• September 13, 2004
• Vol. 62
• No. 11

Lost Children, One by One

By Richard Jerome

Tormented by Mental Illness, Three of Loretta Duvall's Kids Killed Themselves—Including One Who Stalked David Letterman. Now Duvall Aids Others in Crisis

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From PEOPLE Magazine

Loretta Duvall recalls the first time she saw her daughter Margaret Ray on the evening news. It was 1988, and Peggy, as her mother called her, had been arrested at New York City's Lincoln Tunnel for stealing David Letterman's $70,000 Porsche from the driveway of his New Canaan, Conn., home. Ray simply told police she was the talk show host's wife and that her 3-year-old son Alex, whom she had taken on the joyride, was his child. "She was slim, pretty and smiling," says Duvall, 76, who was "devastated" to see her child in custody. "Peggy could come off very sane."

Like much in Margaret Ray's life, it was an illusion. In the' 90s the mother of five became notorious as Dave's Stalker—a crazy woman who broke into his house at least four times and was found on his property or nearby on more than a dozen occasions. Ray's antics made Letterman's Top 10 List, and she became a national joke. But her loved ones weren't laughing. Ray was mentally ill and, according to her mother, was suffering from delusions caused by schizophrenia. (Letterman, who declined to comment for this article, stopped making jokes when the extent of Ray's problems became apparent.) She ended her misery at age 46, kneeling before an oncoming coal train in a remote Colorado valley on Oct. 5, 1998.

For Duvall it was another blow in a 30-year cycle of tragedy: Ray was the third of her four children to die after a short but troubled life. Not all of them were diagnosed, but Duvall believes they all suffered from schizophrenia. Ray's death pushed Duvall into action. In 1999 she joined the nonprofit National Alliance for the Mentally Ill and now presides over an affiliate near her Greenwich, Conn., home. "When Peggy became infamous, we hid from the press—they camped at our door," she says. "When she died, I thought, 'I'm not hiding anymore.' "

Now Duvall, a retired nurse, runs a support group and lobbies politicians to reform laws affecting the mentally ill. Most recently she has tried to get funding for mental-health education in schools. "She pushes that it's important for families in crisis to know they are not alone, that there is that light," says NAMI Connecticut program director and assistant executive director Tracie Zavatsky.

Duvall's own experience speaks volumes. Raised in Chicago, she wed college sweetheart George Ray in 1949, although she knew he had a history of mental instability, one that eventually manifested itself as rage, paranoia and alcohol abuse. "She has a big belief in love conquers all," says son Tom, 50, a fine-arts consultant in New York City. "She later realized his mental illness was not one of those things."

But for a time it seemed to be. "We lived in a nice big house on a big lake," says Tom, who has escaped the illnesses that plagued his siblings. "My mom and dad were very loving. My brother Bill was a big, handsome kid who enjoyed sports. My sister was popular. My little brother [David] was into music." But their lives began to unravel. George grew intolerable, and Duvall left him in 1971 (he died in 1976). Soon after, Bill volunteered for the Army, where he began hallucinating and hearing voices. Diagnosed schizophrenic, he was treated with anti-psychotic medication that initially seemed to help. But one night in December 1973, he threatened to kill himself; the next day he drove his car into a tree (although the insurance company ruled it an accident). Several years later David, 21, a talented pianist who suffered from depression and alcohol abuse, sat in a garage with his car's engine running and died of carbon monoxide poisoning. "After Bill died, I hurt so badly I remember thinking, 'I don't think the world could continue to turn,'" says Duvall. "After David died, I have a period of time that I just can't remember."

Around that time, Margaret began showing signs of instability. She dropped out of nursing school and married carpenter Gary Johanson and bore Max, now 30, Anna-Lisa, 28, an attorney and mental-health advocate, Jake, 26, and Pia, 23 (Alex, 20, came from a later relationship). But her marriage ended as she grew more erratic.

Ray's family had no inkling of her obsession with Letterman until it hit the media. Jailed or hospitalized after many of the incidents, she would stabilize on medication, then stop her pills and relapse. Aside from taking custody of grandson Alex, Duvall watched helplessly as her daughter deteriorated. "Peggy was so charming," she says. "And so sick."

Now she hopes to prevent others from experiencing her anguish. "When people ask me how I'm able to do this, I say I don't know," Duvall says. "I just know I have to."

Richard Jerome. Abby West in Greenwich and Tom Duffy in Boston

• Contributors:
• Abby West,
• Tom Duffy.