When I was a child, every year, our school recognized outstanding academic performance, service, and behavior. I won the citizenship award almost every year from first grade through fifth.

Every week, I was the violinist who performed at church, bringing traditional Christian hymns to life.

As a teenager, I loved school and thrived. My favorite class was calculus, which I began to study at age 15. I dreamed of a career in science, perhaps an undergraduate double major in physics and music.

When I entered college, I followed my dream, studied hard, and took on a leadership position with an orchestra. But soon, everything began to change. My grades dropped, and I became severely paranoid about my supportive and loving parents. I was also unjustly hateful to my mom and dad due to emerging schizophrenia, which none of us recognized.

Eventually, in 2003, just months before I was scheduled to graduate, I left the university, choosing to be homeless in the Los Angeles area. I was psychotic, adamant that I would never speak to my loving family again. My homeless life would last four years.

While homeless, I thought it my right to remain in libraries and lounges on my former university campus, even late at night, despite the fact that the police warned me several times that I should not be there and was no longer welcome.

On October 16, 2006, the university had enough of me, and I was taken to jail for trespassing on a college campus where I had once been a student in good standing.

Following my first two-week psychiatric hospitalization on March 3, 2007, a court date was arranged.

After my hospital discharge, I went to court with my parents. The expectation was that I would have “time served” and then be on probation for 18 months. Following the 18-month period, I expected my record would be expunged, and I would move on in life with a flawless legal record and a new start.

In court, something happened I would have never expected. The judge saw my parents in the courtroom, called them out, scolded, admonished, and forcefully blamed them for my behavior. But I recall she was easy on me and suggested I return to college and continue pursuing my degree, which was generous of her. But to this day, I am grieved that my parents were seen as the source of the problem.

I imagine the same judge had seen situations where the parents were at fault for over-indulging their children, but that was not the case with me. In my case, given the supportive childhood my parents had provided for me, where they taught me how to show respect and make good choices, the judge was very wrong.

Once a young person reaches 18 years of age, they have the right to walk away and choose their own life. My parents were ultimately not responsible for my behavior.

Today, I wish I could contact the same judge from that difficult day in court and tell her a few things about my childhood and family:

You didn’t know that my parents always taught me to follow rules and be respectful.

You didn’t know that, prior to developing my brain illness, I never got into trouble of any kind.

You didn’t know that schizophrenia is an illness that can lead to bizarre changes in behavior, which are often out of a person’s control. You cannot ask an individual with Alzheimer’s to simply act normally. This is also true with schizophrenia.

You didn’t know that my loving family did everything in their power to get in touch with me and end my homeless life. They also did everything in their power to prohibit me from trespassing at USC and were horrified at my lifestyle.

You didn’t know just how adamant I was about refusing my parents’ help, ripping up checks they sent, and blocking their emails. I even refused to see a few worried friends who had contacted my parents to express concern that something was wrong with me.

You didn’t know that I would not even have appeared in court had my parents not supported me going after being discharged from the hospital.

Many good and loving parents have children whose behavior horrifies them, yet they are powerless. In my case, my behavior had radically changed compared to my behavior as a child and adolescent.

Schizophrenia education in the legal system is of utmost importance. I wish the judge who saw me that day understood schizophrenia and the bizarre behavioral changes it can lead to. Also, that more people knew effective treatment can lead the afflicted person back to who they used to be, prior to their delusions, hallucinations, and other symptoms.

Every fall at the University of Cincinnati, I present my story of full recovery from schizophrenia to a class of law students studying mental health and the law. I wish law students in every university were required to learn about the way mental illness can ravish a young person’s life.

Through better education, I hope judges and lawyers will find understanding, compassion, and a more genuine concept of true justice.