Carla

My wife Barbara hired Carla without telling me her background. I worked with her for several years without knowing about her past and I liked her. She worked well and became a manager of one of our retirement homes as a live-in. She was sort of like a house mother to six elderly clients. She saw to it that they were kept clean, happy and well fed. Carla had a pretty face but a poor self image, and she ate until she was obese. She had diabetes and would not take special care of herself to stay healthy. But she took very good care of the old folks and was friendly and lovable to everyone. My only complaint about her was that she sometimes stayed in her nightgown too late in the day and went barefooted. I told Barbara to ask her to be more professional about how she dressed. She often stayed up all night with a sick client instead of getting someone else to do it. Then she would get too tired, not feeling well herself and she would get depressed and stay in bed a lot. When this happened some of the more alert clients would feel sorry for her.

Carla was worried about her sexy teenage daughter who lived with Carla at the retirement home. Her daughter was beautiful. She ran around with boys her mother did not like. As an early teenager her body matured so that she looked older. She ran away from home with one of the boys who was too young and not ready to support a wife. Soon her daughter became pregnant. Not being able to control her daughter was something that made Carla feel guilty.

Carla was intelligent, interesting to talk to, and she loved good popular music. She enjoyed having our trust and the authority to run the place. She cared for the house as if it were her own. She used her own money to go overboard decorating the house for holidays. She spent more than she had and bought things on credit including an expensive player piano, music tapes, and lots of things. I guess it was like over eating. She couldn't control herself. I was often in the home as a physical therapist treating someone with a broken bone or damaged brain. Sometimes she called me to fix a leaky faucet or whatever. I enjoyed doing the small repair jobs. She seemed to like me as a boss and bought me some jazz tapes to listen to in my car as I was driving around North San Diego County.

One day my wife explained to me that she had hired Carla not knowing she had been released from a federal prison. This came as a shock to me because Carla seemed too sweet to have ever spent time in a jail. Now, in order to comply with regulations, Carla was asked to write a letter to the authorities telling about her past and present life. She wanted someone she could trust to help her write the letter, and my wife volunteered my assistance. I sat alone with Carla at a table. She had paper and pen to write with. She said the letter was to be in her own handwriting.

Carla said, "I don't like talking about it but I need your help to write this letter. I'm supposed to write down all the bad stuff I did before they sent me to federal prison. If I don't do it they won't let me work here any more, so I'll tell you, and then you help me write it. I'll skip my childhood. It was pretty bad. I was abused. When I grew up I worked sometimes as a bartender and sometimes as an outlaw. I usually walked into liquor stores with a gun and robbed them. The gun was never loaded. Once I used a toy gun. I did it so many times, I don't remember how many. I didn't think I was worth a damn. I had no respect for myself, and I could care less about the law. I didn't care if I got shot and killed or anything. I was drinking and taking all kinds of drugs. They never caught me in a robbery. I got sent to prison for getting caught driving Mexican aliens from Tijuana to Los Angeles. I had broken a federal law."

"After I was released I did well for a while. Then I got drunk and had a car wreck. I went to jail but was soon out again, and I didn't have a job. I had been seeing a psychologist for years. One day I met your wife and I told her I needed help to find a job. She hired me. I've stayed out of trouble ever since I started working for her. Now the parole officer is saying I might not be able to keep working at the retirement home. I am worried. So, what should I write?"

I looked at what she had written. It was like a confession. She had written about armed robberies she had not been convicted of. I crossed them out and explained to her it wouldn't do her any good to write about that. I helped her write about the crimes she had been convicted of and helped word her apologies. Then I had her write about the good she was doing at the retirement home, and I wrote a note myself telling them Carla was a good employee and behaving herself so well that we were proud of her.

A couple of years later we had sold the business, but Carla was still working there. She came to see me at my home because she was suffering from chronic low back pain. She was also in debt from buying too many things on her credit cards. I showed her some special back exercises that might help her and gave her a back massage. She left seeming to feel a little better, but, I sensed her back pain would continue.

Two weeks later I received word she had gone out and bought a beautiful night gown. She went to a motel and put on the night clothes. While lying in the bed she gave herself a huge overdose of insulin. She killed herself with a drug overdose. I don’t know why, but I felt guilty.