(6 of 10)
I wanted to ask state psychiatrists how it could be therapeutic for Yoder, who served his time for two relatively minor crimes, to live among killers. Yoder signed authorizations for me to speak with both the psychiatrist and the psychologist at Chester who do most of his evaluations. The facility declined. "[The medical director] feels that discussing cases with reporters can hurt treatment," said Tom Green, spokesman for the state department of human services, which oversees Chester. But the department then changed its position and asked me to speak with Dr. Christopher Fichtner, one of its administrators in Chicago. Yoder wouldn't authorize me to speak with Fichtner about his case, since Fichtner isn't his doctor and has little role in routinely recommitting him.
Yoder often gets into such spats with the state. Their mutual animosity became routine in the '90s: every few months, Yoder went to court either because the state wanted to recommit him or because he had sued someone. An ineffective public defender usually represented him, and the same couple of state doctors testified against him. (Yoder couldn't afford his own lawyers and experts.) The same two or three judges overseeing his commitment trials would also toss out many of his lawsuits, even those complaining about his treatment at Chester.
At his commitment trials, Yoder only once had an aggressive private attorney, Edward Unsell of suburban St. Louis, Mo. Unsell called clinical psychologist Michael Armour to the stand in 1993. A supervisor at the big state hospital in St. Louis, Armour had been a witness for the state the year before, but he had changed his mind about Yoder when he actually spoke with him the following year. (His previous testimony had been based only on a review of Yoder's file.) "I had testified against him... and yet he was very appropriate in his dealings with me," Armour said in court. He noted that "Yoder appears to wage a war of words" but said he didn't expect Yoder to actually carry out violence.
Nonetheless, the jury sent Yoder back to Chester. Cuneo, the state psychologist, had testified that Yoder was bipolar and delusional and that he had a history of violence. Given a choice between two competing experts, the jury played it safe. Who wants to be responsible for loosing a madman? Yoder repeatedly faced this conundrum in court--convincing jurors he was sane from inside an asylum. The state had a strong case: jurors heard about Yoder's battery of women. They heard about the time he got into a scuffle with a guard and bit him. They heard about incidents when he became agitated and had to be secluded. They heard that Yoder always refused to take psychiatric drugs.