It was one of the more unusual public relations nightmares to envelop NASA in the final rocky decade of its shuttle program. Four years ago this month Orlando police arrested astronaut Lisa Nowak after she assaulted (and, police believed, attempted to kidnap or murder) her rival for the affections of fellow astronaut William Oefelein (aka "Billy O").
As NASA launches its final three space shuttle missions, one of which the certifiably heroic Captain Mark Kelly is helming (Gabrielle Giffords's husband was Nowak's shipmate in 2006 and offered her moral support during the media frenzy that followed), 20/20 is giving over a solid chunk of its prime time Friday night to the story of Colleen Shipman, the woman Nowak attacked and the world forgot.
I viewed a complete pre-air of 20/20's story yesterday courtesy of ABC. Colleen proves to be one of Chris Cuomo's better interview subjects. She's clearly been waiting to tell her side, and it's time we give her a listen. Here's a clip.
When Nowak, disguised in an oversized trench coat, wig, and red glasses, chased down and pepper sprayed Shipman early February 5, 2007, Shipman believed Nowak intended to kill her. It's a reasonable assumption. Yet the court never considered it.
Nowak's first-rate lawyer succeeded in barring the cache of incriminating evidence police collected from any potential trial. That evidence included the steel mallet, knife, air pistol, gloves, and plastic tubing Lisa had ready in her car, all part of a mission she meticulously planned over three weeks, all the way down to her supply of high-absorbency space diapers (Nowak's 900-mile car trip from Houston to Orlando only required two).
In the end Nowak got off with a plea bargain of two days of time served and a year's probation. Shipman got post traumatic stress disorder. Like Nowak, NASA booted Billy O.
Her lawyer's skill meant Nowak never had to use the insanity defense he had ready and waiting for her, preemptively filed in the Florida court system like an insurance policy. Nowak's insanity filing included an assessment by psychiatrist Richard Pesikoff, who offered up diagnoses including bipolar disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, Asperger's syndrome and insomnia as factors diminishing her culpability for her actions.
Paul Siegel, an assistant professor of psychology at Purchase College, isn't buying any of it. 20/20's piece features Dr. Siegel's opinion on the case, and I interviewed him this week.
"If [Dr. Pesikoff] was paid by her defense lawyer, he needs to come up with some sort of diagnosis to support her defense," Siegel tells me. "I'm not getting paid anything."
Asperger's would leave a wake dating back to Lisa's childhood, and made it more unusual to see her marry and have children, or start that affair with Billy O in the first place. Bipolar disorder does not mesh well with the Navy flight schools where Lisa excelled and surely would have been apparent in her work at NASA.
Moreover, if Dr. Pesikoff planned to place this all on a psychotic episode, bipolar mania does not last for the weeks on end Lisa used to prepare her quest.
It may seem like anybody could disintegrate under the pressure cooker intensity that was Lisa Nowak's career. Her spaceflight seven months before attacking Colleen Shipman was only the second manned mission after the 2003 Columbia disaster. That event that shook NASA to its core.
For Nowak the explosion also meant losing her close friend, Columbia astronaut Laurel Clark. Nowak stepped up her game accordingly in the ratcheted-up flight training that followed in the heavily scrutinized post-Columbia era, all while stepping in to care for Clark's family in addition to her own. It would not be long before her marriage fell apart and she would begin her infamous affair with Billy O.
So why doesn't temporary insanity explain what the high-flying Lisa Nowak tried to do that night to Colleen Shipman? As her lawyer said, clearly the whole episode was out of character.
Not at all. Her character actually is the problem, says Dr. Siegel.
"Typical mental disorders, like bipolar disorder or depression, are characterized by a pattern of sickness," Dr. Siegel says. "You can't concentrate, you're not eating and sleeping, etcetera."
A personality disorder is not something you have, Dr. Siegel tells me. "It's something you are."
Nowak doesn't have symptoms of illness. Rather, she has personality traits. Specifically, in the way she behaved toward Colleen Shipman, as you'll see on 20/20, Siegel identifies elements of antisocial personality disorder on display (she's not a perfect fit -- individual categories -- there are currently ten of them, don't describe most cases).
Personality disorders are disturbed patterns of thinking, feeling and behaving that come to the surface especially in relationships. In day-to-day life, in settings such as work, many people with personality disorders will behave normally. In Nowak's case, that meant grace under fire in 70-hour work weeks.
But jealousy is a primeval emotion, a twisted concoction of anger and insecurity, that easily unboxes the beast waiting to get out.
It's a cardinal feature of all personality disorders -- an unstable grasp of one's own identity. Who you are, how you act, can shift markedly with your surroundings.
"The Lisa Nowak who terrorized Colleen in the airport that night was not the astronaut and suburban supermom raising three kids who likes to grow African violets in her garden," Siegel assures me. "An entirely different side of her emerged, a much darker side."
It's easy to see why NASA didn't see it coming. NASA is more concerned with seeing astronauts manage the stress that comes with flying rickety old rockets than in whether they can move on in the midst of unrequited love. To identify Lisa's problem would require putting her under extreme emotional stress in a test specifically designed to pick up on signs of personality disorders. And no test is perfect.
Dr. Siegel trained at Weil Cornell under Paulina Kernberg who along with her husband Otto are central figures in the history of personality disorders.
The collection of personality disorders, once termed "psychopathies," are among the more uncomfortable diagnoses in abnormal psychology. They're laden with the ethically fraught implication that a person with a personality disorder isn't so much "mad" as he is simply "bad."
Most mental health professionals hold little hope for identifying an effective treatment in any particular case (dialectical behavior therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy are attempted). And that slim chance only happens if patients seek treatment -- most people with personality disorders don't see a problem. Lack of self awareness is part of their disorder.
Without truly objective assessments or lab tests, personality disorders are always ripe for scientific critique. They're currently the subject of one of the major revisions in the DSM-V, due out in 2013. Some suggest chucking the personality disorder rubric in favor of "adaptation disorder" to emphasize an ongoing struggle rather than a fixed facet of one's character.
Whatever we call it, mental health professionals know personality disorders when they see them. Unfortunately they're quite common -- 9.1% of Americans in any given year, according to NIH statistics. Dr. Siegel is sticking his neck out somewhat in offering us his diagnosis on the basis of publicly available information. He hasn't examined Lisa. He isn't privy to events in the rest of her private life.
But between the court records, Lisa's videotaped police interview, disclosed emails, and media interviews with just about everybody concerned but Lisa herself, Dr. Siegel has far more information about Nowak's case than some others.
"I see a lot of personality disorders whenever I go to the post office," he admits.
The president’s irate criticism of the omnibus spending bill demonstrates his continued attachment to a flawed theory of the presidency.
In the end, Donald Trump had to sign the bill—for the military, he said. But he didn’t have to like it.
That was the upshot of a peculiar and rambling set of remarks (even by his standards) the president made early Friday afternoon as he signed a bill funding the government through September.
“I’ve signed this omnibus budget bill. There are a lot of things I’m unhappy about in this bill,” Trump said. “But I say to Congress, I will never sign another bill like this again. I’m not going to do it again.”
What it came down to, apparently, was defense spending. Trump threatened to veto the bill in a tweet Friday morning, after the White House had previously indicated he’d sign it. (My colleague Elaina Plott reported, however, that the president himself had reservations at that time.) Throughout the remarks, Trump returned incessantly to the question of funding national defense.
A new six-part Netflix documentary is a stunning dive into a utopian religious community in Oregon that descended into darkness.
To describe Wild Wild Country as jaw-dropping is to understate the number of times my mouth gaped while watching the series, a six-part Netflix documentary about a religious community in Oregon in the 1980s. It’s ostensibly the story of how a group led by the dynamic Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh purchased 64,000 acres of land in central Oregon in a bid to build its own utopian city. But, as the series immediately reveals, the narrative becomes darker and stranger than you might ever imagine. It’s a tale that mines the weirdness of the counterculture in the ’70s and ’80s, the age-old conflict between rural Americans and free love–preaching cityfolk, and the emotional vacuum that compels people to interpret a bearded mystic as something akin to a god.
This is no way for two grown humans to make a major life decision.
The marriage proposal is one of the most ritualized moments in modern American life. Growing up, many girls are instilled with a specific idea of how it should go: He’ll take us somewhere romantic—we’ll have no idea what’s happening—he’ll get down on one knee—we’ll start crying—he’ll pop the question—we’ll immediately say yes. It should be magical.
But for a lot of heterosexual couples, the proposal—as movies portray it, as many millennial women have internalized it—doesn’t reflect the kind of modern, egalitarian relationships many women want today. Whom to marry is among the most important decisions most people will ever make in their lives, and yet it’s not a choice made in the course of a conversation—the normal way two grown humans make big life decisions. Instead, it has to be a show, with a prefixed grand finale: “yes.”
Gigantic piles of impounded, abandoned, and broken bicycles have become a familiar sight in many Chinese cities, after a rush to build up its new bike-sharing industry vastly overreached.
Last year, bike sharing took off in China, with dozens of bike-share companies quickly flooding city streets with millions of brightly colored rental bicycles. However, the rapid growth vastly outpaced immediate demand and overwhelmed Chinese cities, where infrastructure and regulations were not prepared to handle a sudden flood of millions of shared bicycles. Riders would park bikes anywhere, or just abandon them, resulting in bicycles piling up and blocking already-crowded streets and pathways. As cities impounded derelict bikes by the thousands, they moved quickly to cap growth and regulate the industry. Vast piles of impounded, abandoned, and broken bicycles have become a familiar sight in many big cities. As some of the companies who jumped in too big and too early have begun to fold, their huge surplus of bicycles can be found collecting dust in vast vacant lots. Bike sharing remains very popular in China, and will likely continue to grow, just probably at a more sustainable rate. Meanwhile, we are left with these images of speculation gone wild—the piles of debris left behind after the bubble bursts.
Considering SpaceX accidentally blew up one of Mark Zuckerberg’s projects, this is a little awkward.
This week’s revelations about a British political consultancy’s use of data from 50 million Facebook users for potentially shady purposes has prompted many people to declare they will quit the social network in protest. One of the newest additions to the bandwagon is Elon Musk, the wealthy entrepreneur with companies like Tesla and Space X to his name—and he followed through in a very public way.
It happened, as these things do, on Twitter.
“It is time. #deletefacebook,” Brian Acton, the cofounder of the messaging service WhatsApp, tweeted on Tuesday, the day the Federal Trade Commission opened an investigation into how Cambridge Analytica accessed the Facebook data. For whatever reason, Musk decided to respond to Acton’s tweet on Friday. “What’s Facebook?” he replied. He appeared to be joking, but someone decided to call his bluff.
The original sitcom reveled in complexity. In the premiere of its highly anticipated reboot, though, it has simplified politics down to easy partisanship.
“We’re not going to talk about who the Conners are going to vote for. I think people would turn us off real quick.”
That was Roseanne Barr, talking with the Los Angeles Timesabout the politics of the original version of her hit ABC sitcom. It was 1992: The American presidential campaign, Bill Clinton versus George H. W. Bush versus Ross Perot, was being waged. Dan Quayle was arguing about family values with a fictional journalist. Roseanne, though—the producer, the character, the star—was insisting that her TV family transcended both the vagaries of political partisanship and the messiness of the culture wars themselves. The Conners are “somewhere in the middle of it all,” Barr said, “not knowing what anything stands for anymore. So really what they do is go to work and come home to be with their family, and try to make do.”
How evangelicals, once culturally confident, became an anxious minority seeking political protection from the least traditionally religious president in living memory
One of the most extraordinary things about our current politics—really, one of the most extraordinary developments of recent political history—is the loyal adherence of religious conservatives to Donald Trump. The president won four-fifths of the votes of white evangelical Christians. This was a higher level of support than either Ronald Reagan or George W. Bush, an outspoken evangelical himself, ever received.
Trump’s background and beliefs could hardly be more incompatible with traditional Christian models of life and leadership. Trump’s past political stances (he once supported the right to partial-birth abortion), his character (he has bragged about sexually assaulting women), and even his language (he introduced the words pussy and shithole into presidential discourse) would more naturally lead religious conservatives toward exorcism than alliance. This is a man who has cruelly publicized his infidelities, made disturbing sexual comments about his elder daughter, and boasted about the size of his penis on the debate stage. His lawyer reportedly arranged a $130,000 payment to a porn star to dissuade her from disclosing an alleged affair. Yet religious conservatives who once blanched at PG-13 public standards now yawn at such NC-17 maneuvers. We are a long way from The Book of Virtues.
The president is surrounding himself with familiar faces from his favorite cable-news network—but may not find in them what he seeks.
Remember “bring in the grown-ups”? They have all now been carried off, with the sole exception of Secretary of Defense James Mattis.
Instead, Trump is staffing his administration and his legal team with familiar personalities from his preferred cable-news channel—much like an imperious child demanding that his crib be stuffed with his TV-cartoon favorites.
Now perhaps the most important West Wing job of them all is to be filled by John Bolton, a figure with an authentic background in government, yes—he held a recess appointment as ambassador to the United Nations from August 2005 until December 2006—but whose achievements over the past dozen years have been posted principally in the field of television punditry.
How sugar daddies and vaginal microbes created the world’s largest HIV epidemic
VULINDLELA, South Africa—Mbali N. was just 17 when a well-dressed man in his 30s spotted her. She was at a mall in a nearby town, alone, when he called out. He might have been captivated by her almond eyes and soaring cheekbones. Or he might have just seen her for what she was: young and poor.
She tried to ignore him, she told me, but he followed her. They exchanged numbers. By the time she got home, he had called her. He said he wasn’t married, and she doesn’t know if that was true. They met at a house in a different township; she doesn’t know if it belonged to him. Mbali, who is now 24, also doesn’t know if he had HIV.
She enjoyed spending time with the man during the day, when they would talk and go to the movies. But she didn’t like it when he called at night and demanded to have sex, which happened about six times a month. When she refused him, he beat her. For her trouble, he gave her a cellphone, sweets, and chocolates.