Appalachian School of Law Killer Still Haunted by Paranoia, Delusions

By CHRIS KAHN Associated Press Writer

(June 10, 2004)  -- Peter Odighizuwa spends most of his time in a cramped cinderblock jail cell several counties away from the mountain campus he plunged into terror.

He's alone now with the delusions and paranoia that drove him to gun down three people and wound three others at the Appalachian School of Law on Jan. 16, 2002. In his first extended interview, Odighizuwa told The Associated Press he thinks often of that day, though he still has trouble explaining why he did it.

"I really don't know what happened," Odighizuwa said. "I feel like I'm God sometimes, and I was running demons out of the school. It was like an exorcism."

Understanding Odighizuwa, who has been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, remains an important issue for his victims and his former school. After 2{ years, the 46-year-old Nigerian native is now the focus of a series of lawsuits that could force the fledgling law school to pay $23 million.

The lawsuits were filed by the family of slain student Angela Dales and three students who survived the rampage. They claim school officials were well aware Odighizuwa had a history of outbursts and spousal abuse, and should have realized he was a threat.

"Not only was this situation foreseeable, it was probable, based upon Peter's prior conduct," said E. Brent Bryson, the lawyer representing the Dales family and Rebecca Brown, Stacey Beans and Madeline Short.

The lawsuits also contend Odighizuwa was allowed to re-enroll after flunking out because he was one of the school's few black students and administrators were desperate to show diversity to get full accreditation. He opened fire after flunking out a second time.

Law school attorney Daniel Caldwell couldn't be reached at his office Wednesday and Thursday but has denied the claims in earlier interviews.

Odighizuwa spoke to an AP reporter at the New River Valley Regional Jail, where he's waiting to be transferred into the state prison system. He shuffled into a tiny interview room and slid into a plastic stack-up chair, his cuffed hands slumped over his chained ankles.

He wore the same thick-rimmed glasses and black-and-white striped jump suit that he wore in court. But unlike the past two years of court hearings, Odighizuwa seemed focused--he wanted to talk.

"I didn't flunk out," he said. "People say I did, but I got a C average."

He spoke for about an hour, rubbing the palms of his hands between questions. He paused for several seconds when asked about his victims.

"The students shouldn't get anything from the school," he said with a snort and quick wave of his hand. "The law school isn't a psychiatrist. It doesn't know what's in my head."

Odighizuwa said the shooting was like an explosion, a culmination of frustration and anger that bottled up inside him as he struggled to become a lawyer.

"I'm not a violent person," he said. "You ask any of the inmates here. My fellow inmates, they like me."

Odighizuwa said he

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came to the United States in 1980 and worked for several years as a bus driver and a factory clerk in Portland, Ore. He later moved to Ohio, where he briefly enrolled at Ohio State University before going to Central State University. Though he studied math, Odighizuwa said he developed a keen interest in the law.

"I wanted to practice public interest law ... you know, help the people that are low income, people who have disabilities, immigration. I'm an immigrant myself."

Odighizuwa started applying for law school and soon received letters from the Appalachian School of Law in the tiny southwestern Virginia town of Grundy. He'd never heard of the school, but Odighizuwa eventually decided to enroll there and take his wife and four children with him.

But Odighizuwa said law school was difficult, not just academically, but socially. He had no friends.

"I would show up in the library and everybody would leave. They would go like this when I came around," Odighizuwa said, coughing and snorting vigorously. "Like that."

Odighizuwa said that for months before the shooting he brought a pistol to school for protection after finding an unfired bullet outside his door. "I don't know if someone was threatening me or what."

The day of the shooting, Odighizuwa said he doesn't remember pulling the gun out of his car and walking upstairs. He said he only has a foggy recollection of shooting dean Anthony Sutin and professor Thomas Blackwell.

He does remember walking into the student lounge and seeing Dales, Beans, Short and Brown. Odighizuwa said all four were particularly mean to him, though he didn't recall any specific examples. As he walked down the stairs, Odighizuwa aimed at the four women.

"I wasn't just shooting all over the place," Odighizuwa said. "I saw the people who were menacing me. It happened so fast."

These days, Odighizuwa said he regrets what happened. But at the same time, he still can't be sure that his paranoia isn't real. "I just felt this feeling of taking care ... I was taking care of FBI and CIA agents. And the KGB too."

Odighizuwa, who pleaded guilty in February to firearms, capital murder and attempted capital murder charges, will likely spend the rest of his life behind bars. However, he recently sent Circuit Judge Michael Moore a letter asking to retract his plea and order a jury trial.

"I never wanted a plea bargain," Odighizuwa said. "I wanted the opportunity to get psychiatric help. But they (defense lawyers) kept telling me I was better off in jail."

Jimmy Turk Jr., who represented Odighizuwa, said it will be unlikely that the judge agrees.

"There's absolutely no question in my mind that Peter suffers from mental illness," Turk said. "But that's not a valid defense for someone who's committed a capital crime."

Read: How Others Can Help the Schizophrenic and How Family Members Can Maintain Their Own Health and Emotional Well-being

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