try to assess suicide risk using evidence-based techniques. To the providers who see merit in asking patients whether they will be able to maintain their safety, we empathize with this impulse despite the lack of evidence. We do not ask those providers to stop but to supplement suicide contracts with more evidence-based tools that could lessen their liability. This will contribute in our shared effort to minimize suicide.

We acknowledge that the evidence of any assessment is limited and might miss a greater point in this entire discussion: Why are new iterations of suicide risk assessments not an improvement on the prior ones but a competing theory? New assessments emphasizing different facets of suicidal thinking do not include key demographic factors, while older tools do not include more recent understanding, such as the importance of hopelessness. From a provider’s perspective, the debate appears to be a battle of trends, theories, and acronyms rather than comprehensive analysis of the latest evidence. We, therefore, are concerned by “suicide experts” who advocate for any one assessment as the only gold standard and give false hopes about its efficacy.

As suicide rates continue to climb across the country, one wonders what we, as psychiatrists, are trying to achieve. Promises of zero suicides by hospitals,⁶ academic institutions,⁷ and even governments⁸ are well-meaning but possibly misleading to families and patients. Psychiatry should advocate within the standard of care for reasonable attempts at suicide risk assessment, including demographic factors (see SADPERSONS), as well as examination of the actual suicidality (see the CSSRS). Our professional organizations should clarify expectations for clinicians while also clarifying the limitations of our current knowledge base.
 

References

1. Patterson WM et al. Evaluation of suicidal patients: the SADPERSONS scale. Psychosomatics. 1983 Apr;24[4]:343-5, 348-9.

2. Posner K et al. The Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale: initial validity and internal consistency findings from three multisite studies with adolescents and adults. Am J Psychiatry. 2011 Dec;168(12):1266-77.

3. Kendall T et al. Longer term management of self harm: summary of NICE guidance. BMJ. 2011;343. doi: 10.1136/bmj.d7073.

4. Carter G et al. Predicting suicidal behaviors using clinical instruments: systematic review and meta-analysis of positive predictive values for risk scales. Br J Psychiatry. 2017 Jun;210(6):387-95.

5. Peterson J et al. If you want to know, consider asking: How likely is it that patients will hurt themselves in the future? Psychol Assess. 2011 Sep;23(3):626-34.

5. Byrne JM et al. Implementation and impact of the central district of California’s suicide prevention program for crime defendants. Federal Probation. 2012 Jun;76(1):3-13.

6. “R.I.’s Butler Hospital sets ‘zero suicide’ goal for patients”/audio. Providence Journal. May 15, 2018.

7. “NIMH funds 3 ‘zero suicide’ grants.” National Institute of Mental Health. Sep 16, 2016.

8. Rothschild N. “Is it possible to eliminate suicide?” Atlantic. Jun 5, 2015.
 

Dr. Badre is a forensic psychiatrist in San Diego and an expert in correctional mental health. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. Dr. Rao is a San Diego–based board-certified psychiatrist with expertise in forensic psychiatry, correctional psychiatry, telepsychiatry, and inpatient psychiatry.

Every guideline and lecture on suicide risk assessment includes the message: “Do not use suicide contracts.” Yet, as forensic psychiatrists, we continue to see medical records that rely solely on the patient verbalizing, agreeing, or signing that they will be safe, in order to justify medical decision-making. A recent case we reviewed involving a grossly psychotic male spotlighted the meaninglessness of suicide contracts. In an attempt to understand the impulse by clinicians to use suicide contracts, we decided to review the topic.

Suicide risk assessment is a confusing and poorly explained skill in our field. Suicide risk assessment tools are well-intended. They are meant to identify and stratify risk, and help guide medical decision-making. Popular tools are startlingly different. How can two scales represent adequate psychiatric knowledge yet be completely different? SADPERSONS¹ is widely used and still considered standard of care yet has nothing in common with the Columbia–Suicide Severity Rating Scale (CSSRS).²

For those of us working in forensic settings, we are aghast that neither assessment is modified for use in correctional settings or accounts for essential risk factors of suicide in jails and prisons (placement in solitary, significant charges, homeless, etc.) Yet, they are widely used in jails and prisons across the country. This can be extrapolated to all of us who work with specific populations yet are asked to follow generic scales by administrators.

In reviewing the literature, we are surprised to see the lack of acknowledgment that many tools used in suicide risk assessment have little to no evidence. Despite their numerous appearances in medical records that we review, we are not aware of existing evidence for asking patients whether patients are suicidal on an hourly basis, for psychotropic treatment other than lithium and clozapine (Clozaril), and for safety plans that involve telling the patient to call 911. Of even greater concern, suicide risk assessments themselves may have limited value because of a lack of evidence as suggested by large study findings. It may surprise some to learn that the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) in the United Kingdom includes the following statement in its guidelines: “Do not use risk assessment tools and scales to predict future suicide or repetition of self-harm.”³

In 2017, Carter et al.⁴ reviewed 70 studies using suicide risk scales to stratify patients in higher-risk groups for self-harm or suicide, during a follow-up period. The study reviewed biological tests such as the dexamethasone suppression test and 5-hydroxyindoleacetic acid; as well as psychological scales, including Buglass & Horton, SADPERSONS, the Beck Hopelessness Scale, the Beck’s Depression Inventory, Manchester Self Harm Rule, and the Edinburgh Risk Rating Scale. Their conclusion was clear: “No individual predictive instrument or pooled subgroups of instruments were able to classify patients as being at high risk of suicidal behavior with a level of accuracy suitable to be used to allocate treatment.”

Despite the bad reputation, one must admit that suicide contracts intuitively feel right. Just as we ask patients whether they believe they will stay sober in the future, or ask patients if they will be compliant with their psychotropics, asking them if they feel that they can maintain safety seems relevant. Reading through the literature, one can even find articles promoting this approach. In 2011, researchers simply asked 147 patients in psychiatric hospitals considered to be high risk for suicide whether they would engage in self-harm in the following weeks. They followed those patients for 15 weeks after their discharge for acts of self-harm. They concluded that “self-perceptions of risk seem to perform as well as the best [standardized assessment tools] the field has to offer” for the prediction of self-harm^.5 We are unconvinced that juries would find suicide contracts irrelevant despite the lack of evidence. American society values individual autonomy and self-decision making. Patients telling their clinicians, “I will be OK” is relevant to suicide risk assessment. One can argue that the problem is not with the suicide contract itself, but with its blind use as a marker of safety.

The standard of care dictates that we try to assess suicide risk using evidence-based techniques. To the providers who see merit in asking patients whether they will be able to maintain their safety, we empathize with this impulse despite the lack of evidence. We do not ask those providers to stop but to supplement suicide contracts with more evidence-based tools that could lessen their liability. This will contribute in our shared effort to minimize suicide.

We acknowledge that the evidence of any assessment is limited and might miss a greater point in this entire discussion: Why are new iterations of suicide risk assessments not an improvement on the prior ones but a competing theory? New assessments emphasizing different facets of suicidal thinking do not include key demographic factors, while older tools do not include more recent understanding, such as the importance of hopelessness. From a provider’s perspective, the debate appears to be a battle of trends, theories, and acronyms rather than comprehensive analysis of the latest evidence. We, therefore, are concerned by “suicide experts” who advocate for any one assessment as the only gold standard and give false hopes about its efficacy.

As suicide rates continue to climb across the country, one wonders what we, as psychiatrists, are trying to achieve. Promises of zero suicides by hospitals,⁶ academic institutions,⁷ and even governments⁸ are well-meaning but possibly misleading to families and patients. Psychiatry should advocate within the standard of care for reasonable attempts at suicide risk assessment, including demographic factors (see SADPERSONS), as well as examination of the actual suicidality (see the CSSRS). Our professional organizations should clarify expectations for clinicians while also clarifying the limitations of our current knowledge base.
 

References

1. Patterson WM et al. Evaluation of suicidal patients: the SADPERSONS scale. Psychosomatics. 1983 Apr;24[4]:343-5, 348-9.

2. Posner K et al. The Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale: initial validity and internal consistency findings from three multisite studies with adolescents and adults. Am J Psychiatry. 2011 Dec;168(12):1266-77.

3. Kendall T et al. Longer term management of self harm: summary of NICE guidance. BMJ. 2011;343. doi: 10.1136/bmj.d7073.

4. Carter G et al. Predicting suicidal behaviors using clinical instruments: systematic review and meta-analysis of positive predictive values for risk scales. Br J Psychiatry. 2017 Jun;210(6):387-95.

5. Peterson J et al. If you want to know, consider asking: How likely is it that patients will hurt themselves in the future? Psychol Assess. 2011 Sep;23(3):626-34.

5. Byrne JM et al. Implementation and impact of the central district of California’s suicide prevention program for crime defendants. Federal Probation. 2012 Jun;76(1):3-13.

6. “R.I.’s Butler Hospital sets ‘zero suicide’ goal for patients”/audio. Providence Journal. May 15, 2018.

7. “NIMH funds 3 ‘zero suicide’ grants.” National Institute of Mental Health. Sep 16, 2016.

8. Rothschild N. “Is it possible to eliminate suicide?” Atlantic. Jun 5, 2015.
 

Dr. Badre is a forensic psychiatrist in San Diego and an expert in correctional mental health. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. Dr. Rao is a San Diego–based board-certified psychiatrist with expertise in forensic psychiatry, correctional psychiatry, telepsychiatry, and inpatient psychiatry.

Every guideline and lecture on suicide risk assessment includes the message: “Do not use suicide contracts.” Yet, as forensic psychiatrists, we continue to see medical records that rely solely on the patient verbalizing, agreeing, or signing that they will be safe, in order to justify medical decision-making. A recent case we reviewed involving a grossly psychotic male spotlighted the meaninglessness of suicide contracts. In an attempt to understand the impulse by clinicians to use suicide contracts, we decided to review the topic.

Suicide risk assessment is a confusing and poorly explained skill in our field. Suicide risk assessment tools are well-intended. They are meant to identify and stratify risk, and help guide medical decision-making. Popular tools are startlingly different. How can two scales represent adequate psychiatric knowledge yet be completely different? SADPERSONS¹ is widely used and still considered standard of care yet has nothing in common with the Columbia–Suicide Severity Rating Scale (CSSRS).²

For those of us working in forensic settings, we are aghast that neither assessment is modified for use in correctional settings or accounts for essential risk factors of suicide in jails and prisons (placement in solitary, significant charges, homeless, etc.) Yet, they are widely used in jails and prisons across the country. This can be extrapolated to all of us who work with specific populations yet are asked to follow generic scales by administrators.

In reviewing the literature, we are surprised to see the lack of acknowledgment that many tools used in suicide risk assessment have little to no evidence. Despite their numerous appearances in medical records that we review, we are not aware of existing evidence for asking patients whether patients are suicidal on an hourly basis, for psychotropic treatment other than lithium and clozapine (Clozaril), and for safety plans that involve telling the patient to call 911. Of even greater concern, suicide risk assessments themselves may have limited value because of a lack of evidence as suggested by large study findings. It may surprise some to learn that the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) in the United Kingdom includes the following statement in its guidelines: “Do not use risk assessment tools and scales to predict future suicide or repetition of self-harm.”³

In 2017, Carter et al.⁴ reviewed 70 studies using suicide risk scales to stratify patients in higher-risk groups for self-harm or suicide, during a follow-up period. The study reviewed biological tests such as the dexamethasone suppression test and 5-hydroxyindoleacetic acid; as well as psychological scales, including Buglass & Horton, SADPERSONS, the Beck Hopelessness Scale, the Beck’s Depression Inventory, Manchester Self Harm Rule, and the Edinburgh Risk Rating Scale. Their conclusion was clear: “No individual predictive instrument or pooled subgroups of instruments were able to classify patients as being at high risk of suicidal behavior with a level of accuracy suitable to be used to allocate treatment.”

Despite the bad reputation, one must admit that suicide contracts intuitively feel right. Just as we ask patients whether they believe they will stay sober in the future, or ask patients if they will be compliant with their psychotropics, asking them if they feel that they can maintain safety seems relevant. Reading through the literature, one can even find articles promoting this approach. In 2011, researchers simply asked 147 patients in psychiatric hospitals considered to be high risk for suicide whether they would engage in self-harm in the following weeks. They followed those patients for 15 weeks after their discharge for acts of self-harm. They concluded that “self-perceptions of risk seem to perform as well as the best [standardized assessment tools] the field has to offer” for the prediction of self-harm^.5 We are unconvinced that juries would find suicide contracts irrelevant despite the lack of evidence. American society values individual autonomy and self-decision making. Patients telling their clinicians, “I will be OK” is relevant to suicide risk assessment. One can argue that the problem is not with the suicide contract itself, but with its blind use as a marker of safety.

The standard of care dictates that we try to assess suicide risk using evidence-based techniques. To the providers who see merit in asking patients whether they will be able to maintain their safety, we empathize with this impulse despite the lack of evidence. We do not ask those providers to stop but to supplement suicide contracts with more evidence-based tools that could lessen their liability. This will contribute in our shared effort to minimize suicide.

We acknowledge that the evidence of any assessment is limited and might miss a greater point in this entire discussion: Why are new iterations of suicide risk assessments not an improvement on the prior ones but a competing theory? New assessments emphasizing different facets of suicidal thinking do not include key demographic factors, while older tools do not include more recent understanding, such as the importance of hopelessness. From a provider’s perspective, the debate appears to be a battle of trends, theories, and acronyms rather than comprehensive analysis of the latest evidence. We, therefore, are concerned by “suicide experts” who advocate for any one assessment as the only gold standard and give false hopes about its efficacy.

As suicide rates continue to climb across the country, one wonders what we, as psychiatrists, are trying to achieve. Promises of zero suicides by hospitals,⁶ academic institutions,⁷ and even governments⁸ are well-meaning but possibly misleading to families and patients. Psychiatry should advocate within the standard of care for reasonable attempts at suicide risk assessment, including demographic factors (see SADPERSONS), as well as examination of the actual suicidality (see the CSSRS). Our professional organizations should clarify expectations for clinicians while also clarifying the limitations of our current knowledge base.
 

References

1. Patterson WM et al. Evaluation of suicidal patients: the SADPERSONS scale. Psychosomatics. 1983 Apr;24[4]:343-5, 348-9.

2. Posner K et al. The Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale: initial validity and internal consistency findings from three multisite studies with adolescents and adults. Am J Psychiatry. 2011 Dec;168(12):1266-77.

3. Kendall T et al. Longer term management of self harm: summary of NICE guidance. BMJ. 2011;343. doi: 10.1136/bmj.d7073.

4. Carter G et al. Predicting suicidal behaviors using clinical instruments: systematic review and meta-analysis of positive predictive values for risk scales. Br J Psychiatry. 2017 Jun;210(6):387-95.

5. Peterson J et al. If you want to know, consider asking: How likely is it that patients will hurt themselves in the future? Psychol Assess. 2011 Sep;23(3):626-34.

5. Byrne JM et al. Implementation and impact of the central district of California’s suicide prevention program for crime defendants. Federal Probation. 2012 Jun;76(1):3-13.

6. “R.I.’s Butler Hospital sets ‘zero suicide’ goal for patients”/audio. Providence Journal. May 15, 2018.

7. “NIMH funds 3 ‘zero suicide’ grants.” National Institute of Mental Health. Sep 16, 2016.

8. Rothschild N. “Is it possible to eliminate suicide?” Atlantic. Jun 5, 2015.
 

Dr. Badre is a forensic psychiatrist in San Diego and an expert in correctional mental health. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. Dr. Rao is a San Diego–based board-certified psychiatrist with expertise in forensic psychiatry, correctional psychiatry, telepsychiatry, and inpatient psychiatry.

As forensic psychiatrists, one of our main roles is to apply the Dusky standard to assess competency. In this regard, multiple times a week, we see pretrial defendants who wait weeks, sometimes months, in jail, for their competency evaluations. Will they be permitted to attend court and continue with their legal proceedings, or will a judge remand them into an involuntary treatment unit to restore their competency? The number of defendants referred for competency evaluation is formally not measured, but estimates suggest it almost doubled from 1973¹ till 2000.²

The intent of ensuring the competency of the accused is fundamentally fair. While all would agree that only those who are convicted of committing crimes be found guilty, not every culture has paid attention to the question of whether those found guilty understand how and why that happened.

Defendant’s background

The defendant is a 40-something-year-old man who vacillates between homelessness and living with friends who partake in his penchant for alcohol. He has committed various crimes, including thefts, disorderly conduct, and possession of controlled substances. He went to prison once for selling narcotics but quickly retorts: “I don’t sell … . This [expletive] cop came and asked if I had any. She was hot. What did you want me to say? It was entrapment.”

Challenging behavior continues

During the course of the interview, he was able to demonstrate that he understands the meaning of making a threat, of committing a crime, and of the roles of the different courtroom personnel. However, the stress of court highlights his interpersonal problems. In this particular case, he recounts: “Court had not yet started; I was talking to my lawyer, and the judge interrupted me, so I answered: Wait your turn [expletive] … not my greatest idea.” When asked about his past referral for competency, he mentions it was in response to trying to fire a public defender because “she was Mexican. I don’t work with those.”

Given his behavior, it is unclear how else a judge or a lawyer could have acted. One could argue that it would be a mistake not to refer this defendant for a competency evaluation, considering his outbursts. On the other hand, he had been evaluated many times before, and the opinion of well-respected forensic psychiatrists was that he did not have a mental illness.

While we reflect on our experience with this defendant, we are unsure of the lessons to be learned. We ponder whether psychiatry does a disservice when not being clearer about what constitutes a serious mental illness. We wonder if we exacerbated the confusion by the removal of “Axis II” categories from the DSM, implying that severe personality disorders are no longer different from, say, schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Rarely do we hear psychiatrists point out that unusual behaviors do not equal mental illness. We are often too pleased in advocating for more resources by saying that all crimes, all substance misuses, and all annoying behaviors are forms of mental illness when, in reality, the criminal4, the addictive5, and the less common6 are not always biologically based mental disorders or even the real problem, for that matter.

This defendant is difficult. He argues, he yells, he provokes, and he hurts others physically as well as emotionally. While many psychiatrists have decided to codify this pattern of behavior within the B cluster of personality traits, have we misled the public into thinking that patients with personality disorders require the same attention and care as patients with other forms of mental illness, like schizophrenia? Often, we see patients with schizophrenia, bipolar depression, or major depression, who even at their best, are too impaired to file their taxes, apply for an identity card, or understand the complexity of the legal system.

Psychiatry’s difficulty in verbalizing the difference between those disorders harms the public perception of mental disorders. As a result, we have a forensic system similar to the rest of the community health care system – with an abundance of individuals with severe mental illness not referred for treatment or evaluation, and several patients with personality disorders bogging down a system with very limited resources. It is our responsibility not only to educate the public on how to manage and contain the emotions that patients with personality disorders engender in us, but also to educate the public on how to recognize patients with profound mentally ill patients who are quietly suffering.

Dr. Badre is affiliated with the county of San Diego, the University of California at San Diego, and the University of San Diego. Dr. Rao is a San Diego–based board-certified psychiatrist with expertise in forensic psychiatry, correctional psychiatry, telepsychiatry, and inpatient psychiatry.
 

References

1. Competency to Stand Trial and Mental Illness: Final Report. Rockville, Md.: National Institute of Mental Health, 1973.

2. Youth on Trial: A Developmental Perspective on Juvenile Justice. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000.

3. J Am Acad Psychiatry Law. 2007;35(4 Suppl):S3-72.

4. Clin Psychiatry News. 2017;45(8):5.

5. Law and Philosophy. 1999;18(6):589-610.

6. Am J Psychiatry. 1981 Feb;138(2):210-5.

As forensic psychiatrists, one of our main roles is to apply the Dusky standard to assess competency. In this regard, multiple times a week, we see pretrial defendants who wait weeks, sometimes months, in jail, for their competency evaluations. Will they be permitted to attend court and continue with their legal proceedings, or will a judge remand them into an involuntary treatment unit to restore their competency? The number of defendants referred for competency evaluation is formally not measured, but estimates suggest it almost doubled from 1973¹ till 2000.²

The intent of ensuring the competency of the accused is fundamentally fair. While all would agree that only those who are convicted of committing crimes be found guilty, not every culture has paid attention to the question of whether those found guilty understand how and why that happened.

Defendant’s background

The defendant is a 40-something-year-old man who vacillates between homelessness and living with friends who partake in his penchant for alcohol. He has committed various crimes, including thefts, disorderly conduct, and possession of controlled substances. He went to prison once for selling narcotics but quickly retorts: “I don’t sell … . This [expletive] cop came and asked if I had any. She was hot. What did you want me to say? It was entrapment.”

Challenging behavior continues

During the course of the interview, he was able to demonstrate that he understands the meaning of making a threat, of committing a crime, and of the roles of the different courtroom personnel. However, the stress of court highlights his interpersonal problems. In this particular case, he recounts: “Court had not yet started; I was talking to my lawyer, and the judge interrupted me, so I answered: Wait your turn [expletive] … not my greatest idea.” When asked about his past referral for competency, he mentions it was in response to trying to fire a public defender because “she was Mexican. I don’t work with those.”

Given his behavior, it is unclear how else a judge or a lawyer could have acted. One could argue that it would be a mistake not to refer this defendant for a competency evaluation, considering his outbursts. On the other hand, he had been evaluated many times before, and the opinion of well-respected forensic psychiatrists was that he did not have a mental illness.

While we reflect on our experience with this defendant, we are unsure of the lessons to be learned. We ponder whether psychiatry does a disservice when not being clearer about what constitutes a serious mental illness. We wonder if we exacerbated the confusion by the removal of “Axis II” categories from the DSM, implying that severe personality disorders are no longer different from, say, schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Rarely do we hear psychiatrists point out that unusual behaviors do not equal mental illness. We are often too pleased in advocating for more resources by saying that all crimes, all substance misuses, and all annoying behaviors are forms of mental illness when, in reality, the criminal4, the addictive5, and the less common6 are not always biologically based mental disorders or even the real problem, for that matter.

This defendant is difficult. He argues, he yells, he provokes, and he hurts others physically as well as emotionally. While many psychiatrists have decided to codify this pattern of behavior within the B cluster of personality traits, have we misled the public into thinking that patients with personality disorders require the same attention and care as patients with other forms of mental illness, like schizophrenia? Often, we see patients with schizophrenia, bipolar depression, or major depression, who even at their best, are too impaired to file their taxes, apply for an identity card, or understand the complexity of the legal system.

Psychiatry’s difficulty in verbalizing the difference between those disorders harms the public perception of mental disorders. As a result, we have a forensic system similar to the rest of the community health care system – with an abundance of individuals with severe mental illness not referred for treatment or evaluation, and several patients with personality disorders bogging down a system with very limited resources. It is our responsibility not only to educate the public on how to manage and contain the emotions that patients with personality disorders engender in us, but also to educate the public on how to recognize patients with profound mentally ill patients who are quietly suffering.

Dr. Badre is affiliated with the county of San Diego, the University of California at San Diego, and the University of San Diego. Dr. Rao is a San Diego–based board-certified psychiatrist with expertise in forensic psychiatry, correctional psychiatry, telepsychiatry, and inpatient psychiatry.
 

References

1. Competency to Stand Trial and Mental Illness: Final Report. Rockville, Md.: National Institute of Mental Health, 1973.

2. Youth on Trial: A Developmental Perspective on Juvenile Justice. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000.

3. J Am Acad Psychiatry Law. 2007;35(4 Suppl):S3-72.

4. Clin Psychiatry News. 2017;45(8):5.

5. Law and Philosophy. 1999;18(6):589-610.

6. Am J Psychiatry. 1981 Feb;138(2):210-5.

As forensic psychiatrists, one of our main roles is to apply the Dusky standard to assess competency. In this regard, multiple times a week, we see pretrial defendants who wait weeks, sometimes months, in jail, for their competency evaluations. Will they be permitted to attend court and continue with their legal proceedings, or will a judge remand them into an involuntary treatment unit to restore their competency? The number of defendants referred for competency evaluation is formally not measured, but estimates suggest it almost doubled from 1973¹ till 2000.²

The intent of ensuring the competency of the accused is fundamentally fair. While all would agree that only those who are convicted of committing crimes be found guilty, not every culture has paid attention to the question of whether those found guilty understand how and why that happened.

Defendant’s background

The defendant is a 40-something-year-old man who vacillates between homelessness and living with friends who partake in his penchant for alcohol. He has committed various crimes, including thefts, disorderly conduct, and possession of controlled substances. He went to prison once for selling narcotics but quickly retorts: “I don’t sell … . This [expletive] cop came and asked if I had any. She was hot. What did you want me to say? It was entrapment.”

Challenging behavior continues

During the course of the interview, he was able to demonstrate that he understands the meaning of making a threat, of committing a crime, and of the roles of the different courtroom personnel. However, the stress of court highlights his interpersonal problems. In this particular case, he recounts: “Court had not yet started; I was talking to my lawyer, and the judge interrupted me, so I answered: Wait your turn [expletive] … not my greatest idea.” When asked about his past referral for competency, he mentions it was in response to trying to fire a public defender because “she was Mexican. I don’t work with those.”

Given his behavior, it is unclear how else a judge or a lawyer could have acted. One could argue that it would be a mistake not to refer this defendant for a competency evaluation, considering his outbursts. On the other hand, he had been evaluated many times before, and the opinion of well-respected forensic psychiatrists was that he did not have a mental illness.

While we reflect on our experience with this defendant, we are unsure of the lessons to be learned. We ponder whether psychiatry does a disservice when not being clearer about what constitutes a serious mental illness. We wonder if we exacerbated the confusion by the removal of “Axis II” categories from the DSM, implying that severe personality disorders are no longer different from, say, schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Rarely do we hear psychiatrists point out that unusual behaviors do not equal mental illness. We are often too pleased in advocating for more resources by saying that all crimes, all substance misuses, and all annoying behaviors are forms of mental illness when, in reality, the criminal4, the addictive5, and the less common6 are not always biologically based mental disorders or even the real problem, for that matter.

This defendant is difficult. He argues, he yells, he provokes, and he hurts others physically as well as emotionally. While many psychiatrists have decided to codify this pattern of behavior within the B cluster of personality traits, have we misled the public into thinking that patients with personality disorders require the same attention and care as patients with other forms of mental illness, like schizophrenia? Often, we see patients with schizophrenia, bipolar depression, or major depression, who even at their best, are too impaired to file their taxes, apply for an identity card, or understand the complexity of the legal system.

Psychiatry’s difficulty in verbalizing the difference between those disorders harms the public perception of mental disorders. As a result, we have a forensic system similar to the rest of the community health care system – with an abundance of individuals with severe mental illness not referred for treatment or evaluation, and several patients with personality disorders bogging down a system with very limited resources. It is our responsibility not only to educate the public on how to manage and contain the emotions that patients with personality disorders engender in us, but also to educate the public on how to recognize patients with profound mentally ill patients who are quietly suffering.

Dr. Badre is affiliated with the county of San Diego, the University of California at San Diego, and the University of San Diego. Dr. Rao is a San Diego–based board-certified psychiatrist with expertise in forensic psychiatry, correctional psychiatry, telepsychiatry, and inpatient psychiatry.
 

References

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2. Youth on Trial: A Developmental Perspective on Juvenile Justice. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000.

3. J Am Acad Psychiatry Law. 2007;35(4 Suppl):S3-72.

4. Clin Psychiatry News. 2017;45(8):5.

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6. Am J Psychiatry. 1981 Feb;138(2):210-5.