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'He never wanted to give up on Kurt'

The decades of unconditional love that Gerard Walczak gave to his son could not save either man, family members say.

By ASHLEE CLARK
Published July 9, 2006

CLEARWATER - Gerard Walczak grew up in a generation that believed you could do anything if you put your mind to it.

He helped raise seven younger brothers and sisters during the Depression, served as a Marine in World War II, earned a law degree and was a self-made businessman.

And he once wrote his personal philosophy in the front cover of a child's dictionary that he gave as a Christmas present.

"To Drew, my favorite grandson - Learn to use and apply this book whenever you need it. It will be a good friend. On page 605, I deleted two words you must never use. Love, Grandpa."

There, in the bottom right corner, he had used a blue pen to cross out the words "quit" and "quitter."

For nearly 20 years, Gerard's son Kurt had been the focus of his persistence, said his family.

But Kurt was deeply troubled, and Gerard's unconditional love wasn't enough to save either man.

In November 2003, Kurt Walczak shot and killed his father at the family's home on Magnolia Drive near Clearwater High School. Gerard was 76; Kurt was 41. On June 30, Kurt was sentenced to life in prison for his father's murder.

"The qualities that made my dad such a great person and such a great father - his caring, his optimism, his inability to give up on my brother - all those wonderful, wonderful qualities about him contributed to his death," said Kurt's twin sister, Karen Bonsignori of Clearwater.

"Because the fact of the matter is that he never wanted to give up on Kurt."

* * *

After the shooting, Kurt claimed to police that his father had been an abusive, tormenting parent who was the cause of everything wrong in his life.

But the rest of the family tells an entirely different story.

Gerard and Rita Walczak adopted Karen and Kurt in Milwaukee when the twins were just a month old. The family moved to the house on Magnolia Drive in 1969.

Like his sister, Kurt went to public schools early on, then graduated from Clearwater Central Catholic High School.

He spent a year at the University of Tennessee, then, with his father's support, raced stock cars for a while. Then he got vocational testing and later spent four years earning an associate's degree at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University.

Gerard, who worked in the building business, typically didn't like to spend money that wasn't going to have a return. In Kurt's case, his family said, he hoped the return would be having a son who was independent.

But during this time, Kurt's mental health began to deteriorate. He attempted suicide in 1985 and in 1986 and was hospitalized, Karen said.

"(My parents) felt that just by seeking out the best help that they could for Kurt and being good parents and loving him that they could pull him through this," Karen said. "They still felt that Kurt could be fixed, so to speak."

Then the delusions began.

Kurt began to believe that the Ku Klux Klan was following him. He thought they sent letters attacking him to the dean at Embry-Riddle, said Karen's husband, Adam Bonsignori, 45.

Kurt was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia in 1996 and began taking antipsychotic medication.

Things got better, Karen and Adam said. Then Kurt stopped taking his medication.

Kurt kept his conspirators from spying on him by lining the windows in his room and garage with cardboard and aluminum foil.

As Kurt's delusions worsened, the house continued to turn into a mental war zone.

When Karen and Adam stayed at her parents' house for a while, they would lock their bedroom door at night and pray that they would see the morning, Adam testified.

"Karen and I were all scared for our lives, to be honest with you," he said.

Kurt, however, didn't believe anything was wrong with him, Adam said, but rarely left his parents' home because he feared he was being followed.

Kurt began to blame his father for everything, beginning with a fall at an aunt's house in Milwaukee that injured Kurt's knees and back.

"(My parents) didn't want to believe that Kurt was a paranoid schizophrenic," Karen said. "That was a term that you just didn't use."

Gerard kept doing everything to help, except the one thing that needed to be done, Karen said - getting Kurt into a hospital.

* * *

Karen, 43, whose career has been in the communications field, said she had tried on and off for a decade to convince her parents that Kurt needed to go to a hospital for mental health treatment.

Finally, after her brother confided to her that he had fantasies of hurting himself and his father, she had to try one last time.

In September 2003, she took her parents to lunch at a Perkins Family Restaurant in Tampa. She brought a friend who also had a brother with similar mental problems.

Kurt needed more help than they were capable of giving, she said. But they thought sending Kurt to a hospital was a sign that they were quitting.

"It's not giving up on him," Karen said she told them. "It's helping him."

Her parents agreed - at first.

Then, a week later, they changed their minds.

About three months after the lunch, the Friday after Thanksgiving, Rita and Gerard were at home when Kurt came out of his room, Rita Walczak testified at her son's trial. He told her he was going to start swimming the following Monday and would go see a new psychiatrist.

There was nothing abnormal about his behavior, said Mrs. Walczak, who declined comment for this story. Later Walgreens called to say that a prescription for Kurt was ready. Gerard wrote out a check for the pharmacy, but left the amount blank and put it in Kurt's room.

Soon after, Kurt came out with his Glock 10mm handgun. He showed them the bullets, then reloaded the gun.

For a moment, Mrs. Walczak testified, she and Gerard were stunned.

Run, she said,

Gerard didn't. At the instant Kurt pulled the trigger, his father was facing him.

"I don't think my dad ever believed that Kurt would harm him or anyone else," Karen said.

* * *

Almost three years after Gerard's death, Karen still thinks about the lesson her father taught her: to always ask herself what she has learned from a tragic event.

"There are no books on this - this is uncharted territory," Karen said.

Sheryle Baker, the executive director of the Life Center of the Suncoast, said families where one relative kills another suffer two losses: the victim and the attacker.

"Somebody you've grown up with that does this horrible act, it's almost like a slap in the face of any of the loving components of that relationship," she said.

Yet Baker said it's still possible to heal and forgive, a process that could take a day or a lifetime.

For Karen, forgiving her brother was one of the first steps she had to take.

Last Christmas, she wrote Kurt a letter.

"I can't give you a present, but my present that I want to give you this Christmas is that I forgive you," she said she wrote.

It's very hard, she said, but in a sense, "it helps that he, in my mind, is not all there. It makes it easier for me to forgive him for what he's done."

But, as Baker says often happens to families in this situation, Kurt is as lost to his sister as her father is. Kurt's paranoia now is focused on her, and the two don't speak.

"The little boy I used to sleep with under the Christmas tree waiting for Santa is gone," she said.

[Last modified July 8, 2006, 23:10:41]