Through Their Fathers’ Voices: Insights Into Children’s Experiences of Crisis Before Suicide

What does suicide crisis syndrome (SCS) look like in reality? Behind every framework and diagram in suicide research are real lives: parents, children, and the quiet fractures that change families forever. This article gives voice to 4 fathers who lost their children at that most perilous point, the moment when distress shifted from bearable to unbearable, when communication faltered, and when help arrived too late. By presenting the unvarnished narratives of 4 fathers who lost their children to suicide, we provide clinicians with a tangible understanding of how the features of SCS manifest in real time, often unrecognized by standard screening protocols.

Eric’s Story: “The Fatal Myth of Suicidal Ideation”

Shared by Father 1: Rob Masinter

We lost Eric nearly 6 years ago, but in a way, we lost him long before to the voices that tormented him. He looked like any healthy young man; the anguish was hidden, expressed only in the private artwork he left behind.

When Eric disclosed suicidal ideation during his freshman year vacation, we checked him into a facility, expecting a systematic plan. After just 3 days, the psychiatrist discharged Eric with a bipolar diagnosis, strong medications, and a referral for therapy, saying not to worry.

We withdrew Eric from college. He started seeing my former therapist and eventually seemed stable. Eric returned to college that fall. Supported by his parents, siblings, friends, and regular counseling, he seemed to be doing well until spring break. His therapist cited confidentiality when I reached out with concerns. Eric insisted he was fine.

The last day we ever spent with Eric was at his older sibling's graduation that spring. Eric then headed off on a solo road trip. Alone with the demons, he took his life, intentionally overdosing on the very medication prescribed to help him.

Afterward, the therapist, with whom Eric had shared his artwork and voices, said he saw no cause for concern, as Eric was initially articulate and his voices were reportedly regulated with the medicine. The therapist observed, though, that Eric seemed much less invested, became evasive, and avoided open discussion that spring. He was shocked at how unexpectedly Eric had taken his life, likely seeing no way out of the emotional pain. His psychiatrist met Eric 4 times, and each time Eric said he was doing fine and denied psychotic experiences.

The system depends too much on self-report. We trusted the system, and it failed him.

Alyssa’s Story: “A Psychiatrist’s Grief”

Shared by Father 2: Frederick Miller, MD, PhD

I am a psychiatrist and a father who lost his 24-year-old daughter, Alyssa, to suicide. Alyssa was a focused, perfectionistic, all-or-nothing high achiever all the way through junior high. By senior year, she was burned out, depressed, losing weight, and had stopped going to school. She tried several therapists, psychiatrists, and residential programs. Each offered a new diagnosis and added medications, but nothing helped. She alternated between defiance and despair.

Alyssa desperately wanted to attend New York University, but each attempt ended in withdrawal. She finally moved to Houston. There, she was isolated, sleepless, ruminating endlessly, and questioning all her thoughts—what she called “metacognition.” Recognizing that she was unraveling, I begged her psychiatrist to hospitalize her. He said she denied suicidal thoughts, and it was not the right time. Days later, she asphyxiated herself.

Alyssa’s perfectionistic, driven personality, in my opinion, was what caused her demise. Her diary later revealed the depth of her disconnection: “A ghost has thoughts, characteristics, values, and memories of being without a beating heart. But what they want is life. I wish there was an ‘I’ to claim the very thing that they, ghosts, so desperately want.”

I wrote to her psychiatrist pleading for help, but the system depended on her ability to articulate risk, something she no longer had. At her worst, my daughter was severely sleep deprived, exhausted from rumination, and not in a condition to diagnose herself. Relying on someone in that state to report their suicidality is literally being mindless.

Kiele’s Story: “I Just Can’t Go Through Anxiety Hell Again”

Shared by Father 3: Lorence S. Miller, PhD

My daughter Kiele was a perfectionist, meticulous, and brilliant at her work. But in the weeks before her death, she was consumed by severe anxiety and insomnia, sleeping 1 or 2 hours a night at most. Kiele’s suicide note poignantly reveals her extreme anxiety and her sense of being trapped. She wrote in her note: “I'm so sorry. This isn't anyone's fault except for mine. I just can't go through anxiety hell again. I know I'm being stupid, but this is what's bringing me peace of mind.”

The Friday before her suicide, Kiele saw a psychologist via telemedicine. The psychologist's notes state, "There is no suicidal or homicidal ideation." If a direct assessment of self-harm was indeed conducted, Kiele denied it, which tragically underscores the inadequacy of direct questioning and the urgent need for improved assessment methods. She was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder. The psychologist noted that Kiele was experiencing racing thoughts. The Saturday before her suicide and the day after the appointment with the psychologist, Kiele expressed that the psychologist wanted to teach her cognitive behavioral therapy, but she was very pessimistic about this approach, as she felt she had no ability to control her negative thinking.

Maddy’s Story: “The Sudden Storm That Took Our Son”

Shared by Father 4: Oliver Lignell

Our family call on Mother’s Day in 2021 began like many others during COVID. My wife and I joined a video chat with our 3 children: our 2 daughters and our 26-year-old son, Maddy. Maddy had just moved to the Northwest for a new job after several successful years as a mechanical engineer in California. Outgoing, funny, and compassionate, Maddy had no history of mental illness.

A week earlier, I had helped him settle in his new city. He had been upbeat and excited about the future, but on that Mother’s Day, something was off. He looked tired and distant, saying he had not slept much. That morning marked the start of a rapid and terrifying mental health crisis that we never saw coming. Six days later, Maddy died.

Over the next few days, his calls became frequent and increasingly distressing. He was not sleeping at all, and his thoughts raced. He described situations and worries that did not make sense, ideas that were unlike him, and that we all knew were irrational. He was worried and scared by what was happening, and so were we. We flew to be with him and found a psychiatrist who could see him the next morning.

That evening, the psychiatrist conducted a standard screening by phone. Maddy answered truthfully and said no to questions about suicide. He was anxious but not suicidal. Relieved, we spent the night together, reassuring him and believing things would get better. But before dawn, Maddy took his life, hours before his appointment.

As parents who work in health care, we believed that if someone was not expressing suicidal intent, they were safe. In the painful months after, we sought answers. We learned that his sleeplessness, agitation, racing and irrational thoughts, and intense worries reflected a kind of mental crisis that standard suicide screening tools often miss. Maddy told the truth. But it was not enough. He was trapped inside a mind he could no longer control and could not find a way out.

Concluding Thoughts

The experiences shared by these fathers offer a powerful, retrospective view into the acute crisis state, highlighting symptoms of the SCS that were present but either misunderstood, masked, or missed entirely by the existing clinical system. These narratives emphasize that the true predictor of imminent risk is not the intent or ideation of suicide, but the intense, dysregulated state of crisis.

Mr Masinter is the chief executive officer at Redeux Energy, a renewable energy development company based in Denver, Colorado.

Dr Frederick Miller is a psychiatrist in Chicago, Illinois.

Dr Lorence S. Miller is a licensed clinical psychologist.