Family of girl fatally stabbed in Middletown in 1989 advocate to keep her killer’s psychiatric hold
Jessica Short was a 9-year-old budding ballerina in 1989 when she was stabbed to death at a Middletown street fair by a mentally ill man who escaped from a nearby psychiatric hospital.
As Short walked around shopping with her mother and her 5-year-old sister on Main Street on July 28, 1989, David Peterson left the grounds of Connecticut Valley Hospital, which sits on a hilltop in the city, and made his way downtown.
Peterson, who had been committed to the custody of the state psychiatric board for 15 years after a stabbing in 1988, took a bus down to the annual sidewalk sale, bought a hunting knife and stabbed Short more than 34 times in the face, head and neck in front of her mother, sister and horrified bystanders.
Now, more than 30 years later, Short’s family is still grappling with her traumatizing death and feeling fearful of the fate of the man who killed her.
Peterson, who was found not guilty by reason of insanity in 1990 and committed to the custody of the Psychiatric Security Review Board. or PSRB, for 70 years, appeared before the board Friday for a biannual review of his commitment.
By law, patients under the care and custody of the PSRB must have a hearing every two years to update the board on the patient’s mental condition, treatment and commitment to maximum security.
As of Friday’s hearing, Peterson will remain in the maximum security setting at Whiting Forensic Hospital, according to PSRB Executive Director Vanessa Cardella.
Early Friday morning, Short’s uncle, Andrew Reynolds, appeared for the hearing. He again faced his niece’s killer, asking the board — as he does as often as necessary — to keep Peterson under maximum security.
Since 1989, Reynolds has been showing up to hearings like these to advocate for his family, reminding psychiatrists, judges and members of the public of the lifelong trauma they continue to endure.
“I deeply did not want to come here,” he said after the hearing Friday, noting that he felt angry and anxious on his drive to Middletown that morning. “Nobody wants to come to these hearings.”
But he does, he said, because he feels a responsibility to advocate for Jessica, for her mother and for every other family who has had a loved one murdered in Connecticut.
“It’s not just about our family, it’s about every family that has to go through this,” said Reynolds, who works with Survivors of Homicide, Inc. and recently joined other survivors in Hartford to recognize the passage of a new law that designates the holiday season as Survivors of Homicide Victims Awareness Month.
“People don’t understand what those families have to go through,” he added.
Reynolds told Peterson, his health care team and the boar Friday that his family was utterly destroyed by Jessica’s murder. Jessica’s mother, he said, can hardly leave her home. His parents lost their first grandchild and a shining light in their lives. The first responders who treated Jessica still keep in contact with her family and still live with the trauma of her violent death, he said.
Reynolds said he was forever changed that day, becoming numb and angry. All those emotions are stirred up when Peterson’s case gets called, he said.
Just receiving a letter that Peterson is due for a hearing, Reynolds said, “creates havoc” in their family. They never know what will happen at a hearing, whether his restrictions will be lowered or if he may even be granted access to day passes — a privilege granted to individuals who are committed to Dutcher Hall, a less secure section of Whiting Forensic Hospital.
Reynolds said at the hearing that he wanted everyone in the room to know that victims matter.
“For victims everywhere, I don’t think people understand how much of an impact this has on them,” he said to Peterson in his victim impact statement. “But you have to understand what you’ve done to my family. And even as I sit here, I have a hard time talking to you or this board.”
For the first time Friday, Reynolds told Peterson that while he can’t offer him forgiveness, he hopes someday he finds peace.
“I hope someday you are healed,” he said.
The experts speak on Peterson
Peterson asked to respond to Reynolds but was advised not to by his lawyer.
Jamie Loehfelm, a licensed clinical social worker and PSRB Monitor, testified before the board, saying that despite medication, individual therapy and group therapy, Peterson’s psychiatric conditions have remained “largely unchanged” in the two years since his last review.
Peterson, who is diagnosed with schizophrenia, still suffers from delusions. As of late, those delusions include thinking his chronic stomach pains are caused and controlled by someone outside the hospital. He says he hopes to go to a “secret place” in Russia where his stomach pains can’t be controlled, his doctors said.
Loehfelm said she reviewed Peterson’s medical records ahead of the hearing and met with Peterson on Nov. 22. His goal, she said, is to eventually step down to Dutcher. She and other members of Peterson’s care team who testified Friday said they could not recommend that change.
Despite antipsychotic medications, Loehfelm said, Peterson’s symptoms have not improved. While Peterson had not demonstrated any aggression or required any seclusion or restraint in the past two years, he made only modest improvements in recognizing his schizophrenia and its role in his previously violent behavior.
Peterson remained guarded when talking about his health, diagnosis and crimes, she said. He “tolerated brief discussions about his crimes” and expressed remorse for Short’s family, she said, but lacked an understanding of how his diagnosis played a role in her murder.
Peterson, who asked his lawyer if they could speak privately, spoke against his attorney’s advice and said, “They’re saying I’m dangerous but I’m not.”
Against the advice of his lawyer, Peterson said during Friday’s hearing that in his 34 years at Whiting, “I’ve never assaulted or so much as threatened anyone.”
His providers said that despite his chronic conditions, Peterson has not had behavioral management problems and has shown no evidence of aggressive thoughts toward himself or others in recent years.
Still, doctors said they would need to see fewer delusions and more acceptance of his psychosis before considering a step down.
Cardella said that mandatory reviews like this one can often give the impression that “a transfer is imminent or in the near future.” Peterson’s team said that is not the case here.
Under a newer law, medical teams at Whiting are now able to make decisions to step down patients on their own. They can decide, through a thorough review process, that a patient is eligible for a step down without a public hearing. They are required to alert the PSRB within 48 hours of the transfer and, after that, attorneys can request a public hearing where victims have an opportunity to speak.
Reynolds said he worries about what will happen in the future and whether safety protocols at Whiting will be impacted by legislative changes. He said he hopes that a balance between the patients’ well-being and the safety of the public will remain in place.
He said he hopes Connecticut residents and lawmakers “take a moment to think back and to think of what [their] family is still going through” 30 years after Short’s murder.
Her murder changed his family forever, he said, and it took a toll on Middletown for years to come. Short is still missed every day.
“She was only 9,” he said. “She was the first grandchild and a joy to all her aunts and uncles. We called her our angel, and we still do.”