John Frederick Thanos

It was April. The fifth, to be exact. At the Eastern Correctional Institute, a medium-security prison in Westover, Maryland, the system failed and an inmate was out-processed eighteen months earlier than he should have been.

Now of course, these things happen. I can’t say how often; usually we read about a prisoner sentenced to eighteen months, yet still inside after twenty years. Prisoners released too early, however, as in the case of John Frederick Thanos, can bring trouble to the outside. In short order, the world would know that lesson all too well. John Patrick O’Donnell, clerk for the prison records, for whatever reason he had, asked his boss, Chief of Classification for the Maryland Department of Corrections, Warren R. Sparrow, about releasing prisoner John Thanos. And just like that, two men became, through sheer carelessness, responsible for turning a monster loose on the State of Maryland. He got a handgun.

You know where this is going.

It turned out that the man had some violent tendencies, so before I go any further, it has to be asked why a rapist served time at a medium-security prison at all. Rapists are treated far too lightly in Western culture, particularly in the United States. Youve heard the stories — convicted rapists sentenced to two years. Or six months, causing public outcry, and on an occasion or two, putting judges off the bench. On rare occasions, even being disbarred. Recently a judge and several politicians — Republicans — advised women to “keep their legs closed” and other vile things. The question must be answered, why this is so? Why the hell is it possible to send a rapist to light time at a prison not having maximum security? Why is America a rape culture?

And John Thanos was born to evil. It isn’t clear, decades later, what his psychological evaluation consisted of. His mother and sister would later maintain that he was so disturbed that he was incompetent to stand trial. That was immediately cast out as a defense because he was pronounced otherwise, although not without serious mental illnesses, one being borderline personality disorder. And people with that kind of learned behavior and mindset are very often highly dangerous. He had been severely abused by his father, who started out parenting by cutting the heads off animals or breaking their necks for fun in front of the little boy.

He was psychologically abused and sexually abused. His world must have been Hell on Earth. He was in trouble almost from the beginning. And the abuse, cited by his attorneys during trial, seemed to trigger him. He called them names and threw other verbal abuse at them. He was then treated as a “hostile defendant”, a term one does not hear every day. In fact, he was hostile to reporters who asked him questions from the other side of a chain-link fence as he was led from a transport vehicle to the back entrance of the courthouse. He said shocking, weird and crazy things, taunted reporters, and videotape, if I could find it, would truly disturb anyone who sees it for the first time. Thanos even taunted the judge and at one point even stated that he wanted to repeat the crimes. And those crimes…still haunt me.

Somewhere in Baltimore County, on dates I can’t pin down, he shot three people: Billy Winebrenner, Gregory Allen Taylor, and Melody Pistorio, who was only 14. Two killings took place together. Melody was working at or visiting a convenience store. Her parents later sued the DOC for prematurely releasing Thanos. Warren Sparrow got demoted.


By 1992, John Frederick Thanos was convicted and sentenced to Death by Lethal Injection. The first inmate in Maryland to be executed by that method; and the first prisoner executed since the death penalty had been reinstated. But that wasn’t exactly the whole story.


At the sentencing hearing, he rejected all efforts by his family to have his life spared. He said, “I’ve been convicted and I accept it.” And he had this to say when he had the opportunity to make a statement. “I don’t believe I could satisfy my thirst yet in this matter unless I was to be able to dig these brats’ bones up out of their graves right now and beat them into powder and urinate on them and then stir it into a murky yellowish elixir and serve it up to those loved ones,” he said, indicating the families of the victims. Those words will never die. The records all contain them, from sources such as The Washington Post clean across the Atlantic Ocean. Two years would pass. And John Frederick Thanos was put to death. I had mixed feelings about capital punishment before that case. But I thought, regarding a man who graduated from rape to shooting kids in the head — he literally walked up to them, icy cool, and raised the pistol and pulled the trigger — that the death warrant issued from the bench was fully justified. But for me, it never ended there. I never forgot him. And as it happened, later in the same month that Thanos was released from ECI, the prison gained a new inmate — my father.


If you know my story, you know this has to be awful for me. For a long time, I’ve thought ECI was a max prison. I would have thought he would be sent to Jessup, but no. If you don’t know my story, look at my archive. Then you’ll know. Because I remember John Frederick Thanos. And I know, under different circumstances….


There, but for the grace of God, was I.

Yes, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Does Work.

CAUTION: CONTAINS TRIGGERS AND ADULT CONTENT! Read slowly and back out if you need to.

In 2005, I was in group therapy with an excellent doctor at Springfield Hospital in Maryland. He used the sessions to give us a look at several approaches to recovery. One of them was cognitive therapy. It worked. He gave us a single sheet of paper with a bullet list naming types of self-destructive and defeating thinking and the reasons people tend to use them.

I was resistant to most therapy because I was a victim of things people did that, at the time, were unspeakable. Newscasters wouldn’t get this shit on a written script. It was a taboo subject; incest, child sex abuse. Newspapers could do a bit more but never outside the lines.

When Neil Armstrong took his first step on the moon, I was already wounded. Had been for as long as I could remember. I was fascinated with the Apollo 11 broadcasts, I remember when he stepped off that ladder, and yet…most of me, lying on a rug in front of the TV, was somewhere else, having things done to me that can never be forgotten.

It was in the same room that my mother and father “taught” me about sex. And would continue to do so until 1976 when I was actually asked if I wanted to stop. I had to summon courage to say “yes” because it seemed like another typical Ralph Smith goddamn trick. He would lay manipulative traps like that. Ask a question and if he didn’t like the answer, give out a rage-powered beating.

I had already, though I didn’t know it then, displayed behaviour and symptoms of trauma. The severe kind. Everyone’s different, that’s true, so I can’t speak for my siblings, who seem to be more functional than I. Oh, they all got the same shit as me, but I guess something in me made me especially susceptible to damage and an inability to cope with it.

Ruminations are wandering, smothering trains of thought triggered by various things. If I see the sun reflect through a tail light on a parked car, for example, I’ll likely be taken back in time to a memory or emotion from the abusive “teaching” years. Back when I noticed the world around me. Back when I could drink grape soda or have a grape Tootsie Pop without getting violently sick. The both of them are now forever linked to a particularly bad stretch of time I survived, though I was surely dead inside, and died many times.

Ruminations can be synonymous with brooding, but the word has a broader meaning. Ruminating can be positive. Nostalgia for a simpler time. Or dread and anger associated with oppression and terror because there was never really a simpler time. You had to grow up early because life picked you for shitty things. Ultimately, though, ruminating is not going to do you well if you can’t control it.

There’s hope, though. You can get control over these thoughts which cause everything from dissociative thinking to depression and suicidal thoughts.

Look it up. Read about cognitive behavioral therapy and ask a therapist about it. Find one who knows it and believes it’s effective; it’s a current fad that is being used deceptively, even though it has been around a while and there is no reason to listen to those who hawk it as snake oil. “Lifestyle coaches” are worse frauds than California Psychics, who continue to run TV ads despite repeated reports to the BBB. If you don’t have sufficient insurance for therapy, work out payment agreements. Severe PTSD and the ruminations it causes are no joke.

Self-defeating thoughts such as “I’ll never win” are viewed in cognitive terms as “fortune telling”, something you shouldn’t be doing to yourself; you have no business being that hard on yourself when you don’t know any more what’s going to happen ten minutes from now than you do ten years from now.

A trick I learned from the doc was more mindful eating. You know, you go out for a burger and you wolf it down, barely tasting it. Now, go get a nice juicy organic strawberry and close your eyes. Clear your mind and concentrate on the strawberry. Feel the texture and the juice, let the flavor and the bite of fruit linger on your tongue. Chew slowly, never letting your thoughts stray from what you’re doing. Take this challenge with anything you like. Think of it like this: a kid eating cereal, staring vacantly at the back of the box. Or… A wine taster, sipping delicately, swishing the sip around in the mouth, over the tongue, concentration and pleasure plain to see on the face. That is the difference, simplified, between rumination and mindfulness.

Another neat challenge, if you’re in a safe place or you have a companion, is to take a walk. Doesn’t have to be far. Along the way, turn off the phone. Notice the smell of the air. Where I live, it’s full of honeysuckle and wild flowers and tree blooms. Look at the yards you pass. What’s in them? I used to walk past one that had a very old grindstone, complete with seat, on the front lawn. That’s cool, but driving past, you’d never see it. Challenge yourself to spot one thing that strikes your fancy as unusual. When you return home, you’ll be in a better mood, maybe not a great one considering what you’re dealing with in life, but you’ll still be better.

The article below is correct if extremely general. If you’ve read my stuff, then you know how much more I should be doing with the concept. But with severe, crippling or disabling damage like mine, there’s a roadblock. It’s a direct counterpart to cognitive living. It’s learned behaviour, often diagnosed as “personality disorder” or disorders. Due to repeated events and conditioning you can’t seem to fight back. Learned behaviours are comparable to what happened to dogs in a shuttle box experiment some years ago. Dogs were placed in the boxes. The box consisted of two compartments, the sides of which they could not spring over. Each compartment was connected to the other but could be closed off, keeping the subject restricted to one side. This was done. The compartment they were trapped in had a grid on the floor. The subjects received electric shocks from the grids, which they could not step off of because the compartment that wasn’t equipped with a grid was closed off. After a set number of these non-lethal shocks were administered, the barriers to the other side of the shuttle boxes were removed. The shocks resumed, but the dogs made no movement at all. Even when shown that moving to the other side stopped the shocks, when placed back in the grid boxes, they took the shocks.

This is learned behaviour at its most basic; in this case the behaviour was called “learned helplessness”.

It’s what prisoners who are institutionalized have to fight. Ten years or more and sometimes less is all it takes to teach helplessness. A life restricted to a place and a never-changing routine, with no ability to make any decisions whatsoever, and what results is someone who can’t live once they are paroled. Many break conditions of parole or commit felonies and plead guilty just to get back inside. Some commit suicide. They’ve done their time, but they’re hardly free.

With the case of the shuttle box dogs, eventually they were able to make it to the other side, but the process of teaching them to do it was arduous for their handlers. Learned behaviours and personality disorders are difficult to treat; so much so that the “bible” of psychiatric diagnosis was expected to have this entire section edited out.

Cognitive therapy is a real thing. It is a long road to travel. No one recovers from trauma disorders. But with guidance and hard work, with early intervention, living with it is possible. My case is hampered because I went misdiagnosed for so long, and because I cannot afford therapy on Medicare. Not even once a month. You don’t have to end up like me. I have no fight left.

I’ll tell you this, though. And I mean every word. You are reading this for a reason. No one reads my posts. I have a free plan and whatever I post gets buried fast, especially on Reader but also on search engines. I’m sure you’ll recognize that you are here for a reason. And that if I tell you that you are special, that the world needs kindness and empathy and that you can get to a higher level and make a difference, you have a choice. You face a decision. Choose wisely. Time is running short for us all.

https://www.psypost.org/2019/06/mindfulness-appears-to-diminishes-depressive-symptoms-by-reducing-rumination-53885