Investigating Death

No one really knows how Napoleon died. Some call it the legend of Saint Helena.

Napoleon was sent from France to an island called Elba on Saint Helena to live for the second and final time in exile. This was off the coast of Africa. Many people were with him. His loyal servant, who kept a diary, led many to the conclusion of cancer as cause of death.

Some said he never showed any of the symptoms of cancer. And more people believe Napoleon died by poison -- specifically arsenic -- because of the high toxic levels of arsenic found in his hair. And the symptoms he had were similar to arsenic poisoning.

What is unknown is this: whether the arsenic was in his hair because of high levels of arsenic in his environment. Or whether he was murdered – the arsenic mixed into his drink or food. If you Google “Napoleon + arsenic” you’ll see the whole story there.

There’s also a theory about a tumor being found in Napoleon’s stomach in an alleged autopsy that could have contributed to his death.

Napoleon was exiled twice to the Island of Elba in Saint Helens. He spent only the first year in exile, tried to be a conqueror again and failed. So he was sent back into a second exile, which was where he died May 5, 1821. At each place, and other places, snips were taken of Napoleon's hair.

Since 1932 more than 60 tests have been conducted on Napoleon's hair.

I find it fascinating that so many strands of his hair existed; though I guess when you’re Napoleon… and you’re living in an age that was before there were photographed fan photos… people want your hair.

For example, Napoleon befriended, then allowed a young woman staying at St. Helena who was leaving with her family, to cut some locks of hair from his head before she left for good. These were among the samples tested.

All tests results from Napoleon’s hair at various stages of Napoleon’s life concur his hair contained high levels of arsenic.

Some say the arsenic got there naturally.
For instance, there may have been high levels of arsenic in the green wallpaper of his bedroom.
Some say he used hair tonic containing arsenic.
In Napoleon's day, old mothers gave a locket of their hair to children. To preserve the lockets, they dusted them with arsenic powder.
So maybe the death was accidental.

Or maybe it was murder. The French Officer in charge of his care didn't like Napoleon very much. And a number of women hung around him. Any one of them could have wanted to off the wife. Or maybe his wife didn't like the little gal Napoleon gave his hair to. Women are especially fond of killing by poison.

There is also one more fly in the theoretical ointment of Napoleon's death. He was given an orange drink the night before he died for an upset stomach. Upset stomachs are symptomatic of arsenic poisoning. The medicine given him contained a newer chemical that had a form of mercury in it. That too may have killed him.

So bottom line... how Napoleon died, to this very day, is still subject of discussion and debate on the net, TV documentaries, magazine articles, among collectors of Napoleon’s thing and on the blogs.

I believe that’s because speculation about how, when and why we die, are the ultimate questions we seek answers for and never quite get.

We spend so much time and energy on births. Months of waiting, planning, purchases, discussions, parties and then the actual birthing process -- over hours, days, in quiet safe birthing rooms. We come into life with a great big welcome.

Most of us exit life in darkened, depressing rooms, or brightly lit intensive care units amid hushed whispers.
So many of us are taken down by the unexpectedness of the body's undoing; unavoidable accidents; or violence. And always under the specter of darkness and grief.
Death has always been and still remains the great unknown.

Death and death investigations carry the color of black, the tone of loss, grief, and darkness. And for some many emotional despair that can turn into deep depression, or much worse, trigger psychosis.

Yet I… like many…. are fascinated by death investigations. I am especially intrigued by the deaths themselves, the means by which people die and if that death were natural, caused by medicines, people, or other things.

I have investigated many homicide vs. suicide claims. They are among my most fascinating cases. Most of the homicide v. suicide investigations I’ve conducted as a P.I. have been initiated for financial reasons.

For example... let's say one female family member died suddenly. That family member had a life insurance policy. That insurance company who underwrote the life insurance may feel the death was a suicide and not covered under the suicide clause.

The family who loved her may believe her husband who wanted the proceeds from the life insurance to pay off some debts killed her.

The family may not want the killer husband to get the death benefits. Instead, the family might want to disprove the insurance company’s suicide defense. They may want to pursue the husband as murderer in order to collect on the policy for the dead woman's children.

Meantime, the husband who killed her may want to collect because he doesn't love her anyway, he may indeed have debts, a lover, he may have been found out to be a fraud. Whatever the reason, his intent was to make the death look natural.

A Private Investigator who conducts death investigations becomes somewhat adapted to the whole process of death. It is just one more stage in life.

I say often "none of us gets out of here alive" despite what we try to do to prevent it.
No amount of botox, silicone, plastic surgery, holistic eating or exercise can stop the evitable aging process. Good eating and exercise and health habits can prolong life -- they just can't prevent death.

You could be the healthiest, happiest, debt free, person on the planet…. and on your way home tonight you could be rear-ended by a semi, hit head on by drink driver, or have an embolism pop in your head that you didn’t know was there.

Seems to this investigator, for as long as we could communicate or write, civilization seems more concerned about: what standards they consider ethically, morally, religiously consistent to their specific beliefs; what they believe happens in the after life; and who, ultimately is in charge of our salvation.

Today I blog about death because I am getting or hearing about quite a few lately
So today, let me tell you two true death stories, both of which I heard last night.

Story number one came during dinner. A dear friend was talking about another dear friend’s paternal grandfather.

Evidently, Granddad was a POW in a notoriously horrible prison for years. When the American soldiers released him and the other Americans, they were given guns to seek retribution.

Granddad, having been locked up in a prison camp and having gone understandably batty, associated everyone in nearby village who was the same nationality as his captors, and started shooting. He killed lots of people, many innocent men women and children.

Eventually he made it home, made it through whatever POW’s go through to pass from hell back to some semblance of reality.
He was ultimately integrated back into society, built a life and a family.

No one had an inkling, however, of the thoughts in his head. Until one day, when he poured gasoline all over his body, set himself on fire and successfully killed himself.

"Maybe he just couldn't live with demons in his head, all the innocent people he killed." our friend said over dinner last night.

What we all couldn't come to grips with was the “means,” the way he chose to do it.

"I could see taking pills, a gun, hanging yourself, slitting your wrists," my friend said, "But setting yourself on fire? That’s gotta’ be the most horrible way to go"

I told him of a case recently on the UW campus here recently. It happened earlier this year, if not at the very end of last. An older employee, I think he was just laid off, poured gas on himself and mid-day, set himself on fire in front of students in the quad. There were lots of witnesses. Many of the students rushed to help him. Some tried to get him to stop pouring the gas, others begged him not to ignite whatever devise he used to light himself up. It was too late. He’d made his decision. The amount of pain he experienced in life… he would inflict upon himself in death

When he died, the stunned young witnesses and community were left with that one word question. “Why”. My second question is, “Why that way?”

I think in the case of my friend's Grandpa, we all concluded he must have thought his crimes of revenge… killing the kids and women and innocent civilians were so horrible… he must punish himself in a more horrible way, And maybe self-immolation, the most ultimate painful, horrible suicide he could imagine…. would actually be his salvation.

After last night’s dinner death discussion, we stopped at another friend’s to say hey.

I knew the man first, met his girl friends later. While the guys were inside, we stepped outside on the patio and talked. She works in a very reputable hospital. Her first husband died of cancer. Her boyfriend, a friend since childhood, reunited with her after her husband’s death.

She told me she always wanted to be a P.I. (I hear that a lot) and then she asked me to tell her about a case.

I said I had a death investigation earlier that fascinated me. I told her we didn't know how the woman died, they just found her dead. She smashed head-on into a light pole. The airbags didn’t deploy in her car because it appeared, before she bought the car, someone removed them.

I told my new friend on the patio, that it wasn't until further in my investigation it was discovered the dead cistim had prior DWI's. Though, I said, on afternoon she was killed, blood tox tests were taken and there was below the legal limit of alcohol in her system. Plus Benedryl.

I watched my listener’s eyes open wider as she said, "My brother died a year ago. He was on pain pills from back surgery. He developed a cold, they gave him Benedryl one night, the next day he was dead in bed. We think it was the Benadryl that killed him."

I asked how old her brother was, she said fifty. I expressed my condolences. And noticed she was drinking red wine. She asked me if I wanted a glass. I declined… told her there was this story going around that as people grow older they develop an intolerance to red wine. It’s happened to me. I get headaches and don’t feel good.

I told her that when someone offered me red wine somewhere recently, I declined. I said out loud, it gave me headaches.

A man who overheard me said, “It’s true. As you grow older, you tolerate an ingredient in red wine less. So if you like red wine, you need to take Benedryl first. I always do,” he said. “So does my wife.”

I found the whole concept incongruous.
Mixing one drug with another.
Yet the woman whose brother died from the Benedryl painkiller combo said she heard of another case.
A woman on anti depressants took Benedryl and she too died the next day.

We left their house and while I waited for the ferry home to arrive, I googled: “Benedryl + death” on my Blackberry. If you do it too, you’ll see there may be some truth there.

The last task of my evening last night was a call back to a family member's daughter. She just lost her mother. Her mother died in a hospice, quietly, peacefully, painlessly thanks to morphine. Scented flowers surrounded her, soft music, loved ones at the age of 90. Her daughter told me she was relieved her mother was out of pain now. There was no mention of money, estates, just the beloved passing of a loved one. In this Investigators humble opinion that’s the way it should always be.