"They should never get to the point where they have to call the police, because they should be able to access treatment, diagnosis, support — whatever they need," she says, admitting that "unfortunately, that is the way a lot of parents get their kids into the system. And once you get into the system that way, the parents pretty much lose all control."
Walton, who has three daughters who have suffered from mental illness, says her family was lucky enough to have the resources to pay for help. She says Alex never should have had to be arrested; his family never should have had to give up custody.
Niki and baby Alex
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"At least," she adds, "he ought to be in the same city as the family."
Niki Varlotta is just happy her son is safe. She says, "I look at Alex and think, 'How much more can my heart break?'"
For as long as she can remember, Niki wanted to be a mom. She and Greg met through a neighbor when she was 24 and he was 29. For 21 years, Greg played in the Disneyland band Sidestreet Strutters, after a jazz band he was in at Arizona State won a contest that catapulted them to relative fame. Greg plays the trumpet and tap-dances. After they married, Niki went to school and became a nurse. They were thrilled when she got pregnant.
Alexander Gregory Varlotta was born on March 27, 1995, three weeks late and with a broken arm. (His arm was wrapped around his head, pointing up.)
He arrived screaming and pretty much didn't stop, Niki recalls. He nursed every 90 minutes for 15 months. She tried different diets; he was diagnosed with colic and digestive issues. For a while, Niki drove the baby 80 miles round-trip for treatment by famous pediatric guru Dr. William Sears.
Nothing helped. When Andy arrived just about two years after Alex, Niki was surprised by the difference in her boys' dispositions. Andy was so mellow. Alex kept getting worse.
The first time Niki nursed Andy in front of Alex, the older boy slapped the baby's head and bit his toe.
By 31/2, Alex was so aggressive the Varlottas had him see a psychiatrist. When he was 4, he threw a fork across an IHOP. He bit, hit, pushed, and spit at Niki. It was no longer a phase.
The psychiatrist diagnosed Alex with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and prescribed Ritalin. That worked for a couple of hours at a time. Then the psychiatrist added an antipsychotic medication, and for the first time in his life, Alex showed some empathy.
Still, they'd show up at family functions, say hello, and leave. One day, Niki kissed Alex gently on the back of his head, and he threw his head backward with such force it fractured her eye socket.
"This eye?" she asks, pointing to the right side of her face. "See, it kind of droops."
At 6, Alex was diagnosed with a mild form of autism, pervasive developmental disorder. He was getting more aggressive and reported hearing voices. When he was 8, Alex tried to jump out of a moving car. He thought he could fly.
He was hospitalized at UCLA — for three weeks at a time, because insurance wouldn't cover a longer stay — then he was sent home. Then back to the hospital. UCLA's diagnosis: bipolar disorder.
When he was 9, the psychologist at Alex's school pushed for — and got — a placement for him in a residential-treatment facility about 60 miles from the Varlottas' home. The school district paid $6,900 a month for the treatment; there, Alex was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. He lived at the facility for two years; his family was able to visit once a week.
The notes from that school are heartbreaking. Alex was put on large doses of antipsychotics. He wet himself frequently and drooled, Niki recalls. The school notes show that Alex slept most of the time.
And even at that, he was getting more aggressive. That school threatened that Alex's days there were numbered. It was around that time that the Varlottas decided to move to Phoenix, to be closer to Greg's family.
Even before they left California, Niki found a facility in Arizona that she thought would work for Alex — Devereux. When they arrived, she put Alex in the school's day program with the hope of getting him into the residential-treatment facility and quickly realized it wasn't the place for him. He was miserable and clearly not getting help; a teacher even pointed that out and advised the Varlottas to enroll him elsewhere, Niki says.
She then enrolled him in public school, but as had happened in California, it was obvious that he needed a more structured setting. The school district wasn't willing to pay. During one hospital visit, Alex drew a picture of the fireball in his head. "Sick cookie," a caseworker told Niki.
And then came the visit from the school resource officer.
Alex had no criminal record before Niki called the police, but he racked up more charges once he was in detention. True, the judge immediately ordered that Alex receive services — but with services inevitably comes a wait, and for several weeks, Alex was shuttled back and forth among the county's detention facilities, the behavioral health program at St. Luke's Hospital, and various group homes.