Carole Lieberman, M.D. is a Beverly Hills media psychiatrist and host of “Dr. Carole’s Couch”—she was also the psychiatric consultant to the 1991 biography, Michael Jackson, The Magic and The Madness.
Little did I know, when I was asked to be the psychiatric consultant to the 1991 biography, Michael Jackson, The Magic and The Madness, that I was embarking on a journey as his ‘analyst from afar’ that would weave through darkness, danger, drugs and death. If only he had spent some time on my couch, or any other shrink’s, for that matter, he would not have met such an untimely demise. But, Michael was spiraling downward in freefall for decades and no one insisted upon a safety net. No one loved him more than they loved themselves, and their special spot in his inner circle, exploiting his fame and fortune.
Michael’s troubles began with a verbally and physically abusive father, who literally whipped him into shape, so that daddy’s fantasies of being the ‘King of Pop’ could be lived vicariously through his son. But, worse abuse occurred on tour, when young Michael, forced to share a room with his dad and brothers who brought groupies back for sex, became confused and terrified of the primal scene. To young children, sex seems like a violent act. It’s no wonder, but also no excuse, that Michael became stunted at a pre-pubescent level of sexual experimentation with little boys.
In Fall 2002, when Michael dangled Prince Michael II over a balcony in Berlin, I was again called upon by the media to ‘analyze’ why. “He’s identifying with his baby, trying to tell the world that he, too, is dangling by a thread. It’s a cry for help,” I explained. But, no one close to him heeded his cries. I could no longer stand at the sidelines. For years, usually after the cameras stopped rolling, I told interviewers that Michael was not a fit father and some- one should take his children away until he got help and lessons in parenting. Surely his own parents were not good role models, as even his idealized mom didn’t protect him from his dad.
So, since psychiatrists are mandated reporters of suspected abuse, and Michael had, in my opinion, at least emotionally abused Prince Michael, Paris and Prince Michael II, I filed a complaint with Santa Barbara Child Protective Services. They pretended that their lack of intervention was because Neverland had high gates, and his children didn’t go to school, so they couldn’t be interviewed. Then, in February 2003, after scrutinizing the documentary, “Living with Michael Jackson”, I filed a second complaint, this time with Los Angeles Child Protective Services, and called a press conference so that they couldn’t continue giving him ‘star treatment’ and ignore the issues.
Amongst the reasons I cited for Michael’s children needing protection, was his inappropriately sexual relationship with Gavin, the boy in the documentary. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to figure this out. Gavin was even teased by his classmates who’d seen the documentary. CPS finally took action and interviewed Gavin, who denied any sexual improprieties at first, as is typical of children who feel ashamed and guilty about the abuse and fearful of the threats made by the abuser. Ultimately, as we all know, Gavin testified against Michael in the 2005 trial. Had Gavin been better prepared by having psychotherapy and felt more comfortable telling his story, the jury would have found him more believable, and Michael would have wound up behind bars. Perhaps, he would be alive today, though surely his childhood demons would have haunted his cell unmercifully.
Instead, Michael continued spiraling downward, unable to escape his psychological prison, regardless of how many doctors he convinced or coerced to supply him with drugs. Painkillers can only kill physical pain, not the emotional torture of childhood memories, not the gnawing desperation to look in the mirror and see Peter Pan, not the humiliation of being branded a pedophile since Jordie Chandler’s charges in 1993, and not, despite his acquittal, the lingering sour aftertaste of the trial.
Michael dreamed of being Elvis, and in many ways fulfilled his dream. They both became musical icons, kings of their castle, and international superstars. They used sequins and sex as their signature. Elvis gyrated in his jumpsuit and Michael grabbed his crotch with his glove. But, ironically, just like Elvis, Michael’s dream ended in a nightmare of desperation and drugs. Both kings, realizing that smoke and mirrors could no longer hide what they’d become, crossed that blurry Rubicon where ‘accidental overdose’ or ‘medical malpractice’ or even ‘manslaughter’ can hardly be distinguished from suicide.
Michael toyed with death many times before the end. But facing the grueling prospect of 50 concerts, when his health was failing, his head knew he would no longer get reviews fit for a king, and his heart was no longer in it, he—consciously or unconsciously—pushed the envelope too far. Whether or not anyone is found guilty for his death, we know that his parents, siblings, doctors, concert promoters —and he, himself, all played a role the day the music died. We also know that he leaves behind more than his music. He leaves a cautionary tale to remind us that the scars of childhood abuse can last forever, that doctors must stick to their Hippocratic Oath to first do no harm, that greed is ugly, and that love means sacrificing guilty pleasures and telling the truth to save someone’s life.
By Dr. Carole Lieberman
