Heavyweight - #69 Tamara

Episode Date: October 1, 2026

Tamara and B were best friends and roommates at their Christian boarding school. Then, in 12th grade, a teacher declared B to be possessed by a demon and an exorcism was performed. B and Tamara stopped speaking soon after. Tamara’s worried about B ever since.  If you or someone you know is thinking about suicide, dial the US National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 988. Those outside the US can find your local helpline at befrienders.org.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Pushkin. Jackie? How can you to respond to my birthday wishes? I'm just looking at my text. Okay, that's right. You sent me a text on... I don't know who doesn't say thank you. I find that just weird.

Or just send like a little heart icon. Like, who says nothing? It's just weird, John. Well, I was very busy partying. No, you weren't. No, you weren't. No, I wasn't. I know you weren't.

How do you know? You hate your birthday. You hate party. You're depressed. Okay, first of all, I was partying. Yes, I was. Look, just accept I was partying. Wow.

From Pushkin Industries, I'm Jonathan Goldstein, and this is heavyweight. Today's episode, Tamara, right after the break. This is an I-Heart podcast, Guaranteed Human. Malcolm Gladwell here. My new book, The American Way. of killing, investigates America's gun violence crisis. Why is the richest country in the world plagued by such lethal violence? Through a series of stories, interviews, and archival tape, I confront one of today's most urgent moral dilemmas and examine why the U.S. has never quite

understood its own problem and why you can't fix what you refuse to see clearly. Get the American Way of Killing at Pushkin.fm. slash audiobooks or at Audible, Spotify or wherever audiobooks are sold. Some of the names in this story have been swapped out for initials. Also, a warning that this episode includes explicit depictions of suicide. Take care when listening. Tamara, so are you comfortable there? Do you have a glass of drinking water by your side?

I have like half a bottle of Gatorade, so just in case this gets really strenuous. I've got my sports drink. What flavor is this Gatorade? It's lemon, lime, but it's diluted. And that's in case my son tries to drink it, he won't want it. Tamara's son is 10 years old. That's the same age Tamara was when her family joined an evangelical church. She remembers how the whole family all went down to the bay to get baptized in the water and accept Jesus into their hearts.

When it came time for high school, Tamara's parents sent her to a Christian boarding school. And this is where she met B. She was just somebody who's kind of like sparkly. I kind of felt like she was the anti-me. Like, I just felt kind of nerdy and a little bit too shy with people. And so I actually had plans to room with somebody else, but I like me so much that at the last minute I changed my mind so V&I could room together junior year.

I'm from Canada and I don't. So there's freshman year? Freshman, sophomore, junior, senior. You stay three years in school and then you're still a junior. Yeah, your third year is a junior. And then all of a sudden you make the leap to senior. Yeah. I don't get it.

Okay, hang on a second. Wouldn't it make more sense to go from freshman to junior? At any rate, during grade 11, Tamran B progressed from friends to roommates. This meant spending a lot more time together. I mean, your roommate's like your person. B was like my spouse. And their dorm room became a social hub for all their friends. We was probably friends with more of like the cooler, popular kids.

But I think between the two of us, we probably knew everyone in the school. You know, I was kind of one of the smart kids. You were one of the smart kids? Yeah. Sorry, I didn't mean to say that incredulously. I was just, I was talking over you. I know. Hard to believe, Jonathan. No, no, no, it's not hard to believe at all.

Once Tamara had put aside her smart people books and all their friends had left for the night. It was just the two of them. That's when Tamara and B would lounge on their beds, listening to music and talking. Those were always the best times of all. It was a really fun year. And then came senior year of high school. You know, it should have been like the highlight of our lives. But it was during that fall that she started to tell me some stuff about when she was a kid. and I don't know if it was stuff she had ever thought about before. Tamara doesn't want to disclose the details, but broadly, B began sharing painful traumatic memories.

And I was the only one that she was talking about it with. You know, I didn't know what to say. And I said, I know, which is like the worst thing to say because I didn't know. But I kind of meant like, I know that this is hard for you. or like, I know this now that you've told me like I'm hearing you. Tamara could see that B was struggling, but Tamara wasn't sure who to turn to for counsel. At one point, she tried enlisting a dorm parent.

I knocked on her door, and I said, I'm not sure he's okay. And she was like, what do you mean? And I was like, I'm just, I'm not sure he's okay. And she was like, okay, thanks. and like that was it. And you know who the counselor was, like the guidance counselor? It was the 65-year-old man who had been a missionary in like the 60s.

And if you went to his office, all he would do was talk about like the big game he had hunted with the Maasai in Kenya. And he would like show you his spears and the heads of the antelope. Like he was completely unqualified to deal with like anybody's emotional. problems. Then, one day in November, something happened that ratcheted up Tamara's concerns even more. Bea and Tamara were hanging out in the dorm with their friend Christy. The three of them were flipping through a pile of photographs. Bea saw a picture of herself. It was a picture of her looking at the camera smiling, and she screamed and dropped the picture. And we were like, oh my God, like, what is it? and she showed us the photo,

and like above her head in the background, there was like a weird little white mark. You know, it could have been like a flash from a camera, but she was like screaming and pointing at it. And then a couple hours later, B and I were in our room studying. The turn around, and she looked up at the ceiling corner, and she screamed again.

And she said, there it is. And she like pointed at the cinder block wall. And there was nothing there. But she said, there it is. And like screaming. Christy came over from next door to help. But neither she nor Tamara could make sense of B's behavior.

Tamara can't remember exactly how they came to the conclusion they did. But somehow, an idea took hold of all three girls. B was being followed by a demon. Eventually, Tamara was able to find a listening year, a teacher named Mr. L. Not only was Mr. L super friendly, but he was someone being knew well and had a good relationship with. I felt really relieved that, like, finally an adult was helping. But the relief Tamara felt was short-lived, because when Mr. L heard what had happened, he issued an alarming verdict.

He was like, oh, well, obviously. you guys are like under attack from Satan. You know, there's things going on in the spirit world. And I wasn't, I wasn't like a super hardcore Christian, but it like really scared the heck out of me. So like all of a sudden I was. All of a sudden you felt more religious. Yes, because all of a sudden I was like, there's proof.

Like, what are we going to do? So one Friday night, Mr. L had Tamara, Christy, and B. over to his house. And in his kitchen, he and his wife did this exorcism. After serving the girl's dinner, Mr. and Mrs. L. knelt on the kitchen floor.

With the overhead lights glaring, Tamara and Christy were told to lay hands on B. In the name of Jesus, Satan be gone, and, like, she started screaming, like, kind of writhing around and, like, super screaming, and like making weird voices.

You know, it didn't seem like her. This person we were next to, it didn't seem like her. Yeah. And that's when I was like, holy crap. Like, this is for real. This is like, like I'm next to a demon. Terrified. Like the most terrified I'd been in my life.

Tamara says that at a certain point, The yelling and shaking reached a crescendo. And then, it all just stopped. Afterwards, B acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It was like she couldn't remember the exorcism at all. That night, all three girls slept on the L's fold-out couch, B in the middle. And I was just like laying there with my eyes wide open. Like, who is this next to me?

I couldn't fall asleep. And then in the morning, it was like, okay, like they gave us breakfast and, like, guys just, you know, like, keep praying and stay strong in Christ. And, like, we went back to our room. And then did you try to talk to her or? No, because, like, I didn't know, like, is this, is this her? Like, that issue there became, like, the whole issue. In every interaction, Tamara wondered, am I actually talking to be? Or am I dealing with like this demon?

Who is this? Who am I talking to right now? And it ruined our friendship. Like we spent the rest of the year basically trying to avoid each other. But it's like it's hard to avoid each other when you're roommates. Like we didn't have these lay around on our beds and just like, like, shoot the shit kind of things anymore. It was, I don't know if you've ever been, like,

living with a girlfriend or boyfriend and, like, broken up with them, but you're still living together. Yeah. It's really awkward, you know, just like, hi. Yeah. How are you? How was class? Like, oh, great.

Uh-huh. And that's the way you wrote out the year. Yeah, and I just could not wait to graduate. I could not wait to go home. When she finally did return home, Tamara was greeted by yet another crisis, one with eerie echoes of the crisis she'd left behind. Over the past couple years,

Tamara's father had become increasingly devout, even founding his own church and hiring his own pastor. And recently, things had taken a disturbing turn. Her father had begun having paranoid religious delusions. He believed he was being tormented by Satan. Later that summer, only weeks after her graduation, he took his own life. After my father died,

I had to come to this reckoning on my own with Christianity and God because he'd been a good Christian. But he'd suffered. Like, he told my mom that, like, Satan had come and taken him to hell and had shown him, like, you've lived a terrible life and this is what's going to happen to you after you died.

And so, like, when my father killed himself, like, he killed himself thinking he was going to go to hell. Like that's so terrible. And I was just like, you know what? Like that instant I found out my father died, I was like, I do not believe in God. And it was so freeing because I was like, and if I don't believe in God, then I don't have to believe in demons.

And I don't believe in Satan. And I don't believe that there's this crazy spiritual other world. And then I was kind of like, well, what does this mean about everything? that happened with B. And I was like, you know what? I think B, I think it was like psychological. I think she was really vulnerable

and struggling with a lot of things. And I don't think she was possessed and I don't think Satan was attacking us and B suffered. Now, when Tamara thinks back on B's suffering, she no longer blames Satan. Instead, she blames her. Like it was such a betrayal from me to be the one who knew all this about her and then turned around and said like, you're so damaged that like Satan is after you.

Like someone told her she was possessed. Like that's so mean. And like how terrible for the way I treated her for the rest of that year. Like how terrible for her to have to live with. with somebody who's kind of always looking at her askance. I can't help feeling like Tamara is being hard on herself. I don't doubt that her guilt is real, but I just don't think the self-blame is warranted.

Can I just say here, like, you, A, you were a kid, and B, you actually did, like, which is kind of remarkable, you actually did seek help. Yeah, I guess. I mean, I should have been the one to be like, Let's not do this. And like, I want her to forgive me. I want her to know I'm sorry.

You know, the other night I got out my yearbooks. Mm-hmm. And I actually have them here with me. Tamara flips open the book from junior year, the year she and B first became roommates. When you open the front cover of the yearbook, like the best real estate section in the yearbook is that page across from the front cover

where you're leaning on all the pages of the rest of the yearbook, so it's like kind of soft. There, scrawled in Tamara's teenage handwriting, it reads, reserved for B. The words are underlined. Like, there's no other spots in the yearbook reserved for anybody.

So it says, Dearest T, I can't explain how much you mean to me in words. So just add up all the stars in the sky and all the colors in the sunset and that's how much I love you. You're not the introverted geek I was anticipating. We had our memories in our little room.

Those were fun. Thanks for believing in me when I didn't. Thanks for snuggling with me in snuffs, which was her little stuffed animal, especially during thunderstorms. I'm not going to write down all our memories because you remember everything. I love you and see you this summer.

Work on those leg muscles. And then in our senior yearbook, it's the same thing. You open the front cover and that prime real estate spot. Once again, underlined at the top of the page, reserved for B.

And then there's just a blank page underneath it. Tamara's now in her mid-40s. She hasn't seen B's since she was 18. After so much time, the task of reconnecting feels insurmountable, and so she's hoping I might help. This has seemed just impossible for me to do. We'll check in and we'll figure out some kind of strategy.

Sounds good. Yeah, but I hope you feel. I feel okay. I hope you can, like, take a breather and take a walk or something. Yeah, I'm going to, like, maybe go buy, like, a pure Gatorade and just drink the whole thing. There you go. I don't think Gatorade is sponsoring this episode. But if they are, you'll hear all about it. Or some equally awesome beverage, phone plan, or men's grooming product, during these heartfelt words from our sponsors.

Record is on. Miley is having a moment. New name exclusive shows. So IHart Radio is sending you to experience it all. Life at the Hollywood Lights, Hotel, Tickets, and $1,000 cash. Listen to IHard new music for 10 minutes a day on the IHart Radio app. And click enter. Every day you listen is another chance to win.

Stream Miley's new album, Bass Persuades, today. Malcolm Gladwell here. My new book, The American Way of Killing, investigates America's gun, crisis. Why is the richest country in the world plagued by such lethal violence? Through a series of stories, interviews, and archival tape, I confront one of today's most urgent moral dilemmas and examine why the U.S. has never quite understood its own problem and why you can't fix what you refuse to see clearly. Get the American Way of Killing at pushkin.fm. or at Audubes, or at Audible, Spotify, or wherever audiobooks are sold.

The logical place to start the search for any long-lost classmate is Facebook. But until now, Tamara's never been able to bring herself to type in B's name. When she does, though, she finds B easily. And as best as she can tell, B seems happy. She's been married to the same guy. She has two beautiful, blonde daughters who look just like her. And I was like, wow, like, that's amazing. Did it relieve you?

Yeah. Because I had always worried, like, is she okay? Like, did we damage her? And the funny thing is, like, my life didn't even turn out that great. And I was, like, so superior at the time. Like, I'm not the one who was attacked by Satan. And now, like, I'm the one with, like, kind of the crappy life. You know, I'm divorced.

Like, I'm a single mom. I don't have, like, an awesome career. my kid is a huge pain in the neck. I love him. Yeah. Now that Tamara's found Bee, she sends her a message. In it,

she explains how she's been regretting their senior year for almost 30 years. After a week without a response, Tamara follows up, and this time, B answers, saying it's nice to hear from her and that they should get coffee sometime. Tamara explains that she lives out of state,

but maybe they can talk on the phone about senior year. But at the mention of senior year, B stops responding. Over the coming months, their exchanges follow this same pattern. Tamara asks to talk and B is willing, until Tamara makes mention of senior year. That's when B goes quiet. In the ensuing silence, Tamara finds herself thinking about the other girl who witnessed the exercise.

with her, the third girl on the fold-out bed that night. Christy. Because I was like, you know, the only other person who went through this is Christy. In her senior yearbook, Tamara found a message from Christy, too. In it, Christy makes oblique reference to all that she and Tamara had gone through. She wrote, this is kind of difficult for me to sign because of obvious reasons. I cannot say to you the usual, I've had a lot of fun being your friend. I think I feel like I've disappointed you in some way.

If I have, I'm sorry, I'm human, and I've made many mistakes. We were allowed to witness a world, which was not of our own, but it made our world somehow more real. I think you understand all that I'm trying to say without even me having to say it. You've helped me bring about the single most important year of my life. And if I never forget anyone, it will be you that I do not forget. remember that to whom much is given, much is expected, love Christy. Wow. What do you think she was referring to when she says that she hopes that she didn't disappoint you?

I think she meant that, like, I think she just wanted to be like a regular teenager again. Christy's presence in Tamara's life dwindled, and when high school ended, they completely lost touch. Now, though, rereading the inscription as an adult, Tamara wonders, does Chris Christy still carry Gill the way she does. So Tamara looks her up. And I found a obituary. She's dead. She died last year.

Hoping to find out what had happened, Tamara reached out to a well-connected old classmate. But the classmate wasn't even aware that Christia died. She promised to ask around, though, and try to find out more information. She, like, asked everybody on her Facebook group, including people who were really close friends with Christy, and nobody knew.

Like, Christy's been dead for a year and the first person who knew was me. Tamara saw that a neighbor of Christy's left a comment on the online obituary, so she messaged him. The neighbor told her that Christy had overdosed, that for years she struggled with alcohol and prescription drugs.

He said that Christy was battling demons. Hello. Tamara? Hi, happy New Year. How are you? Yeah, happy New Year to you. I'm good. The new year is 2020, two years since Tamara and I first spoke.

In the interim, there have been periodic messages to B, and even an old-fashioned letter, explaining how much Tamara wants to talk about senior year. But B never responded. In spite of that, B did friend Tamara on Facebook, where they keep things light. You know, we've had little Facebook comments, like, looks like a fun trip. Right. If I, like, post pictures of, like, my broken Christmas tree or, you know, like nothing great. She'll be like, that's great for smiley face or thumbs up.

Emojis aren't the deepest of languages. But from my perspective, B seems fine with Tamara. Even though she might not want to rehash the past, she doesn't seem to harbor any ill will. Tamara, though, doesn't see it that way. And she still feels bad. so bad that she's come to a decision to stop trying to reach B. Who am I to like revisit this miserable time in your life so that I can feel less bad? Maybe I should feel guilty about it.

Like maybe we should feel guilty about bad things we do. As always, I tell Tamara she's being hard on herself. And Tamara says, yes, she knows, but without seeming to believe it. You know, when you want to rewind your life to like the spot where you would start doing better. Like that's the point, like senior year. Like I want to rewind it to that point and be like, can I restart right here? Like I just really veered off the path. I feel like that was one of the first really bad decisions I made.

Tamara walks me through all the bad decisions that find. senior year, decisions for which she faults herself, like her decision to socially isolate during college, or her decision to get married and stay married for 15 years, in spite of knowing it was a bad idea from the start. But for Tamara, worst of all are the decision she made the summer of her father's death. Again, she brings up the story of his suicide. In this telling, she begins with the days leading up to his death. She explains how he'd been sent to the hospital for depression. He was released shortly after she graduated.

As soon as he got home, I was like, oh my God, he looks terrible. Like, he does not seem better. And it was like a couple days later. He showed up in like a third hallway, just stood there. And I was like, do you want to go out for yogurt? which is like also super weird. I would never do anything like that with my dad, but he's just like standing there.

And he was like, okay. And we got the yoga and we're sitting in the parking lot, and he's like, well, you know, the coming year is going to be really hard for you. And I just want you to take care of mom and take care of Evan, who's my younger brother. And like, I knew what you were saying. And I was like, no, like it's going to be fine.

and he was like, I wish I had been a better father, but I was trying to pretend I didn't know what he was saying. I was like, no, it's fine. Like, don't worry about it. But I knew I was like, fuck. Like, this guy's going to do it. Like, he's going to kill himself. That was like Tuesday night.

And like, I told my sister, and she's like, I know, I know he's like, I can tell he's going to do it. And like we told my mom and she's like, hmm, like he told me he wouldn't. I don't think he will. And then I was just like, okay, okay. And just like gave up, just like didn't do anything else. It was a really tense week because every day I was like, is today the day? Is tomorrow the day?

Friday was the day. I don't know who was in charge at that point. Like my mom, some doctor. like they could have done better. Like we could have done better. Yet again, the adults in Tamara's life had fallen short, and she was left, is still left, shouldering the burden of guilt.

Hearing this, I can't help feeling like the situation with her father and the situation with B, happening back to back as they did, might have become nodded up in Tamara's mind. Talking with B might have helped Tamara untangle that night, not. But now that that conversation isn't possible, I'm at a loss about how else to help. It feels like we've reached a kind of end. After the break, six years later.

It is having a moment. It's close to shows. So IHart Radio is sending you to experience it all. Life at the Hollywood Lights, Hotel, Tickets, and a thousand dollars cash. Listen to IHart new music for 10 minutes a day on the IHart Radio app and click enter. Every time. you listen is another chance to win. Stream Miley's new album, Bass Persuades, today. Malcolm Gladwell here. My new book, The American Way of Killing, investigates America's gun violence crisis.

Why is the richest country in the world plagued by such lethal violence? Through a series of stories, interviews, and archival tape, I confront one of today's most urgent moral dilemmas and examine why the U.S. has never quite understood its own problem, and while you can't fix what you refuse to see clearly. Get the American Way of Killing at Pushkin.fm slash audiobooks or at Audible, Spotify, or wherever audiobooks are sold. Tam?

Hi. Wow. How long has it been? A while. It has been quite a while. Six years since Tamara and I last spoke, and eight years since we first spoke. At this point, I hadn't thought we'd ever be able to. speaking again. I was pleasantly surprised to hear from you, but surprised. Yeah. I mean, I had kind of

given up on the whole thing, but I started thinking about it again because my son is about to graduate from high school. Tamara's son Sawyer is no longer a Gatorade swilling child. He's now 18, the same age Tamara was when everything went down with B. Sawyer's senior year of high school has brought Tamara back to her own. And with that, B is squarely back on her mind. Initially, Tamara had come to me wanting forgiveness from B. After seeing that that wasn't going to happen, she tried to make peace on her own. But it hasn't worked. After eight years, she still feels just as guilty. So what to do? B doesn't want to talk, and Christy is dead. I even tried to reach Mr. L, but never heard back. There didn't seem to be anyone left.

to turn to. And then I was like, you know, that's not, that's not exactly true. There might be one other student who also has memories of what happened that year. After the exorcism, Tamara decided the best course of action for keeping be safe was to pray as much as possible. So Tamara and Christy started getting up around 5.30 every morning to pray before class. And there was someone else the two enlisted to pray with them. A boy, named John. Like he was not at the Mr. and Mrs. L's house.

Okay. But I'm sure he remembers. John and Tamara became friends when Tamara first showed up at the school in ninth grade. And through the years, they've stayed friends, keeping in touch every so often through email. Unlike Tamara, John has remained religious. John, Tamara, says, was quiet and sensitive,

the kind of kid who always held the door for everyone. He knew B, and in the aftermath, he got up early every morning and prayed with Christy and Tamara. Is there anything that you want to ask him or talk to him about? I mean, I would love it if he was like, oh, yeah, I remember that. And you know what? It just really wasn't that big a deal. Or even if he was like, I don't remember that at all. Like, that would be a great answer for me.

Having done this show for about 10 years, I can tell you that wanting to confirm someone's lack of memory has never come up as a mission. In fact, that is the exact opposite of what people usually want. But Tamara is hoping that John's lack of memory might allow her to see that the exorcism in its aftermath just wasn't as big a deal as she thought it was. And that might alleviate her guilt.

But also, like, I can face the music from John. I think he'd be very honest. Like, if he's like, oh, no, that was really, like, bad, that was super weird. That even messed me up. Like, I'm not going to love that answer, like, at all. But I can, like, face the music from that, if that's what I'm due. It really does sound like what you're looking for is absolution. Yeah.

Or, like, maybe. Maybe it's my, you know, for lack of a better term, like my cross to bear. I'll get John on the line. Okay. Okay, here we go. Hello. John? Yes.

Hi, John. Hey, Tam. How are you? It's good to hear your voice. But before they can even get into it. Tam, I hate to do this. My fire alarm in my house is going off. Can I put you on mute for just a second?

I need to run in there and check it. Hold on, okay? I'm so sorry. Holy cow. I'm so sorry about that. Is everything okay? Yeah, everything. I just had put some boiled eggs in and then realized what time it was,

and they've been boiling for the last hour, so they were smoking. Oh, my God. I'm going to put you on mute because there's a fireman in my door. I'm so sorry. Oh, my God. Holy cow. When you stop to think about it, I'm a fireman too. an emotional fireman, extinguishing the fires of the past.

So when John returns, I get out my prompting hose and set the nozzle to a low-pressure prod. Do you want to explain, Tam, you know, what questions you might have about that time? Yeah, I guess the question would just be like, do you remember anything kind of like weird or out of the ordinary? like some kind of crisis that occurred with me and Christy. Tamara's language is circumspect. She doesn't want to give too much away. And so John is confused. Can you give me a hint?

It was like a Christian crisis. Okay. Suddenly had to like form this like ad hoc prayer group. You were there. I think you're, you're going to have to give me a little bit more. So Tamara gives him more about B and the night of the exorcism. She reminds him of how afterwards she and Christy recruited him into fending off the evil spirits

with their small prayer group. We were like making time first thing in the morning to like go to the gym and pray like even before breakfast. Would you have told me everything that was going on or would it have just been like to come to the gym and pray? I don't know. I mean, the fact that, like, oh, somebody thinks they're possessed by a demon, the fact that that's, like, not standing out in your mind.

If someone, if I had been told that he was, like, possessed by, you know, demons, I definitely would remember that. John says that back then, he prayed with friends quite often. So while he doesn't doubt that he was there praying, he suspects he might not have been told why he was brought in. I can envision not being told because if you told other students that sort of thing, it's going to start all sorts of gossip. Not that I was going to be gossiping or whatever, but...

Yeah, you're right. You're actually right. While Tamara has gotten her best case scenario in that John doesn't remember, it's not for the reason she'd hoped. John doesn't remember because she just never told him. Even after she'd exhausted all the channels she had, Tamara shielded B from gossip, and when you're a teenager, that's everything. When Tamara thinks about senior year, her focus is always on B, and in various ways and at various points over the course of eight years,

I've tried to get Tamara to lay down B's suffering and acknowledge her own. Now I try again, asking her whether her own past, her own pain, has been erased by questions of what B deserved. What B was owed. Do you feel like it's at the expense of maybe what you feel you were you deserved or what you were owed? Maybe. Yet again, Tamara offers half-hearted semi-agreement, so I press on.

I mean, your year was not a cakewalk. You were going through a lot yourself. And I'm wondering, John, do you know, Tam, did you share with John, like what you were going through with the death of your father? that year? Honestly, I thought that's what this call was going to be about. Of course, John would assume that her father's death was the most pressing issue from that time. With the mention of Tamara's dad, a memory arises for John. He was at home after graduation when the phone rang. His mom answered. She just was on the phone and said it like it was no big deal that Tam's dad had passed away.

I don't think she realized that it was going to upset me the way that it did but it upset me I'm sure she saw the look of like shock and grief on my face because I had known Tam since we were in ninth grade together and we were friends

I can give you like the sequence John so like maybe so once again Tamara tells the story of her father's death and this time in sharing it with John she reveals details that were hitherto to unknown to me. He'd been struggling our whole senior year.

And he talked to me more that year than he probably ever had. And sometimes it would be like normal talk. And then sometimes it would just be like weird God stuff. And so when he first became like very, very depressed, my parents turned to the pastor and the church was the first line of treatment. Just like with B, that treatment, most of the treatment most of the person. consisted of laying of hands, of more and more prayer. Instead of being treated as delusions, her father's visions of hell were treated as a call to fight Satan. This went on for months,

until Tamara's older sister came home from college. And she told my mom, like, you have to take him to a doctor. And then he was put in the hospital. And so it was not long before graduation, my mom called me. I remember being on the phone in the Monroe phone room. The pay phone. Yeah, like apropos of nothing. She's like, oh, your dad's in the hospital. And I said, what kind of hospital?

And she said, a psychiatric hospital. And I was like, oh. And then I like hung up the phone and I walked out the front door. I didn't even have any shoes on. just walked out onto the field, and the graduation stage had been set up, John. Uh-huh. Up on that graduation stage, there sat John,

his legs dangling off the side. Tamara says that he was the first person she saw after getting off the phone. She stopped and told him that her dad was in the hospital. Before he could offer any response, she continued walking. She had just wanted him to know. And then we graduated, my dad wasn't there.

and then on July 12th, 1991, that's when he shot himself. Like, it was gruesome. Like, he put a shotgun, like, in his mouth. Pulling the trigger going, and I'm going to hell.

It's really hard. That was hard time. It was not an easy time. Yeah, I was going through a hard time, too. I didn't get much help either. Hearing all this, John again considers Tamara's guilt over B. We were children. You can't expect somebody that's that age to respond in a mature way

that assumes that they have, like, training, especially because you had your own stuff going on. I think what you've described to me sounds very brave. you're probably the only person that was looking out of form. You did the best she could. Tam, how does that make you feel? I mean, it made me start to cry when he said that. You know, I hope he had somebody in her life that later told her,

like told her that she was doing the best she could. Yeah, I mean, it definitely is helpful. So thank you, Joan. You're welcome. And I'd say it again. I mean, you just need to give yourself grace. I'm sorry you had to deal with all that. It makes me sad.

I wish I had known more. I'm not sure I would have been any better at helping. Probably wouldn't have been any better than any of the rest of them. But I'm really sorry. Thanks. That's so nice. It's really nice. You're a good friend, John.

John's words provide validation in a way that years of my words couldn't. Sometimes it just takes a friend to untangle the knot. All right, well, I hope you have something to eat other than those eggs. I'm definitely not eating those eggs. The firemen was in the front door, and he said, I was about to keep your door in. Oh, my God. I'm glad I got there. He had an axe in his hand, and there was a fire engine.

There's no telling what kind of trouble I'm in. Was that okay? Yeah. Can you let yourself off the? hook a little. Yeah. Yeah. And I and I and I and I and I have to I have to. Yeah. It's just hard being this old. You know like having this event like lodged inside you like it's crystallized into the way it is for so long as like something bad I did to somebody else. you know, Swear being 18

and like what I would expect from him, I would never expect him to take on anything like that. Yeah. A 52-year-old town should do a lot better, but I can go back to, you know, 18-year-old town. and be like, she was doing that about she could. It's not absolution,

but it's something close. This episode of heavyweight was produced by Kalila Holt and me, Jonathan Goldstein, along with Lisa Wang. Our supervising producer is Stevie Lane, editorial guidance from Emily Condon. Special thanks to Ben That of Halfrey, Daphne, Daphne, Gabriel Hunter Chang, and Jackie Cohen.

Emma Munger mixed the episode with original music by Christine Fellows, John K. Samson, Emma Munger, and Bobby Lord. Additional scoring by Hugh Time, Chris Zabriski, and Blue Dot Sessions. Our theme song is by The Weaker Thands, courtesy of Epitaph Records. Follow us on Instagram at Heavyweight Podcast

or email us at Heavyweight at Pushkin.fm. And be sure to subscribe to our free newsletter at patreon.com slash heavyweight. We'll be back with a new episode in two weeks. Malcolm Gladwell here. My new book, The American Way of Killing, investigates America's gun violence crisis.

Why is the richest country in the world plagued by such lethal violence? Through a series of stories, interviews, and archival tape, I confront one of today's most urgent moral dilemmas and examine why the U.S. has never quite understood its own problem and why you can't fix what you refuse to see clearly. Get the American Way of Killing at Pushkin's. www.fm slash audiobooks or at Audible, Spotify, or wherever audiobooks are sold.

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