"You are looking for a way out of the decadent aristocratic game, the limbo of Jet Set desperados. I’ll show you the way."

Said Timothy Leary to Joanna Harcourt-Smith, quoted in "Joanna Harcourt-Smith, Lover of Timothy Leary, High Priest of LSD, Dies at 74/Traumatized by her experience with the psychedelic Pied Piper, she spent decades 'composting' her thoughts about him and learning to start her life over again."

She was 26 and he was 52 and a fugitive from justice when their lives intersected. She was with him when he was recaptured.

“Neither the counterculture nor the prosecutors and prison system knew what to make of her,” Michael Horowitz, Mr. Leary’s archivist, said in a 2017 interview. “Her outspoken, upper-class European manner put people off,” he said. “She had an edge and knew how to get her way. Tim empowered her, and she in turn was tremendously loyal to him, dedicated to getting him out — whatever it took. Alienating many in the counterculture was the fallout from that.”

He got out of prison in 1976, as the 2 of them became "federal informants" That led Allen Ginsberg to call her "a C.I.A. sex provocateur." The feds put them in the witness protection program — "outside Santa Fe under the aliases James and Nora Joyce."

They were both alcoholics and fought all the time before splitting up. Ms. Harcourt-Smith moved to the Caribbean and lived on a sailboat for a few years. She stopped drinking and taking drugs in 1983 and settled in Santa Fe, where she began life anew. “I felt like a child who grew up in the forest,” she said... “I had to relearn everything.... I had so much shame and guilt that I could barely write.”

The great filmmaker Errol Morris has made a documentary about her that will be on Showtime soon. She wrote a memoir "Tripping the Bardo with Timothy Leary: My Psychedelic Love Story."

It doesn't have any one star reviews at Amazon, so I read the 2 star reviews. Here's one: 

... The author had a seven-week affair with Timothy Leary before he was imprisoned. Then she spent years awaiting his release, dreaming of a settled married life in the distant future. The author fills the pages with countless acid trips, cocaine lines, infinite bottles of champagne, and continual smoking of her Gauloise cigarettes as she awaits Leary's release. While she claims an aristocratic upbringing, her class privilege and snobbery get tiresome. A parade of sexual partners, many of which she uses to enable her drug use begin to seem amoral and sleazy. That she cooperated to entrap Leary's lawyer in a drug bust to help get Leary released from jail adds to her tawdry tale. This is the first time I threw a new book into the dumpster. 

Here's the other:

The author's forward thanks the many friends and "editors" who helped her finish this nonsense, and then proceeds to write a rambling tale of hedonism which would bore Errol Flynn. Where for all the God's Sakes were the editors blue DELETE THIS pencils? As I was born in 1945, saw the 60s from Southern California, and served two years in the Army Airborne (drafted, no heroics), and had met Other People's Money Leary on occasion, I bought and struggled through this book out of pure curiosity. I finished this book in an evening, hoping that the author would arrive at some sense of the Bardo she expounded. All I learned was 20 some years of AA sobriety often leaves the cucumber less a pickle and fit only for relish on a Costco Polish Dog, since unfortunately discontinued.