When I first met Jon's medical officer, he told me, “Jon drinks too much.” I said, “Yes. Right now he's drinking too much.” He said, “Did he drink like that before he joined the military?” I said, “No, he did not. He was fun-loving, like everybody else. He had a good upbringing.” He came back and drank to quell the nightmares.
Early on, when he was back, I got calls from his mother-in-law saying, “Greg, you've got to call Jon and talk to him. He's waking up with these night terrors. He bangs the wall. He throws stuff around. He wakes up in a terrorized state.” My ex-wife went to visit him and she was so afraid that she pushed a dresser across the door of the room she was sleeping in because he was pacing up and down the hall with an airsoft rifle, like he was under attack. Several times he was in his backyard, cowering in combat fatigues, shouting orders, and stuff like this. So there was not only drinking, but hallucinations, flashbacks, and things of that nature.
All I ever got from the medical officer was, “No, no, this is an alcohol-related problem.” I insisted and insisted that it was not. Their method of treatment, the first time they sent him to Bellwood, was to put him in an addictions program. They never mentioned PTSD. It wasn't until some time in, I believe, 2010 that a civilian psychiatrist contracted to the military, Dr. Suzanne McKay, who's since left, diagnosed Jon with catastrophic post-traumatic stress disorder.