How did leaders of the Army Reserve respond to the many, clear warning signs about the Lewiston shooter, a part-time soldier who was in a dangerous, downward spiral? And why didn’t they take further action?

The Army has acknowledged some failures but also cast blame elsewhere.

Maine Public Radio, in partnership with the Portland Press Herald and Frontline PBS, presents “Breakdown:” a limited-series podcast about the deadliest mass shooting in Maine history.

In Episode 3, we look at questionable medical decisions, missed communication and lack of follow up by the Army. Finally, we’ll learn why the shooter’s family believes the military could do more to prevent brain injuries in troops.

Audio transcript

KEVIN MILLER, HOST: A note to listeners: this episode deals with gun violence and suicide. If you or someone you know is experiencing a mental health crisis, help is available 24 hours a day by calling or texting the national Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 9-8-8.

[sound of knocking on door]

FIRST TROOPER, UNIDENTIFIED: “Robert? Robert, this is [redacted] with the State Police. Can you open the door for me, please?”

[ambient guitar music fades up]

HOST: It is July of 2023 and a crew of New York state troopers is at a military hotel near West Point.

[sound of knocking again, door opening]

FIRST TROOPER: “Thank you, my man. You wanna throw a shirt on and come in and talk to you?”

HOST: Leaders of an Army Reserve unit have called the troopers to help with a reservist who’d been hearing voices and picking fights. He’s locked himself in his room. And he insists that everyone — friends, family and total strangers — are spreading lies that he’s gay and a pedophile.

SECOND TROOPER, UNIDENTIFIED: “What, what was it that caused the issue last night?”

ROBERT CARD: “Uhhh, they keep saying shit behind my back, I confront them and they pretend like I’m hearing stuff.”

SECOND TROOPER: “OK. … You say that they’re talking about you behind your back, but you actually hear them saying these things, or … ?”

ROBERT CARD: “Yeah, I’m hearing ’em.”

HOST: Army Reserve Sgt. 1st Class Robert Card sits perched on the edge of the bed in a cinder block room strewn with clothes and shoes. He’s a 20-year veteran, lean and fit. He’s wearing matching Army shorts and T-shirt — plus a fresh buzzcut. His unit is on a two-week training stint at West Point. Card’s specialty is showing hundreds of cadets, one by one, how to toss live hand grenades.

Card’s mental health has been deteriorating for at least six months now. And something is clearly off with him this weekend.

ROBERT CARD: “It’s happening everywhere. I’m hearing bits and pieces of all of it and it’s just getting old. And I confront people and it doesn’t stop.”

SECOND TROOPER: “OK, we’ve talked to a few of them today and they’re — they’re saying like nothing like that is happening.”

HOST: The troopers tell Card that he’s been directed by his Reserve commanders to get a psych evaluation — that very day. It’s an order, not a request.

[ambient music fades up]

CARD: “Is it going to help anything? No. I would rather have people stop talking, stop looking at me. I’m a fucking private person. I don’t like fucking my shit out there.”

HOST: And then this exchange happens.

THIRD TROOPER, UNIDENTIFIED: “These guys, I mean, I hope you understand that they are concerned enough about your welfare that they called us.”

ROBERT CARD: “Because they’re scared because I’m gonna friggin’ do something. Cause I am capable.”

HOST: “I am capable.” The state trooper seizes on the phrase.

THIRD TROOPER: “Like, what do you mean by that?”

ROBERT CARD: “Huh?”

THIRD TROOPER: “What do you mean by that?”

ROBERT CARD: “Nothing. No.”

HOST: “I am capable.”

In the months leading up to this, Robert Card had been making threats. Just about everyone he was close to was worried about him.

And months later, he would go into two nightspots in Lewiston, Maine, with an assault rifle. He’d kill 18 people and wound 13 more in the deadliest mass shooting in Maine history. Two days later, he’d be found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

This police body cam footage, released by the New York State Police in response to a public records request, is one of the only recordings of Card to surface publicly since the shooting.

And when a coworker and I watch it, we both get chills hearing those words from the future gunman.

Reserve 1st Sgt. Kelvin Mote was in the hallway that day at the hotel near West Point. He overheard what Card said.

KELVIN MOTE, COMMISSION: “’I am capable.’ That was enough for me. At that moment, I decided he was going to the hospital, one way or the other.”

[xylophone music fades up]

HOST: Last episode, we heard about the missed opportunities — especially among local police — to prevent the tragedy in Lewiston. In this episode, we focus on the military.

I’m Kevin Miller and for the past year my colleagues and I have been looking into how the Army Reserve responded to the many clear warning signs about a soldier in a dangerous, downward spiral.

We were there as members of the Army and Army Reserve testified under oath for more than 15 hours about that July incident. We talked to dozens of people about what happened in the months before — and after. We analyzed investigative reports from the Army and a state commission. And we spoke to members of Congress who are pressing the military for changes after Lewiston.

Army Reserve leaders have acknowledged some failures. They’ve also cast blame onto local police and criticized a private psychiatric hospital.

And that July morning … This could have been a turning point. Reserve unit leaders took the initiative to get Card help. But the help never came. Instead, what followed were questionable medical decisions … months of miscommunication and military red tape — with tragic consequences.

Those mistakes have raised questions about how the Army manages mental health concerns within its ranks. And it’s highlighted disparities between the regular military and the Reserves.

JODY DANIELS, BRIEFING: “I mean, I, we’re doing the best that we can in terms of understanding what did transpire and then make changes for the future.”

ED YUREK, COMMISSION: “It’s clear that it wasn’t just a hunch and that Sgt. Card had legitimate issues.”

CARA LAMB, INTERVIEW: “None of us should be allowed to say that we did enough in this scenario, in this situation.”

HOST: From Maine Public Radio, the Portland Press Herald and Frontline PBS, this is Breakdown. Episode 3: Dereliction of duty.

Like most reservists, members of the 3rd Battalion, 304th Infantry Regiment typically spend one weekend a month in uniform plus a two-week “active training” mission. For the 304th, that mission happens at West Point.

[archival tape about West Point, ambient piano music fades up]

HOST: The two-century old military academy overlooking the Hudson River has churned out scores of future generals and even a few presidents. And for several decades now, those future military leaders learn how to literally shoot straight with help from the Maine-based 304th.

Robert Card was regarded as a quote “solid and reliable” member of the unit and an Army Reserve evaluation from earlier in 2023 described him as a “consummate professional.” But he had been losing his hearing for years. And Card’s mental health was already on the radar of his unit leaders by the time he arrived at West Point that July.

Two months earlier, in May, a sheriff’s deputy in Maine had contacted a Reserve leader after Card’s ex-wife and son raised concerns that he seemed to be hearing voices, and about his erratic behavior and his access to guns at home. As we heard in previous episodes, there was talk of getting him treatment and working with other family members to remove his guns. But ultimately little was done and Card continued showing up for drills.

Yet Card had tried to get out of the West Point training. He had served 20 years in the Reserve and was eligible for retirement. And Card had already accused other unit members of talking trash about him.

The state troopers who showed up at Card’s room that day gave him two options for getting to West Point’s military hospital: either ride quietly with other reservists — or in handcuffs with troopers.

FIRST TROOPER: “Yeah, we don’t, we don’t want to do that, alright? So if you give me your word that you’ll go with them.”

ROBERT CARD: “I have over 20 years, I shouldn’t even be here. I fucking tried to get out of this fucking AT. ‘No, you have to fucking come.’ Ugh.”

HOST: Card is driven to the hospital in an SUV with three other noncommissioned officers. It’s part of a four-vehicle caravan that includes two state police cruisers. Card tears up at one point. He’s otherwise silent as he stares out of the window.

At Keller Army Community Hospital, Card tells psychiatric nurse practitioner Maj. Matthew Dickison that people everywhere are talking about him, calling him a pedophile and gay. He’s angry. Card doesn’t make specific threats, but Dickison remembers him saying that if people don’t stop, quote, “something was going to happen.”

[soft piano music fades up]

Dickison spoke publicly at a commission created by Maine’s governor and attorney general that spent months looking into the shooting.

DAN WATHEN, COMMISSION: “We have convened this evening for the purpose of interviewing and hearing from Maj. Matthew Dickison, who I believe is with us.”

HOST: For months, my colleagues and I pressed military officials for specifics about their dealings with Robert Card and his mental health treatment. They wouldn’t agree to interviews but shared general information. This past summer, they also released a 115-page internal investigation that identified multiple failures, which we’ll get to a bit later.

And we have hours of public testimony before the state commission from members of the Army and Army Reserve.

Maj. Matthew Dickison testified that it took him less than a hour to declare Robert Card unfit for duty.

MATTHEW DICKISON, COMMISSION: “Mr. Card was exhibiting psychosis and paranoia. And I actually had safety concerns because he was actually assigned with his unit, running a range where he had access to weapons and munitions. … My recommendation was that he be moved to a higher level of care for further assessment.”

HOST: Keller hospital wasn’t equipped at the time to offer Card the intensive, around-the-clock psychiatric care that Dickison says he needed. So Card was transferred to a private facility, called Four Winds Hospital, located about an hour away.

Master Sgt. Ed Yurek was attending the West Point training that weekend, too.

ED YUREK, COMMISSION: “It’s clear that it wasn’t just a hunch and that Sgt. Card had legitimate issues and it was getting addressed. We were all high-fiving each other because it was the perfect scenario: we got him to where he needed to be, they identified it, ‘Yeah, you are right,’ and they brought him to a place where he was supposed to be treated. We were very happy with the way it turned out, as far as the unit was concerned.”

[ambient music fades up]

HOST: Here’s where things start to get murkier.

We know that Card spent 19 days at the private hospital. But the details remain sketchy a year after the shooting and his suicide. That’s because the Army couldn’t force Four Winds Hospital to participate in its investigation. Maine Public Radio, the Portland Press Herald and FRONTLINE’s team reached out to the hospital more than a dozen times. They responded twice, referring us to a communications staffer and an outside attorney, neither of whom replied. Members of Maine’s shooting commission did talk to the psychiatrist who treated Card at Four Winds. But that questioning took place in private because, even though the former patient had died, there were quote, “legal concerns” stemming from New York state’s medical privacy laws. A commission spokesman also confirmed that Four Winds shared Card’s medical files, but up until now, the panel hasn’t released those documents publicly.

In its 215-page final report, the commission devoted just a few paragraphs to Card’s time at Four Winds and their interview with the psychiatrist.

As for why, Commission chairman Dan Wathen hasn’t publicly said.

DAN WATHEN, COMMISSION: “We set forth the facts as we determined them to be and they are in the report. And I’d let the report speak for itself in that regard.”

[piano music]

HOST: Here’s what we do know, though, based on details in the Army and state commission reports.

Card’s hospital intake paperwork said he was suffering from paranoia, psychosis, auditory hallucinations, aggression and “homicidal ideations.” He also told Four Winds staff he kept a quote, “hit list.”

Card occasionally cooperated at Four Winds. But the Army’s internal investigation shows that Card became quote, “irritable and agitated” when Four Winds staff asked about the guns he had at home — at least 10 of them. He said he struggled with social anxiety and might consider taking medication. He denied any serious mental health problems — yet insisted that even hospital staff were talking about him.

The state commission report says that more than a week into his stay at Four Winds, Card let the staff know that he wanted to leave. In response, the hospital asked a court to make him stay. They wanted to involuntarily commit him. But the day before the court hearing, both Card and the hospital dropped their competing requests.

So on Aug. 3rd, Robert Card walked out of Four Winds. He had his discharge instructions — but no follow-up appointments scheduled. Had he been involuntarily committed, federal law would have prohibited Card from owning guns when he was eventually released.

His sudden departure shocked many, including the Army nurse practitioner, Maj. Dickison, who first evaluated him.

MATTHEW DICKISON, COMMISSION: “For me personally, yeah, sure I was a little surprised.”

HOST: and Master Sgt. Yurek, who heard the news from Card’s older brother, Ryan.

ED YUREK, COMMISSION: “We thought that he was going to be there for a very long time. And when Ryan Card called me and said he was out, I said, ‘That can’t be true.’ And he said — actually how naive I was, I said. ‘Well then he’s all better.’ And he said, ‘No no, he’s still the same.’ And I said ‘I don’t believe that the hospital released him the same way they got him, I just don’t believe that.’ And he said ‘He is the same.’”

[guitar strumming music]

HOST: According to the state commission, Card’s attending psychiatrist said she didn’t think a court would agree to have him committed. Card had shown progress, said he would take his meds and participate in therapy after release.

Four Winds staff worked out a quote, “safety plan,” with members of Card’s family. However, details of that plan have not been released. They also tried several times to reach him, according to the Army report, but were not successful.

One answer may come from Card himself. Sean Hodgson drove six and a half hours from Maine to pick up his fellow reservist and friend.

SEAN HODGSON, INTERVIEW: “I thought I had to go talk to somebody and I pulled up and I saw him waving through the window and the door. Thought that was odd. And I was like, Alright, I parked my car. And I walked up. And they just let him out the door with his bags. And he’s like, ‘You want me to drive?'”

HOST: On the way home, Card bragged about “playing the game” to get released. He told Hodgson how he threatened to sue and how hospital staff were quote, “abusing his rights” by keeping him there.

SEAN HODGSON, INTERVIEW: “He just started telling me everything all over again, and what happened in the hospital, how he pretty much played them, played the game. He told them straight out. He knew exactly what to say to get out.”

[ambient music fades up]

HOST: Card arrived back in Maine 20 days after he left for New York. The commission report states that, before his release, Card assured Four Winds staff that he would take the prescribed drugs, get treatment and seek support from family and friends. But they were all empty promises. He never made any appointments and stopped taking his medications within days of getting home.

Robert Card lived with his dog in Bowdoin, Maine. It’s a farming community about 40 miles from Portland — but a world away, with about 3,000 people and one convenience store. Card was raised there. His family owns hundreds of acres of farmland and woods in the tight-knit community.

Card got home from the hospital in New York 12 weeks before the mass shooting. He was back in civilian life. And according to the Army’s own investigation, that was a failure by the military.

[guitar music fades up]

HOST: To better understand why, I need to explain the difference between the Reserves and active-duty military. The regular Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines or Coast Guard is a full-time job. You can be deployed at any time. You are subject to military law. That’s why when an active-duty soldier or sailor is busted for, say, driving drunk on a Saturday night, the military justice system might demote or imprison them. They could be ordered to undergo treatment or even kicked out.

That’s active-duty. Reservists, on the other hand, are only soldiers part time. During weekend “battle assemblies” or the annual two-week training, reservists are “on duty.” That means they’re under the command of their unit leaders and anyone above them. But as soon as they arrive home, they become civilians again and their Reserve leaders have no real authority over them.

And that’s what happened with Robert Card.

Card was on “active duty” during the 19 days he spent at the hospital. That ended when he reached his home in Maine.

JODY DANIELS, BRIEFING: “A U.S. Army Reserve soldier is only in a duty status for about 38 days per year. And outside of that duty status, unit commanders have no legal authority to compel soldiers to undergo medical treatment, to execute follow-on care or surrender personally owned weapons regardless of the circumstances. This is a complex challenge …”

HOST: Lt. Gen. Jody Daniels was the top-ranking general of the U.S. Army Reserve Command in July. That’s when the Army released a report after they investigated Card’s case.

The report found that Reserve leaders or staff at Keller Army hospital should have kept him on active-duty status. Card was hospitalized for more than 24 hours while on a training mission, so under military rules that should have triggered an investigation. If his mental illness was caused or aggravated by his service, the government should have kept paying for his care. But none of that happened.

What did happen next reveals alarming gaps in the mental health support system for soldiers and their families.

[piano music fades up]

HOST: Roughly a week after returning home, Card stopped answering calls and messages from an Army psychological health case manager. They were supposed to keep tabs on his progress and help connect him with services. But he ignored them. And at the end of August, the case manager simply closed Card’s file.

The Army investigator criticized that decision. But they also acknowledged that it was entirely consistent with Army Reserve policy. At that time, the Reserve’s psychological health program could close a case after five unsuccessful attempts to reach someone over three weeks. So again — five unanswered calls, emails or text messages, and it’s case closed.

SUSAN COLLINS: That program is supposed to follow up with soldiers who have mental illness.

HOST: Sen. Susan Collins is the senior member of Maine’s congressional delegation and the top Republican on the powerful Senate committee that controls military spending. Collins says it was quote, “inexplicable” that the psychological health case manager would close the case or that the policy would allow it.

SUSAN COLLINS: And yet to me, it’s difficult to think of a greater warning sign than his failure to respond to repeated inquiries from medical professionals. That suggested that he was not taking his medication and that he was not complying with the discharge orders.

HOST: Lt. Gen. Daniels told reporters during the July press conference that the Army Reserve has since changed that policy in response to what happened in Maine.

JODY DANIELS, BRIEFING: “Just because someone is non-responsive doesn’t mean that we don’t need to have additional contact with them. … So we don’t want to close it just because they didn’t, didn’t, answer the phone. So we’re making that change.”

[ambient music fades up]

HOST: But the Army’s own report laid out more than a half-dozen other failings in the months before the mass shooting in Maine.

Four Winds and the military hospital each thought the other was responsible for making sure Card was taking his medication and continuing therapy. The result, according to the Army investigator, was “no one adequately followed up” on Card’s care after his release.

West Point’s military hospital should have formally “handed off” Card to his Reserve unit. That’s what’s supposed to happen after a Reservist is commanded to get a psychological evaluation. But it didn’t. And the Army report says that Card’s unit leaders didn’t try reaching the military hospital in West Point either.

And there were also delays in communication. It took the private hospital eight days to fax Card’s psychological assessment and treatment recommendations to the Army hospital. And then it took the military hospital another 10 days to upload those documents into the military health system.

There were also weak links within the Reserve unit’s chain of command. Here again is Lt. Gen. Daniels.

JODY DANIELS, BRIEFING: “While unit leadership took several consistent and sustained actions to address Sgt. Card’s deteriorating mental health … there were also a series of failures by unit leadership.”

HOST: According to the Army investigator, Card’s commanders were supposed to investigate after he was hospitalized for more than 24 hours. They should have filed a critical information report or notified the Army’s “insider threat” program after Card threatened to shoot up the Reserve complex. None of that happened.

Card’s commanders believed that the federal health policy law known as HIPAA prevented them from accessing his medical files. But it doesn’t.

In the end, three leaders of Card’s unit were charged with “dereliction of duty.” Their names were redacted throughout the report, and when pressed by reporters, Daniels would not elaborate on their punishments other than to say she had taken quote, “administrative actions” that could prevent those officers from advancing further in their military careers. They could also be discharged.

[guitar strumming music]

HOST: Like the Army’s internal review, the special commission in Maine investigating the mass shooting found plenty of fault in how the Reserves handled Robert Card’s deteriorating mental health.

The commission created by Gov. Janet Mills weeks after the shooting was stacked with retired judges, prosecutors, criminal investigators and mental health experts. Mills, who is a former attorney general, also made sure Maine lawmakers granted the commission the power to use subpoenas to make people testify.

HOST: I sat through dozens of hours of these commission hearings. They were solemn and oftentimes tense affairs as the panel heard from law enforcement who responded to those horrific scenes and led the ensuing two-day manhunt. They heard from people who survived the shootings — and loved ones of those who didn’t. And Robert Card’s family testified tearfully about their unsuccessful attempts to get him help.

These kinds of investigations aren’t unusual after a mass shooting. What is unusual about the process in Maine is that the public could watch most of the testimony because it was live streamed and open to the press.

Over a half-dozen meetings, the commission heard from members of the Army and the Army Reserve. The proceedings sometimes felt like court trials.

DAN WATHEN, COMMISSION: “Do you swear that the testimony you will give in the matter now in hearing will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

MATTHEW DICKISON, COMMISSION: “I do.”

HOST: One by one, commanders from the Army and Army Reserve raised their right hands and swore to truthfully answer the commission’s questions. Often, they had military lawyers, or JAG officers, sitting beside or close behind. On occasion, they brought their own attorneys.

Some of the tensest exchanges involved the commanding officer of Card’s Reserve unit, Capt. Jeremy Reamer, who was subpoenaed twice by the commission. Member and retired judge Ellen Gorman pressed Reamer on what HE should have done to ensure Card was getting help after he left the hospital.

ELLEN GORMAN, COMMISSION: “You have said on a couple of occasions that you expected the law enforcement here in Maine to do their job.”

JEREMY REAMER, COMMISSION: “Mmm hmm.”

ELLEN GORMAN, COMMISSION: “Was it your job to complete the developmental counseling form?”

JEREMY REAMER, COMMISSION: “That was a requirement of me, yes.”

ELLEN GORMAN, COMMISSION: “Did you do that?”

JEREMY REAMER, COMMISSION: “I did not.”

ELLEN GORMAN, COMMISSION: “And was it your job to ensure that Card followed through with the mental health treatment that had been ordered him, that he had been ordered to comply with by the Army? … That was your job.”

JEREMY REAMER, COMMISSION: “Part of my job. Yes.”

ELLEN GORMAN, COMMISSION: “Did you do that?”

HOST: Reamer goes quiet here. His lips move but he hesitates as he appears to scan his memory, searching for an answer while under oath. After about ten seconds, with a pained expression on his face, he says.

[guitar and piano music fades up]

JEREMY REAMER, COMMISSION: “I, personally, did not follow up with him regarding that.”

HOST: Reamer has not spoken publicly beyond the commission testimony and did not respond to messages requesting comment for this episode. He did testify that he didn’t have the power to force Card into mental health treatment and that he believed that local police and Card’s family would remove Card’s weapons.

This exchange took place in April and by this point Capt. Reamer was no longer leading the Reserve unit. He told the commission that it was his time to cycle out of that position. Reamer is never named in the Army report. Lt. Gen. Daniels said one of the three unit leaders punished for dereliction of duty was a captain.

The Reserves made other changes, big and small. As of late-October, the Pentagon is still reviewing whether to stop working with Four Winds and a contracting agency for potential sub-standard care and for not following procedures. And no more five tries and you get to close a case. Even if they can’t reach a reservist who’s in their care, Army health care providers have to consult with unit leaders first — and notify other higher-ups — before closing a case.

Lt. Gen. Daniels says she also directed Reserve leaders to be re-trained in the HIPAA health privacy law and about their options for safely storing private guns at Reserve facilities.

JODY DANIELS, BRIEFING: “I mean, We are doing the best that we can in terms of understanding what did transpire and then make changes for the future.”

HOST: Maine Sen. Angus King says the Army has quote “made all the right noises” with its planned changes. But King, who serves on the Senate Armed Services Committee, says he wants more than just rhetoric.

ANGUS KING: I had a call with the Secretary of Defense about a month ago and that was my blunt message: The reports are good, the recommendations are good, but I want to be sure that the word gets down all the way to the command level, that this isn’t just something that just sitting in a report somewhere in the Pentagon. So I will reserve judgment until I see the actions that are taken as a result of all of this work.

[guitar strumming music]

HOST: In mid-October, less than two weeks before the one-year anniversary of the shooting, attorneys representing dozens of survivors and families of Card’s victims formally notified the federal government of their intent to sue the Army and West Point’s military hospital over how the Army handled Card’s deteriorating mental health. Attorney Travis Brennan:

TRAVIS BRENNAN, PRESS CONFERENCE: “The Army bureaucracy failed Robert Card. The Army bureaucracy failed this state and community and it failed our clients.”

HOST: Robert Card’s ex-wife, Cara Lamb, is infuriated by the finger-pointing she’s seen among law enforcement and Reserve leaders.

CARA LAMB, INTERVIEW: “None of us should be allowed to say that we did enough in this scenario, in this situation.”

HOST: Lamb, along with Robert Card’s son, then a high school senior, were the first to alert local police to their concerns about Card’s deepening paranoia and access to guns. That was in May of 2023 — more than five and a half months before his rampage.

CARA LAMB, INTERVIEW: “All of these people saying that it wasn’t their, their job because it’s such a different life between military and civilian life, that you only have so much control over the soldiers after they leave drill. But you do have a say, you do have a connection to that person still. And you have a requirement, many requirements.”

HOST: In tearful testimony, other family members like Robert Card’s sister, Nicole Herling, told the state commission that they wished the family had pushed harder. Even after Card answered their knocks on his door with a gun. And especially after he gradually stopped communicating with most family members.

NICOLE HERLING, COMMISSION: “I acknowledge my responsibility as Robbie’s sister. I wish I had done everything in my power to get him the help he needed. My pride prevented me from seeking help after facing rejection.”

HOST: Herling and her other brother, Ryan, had tried to get him into treatment. She told the state commission about the countless hours trying to navigate the assistance programs that are supposed to be available to military personnel and their families.

NICOLE HERLING, COMMISSION: “Despite exhaustive online searches, I couldn’t find clear information on where to report my concerns. The information I did come across was outdated. And despite leaving numerous voicemails, none were returned.”

HOST: She and her husband, James, told commission members that Card was a quiet but loving father, brother and uncle before something went horribly wrong inside his head. Before he became convinced that even his family was part of a massive conspiracy against him.

JAMES HERLING, COMMISSION: “This is not an excuse for the behavior and action that Robbie committed. It was a wrongful act of evil. My brother-in-law was not this man. His brain was hijacked.”

[ambient piano music]

HOST: Exactly what happened to Card’s brain has been the subject to a lot of debate and speculation.

Maine’s medical examiner sent Card’s brain tissue to a lab at Boston University’s medical school that studies brain injuries among athletes, like pro football players, and among military personnel. The lab found Card had significant degeneration, inflammation and damage within his brain, and those results were consistent with injuries in other veterans who were repeatedly exposed to blasts.

The Boston University lab would not discuss Robert Card’s brain tissue analysis for this series. In a statement earlier this year, lab director Dr. Ann McKee said she could not say “with certainty” that Card’s behavioral changes were caused by the damage her team observed. But she added that based on the lab’s previous work, quote, “brain injury likely played a role in his symptoms.”

It’s not possible, scientists say, to definitively link brain injuries to specific behaviors. But Card’s family believes his injuries likely led or at least contributed to his mental health deterioration.

The Army’s internal investigation agrees that Card likely suffered a traumatic brain injury — but it raises a different theory. Card fell from his roof and broke his neck in 2008, the report says, quote, “possibly leading to a traumatic brain injury.” Military experts are still reviewing Card’s case.

And during her July press conference, Lt. Gen. Daniels deferred to Army medical experts on the issue. But she also seemed to dismiss the possibility that hand grenade blasts may have injured Card’s brain.

JODY DANIELS, BRIEFING: “So the fall from the house on a ladder, I believe, is that injury that took place. The amount of exposure that he had to other shock is relatively minor.”

HOST: Since then, the Pentagon has announced new safety provisions for soldiers including quote, “baseline cognitive assessment” for all new military recruits — including Reservists.

Nicole Herling told the commission that her brother may have been exposed to up to a thousand shockwaves from grenade blasts during his years training West Point cadets. Now, she and other family members say they are working to raise awareness about mental health in military personnel and are encouraging other veterans to get involved with a national nonprofit that advocates on brain injuries. The goal is to push the military to do more to protect all service members both during combat and training.

[piano music fades up]

NICOLE HERLING, COMMISSION: “They fought for us. Now we fight for them. This is our call to action.”

HOST: In the aftermath of the Lewiston mass shooting, Maine lawmakers passed a slate of gun reform measures, but they stopped short of overhauling the state’s process for keeping guns away from dangerous people.

DAVID TRAHAN, INTERVIEW: “It wasn’t the system that failed, it was the people in the system.”

JANET MILLS, PRESS CONFERENCE: “This tragedy was caused by a colossal failure of human judgment by several people on several occasions.”

HOST: Next time on Breakdown, we’ll explore the political dynamics over gun control in Maine — a place where firearms and hunting are ingrained in the state’s culture and history.

Breakdown is a collaboration between Maine Public Radio, the Portland Press Herald and Frontline PBS, with support from Rock Creek Sound.

Our reporters are Susan Sharon, Steve Mistler and Patty Wight.

The producer is Emily Pisacreta.

The show is edited by Ellen Weiss and Keith Shortall.

Our executive producers are Mark Simpson and Erin Texeira.

Sound design and mixing are by Benjamin Frisch.

Fact checking by Nicole Reinert.

Legal support from Dale Cohen.

Rick Schneider is the President and CEO of Maine Public Radio.

Lisa Desisto is the CEO and Publisher of the Portland Press Herald.

Raney Aronson-Rath is the executive producer and editor-in-chief of FRONTLINE.

Breakdown is produced through FRONTLINE’s Local Journalism Initiative, which is funded by the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation.

For an upcoming video translation of the podcast in American Sign Language, go to frontline.org.

For additional reporting about Lewiston, visit mainepublic.org/breakdown, pressherald.com and frontline.org, where you can also stream an upcoming documentary.

If you are in crisis, please call, text or chat with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988, or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741.

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I’m Kevin Miller, thanks for listening.

This story is part of an ongoing collaboration with FRONTLINE (PBS) and Maine Public that includes an upcoming documentary. It is supported through FRONTLINE’s Local Journalism Initiative, which is funded by the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation.

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