The Education of a Coroner

by John Bateson

  “The second change has been in the area of crime and, therefore, punishment. As a young adult I knew there were good guys and bad guys. The good guys wore the white hat and the bad guys needed to go to jail for as long as possible. After investigating hundreds of homicides, however, I have come to understand that a large number of them didn’t start out that way. An argument or grievance escalated, fed by the liquid fuel any of us can buy in liquor stores or the powder we can buy on street corners, and if a suitable weapon was within easy reach—a gun, a knife, even a sharp pencil—the situation suddenly became deadly. Male ego or pride often enters into it, too. The machismo that believes, ‘If I can’t have you, no one can,’ is at the root of many female murders. In my entire professional career, I cannot recall a single instance where a woman took a man’s life under the same premise.”

  He shakes his head. “That said, I have seen our court system fail in so many different ways—fail the victim, fail the aggressor, and fail our society. Do we really need to put a soccer mom in a penitentiary for fifteen years because she fell while intoxicated and dropped her infant, who then died? Why do we continually release sexual predators until they kill a victim? Why are small-time marijuana growers sentenced to twenty to thirty years and the shooter of San Francisco’s mayor and a city supervisor is given six years with time off for ‘good behavior’? Was his behavior good before he was tried?”

  He’s referring to the assassinations of George Moscone and Harvey Milk by Dan White.

  “I have learned that plea bargains are horrible, yet necessary,” he says. “I have learned that when it comes to justice, the poor have the worst of it. I have learned that there are no quick fixes; moreover, any proposed changes are so steeped in politics that they have little chance of being implemented, much less the right way.”

  “It’s odd for me to hear you say that,” I say. “You’re usually optimistic.”

  Holmes smiles. “I’m the first to admit that our system is flawed. It’s still the best system on this good, green earth, though.”

  Both of us are silent for a minute, then Holmes says, “Throughout my career, I’ve been continually reminded how fragile life is, how quickly it can be snatched from us. My grandfather used to say, ‘Ain’t nobody getting out of here alive.’ From that I learned to cherish those who are important to me, and not just my family—teachers, coworkers, honest friends—because death can grab us at any time, in many silent and not-so-silent ways.”

  He goes on. “I have learned, and preach, that it’s okay to talk about death, and about a loved one who dies. Talk about them in the present if you want. We don’t have to hide the loss of a parent, or speak of them in hushed tones. Call them by name. I know now that it’s healthy to be angry at a dead person, to blame them if they contributed to their own death passively or aggressively.”

  Holmes lets out a laugh. “Do you want to know a coroner’s dilemma? If your doctor tells you that you’ll certainly die if you don’t quit drinking a quart of whiskey every day, and you continue to drink a quart of whiskey every day anyway, when you die is that suicide?”

  “I suppose the same can be said for smoking,” I say, “or using drugs or engaging in other high-risk behaviors like mountain climbing and skydiving. There are trade-offs with nearly everything people do, and one of them is knowing that, in some instances, in exchange for doing something desirable—whether it’s self-medicating or experiencing an adrenaline rush—we risk shortening our life.”

  Holmes says, “Another thing I’ve learned is that lack of preparation for end-of-life considerations can compound the devastation for those left behind. Write your will, damn it. Write it as soon as you have something to leave to someone. A twenty-two-year-old father needs a will the same as his grandfather does. A single, thirtysomething mom who owns a home needs a trust the same as Warren Buffett.”

  I know—or strongly sense—Holmes’s answer to my next question, but ask it anyway. “Have you been surprised sometimes by people’s resilience?”

  “I have,” Holmes says. “Many people, I’ve found, are able to endure the worst tragedy and find reasons to go on even when they don’t think that’s possible. It’s a cliché to say that time is a great healer, but also true. Having a strong support system and a positive attitude help a lot, too.”

  I ask Holmes if he has given much thought to his own death. At the time of this writing he is seventy-three and in good health, so death seems far-off still. Even so, the older we get the more natural it is to contemplate our mortality.

  “I’ve thought about it,” he says. “I haven’t gone so far as to think about my obituary, what it might say, but I do know that I’m not afraid of dying. I’m not in any hurry—like most everyone I want my remaining life to be active and mobile—but when my time comes I’ll be content knowing that I did some good things and left a meaningful example for my children, stepchildren, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. In addition to helping some people deal with their darkest days, I’ve spent a good part of my adult life teaching. Some of it has been as a coach in youth sports and Scouts, but I’ve also mentored many high school and college-age students in the world of forensics. Six of them have gone on to earn medical degrees, and two earned PhDs.”

  “I know this may sound morbid,” I say, “but after reviewing eight hundred case files and reading all the information in them, I wonder if you’ve thought about the contents of your own case file. I mean, just going over these I can’t help but think that someday my death will be recorded in a coroner’s office, and I imagine that at some time or another you’ve had a similar thought.”

  Holmes surprises me. “I really haven’t,” he says. “The more time you spend around death, the more you appreciate life. That’s where my mind has always been.”

  I find myself nodding in agreement. “Is there anything you would have done differently?”

  Holmes thinks about it before saying, “Little things, sure, but no big things. I guess I’ve been fortunate that way. I’ve had the career I always wanted, the family I always wanted, trusted friends, good health, lots of interests that I’ve been able to pursue, and on top of that have witnessed the incomparable beauty of nature. What else is there?”

  “I think that covers it,” I say.

  He says, “There’s one other thing I’m proud of professionally, which is that in all my years in the coroner’s office, not a single employee quit to take another job. Every person stayed until he or she retired, or in Bill Thomas’s case, until he died. If you’re in a position of authority, the most important thing you can do, I think, is hire good people and create an environment where they excel. If you do that, the rest takes care of itself.”

  “I believe that, too,” I say.

  Holmes adds a final thought. “Every death has a story, just like every life. Coroners are privy to it in ways that other professions are not. That’s what draws people like me to it, the chance to be present, understand, and help others deal with something that usually is awful, at a time when people tend to feel most alone.”

  It’s an unusual calling, one that most of us can’t imagine doing. For a select few, though, it’s a lure. No two cases are exactly the same, which means that every day is different. A variety of skills are needed, and being able to think fast is a must. At the same time, one can’t jump to conclusions or fail to notice details that, at first glance, might not add up.

  If there’s a lesson in this it’s that the education of a coroner reflects our own educations about life and death. The two are inseparable, and while we celebrate one and mourn the other, both comprise our world—and always will.

  Dr. Ervin Jindrich, Ken Holmes’s predecessor and mentor, was thirty-four when he was elected coroner of Marin County in 1974. (Source: Marin Independent Journal)

  Holmes’s first case after he completed training was the murder of nineteen-year-old Terry Listman in 1975. (Source: Marin Independent Journal)

  Whenever human bones were unearthed, death
investigators like Bill Thomas had to determine whether they were fairly recent or dated back several hundred years, to the time when Miwok Indian tribes roamed Marin County. (Source: Marin Independent Journal)

  One of the first traffic deaths that Holmes investigated occurred after a car struck a stalled vehicle on the Richmond—San Rafael Bridge, spiraled into a guardrail, was hit by a lumber truck, and burst into flames. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  At the scene of a fatal fire, Holmes (center) discussed events with firefighters. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  When a professional race car driver’s coupe went off the road, down an embankment, and plowed into a tree, killing the driver and his female passenger, the cause was obvious to Holmes, although he didn’t note it in his official report. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  In 1976, in a case that received national attention, Marlene Olive (left), age sixteen, and her nineteen-year-old boyfriend, Chuck Riley (right), murdered her parents and burned their bodies in a barbecue pit in a state park. (Photo of Olive: Marin Independent Journal. Photo of Riley: California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation)

  Rodger Heglar, a forensic anthropologist, was on contract with the coroner’s office and helped identify human remains, including those of Marlene Olive’s parents. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  Chuck Riley, pictured in 2013, has been a death row inmate ever since the murders, while Marlene Olive has been free—an injustice, Holmes believes. (Source: California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation)

  In investigating Carol Filipelli’s death, Holmes found copies of this photo of her, which she used to solicit clients. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  David Carpenter, known as the Trailside Killer, murdered seven people over two years on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County. (Source: California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation)

  After a twin-engine plane crashed on a mountaintop in Marin, Holmes was called to investigate the pilot’s death. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  Holmes found these remnants of seventeen-year-old Tammy Vincent’s murder at the scene—an awl used to stab her and an empty can of acetone used to set her body on fire. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  After forensic anthropologists determined the gender, approximate age, and muscular structure of a dead person based on skeletons that were found, Holmes commissioned artists to sculpt what the decedent might have looked like. (Source: Chris Stewart/San Francisco Chronicle/Polaris)

  Located on the Marin waterfront, San Quentin Prison houses all of California’s male death row inmates, as well as more than four thousand other hardened criminals. (Source: California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation)

  Holmes (right) presided over several exhumations every year. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  These medications are typical in quantity and variety of those Holmes found at scenes of a drug overdose. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  After the Coast Guard retrieves the body of a Golden Gate Bridge jumper, it is delivered to the coroner’s office in Marin. (Source: John Storey/San Francisco Chronicle/Polaris)

  In 2000, Taylor (left) and Justin Helzer (right) proclaimed themselves “Children of Thunder” and murdered five people in a bizarre plot designed to “speed Christ’s return to Earth.” (Source: California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation)

  Nearly twenty years after Holmes investigated the murder of porn king Artie Mitchell by his brother, Jim, he investigated the murder of Danielle Keller by Jim Mitchell’s son. (Source: Marin Independent Journal)

  Gary Tindel (left) and Holmes (right) worked together for twelve years, until Holmes retired, the coroner’s office was merged with the sheriff’s department, and Tindel’s position was cut. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  Darrell Harris (left), Pam Carter (center), and Dave Foehner (right) were Holmes’s three death investigators. (Source: Christina Koci Hernandez/San Francisco Chronicle/Polaris)

  Holmes mentored high school and college students in forensics, and one day found this caricature of himself on his desk, drawn by a seventeen-year-old intern who today is a police sketch artist. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  Holmes poses in a doorway in the coroner’s office in 2007. (Source: Ken Holmes)

  Holmes used this 2010 photo in his campaign after announcing his intention to run for the newly created position of sheriff-coroner. (Source: Marin Independent Journal)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Obviously, this book could not have been written without the participation of Ken Holmes. I’m thankful for his trust in allowing me to tell stories from his career, none of which he shared in any sort of boastful way but always with great respect and compassion for the deceased and their loved ones. Ken read each draft of the manuscript and noted factual errors, which have been corrected. If any errors still exist, they are my doing.

  Early on I made a decision not to interview any of Ken’s colleagues, current or past, but rather to base perceptions of them through his eyes. Even so, I want to acknowledge several people: Ervin Jindrich, the late Bill Thomas, Don Cornish, Pam Carter, Gary Tindel, Gary Erickson, and Darrell Harris. Each one helped make the Marin County Coroner’s Office exemplary in many ways.

  In terms of this book’s publication, a big debt of gratitude is owed to Scribner and to my editor, Colin Harrison. From the outset, he championed the book, and I can’t thank him enough. Many other talented people contributed as well—in particular Liese Mayer, whose editing was masterful, and John Glynn, who took over after Liese left Scribner—and I appreciate their efforts.

  Lastly, I want to thank my wife, Suzan, and our four adult children. Their encouragement and support are the greatest gifts I could receive.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  © DAN ROSENSTRAUCH

  JOHN BATESON was executive director of a nationally certified crisis intervention and suicide prevention center in the San Francisco Bay Area for sixteen years. He is the author of three previous books—The Last and Greatest Battle, The Final Leap, and Building Hope.

  MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT

  SimonandSchuster.com

  Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/John-Bateson

  ALSO BY JOHN BATESON

  The Last and Greatest Battle: Finding the Will, Commitment, and Strategy to End Military Suicides

  The Final Leap: Suicide on the Golden Gate Bridge

  Building Hope: Leadership in the Nonprofit World

  We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster ebook.

  * * *

  Get a FREE ebook when you join our mailing list. Plus, get updates on new releases, deals, recommended reads, and more from Simon & Schuster. Click below to sign up and see terms and conditions.

  CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

  Already a subscriber? Provide your email again so we can register this ebook and send you more of what you like to read. You will continue to receive exclusive offers in your inbox.

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  INTERVIEWS

  Half-day and full-day interviews between the author and Ken Holmes were conducted on June 13, 2014, August 27, 2014, October 16, 2014, November 18, 2014, January 16, 2015, and February 6, 2015. The locations varied. In addition, we communicated numerous times during this period and afterward by phone, email, and in person over lunch until the final draft of the manuscript was submitted.

  BOOKS

  Bateson, John. The Final Leap: Suicide on the Golden Gate Bridge. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012.

  Cataldie, Louis. Coroner’s Journal: Stalking Death in Louisiana. New York: G. P. Putnam Sons, 2006.

  Colt, George Howe. November of the Soul: The Enigma of Suicide. New York: Scribner, 2006.

  Daly, Erin Marie. Generation Rx: A Story of Dope, Death, and America’s Opiate Crisis. Berkeley, CA: Counterpoint, 2014.

  Joiner, Thomas. Myths of Suicide. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010.

  ———. The Perversion of Virtue. New York: Oxford University Press, 2014.

  Levine, Richard M. Bad Blood: A Family Murder in Marin County. New York: Si
gnet Books, 1982.

  Linde, Paul R. Danger to Self: On the Front Line with an ER Psychiatrist. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010.

  Melinek, Judy, and T. J. Mitchell. Working Stiff: Two Years, 262 Bodies, and the Making of a Medical Examiner. New York: Scribner, 2014.

  Noguchi, Thomas T., with Joseph DiMona. Coroner. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1983.

  Roach, Mary. Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. New York: Norton, 2003.

  Scott, Robert. Unholy Sacrifice: Brothers by Blood, Killers by Choice. New York: Pinnacle Books, 2005.

  Temple, John. Deadhouse: Life in a Coroner’s Office. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2005.

  West, Robert S. It Can (and Does) Happen Here! One Physician’s Four-Decades-Long Journey as Coroner in Rural North Idaho. Bloomington, IN: Abbott Press, 2014.