A deadly encounter

As 1998 drew to a close, Kendra Webdale returned to Fredonia to celebrate Christmas with her family.   Every detail of the family reunion is etched in their minds now.

Ralph Webdale, Kendra’s dad: Everybody had a great time. There was no friction.

Patty Webdale, Kendra’s mom: And we said, wow, this was like the most amazing time together. Like it was just perfect.

In New York City, it was a far different story for Andrew Goldstein.  He was living alone, in that basement apartment in Queens.  And there was no going home for the holidays.

Zach Vega, Andrew Goldstein’s housemate: From what he had told me about his parents and especially his moms, you know, he wasn’t really welcomed.

Goldstein’s housemate Zach Vega says the estrangement hit Andrew particularly hard over the holidays.

Vega:  He didn’t know why his mom didn’t want to spend time with him. He didn’t know why—especially at this time of the year, he couldn’t be with her.

Andrew spent the holiday season once again trying to get help. Hospital records transcribed by Dateline show that on November 24^th he’d admitted himself to North General hospital in Harlem. It would be the last chance the system would have to keep him off the streets...and away from Kendra Webdale.

Asked why he wanted to be hospitalized, Andrew wrote: “Severe schizophrenia. Hopefully will cure.”  His delusions were so “intense and unbearable” that he asked for eye glasses to find the faces of the voices he heard talking to him.

Even two weeks later, his condition remained acute.

December 9^th: He’s described as “disorganized, thought disordered, and delusional.”

December 10^th: He “remains psychotic.”

December 11^th: He “remains paranoid.”

But then on December 14th, this note:  “Good for discharge tomorrow with follow up.”

Michael Winerip, New York Times reporter on the story: It appears what happened from the hospital records is they ran out of time. That’s what managed care does the hospital system. They had to get him out basically within three weeks.

And indeed on December 15^th, three weeks before the incident that would be described as “horror on the tracks” North General released Andrew Goldstein, saying he was “stable and improved.”  Now, this man who’d been hospitalized 13 times in the past two years, who’d attacked 13 people, was once again out on his own—and told to get help at a nearby clinic.

Winerip: One of the most shocking things in those hospital records was this outpatient clinic that was responsible for his care in the end.

It was Bleuler Psychotherapy Center—a place that apparently knew so little about Andrew Goldstein its records say he had no history of violence.

Winerip: This was the only treatment that this very seriously potentially violent mentally ill man was getting. Here’s a piece of paper, come for this appointment.

But two times over the holidays, on December 22^nd and 23^rd, Andrew didn’t show. Bleuler would later claim it tried to reach him several times. Finally, his case manager seemed to give up. 

Winerip: She sent out a letter to him saying that if you don’t come for your next appointment, we’re gonna discontinue servicing you.

The letter was sent the day after Christmas. It gives him until January 6^th to contact the clinic. But by then it would be too late.

Sunday January 3^rd, 1999 brought a gloomy, rainy end to the holidays.  Andrew Goldstein rose early and headed into Manhattan.  He’d spend the day like so many others.  Listening to music.  Eating fast food. Breakfast at McDonald’s.  Then to a record store.

He listened to Madonna and—he would later write --  “drew pictures in his mind of a blimp on a green lawn in Germany during the 1930’s...”  

Finally, around 5 p.m., he entered the subway on Broadway and  23^rd street.  He was headed home.

A few blocks away, Kendra Webdale was back in New York, and spending a lazy afternoon at home.  She didn’t like rain. 

Patricia Webdale remembers that day vividly.  She was home sick—and thinking about her daughter.

Patricia Wedbale, Kendra’s mother: I was sitting on my bed, and I felt such a sense of Kendra having come into herself. And how almost perfect she was, as a self.

And then, at the last minute, a friend invited Kendra to visit. So she headed out and into the same subway station -- 23^rd street—at about the same time -- 5 o’clock—as Andrew Goldstein.

Kendra was standing at the end of the platform, according to eyewitnesses—about 5 feet from the tracks. She was leaning against a pole, reading a magazine, and waiting for the train. Andrew, witnesses said, was pacing up and down the platform, mumbling  to himself and irritating the crowd. He peered up at one blond woman—and she shooed him away. Then, he approached Kendra, asked her for the time, and then he backed up.

Andrew would later tell police that as the subway approached he felt a sensation, like a ghost or a spirit entering him and he got the urge to push, kick or punch the woman with blonde hair.

What happened next haunts those who saw it to this day.  They later testified that as the 400 ton train roared in, Goldstein suddenly shot out—and—with what some would call impeccable timing—brutally shoved Kendra forward toward the tracks.

Steven Ramirez, witness and fellow passenger: When the train was heading in, I see these two hands pushing somebody onto the track.

Passenger Steven Ramirez watched as Kendra flew head first onto the tracks

Ramirez: And it’s like a movie.  The train is coming and you see somebody flying and going in front of the train. She just got hit and went under the train.

Onlookers fled—sickened and stunned. Goldstein was just feet from a subway exit—but never ran.  Instead, says Ramirez, when confronted about why he had done it, he quietly uttered the words he’d spoken so many times before.

Ramirez: He says, “I’m crazy. I’m psychotic. Take me to the hospital.”

Moments later, the subway driver crawled under the car.  He saw the woman with blond hair, he later testified, and tried to comfort her, telling her that help was on the way.  There was no response.

Patty Webdale: My thought was i always wanted six kids, and I got to have six kids.  and now i have five kids.

The news of Kendra’s death would hit the Webdale family in the most horrible of ways.  A newspaper reporter left a message on her sister Kim’s answering machine.

Kim Webdale, sister: As soon as I heard the name Kendra Webdale, I just hopped up and then, I heard the word killed.  (crying) And I just remember screaming, like “no no.”  I just couldn’t believe it was true.

And slowly the details emerged—a mentally ill man; a history of violence, a senseless tragedy - one that might have been avoided.

Ralph Webdale, father: I’m into accounting and finance.  And in accounting and finance you balance everything, and it reconciles.  You can put it together, it always works out.  But this doesn’t reconcile and it doesn’t balance.  And it isn’t working out.

The pain would propel the Webdales on a search for accountability, from the mental health system which had failed to protect their daughter, and the judicial system which now had to decide the fate of Andrew Goldstein.

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