A BEAUTIFUL MIND 2 | SON OF PROF JOHN NASH

Eight years ago, the world mourned John Nash, the renowned mathematician immortalized by the Oscar-winning film, A Beautiful Mind, and his wife, Alicia, when they died in a car accident on the New Jersey Turnpike.

But the people closest to the couple understood the tragedy cut far deeper than the loss of the Nobel-prize winner and the woman whose devotion ensured Nash was treated for schizophrenia.

The Nashes left behind their son, John Charles Nash, who inherited both his father's genius and his mental illness. With his parents ripped from his life, friends and colleagues anxiously wondered: what will happen to "Johnny?"

However, an interview concluded that just 2 years after the death of his parents, John Nash continued to live in the modest two-story house facing the Princeton Junction train station parking lot in West Windsor, his home for 53 of his 66 years. The voices and visual hallucinations that had clouded his mind since he was a teenager have faded. His illness is managed by medication and regular visits from members of his treatment team.

Asked how he's coped with his grief and loss, Mr Nash's reply is reflexive: "I'm alright," he said, a touch of lilting optimism in his voice.

John Nash is actually faring far better than anybody could have anticipated, said Drew Wisloski, director of the Program of Assertive Community Treatment for Catholic Charities-Diocese of Trenton.

Mr Nash is one of 2,157 clients with serious and persistent mental illness across the state who receive regular home visits from PACT teams that help maintain their independence, according to state Human Services figures.

"What we don't see is Johnny in the hospital. We don't see him institutionalized or in a group home," Wisloski said. "He has been able to maintain his life and individual integrity in his family home without his parents there. That had been a concern for the family -- it's a concern for most families: what will happen when I am gone?"

"The fact he is able to take care of himself in so many ways is a marker of his success," he said.

Alicia and John Nash gave a rare interview to The Star-Ledger in 2009 to praise the community-run, state-funded programs that had done so much to help their son.

Alicia Nash said they brought her comfort and feared that if she did not speak out on their behalf, these programs might be vulnerable to budget cuts. The teams cost about $30 million to run in 2009 (much more today) and the state was mired in an post-recession funk.

"When I am gone, will Johnny be living in the street?" she said, panic momentarily washing over her otherwise poised face.

Alicia Nash was especially protective of her son and frequently spoke about her concern for his future, said Debra Wentz, a family friend and the executive director of the New Jersey Association of Mental Health and Addiction Agencies. But Alicia never considered appointing a legal guardian for him or placing him in a supervised home in the eventuality of her death.

Wentz said she has seen and spoken to him on numerous occasions in the last two years, including some public events honoring his parents. She said she is awestruck by his strength and perseverance.

"Looking down from heaven, Alicia would have a big smile on her face. She would be so proud of how he has done," Wentz said. "She would be proud to know her instinct served him well."

"I guess there is no doubt Johnny Nash is definitely the son of his brilliant parents," Wentz added. (Alicia Larde met John Nash while she was getting her PhD in physics at MIT in the mid 1950s.)

"And like his father, he serves as good example you can have a difficult illness but you can live with it and have a successful and meaningful life, and be in charge of your life."

Wentz praised the PACT team, which visited him every day in the aftermath of his parents' deaths and went with him to plan the funeral. They also arranged meetings with lawyers to handle the estate, Wisloski said.

Nowadays, members of his eight-person team take him to doctors appointments and out for Chinese food, said Franklin Hinton, a peer counselor whose worked with Mr Nash for years. They make sure he's taking the medication required, and if he requests it, they provide counseling services.

"He's doing quite well," Hinton said.

On a piece of paper taped to the wall in the dining room lists the phone numbers of other members of his support system: his half-brother, John David Stier, who was visiting from Massachusetts last week, and two close friends.

The PhD in mathematics from Rutgers University said he "passes the time" playing chess and math games online with opponents around the world. He pores over his monthly chess magazine, and keeps up with news on the internet and television. He recently kicked a 17-year smoking habit.

"Johnny seems to be very content with being here. This seems to be a place of comfort, a place of familiarity for Dr. Nash," Hinton said during a home visit last week. "The only thing I have mentioned is putting his own touches on the home, changing up something. As far I can tell it hasn't changed since his parents have passed."

Most of the hardcover books stacked and toppled on the dusty shelves belonged to his parents. They include three copies of Sylvia Nasar's biography of his father, "A Beautiful Mind." Nash said he enjoyed the book because: "I learned a lot about my father. He never spoke about those things."

Dressed in a Harvard tee shirt and a Life Alert pendant around his neck -- his idea, just in case -- John Nash is a portrait of stoicism and brevity no matter the subject.

On President Trump he said: 

"I think the guy in office now is a greater risk for World War III than Obama was."

On the biggest challenge since he has lived alone? 

"I had to file a tax return" said Nash. Perhaps this is something President Trump can empathise with!

On how he has coped with the jarring loss of his parents: 

"They were getting old -- they were in their 80s. They died quickly, together. I am at peace with their death."

Nash does not, and maybe cannot, wade too deeply into abstract thoughts of foreboding loss, Wislowski said. Ask him how he is doing and his response is based on what is happening in the moment.

That appeared to be true throughout an hour long conversation -- except for one fleeting moment. The thought he cannot escape -- the one regret -- was his decision not to accompany his parents to Oslo, Norway, where his father went to accept the Abel Prize, an international recognition of his contributions to mathematics.

Nash had said the Abel Prize -- a pure math award recommended by an esteemed international committee -- was his father's proudest achievement.

At the time, Johnny Nash thought he was not feeling up to a big trip.

They died when their taxi driver lost control of the car and crashed into a guardrail in Monroe Township on the way home from Newark Liberty International Airport on May 23.

Nash said he was home alone when the police came to his door to tell him about the accident. He said he doesn't remember how he felt in that moment. He remembers calling Jim, a close family friend.

"It bothered me I did not go with them," Nash said, wincing for the first time in an hour long conversation. "They died without me being with them. I think maybe they would have been alive if I had been with them."