CLEARWATER, Fla. - On the tarmac outside the flight school that had become Charles Bishop's second home, the 15-year-old quickly untied three ropes that anchored a small white plane.

Things seemed on an upswing for the shy, gawky boy who for years had moved from town to town with his mother. The severe acne on his face was fading, thanks to the powerful and controversial drug Accutane, and he had found acceptance in the male preserves of the flight school. Stepping into the plane on that January day, he dispensed with the required preflight checks, slid behind the controls of the single-engine Cessna, and rushed it jerkily off the tarmac.

Inside the school's lobby, his grandmother, Karen Johnson, watched the rough takeoff. She figured Charles's instructor was probably chewing him out. But a moment later, Johnson glanced up to find the instructor standing in front of her - a look of terror on his face.

In a matter of minutes, Bishop, a Boston-born teenager, had slammed the plane into the green reflective glass of the 28th floor of downtown Tampa's tallest skyscraper. It was a scene frighteningly reminiscent of Al Qaeda's assault on the World Trade Center less than four months earlier, sparking fear that it was part of a new round of terrorism.

Stuffed in Bishop's pocket was a note expressing sympathy for Osama bin Laden. ''He has brought a mighty nation to its knees!'' Bishop wrote. ''God blesses him and the others who helped make September 11th happen.''

Seven months later, authorities and friends alike remain profoundly perplexed by the contradictions in how Bishop, a gentle teenager who listened to Beethoven, could have ended his life so horrifically.

Charles's mother, Julia Bishop, and his grandmother believe they've found the cause, and it has less to do with the rants of a terrorist and more to do with the marks on his adolescent face. In April, they filed a $70 million lawsuit against the makers of Accutane, the potent acne medicine Bishop took in the months leading up to his death. Relying on years of controversial evidence of a possible link between Accutane and psychological problems - including at least 152 suicides worldwide - the family is alleging that although the drug may have lessened Charles Bishop's acne, it made him so psychotic that he believed he was on a mission for the Taliban.

''Charles Bishop was the all-American son,'' said Michael Ryan, a Fort Lauderdale-based attorney representing Julia Bishop in the Accutane lawsuit. Ryan points to an essay that Charles Bishop wrote just three months before the crash in which the honors student decried the terrorism of Sept. 11. ''I am still shocked that some people could do such a thing,'' Bishop had written. ''Osama bin Laden's and the Taliban's days are numbered.''

Those sentiments seemed more in line with the Bishop friends remember, the earnest boy who wrote politicians urging them to protect endangered animals.

''He was a great student, a respectful son, a compassionate person,'' Ryan said. ''What happened on Jan. 5 was a psychotic break. ... As Julia Bishop says, we looked for everything, and the only thing is Accutane.''

Yet in Charles Bishop's life there were other troubles, from his nomadic existence to his difficulty in speaking about the father he never knew. In fact, in his tumultuous family background is a bizarre episode in which his parents tried to commit suicide in a Romeo-and-Juliet-style pact before he was born.

But perhaps more of a factor in his life was just how subject to change it always was. By the time he was a freshman at East Lake High School in Tarpon Springs, Fla., Bishop had attended no fewer than 11 schools, in places ranging from Massachusetts towns such as Winchester and Norwell to cities in Georgia and Florida. The combination of his shyness and transient lifestyle left him with few friends beyond his mother and grandmother.

A star-crossed couple, if only for a short time Julia Detore was 17 in 1984, and living in Malden, when she began dating Charles Bishara, 19, whom her lawyers depict as a rough-hewn James Dean type. Later that year, they decided to marry. But distraught over a failed attempt to get a marriage license, they stuffed rags in the tailpipe of Detore's car, hoping to kill themselves with carbon monoxide, according to an account in the Malden Evening News. When that didn't work, they decided that Detore would stab Bishara with a butcher knife and he would slit her wrists, the newspaper said.

But when Detore cut Bishara in the stomach - lacerating his liver - he began bleeding profusely, and the pain was so great they had a change of heart. Two years later, they married.

Julia Bishop declined repeated requests for an interview for this story. But Ryan, her lawyer, dismissed the stabbing as the product of a ''drug-induced haze,'' and said that Charles Bishop had never known of his parents' failed suicide attempt. Ryan insisted the family has no history of mental illness.

When Charles was about a year old, his parents split up. Julia Bishop told police that her son was an infant the last time he saw his father. Charles Bishara's father, Robert Bishara of Everett, declined to be interviewed for this story, but the elder Bishara's girlfriend said the family has no idea where the son is.

Hoping to erase all traces of her ex-husband after their breakup, Julia decided to change her and her son's last name to Bishop, from Bishara, the surname passed down from her ex-husband's ancestors in Syria, Ryan said.

Over the years, Charles bristled when people asked about his father. He told a flight school mentor that he didn't see his dad, who lived ''up North.'' He told other friends his father traveled. Sometimes he said his father was dead.

Nomadic life leaves little room for friendships Charles Bishop moved so often that few people outside of his family seemed to have known him. Ryan said that Julia Bishop, a graphic designer, often moved for new job opportunities.

Early on, Charles and his mother lived in her hometown of Winchester. The wavy-haired boy who went by ''Chucky'' made a big impression on Patty Slater, his first-grade teacher. ''He was the sweetest little boy, the kind anybody would be thrilled to have in their classroom,'' she said.

That spring, Charles gave Slater a card he'd made out of blue construction paper. He'd pasted his picture inside it and written in crayon, ''Thank you for everything. Love, Chucky.'' Slater still has it.

By the time the family settled in Florida, Charles was in middle school. With all the moving, maintaining friendships had been tough. But when he got to East Lake High School he found a confidant.

''We both moved around a lot,'' said Emerson Favreau, 15, whose father had recently retired from the Air Force. ''We were used to that, used to being yanked away from our friends.''

Charles was facing another possible move at the time of the crash. His mother was getting a new job - an accomplishment they had planned to celebrate after his lesson that night.

It isn't clear whether Julia Bishop's new work would have required the family to move again. Bishop's lawyer said Charles's mother intended to keep him in the same school, but Charles had told Favreau that he thought he'd be transferring.

When police asked Julia Bishop about her son's friends, Favreau's name was the only one she recalled. She told authorities that Charles didn't enjoy the company of other children, that he steered clear of children who had body piercings or ''outlandish hairstyles.'' On the day Karen Johnson drove her grandson to flight school for the last time, Charles implored her that if he died - or something went wrong during his lesson - not to let his ''enemies'' or his father attend his funeral.

Charles Bishop spent most of his time alone or with his mother. He named her as his hero - along with himself - in a 1999 class writing assignment. At school, he distinguished himself as one of the few students who always carried a book with him. He favored Tom Clancy novels and National Geographic magazines. At the time of his death, he was reading the autobiography of retired General Electric CEO Jack Welch.

''We thought this kid was going to do great things,'' said Kathleen Porter, owner of Dunedin Academy, a private college-prep school where Charles attended eighth grade. ''He was a Harvard/Yale type.''

Powerful drug is effective - and under suspicion

When Charles was 11, a family friend who was a pilot took him for an airplane ride. And that was it. In flying, Charles discovered a sense of both belonging and freedom.

He soon aspired to become an Air Force pilot and then to fly commercially. He began learning the basics a few years later, about the time he started taking Accutane.

Charles's acne had sprouted while he was in eighth grade, and other medications didn't seem to help. But Accutane, often hailed by dermatologists as the only true cure for severe cystic acne that can cause scarring, surely would.

At the dermatologist's office in April 2001, Julia Bishop expressed concern about the drug, Ryan said. Her mother had read something about Accutane users committing suicide, but, according to Ryan, the doctor assured her the drug had not been shown to cause suicide or psychological problems - a position also taken by the drug's maker, New Jersey-based Hoffman-La Roche. The company denies that Charles's death is linked to the drug.

Proponents of Accutane stress that mood disorders are a common problem among teens, the age group for which the drug is largely prescribed. And those with acne may be more vulnerable to depression because their appearance may set them apart or draw the ridicule of their peers.

And yet there have been enough reports of suicide among Accutane users - at least 152 to date - that the FDA asks physicians to require patients to sign a lengthy informed-consent form. Charles Bishop and his mother both signed the form, according to Ryan. The drug, taken by 13 million people since going on the market 20 years ago, has been proven to cause such severe birth defects that women must take pregnancy tests every month in order to use it.

''Some people tried to end their own lives,'' the drug's consent form reads. ''And some people have ended their own lives. No one knows if Accutane caused these behaviors or if they would have happened even if the person did not take Accutane.''

As Charles's skin cleared up over the next several months, he spent more and more time at National Aviation Flight School at the St. Petersburg-Clearwater International Airport.

''I could tell he was extremely fascinated with flying,'' said David Cunningham, the school's operations manager. Cunningham arranged for Charles to wash airplanes to help defray the $120 lessons fee.

Three weeks before the crash, Cunningham gave Charles a ride of barrel rolls and loops in his red aerobatic plane to reward him for a report card of all A's and B's. ''He was like the kid I kind of wished I had,'' Cunningham said.

Charles frequently talked about the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, his friends said. He was upset that he missed several flying lessons when the FAA closed down airspace around the St. Petersburg-Clearwater airport and others throughout the country. After the airspace reopened, he seemed concerned about security; he e-mailed Cunningham that the flight school should require identification badges.

At East Lake High School, he wrote essays criticizing terrorism and seemed to grow impatient with the US military's hunt for those responsible for Sept. 11. ''He kept commenting on how they hadn't found Osama bin Laden yet,'' Favreau said. ''That they should find him and that he should be killed.''

By late fall, Charles seemed to be in good spirits. His mother would later tell authorities that she believed her son felt better emotionally because his skin had improved. He remained on Accutane. In a couple of months, he might qualify to fly solo for the first time. ''This child was a happy, well-balanced, forward-thinking child who had a great deal to live for,'' Julia Bishop told NBC's ''Today'' show in her only interview after filing the lawsuit.

Like the parents of other teens on Accutane who killed themselves, she said his death came without warning.

''We have young males who have no [depression] risk factors at all and then all of a sudden they have problems,'' said Dr. J. Douglas Bremner, associate professor of psychiatry and radiology at Emory University, who advised Bishop's attorneys. ''They kill themselves and it seems out of the blue.''

But Dr. Douglas G. Jacobs, a psychiatrist affiliated with Harvard Medical School and an expert on suicide who has been a consultant for the drugmaker Hoffman-La Roche, said it's typical for teens contemplating suicide not to tell their parents. Jacobs examined cases of suicides among Accutane users and testified before Congress that there is no proof the drug causes mental problems.

In retrospect, Charles said some things in those weeks that might have hinted at his troubles.

During an online chat, he asked Favreau where ''Central Command'' was. Central Command, which was directing US troops' actions in Afghanistan, is located at MacDill Air Force Base near Tampa.

''I didn't think he meant anything by it, because it had been on the news a lot,'' Favreau said.

Three days before the Saturday crash, Charles told Favreau to watch for him on the news that Saturday. Favreau assumed he was joking.

On his last day, the questions begin

Charles awoke the morning of Jan. 5 at his grandmother's house near the two-story apartment he shared with his mother. Julia Bishop still lives in that olive-green apartment in Palm Harbor, a small town north of Clearwater. Late that afternoon, Karen Johnson drove her grandson to National Aviation. On the way, they cruised through a Wendy's drive-through, and Charles cracked jokes about former president Bill Clinton.

They were early for the lesson; Charles's instructor was finishing up with another student. He asked Charles what he'd like to work on that day, and the teen answered ''touch-and-go's'' - airport lingo for takeoffs and landings.

Charles took the keys to the airplane from the front desk and headed toward the tarmac. Though his instructor hadn't arrived on the tarmac, Charles got into the plane, started the engine, and lurched it forward into an unusually speedy takeoff, observers told police. The plane flew southeast and dipped over MacDill, violating the base's airspace. Then, switching direction, Charles flew north over Hillsborough Bay and toward downtown Tampa.

A Coast Guard helicopter was soon on his tail, and its pilot tried to signal him. But Charles paid no attention. Witnesses said the plane flew directly into the 42-story Bank of America tower.

In Charles's khaki pants pocket, investigators found a two-page handwritten note that to his family and friends seemed every bit as incomprehensible as the act itself.

''Osama bin Laden is absolutely justified in the terror he has caused on 9-11,'' the note read. ''He has brought a mighty nation to its knees!''

Although the handwriting was his, it was out of character in its sloppiness. ''It was as if someone else was doing Charles's talking and thinking at the time,'' said Andrea Panarelli, one of his teachers at East Lake High School.

Investigators determined that Bishop had acted alone. Trying to understand his behavior, they asked his mother if he'd been on any medication. She remembered the Accutane he was taking. Toxicology tests did not reveal the drug in his system. But, Ryan said that given the state of the body after the crash, the test was probably not useful. He maintains that Charles was taking Accutane right up until his death.

In April, in the first lawsuit against Accutane to go to trial, an Oklahoma jury rejected a woman's charge that the drug caused her to become depressed.

At East Lake High School, where Charles wrote his essays critical of terrorism, his language arts teacher wondered what troubles her other students may be harboring.

''We'll never know,'' Panarelli said, glancing at one of Charles's tests she has pinned to the bulletin board at her desk. ''We'll never know if he just snapped.''

This story ran on page A1 of the Boston Globe on 8/5/2002. © Copyright 2002 Boston Globe Electronic Publishing LLC.

http://www.boston.com/dailyglobe2/217/metro/Family_links_acne_drug_to_teen_s_deadly_flight-.shtml