By JoAnn Goslin
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, February 17, 2008

Writers and psychologists make it their business to work their way inside people's heads. In the former, the people are invented; in the latter, they are in need.

Benjamin M. Schutz wrote award-winning mysteries, populated by abusers and kidnappers. As a forensic psychologist who specialized in child-custody evaluations, he delved into such topics as sexual-abuse allegations and domestic violence in custody disputes.

Darkness was part of his work.

And yet, his elder son, Jakob Schutz, 31, recalled seeing the birthday of the family dog, Calypso, noted in his father's day planner. The dog was long gone, yet his father's memory of her was fresh.

The young Schutz also remembered his wedding, at which his father surprised his mother with a beautiful set of earrings.

That sensitivity, combined with his being "a keen observer of the human condition," made his writing believable and powerful, Jakob Schutz said of the father he lost Jan. 17 to a heart attack at age 58.

"Ben was adored by all of us in part because he understood the depth and dark side of human suffering and was therefore an incredibly safe person," said F. Barton Evans of Bozeman, Mont., a fellow psychologist and professional collaborator with Schutz who knew him for more than 30 years. "When you really understand the human potential to cause suffering, you can make choices that move toward the light."

Schutz spoke often about how his discernment of human behavior and people's motivations influenced the development of his characters, said psychologist JoAnne Lindenberger, his wife of 32 years and partner in a private practice run from their Woodbridge home.

She recalled an interview in which he said: " 'Being a psychologist and writing detective fiction are two sides of the same coin. Only the mysteries change.' " The fictional detective for which Schutz is best known is Leo Haggerty, a District-based private investigator who has been compared to the Boston gumshoe known by the single name Spenser, created by author Robert B. Parker.

Schutz and well-known crime novelist George Pelecanos, both native Washingtonians, are the District's first home-grown, modern-day, major crime writers, said another Washington area novelist, James Grady, best known for the thriller "Six Days of the Condor" (1974).

Schutz contacted him in the mid-'80s after a profile of Grady appeared in The Washington Post and Schutz had just sold his first story. The two met for dinner to discuss their writing, and a friendship was launched.

Robert S. Marvin, a psychologist and University of Virginia professor, said he also was contacted "out of the blue" by Schutz almost three years ago, after he read an article Marvin had written. They talked for two to three hours, sparking a professional collaboration and a friendship that included challenging each other to try new things, be they types of food or ways of thinking.

As Schutz's fiction progressed, he took time to encourage aspiring writers, and he became "the go-to guy for forensic psychology," Grady said. While Schutz crafted his dark characters, he would talk to people in similar situations to avoid cliches and "get a real sense of their humanity," Grady said.

The people Schutz discovered "were not who he expected to find," Grady said. "And this is a psychologist speaking. This is a man who understands abuse of body, mind and spirit far beyond most. He wanted to write his fiction to reflect the reality that was out there."

Schutz's reality included close bonds with his sons, said the younger of the two, Jesse Lindenberger-Schutz, 29, who works for a mutual fund in Manhattan and does representational oil paintings. "He always wanted my brother and I to know that we could talk to him about anything," he said. "We would talk about everything: music, philosophy, movies, soccer, art."

Schutz published "Whatever It Takes" and "Til Death Do Us Part," short stories that featured the fictional Ellis brothers and based on his sons' adventures as private investigators during college break.

"I think Dad thought our one and only foray into 'garbology' was hilarious," said Jakob Schutz, a third-year radiology resident in St. Louis, recalling their attempt to swipe someone's trash to look for liquor bottles as evidence in a domestic dispute. Unfortunately, despite it being 3 a.m., the subject was awake, and the brothers bolted.

"It was like everything else in our lives," he said. "Dad took a supreme interest in everything we did."

That included father and sons playing table tennis and shooting hoops for hours in the cul-de-sac in front of the home near Tysons Corner where the boys grew up. Soccer became an interest of Schutz's because his boys played; he even coached, diving in with his usual verve, buying books and tapes and taking copious notes.

"Dad was the poster child for yellow legal pads," Jakob Schutz said.