She found some things in common: evidence of a feminine identity and of a strong superego, which anger threatened to override. She did not find evidence of psychotic process, nor of schizophrenic thought disorder.

When Rosalie Drake and Nick Cicco announced that the mini-group would be doing trust exercises on April 19, Arthur allowed Danny to take the spot. The staff had prepared the rec room with tables, chairs, couches and boards, turning it into an obstacle course.

Knowing Milligans fear of men, Nick had suggested that Rosalie blindfold and lead him through. “You’ve got to work with me, Billy,” she said. “It’s the only way to build enough confidence in other people so you can live in the real world.”

He finally allowed her to blindfold him.

“Now hold my hand,” she said, leading him into the room. “I’m going to take you over and around the obstacle course, and I’ll keep you from being hurt.”

As she led him, she could see and feel his uncontrolled terror at not knowing where he was moving or what he might crash into. They moved slowly at first and then faster, around chairs, under tables, up and down ladders. Seeing his panic, both she and Nick admired him for going through with it.

“I didn’t let you get hurt, did I, Billy?”

Danny shook his head.

“You’ve got to learn that there are some people you can trust. Not everyone, of course, but some.”

Rosalie noticed that more and more in her presence, he assumed the little-boy role she had come to know as Danny. It upset her that so many of his drawings contained death images.

The following Tuesday, Allen was permitted to go for the first time to the adjunctive therapy building to attend expressive-art class, where he would be able to sketch and paint.

Don Jones, the mild-mannered art therapist, was impressed by Milligan’s natural talent, but Jones could see he was anxious and restive about being in the new group. The bizarre drawings, he realized, were Billy’s way of attracting attention and seeking approval.

Jones pointed to a sketch of a tombstone engraved with the words “do not r.i.p.”

“Could you tell us something about that, Billy? What were your feelings when you drew that?”

“Its Billy’s real father,” Allen said. “He was a comedian and a master of ceremonies in Miami, Florida, before he killed himself.”

“Why don’t you tell us what you felt? We want to get in touch with feelings rather than details at this point, Billy.” Allen threw down his pencil in disgust at still having Billy get credit for his artwork, and looked up at the clock. “I’ve got to get back to the unit to make my bed.”

The next day he talked to Nurse Yaeger about the treatment, complaining that it was all wrong. When she told him he was interfering with the staff and the patients, he became upset. “I’m not responsible for things that are done by my other people,” he said.