There are things that a healthy human mind simply cannot comprehend, and a mother killing her children is one of them.
That’s why the lawsuit is against Lindsay Clancya former maternity nurse Massachusettshas captivated and divided opinion on both sides of the Atlantic. On a snowy night in 2023, Clancy strangled her three children with exercise bands before slitting her own wrists and attempting suicide by throwing herself out her bedroom window.
She did not die that night with her children, as she probably intended, but survived, paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair. In some ways, there could be no crueler punishment: living on in a hopeless hell of her own creation, with every waking second haunted by the memory of that terrible night.
But even though she was already serving a life sentence, the question remained: Were her actions the result of postpartum psychosis (her youngest, Callan, was only eight months old), as her defense team argued, or did she, as the prosecution claimed, “act deliberately, rationally, and quickly to achieve a very specific goal: to kill”?
In court she cried constantly, sometimes so loudly that the judge had to stop the proceedings. Outside, women traveled from across America to show her support. They wore pink shirts in solidarity with someone they thought was a victim, of medical neglect, of the way the system treats new mothers (postpartum psychosis is rare – two in a thousand – but postpartum psychosis is rare – two in a thousand – but postnatal depression is much more common and affects between 10 and 15 percent of women).
Ultimately, the jury – three men and nine women – could not reach a unanimous verdict and the judge declared a mistrial. This means Clancy could face trial again – although lawyers for her ex-husband and the children’s father, Patrick Clancy, were keen to emphasize how traumatic the whole trial had been for him, warning that the prospect ‘of reliving this tragedy through a new trial is extremely painful’.
It is difficult to see what purpose any other process would serve. Her guilt is not in question; it is her motives that remain unclear. But either way, she will forever be vilified as a child murderer. Lindsay Clancy’s life is essentially over.
Lindsay Clancy with her then-husband Patrick and their children, Cora, Dawson and Callan, who she strangled with exercise bands
But for Mr. Clancy, the children’s father, that is not the case. He has since moved to New York and remarried a doctor who specializes in treating infertility. In all aspects of this tragedy, he has been incredibly generous to his ex. “I wasn’t married to a monster – I was married to someone who got sick,” he told an interviewer in 2024. He should be able to move on in peace as best he can.
This case has shed light on the whole issue of postpartum depression, and how it should be treated. Years ago, after I had my son, I was diagnosed with quite severe postpartum depression. When I read some excerpts from Clancy’s diaries, recovered from the family home in the aftermath of the murders, I shuddered and recognized many of her feelings.
The entries dealt with despair, insomnia, ‘crazy brain fog’ and guilt. “I’m so desperate for a mental break that my mind is trying to make something physically wrong with me,” she wrote in 2022. Sleep training Callan “nearly killed me,” she noted. ‘I feel like I can’t make a plan. I can’t run it. Like I’m living from moment to moment’ and ‘I’m drowning every day’.
I recognize those feelings all too well, even from a distance of more than twenty years. When my son was born, my daughter was only 16 months old: she struggled to adapt to the new arrival. Then he became very ill, which led to all kinds of other problems. A combination of exhaustion, hormones, guilt and anxiety left me struggling both physically and mentally.
I remember joking to a friend that I was desperately hoping something would happen to me so I could get a “non-fatal hospital stay” and get a good night’s sleep.
I also remember how I would sometimes be overcome by almost uncontrollable anger. There were times when I really scared myself. For example, I remember once having trouble unfolding the kids’ double stroller in a grocery store parking lot.
The kids were crying in the back of the car, it was raining and I was suddenly at the end of my rope. I slammed the buggy on the asphalt like a madman. God knows what every passerby must have thought. The smallest thing would send me into a tailspin. I was a nightmare of neuroses.
But I was lucky: during a check-up my doctor noticed my depressed mood. He asked if I was okay, and my emotional dam burst. Not long after, I found myself in a psychiatrist’s office, diagnosing a textbook example of postpartum depression. He sometimes told me that in cases like mine he might recommend a period of separation from the children (the thought of that was like a knife to my heart), but that he did not think I was a danger to them. More than that, he said, a danger to myself.
In court, Lindsay sobbed continuously, sometimes so loudly that the judge had to stop the proceedings
Her defense team argued that her actions were the result of postpartum psychosis (her youngest, Callan, was only eight months old)
I recovered with a combination of rest, medication and help from family and friends. But I remember all too well how abandoned I felt, how convinced I was that I was a total failure as a mother (and wife). Until then I had never had a single day of psychological problems. Since then the black dog has only been around the corner.
I was lucky: I had the right professionals and the right support. It seems to me that Lindsay Clancy didn’t. At what point she turned from a struggling mother to a murderer we may never know, but at some point her troubled mind somehow convinced herself that this was the best course of action.
Had she been properly diagnosed and treated, her children might not have paid the ultimate price. Their future has been stolen. For the sake of their memory, this must never happen again.
I fully understand that Nigel Farage has not had an easy time of late, but he would do well to stop whining and blaming everyone else for his misery. If he wants to become prime minister, he must accept a degree of control. Otherwise… well, you know what they say about heating and kitchens.
How dare they troll dear Peter?
Last week Peter Hitchens and I celebrated the 80th edition of our podcast, Alas Vine And Hitchens. I suspect the reason we were first linked to the powers that be was because we are chalk and cheese. I’m an eternal optimist, while Peter can be quite Eeyore-ish.
But despite our differences, I’ve grown quite fond of him – which is why an incident a few days ago made me angry. Peter and I were talking on the street when a wealthy, middle-aged man appeared out of nowhere and tapped him on the shoulder. Peter jumped around in alarm, whereupon the man declared, “Your brother was much smarter than you,” and waltzed away, looking terribly smug. It’s something that happens often on social media, but it was truly shocking to see such vile trolls in real life. Do that again, sir, and you’ll have to answer to me.
Miriam Margolyes has a reputation for being outspoken, but even by her standards, her latest outburst was shocking. In an interview with Andi Peters on ITV, she asked him about his origins and then called him a ‘high yaller’ (also called ‘high yellow’), which means an old South American term for a black or mixed-race person with a light complexion. I don’t think she realized she was being offensive at 85 – but isn’t that the real problem here?
Sad news: Ski Sunday no longer exists. It was an important part of my childhood, something to look forward to on rainy Sunday afternoons. No doubt it will be replaced by something terrifyingly modern and woke. Another nail in the BBC’s coffin.
