December 7, 1941.
November 22, 1963.
September 11, 2001.
Remember the raspy crackle of a speaker? The waver in the newscaster's
voice? Gasps when skyscrapers crumbled off the screen? The cold fear
settling in your chest: this day, this hour, this clock-tick defines the
before and the after in my life?
September 20, 1998. Sunday, 3:30 pm. Blue skies. Warm.
My wife, Jane, picks up the phone.
"Huh? ... No. Why would I have him? ... What?" Pause.
"What do you mean he's missing?" Jane asked with a pitched, strangled
voice.
I left the lemonade pitcher hovering over my glass. I was paralyzed,
curious yet afraid of the details. Jane hung up.
"Jacob is gone." Baby Jacob, two weeks old, was the pride and joy of
Jane's brother and his wife.
Gone? I couldn't even process what Jane just said. Like kidnapped? What
the hell ... Like kidnapped?
What to do? Go there now! Call the TV station. Where are those pictures
of Jacob? Dammit. In the Walgreens envelope? No, you go now Jane.
Take the baby. Go! They need you. Who can take the kids? Try across the
street. Our neighbor opens the door. I practically shove our kids
inside. I try to explain. It sounds weird. I have to go. We'll call. I
don't know how long.
I drill gears in my car, racing just minutes behind Jane. This famous
verse won't leave me:But those who wait
on the LORD
Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:31
Without thought, I know our run will be long, our walk farther than
we can comprehend now.
From atop the hill leading to Baby Jacob's house I see the mast of a TV
truck piercing the perfect sky. Cold fear. The life clock within me
ticks, forever moving an unseen hand to after.
Police are there, on the street and in the driveway. Jacob’s dad Mike is
standing, pacing, staring skyward in the driveway. Mike’s brother Jim
stands near-by, blank-faced, stunned, lanky arms hanging. Jacob’s mother
Heidi sits in a police car in front of the house. Jane spends a few
minutes with her brothers in the drive and with Heidi before the police
send Jane across the street.
A few details emerge. Mike had gone four-wheeling in his Jeep. Left at
10:00 am, came back around 3:00 pm. Heidi was sleeping. Mike woke her
and asked where the baby was. Heidi answered that Jacob had been in the
bouncy chair, napping near her while she slept.
But now, Jacob was gone.
Our small group stood across the street waiting for news that did not
come. The police said nothing. We were not allowed to talk with Mike or
Heidi.
A TV reporter asked a few questions about the family, trying to gather
something to transmit to the news desk. We told how old Jacob was, born
September 5th, dad was Mike, mom was Heidi.
The reporter's professional face fumbled. "Heidi? Anfinson? Did she work
at Jimmy's American Cafe?"
"Yes. Until a few months ago."
The reporter, Erin Kiernan, could not hide her shock. "Oh no! I used to
waitress at Jimmy’s. Heidi was my trainer." She puzzled a bit. "She was
our most requested waitress. People waited extra so they could be seated
at Heidi’s tables."
Police asked Heidi, sequestered inside the squad car, to write an
account of her day. We could not see the odd spelling on her statement:
Heidi alternately spelled her son's name J-a-k-o-b and J-a-c-o-b.
Heidi and Mike were separately taken to the police station. Three hours
passed. Investigators filtered in and out of the modest green house.
Tight-lipped officers watched outside the yellow tape barricade. The
only news we were likely to hear would probably come from TV. Our baby
was getting fussy. Everyone reluctantly went home about 7:00 pm.

I paced with the phone in our empty kitchen, dialing long-distance.
"Hi Mom. Sorry to call so late." It was now after 11:00 pm.
"Well, no, things aren't very good... No we're fine, the kids are fine.
Remember Jane's brother that had the baby a few weeks ago?"
"Is the baby sick?"
"No. Mike called us this afternoon and said the baby was missing.” I
replayed the afternoon.
"So it got to be about 7:00 pm and still no word. The cops didn't tell
us anything. We came back here, to the house. I thought maybe we could
make a flyer. Post it around."
"Then they found him? Was he with someone …?" Mom jumped ahead, anxious
for a happy ending. I pulled her back. You can’t get to the end without
knowing the beginning.
"No, they didn't find him. Our neighbor works with a woman whose son was
kidnapped years ago. We called her and she helped us get Jacob
registered in a big missing children’s database."
"Milk cartons? Oh, I can't imagine..."
"But wait. It’s worse. We scanned Jacob’s picture. Got a flyer together.
We went to the grocery store and ran off a bunch of copies."
"So where is Mike now? And Heidi?"
"Um, I'll tell you in a minute. So we're standing in the kitchen. I have
these flyers in my hand. Probably 100. 200. I can't decide where to post
them. I figure, I-80 towards Iowa City then maybe up I-35."
I pause. I'm not sure I can continue without losing it.
"And, uh, at 10:00 pm, Mike and Jim burst in our front door. 'He's dead!
He's dead!' Mike yells. Then Mike saw the flyers. He ripped them out of
my hand and flung them in the trash."
"Oh. Oh. I'm so sorry for your family. That's the worst thing I ever
..."
"But wait. It gets worse." Silence.
"Mike told us what happened. The police questioned him all evening and
let him go. But they kept Heidi. Then about 9:00 pm the cops called Mike
back. ‘Come to the station,’ they said. They wouldn't say why. From the
station they drove in a cop car and followed another cop up to
Saylorville Lake by us."
Mom was beyond guessing, beyond hoping, beyond breathing.
"Heidi was in the lead car. She led them right to Jacob. Jacob was in
the lake."
Words failed. A missing child. A dead child. Jailed mother, shattered
father. Doubting husband. Hard questions too murky to utter.
There was nothing, absolutely nothing, more to say on September 20,
1998.

Sunday's sultry sunshine hid on Monday. Clouds, cold and rain mourned
Jacob's passing. Amidst the depression, bewilderment and betrayal facing
our family, I unwittingly started my slow understanding of mental
illness.
We still had few facts. On Sunday, Heidi was held on child endangerment
charges. On Monday, the charges were upped to first-degree murder.
Heidi's dad posted $100,000 bond for her release.
Mike was brave yet lost, hopeful but broken. "I have to talk to her." he
repeated, red-eyed. "I have to ask her what happened. I'll know if she's
telling the truth when I see her eyes."
Tuesday afternoon, free on bail, Heidi joined us at the funeral home.
Most of us had not seen her since Sunday or longer. The flesh of her
face sagged loosely over her bones; her eyes drooped in humiliation; her
spirit cowered against the angry reception she expected from us. I
greeted her with a long, silent hug, not even attempting trite words of
comfort or wisdom. A small line formed, hug after hug.
Mike, after a day of listening to Heidi's story, asking his questions,
and crying with her, was on his way to acceptance and forgiveness.
Naturally he struggled with doubts and sleepless nights, but he has been
her unapologetic defender.

Forgiving Heidi came in two stages, funeral and long-term. Initially,
we focused on the immediate task of loving Mike and Heidi through the
agony of putting a doll-house-sized white casket in the ground. No
detective work, no finger-pointing.
Later the first week, a sketchy outline of events emerged, pieced
together by snippets of conversations with Mike and Heidi: Mike left for
his Jeep ride about 10:00 am Heidi got Jacob into his bathtub for a
bath. For some reason, she left him in the tub, and returned a while
later to find him drowned. In a panic, she drove up to Saylorville Lake
and left Jacob there. Then, when Mike arrived home at 3:30 pm, Heidi
claimed Jacob was missing.
The family's conclusion at this early stage was that a medical problem
of some sort caused Heidi to leave Jacob in his tub, though details were
sparse. Heidi told both her mother and my wife Jane that she felt
lightheaded standing at the kitchen sink during Jacob’s bath. Heidi
rested at a table about 10 feet away. She may have dozed off.
We were naively certain the legal issues would be resolved when more
information became available.
By this time, with facts in hand, and knowing Heidi’s personality,
doubts melted from the minds of family and friends. Both Mike’s side and
Heidi's side embraced Heidi from the first uncertain time of Jacob's
visitation to this very day. We have stacks of newspaper editorials,
interviews and op-ed pieces shouting their support.
Still, upsetting news continued. Several weeks after Jacob’s death,
police reveal Jacob had two rocks on him, holding him under the water,
in a foot of water at the lake’s edge.

Early on, the press raised questions of postpartum mental illnesses,
a topic new to most of us. The most dangerous form, postpartum psychosis
usually occurs in the first three weeks after birth. Mothers can exhibit
psychotic symptoms similar to a bipolar person in mania. Obviously, it
is an extremely dangerous condition, especially if family members are
unaware it is occurring. Mothers, if they can recognize their plunge
into psychosis, are often unable or too embarrassed to tell anyone.
Though postpartum illnesses can be the basis for an insanity defense,
Heidi's attorney immediately squashed all talk of a postpartum defense.
Jacob wasn't even buried, but the door to a postpartum defense was
closed. Just two days after Jacob’s death, attorney Bill Kutmus saw "no
indications that Heidi was suffering from postpartum depression," the
Des Moines Register reported. It was not until two days after making
this claim that Kutmus actually had his first lengthy discussion with
Heidi.
Heidi was never examined by a psychiatrist or psychologist for her
trials.
WOI-TV news ran a postpartum piece two days after Jacob died. A week
after his death, a Register article asked if postpartum depression or
psychosis was a factor: University of Iowa's Dr. Michael O'Hara
questioned Kutmus' conclusion that postpartum was not a factor worth
exploring. "[Her] motivations may look guilty, but that may not be the
case."

Heidi's murder trial started one year later in September 1999. The
legal system had thrown a blanket of silence over the case. We were all
anxious to have Jacob’s story told in full. Early on, Heidi’s lawyer
strictly admonished friends and family not to discuss any events or
hearsay. The only discussion allowed was between Heidi and Mike, because
theirs could not be forced into evidence against Heidi.
I took detailed trial notes, almost verbatim. Even though I had forgiven
Heidi, and trusted her story - that Jacob accidentally drowned at home -
I hungered for raw evidence. Yet I feared I might learn things that
would make Heidi’s story more complex, fractured, painful, and
ultimately, untruthful.
Heidi's first trial ended in a hung jury. When the case was retried in
2000, she was convicted of second-degree murder. Iowa gives a mandatory
50 year sentence. Initially Heidi faced a minimum of 42.5 years before
parole, but the law has been amended to 35 years. She was about 40 when
she started her sentence.
I looked at the evidence as objectively as I could. A large part of the
testimony was autopsy results and technical arguments over the water in
Jacob's lungs. Did water come from the bath or the lake - accident or
murder? I saw no forensic evidence that made me doubt the original story
I heard - that Jacob had accidentally drowned in his bath and not at the
lake.
Mental illness was not mentioned by either side during the trials. Yet,
pieces of testimony clearly show Heidi's thinking was quite different
from her loving, attentive self. Shamelessly, most clues were entered by
the prosecution as proof that Heidi was a heartless baby killer. The
testimony below, from my trial notes, are police recollections of Heidi
on the afternoon and evening that Jacob died:
- When police first arrived at the Anfinson home to look for Jacob,
Heidi sat calmly at the kitchen table, smoking and slowly looking at
pictures. (Stuart Barnes)
- Heidi's demeanor was "cold. That's the only way to describe it."
(Larry Van Jinkel)
- “Appeared calm. [Heidi] said ‘This is temporary.’" (Douglas
Harvey)
- “No cry, no yell, not common reaction to this situation.” (Randy
Dawson)
If Heidi was trying to pull off a faked kidnapping story, wasn’t she
doing a poor job, calmly smoking instead of pleading with police to find
her baby?
Heidi's statement, “This is temporary,” makes no sense. If Heidi
understood that Jacob was dead, why would death be "temporary" to her?
Did she think Jacob would come back somehow? Was she referring to
heaven? Illogical reasoning is a common symptom of mental illness.
Did Heidi perhaps believe her concocted kidnapping story, thinking Jacob
would soon be found? Had she deluded herself into believing her
fabrication? Had she forgotten taking Jacob up to Saylorville? The
testimony points to Heidi’s very muddled grasp of reality in the hours
after Jacob's death.
After Heidi's conviction, national media started calling.
Because of our bitter disappointment with Dateline's coverage; we almost
nixed an idea from MS-NBC Investigates. But they uncovered clues that
went undetected for two years after Jacob's death. For example,
hair-pulling is a predictor for postpartum problems. Heidi started
plucking her leg and pubic hairs in the weeks prior to Jacob's birth.
Family snapshots report clearly show red bumps over Heidi's legs.
Embarrassed by her new habit, Heidi told Mike she had insect bites.
Oprah dedicated a show to postpartum illnesses, with guest host Dr.
Deborah Sichel, co-author of Women's Moods. Heidi participated
from prison over a satellite feed.
In her book, Dr. Sichel says postpartum psychosis is chemically similar
to bipolar mania. Women can have frightening symptoms, including
confusion, imagining plots against them, and acting out their internal
stories. Postpartum psychosis usually occurs in the first two to three
weeks postpartum, exactly the time frame that Jacob died.
No one doubts there is an evil in Jacob's death. I propose we have two
basic choices: either the evil is Heidi, or the evil is mental illness.
Iowa’s criminal justice system has concluded Heidi is the evil, but
Heidi’s family disagrees. Facts from the trial and later discoveries
show Heidi’s confused mind:
- "Flat" - Emergency Room physician, Steve Dawson, saw Jacob 5 days
after he was born. Heidi had concerns that Jacob was listless. Dr.
Dawson observed “(Heidi was) flat. I perceived it to be fatigue. Heidi
asked a few questions. She was quiet. [I was] a little surprised. I
expected more questions."
- J-a-k-o-b and J-a-c-o-b - confused spelling from Heidi's written
police statement.
- "Flat" - police find Heidi calm, smoking, “flat” when her son is
supposedly kidnapped.
- Saylorville - Heidi left Jacob at Sandpiper recreation area. It is
a most unlikely place to hide a body. Jacob’s watery burial site is
easily seen from the busy road leading to the parking lot. Heidi drove
16 miles to get there. If she was secretly hiding Jacob, there were
more secluded places along the way.
- Why did Heidi place two rocks, weighing 25 pounds, on Jacob? They
were set down gently - the autopsy did not find any scratches on the
chest or stomach.
- Heidi repeatedly told police she placed Jacob face down, yet he
was found face up.
- After Jacob's death, people noticed Heidi's dramatically sagging
face. I sat next to her at Jacob's funeral. The distortion of Heidi’s
face was far beyond anyone else's including Mike's. Her mug shot and
booking photos clearly show sagging. Strangers remarked. Frieda
Wallace from Indianola called several times to ask if the sagging was
from a mini-stroke, which can occur with few outward symptoms but
impair the mind.
- Where is the family acrimony? Commonly in family murder trials,
"his" side believes one story but "her" side another. In Heidi’s case,
she enjoys 100% support, with an ever-growing kinship between Mike’s
family and Heidi's large families.

During one of our visits to Heidi at Mitchellville prison, she
unintentionally bundled the previous fours years into one breath:
“Mike’s and my dream is to one day be able to tell our story.”
Sadly, Heidi and Mike should not have a story. Society has plenty of
academic knowledge about postpartum illnesses, but it has not applied it
to everyday medical and legal life.
New mothers and fathers are not routinely informed of the signs and
dangers of postpartum depression and psychosis. We spend more time
teaching how to breathe during the few hours of labor than about the
dangers lurking in the weeks and months after birth.
The entrenched stigma society attaches to all mental illness is
compounded by the low awareness of postpartum depression and psychosis.
Mothers who “don’t feel quite right” prefer to “push through it” rather
than getting labeled a “nut” after asking for help. But when a mind is
deteriorating by the hour, moms and babies are in real danger.
Far worse is our criminal justice system. Harsh options are given to
mentally ill defendants. The insanity defense is impossibly difficult.
I’m outraged that studies consistently say 15-20% of the prison
population is mentally ill, yet only 1% of felony cases use the insanity
defense. Only a quarter of the insanity pleas succeed. The vast majority
of those that do succeed are the result of a plea agreement where both
prosecution and defense agree the defendant was ill.
The definition of insanity varies by state. Most have roots in the
1800’s even though our medicines and understanding of mental illness
have changed dramatically. To use the insanity defense, the defendant
usually has to fully admit to the charges, and then hope the medical
experts will side with him. It is an all-or-nothing gamble. The whole
system smacks more of a crap-shoot than a bona-fide effort to find the
truth. If the mentally ill are dissuaded from revealing their illness,
or using it as a mitigating factor, why even keep the insanity defense
on the books?
Will Heidi die in prison or someday walk free? I honestly don’t know. If
mercy seeps into our criminal code, institutions and daily attitudes,
perhaps freedom will come.
Heidi appealed her conviction but failed. Next is an unusual trial: if
her lawyer was negligent for not exploring postpartum illness, Heidi
will get a new criminal trial. The legal wrangling will take until 2006
or 2007.
Years are passing. Lonely, guilty, tear-filled, angry times linger for
us all. Our only earthly hope is a brand new trial and merciful citizens
- exactly where we were September 20, 1998.
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint. |