From the
Detroit Free Press. Here's
the response from the anti-assisted suicide group, Not Dead Yet.
Jack Kevorkian — embraced as a compassionate crusader and reviled as a murderous crank — died early this morning.
Known as Dr. Death even before launching his fierce advocacy and practice of assisted suicides, Kevorkian, 83, died at Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak, where he had been hospitalized with kidney and heart problems.
His attorney, Mayer Morganroth, said it appears Kevorkian suffered a pulmonary thrombosis when a blood clot from his leg broke free and lodged in his heart. With Kevorkian was his niece Ava Janus and Morganroth.
“It was peaceful. He didn’t feel a thing,” Morganroth said.
He said there were no artificial attempts to keep Kevorkian alive and no plans for a memorial.
Kevorkian had recently been diagnosed with liver cancer, which may have been caused by hepatitis C, said his longtime friend Neal Nicol of Waterford.
Kevorkian did not have symptoms for years from hepatitis C, Nicol said, but the virus can cause liver cancer and ultimately fatal complications, particularly in elderly people.
Kevorkian was hospitalized twice in May because of kidney problems and a fall. Additionally, he suffered from an array of ailments including liver and heart disorders. He underwent hernia surgery in February 2005.
Kevorkian resisted being hospitalized, but friends insisted on taking him to Beaumont Hospital after he fell in his Royal Oak apartment, Nicol said.
“They tried all kinds of things,” Nicol said of the Beaumont team. But the cancer “just shut him down,’’ he said. Doctors hoped they could strengthen the frail Kevorkian so he could undergo radiation treatments for the cancer, but “his strength never got to that point.”
Kevorkian spent his 83rd birthday on May 26 in the hospital, where Nicol, Janus, longtime Royal Oak friend Brian Russell and Morganroth visited him. Nicol brought Kevorkian’s favorite dessert —a homemade pineapple pie—but Kevorkian could not take food by mouth at that point, Nicol said.
“Trust me, he’s not happy to be in the hospital,” Nicol said last week
Kevorkian was convicted in 1999 of second-degree murder and served eight years of prison time.
He admitted being present at about 130 suicides and his hectoring defiance of established laws and protocols forced reexamination of personal freedoms in medical treatments and end-of-life decisions.
Nicol said he helped Kevorkian with all but four of the assisted-suicide cases, including more than a dozen in Nicol’s Waterford home.
Since his first acknowledged assisted suicide in 1990, authorities had tried to rein in Kevorkian as the toll of his clients soared. He was charged four times with murder only to have three juries acquit him and one case collapse in mistrial.
That streak of courtroom triumphs ended with the 1998 death of Thomas Youk, 52, of Waterford, who had Lou Gehrig's disease.
In a self-inflicted triple injury, Kevorkian videotaped himself injecting Youk, had it broadcast on “60 Minutes,” and then acted as his own lawyer in the ensuing Oakland County murder trial.
Kevorkian was convicted of second-degree murder and drew a 10- to 25-year prison term at his 1999 sentencing. He was released in 2005 and discharged from parole in 2009.
Nicol saw Kevorkian weekly since he left prison. He would pick up the doctor in Royal Oak to take him grocery shopping, first to get Heinz Genuine Dill Pickles at the Holiday Market in Royal Oak and then to Meijer and other places where the ever-frugal Kevorkian looked for bargains on day-old produce.
Kevorkian's post-prison career included a 2008 congressional bid and a cable television biopic starring Al Pacino.
In his failed political career, Kevorkian, as usual, cast himself as the truth-teller in a world of hypocrisy: “We need some honesty and sincerity instead of corrupt government in Washington.”
“You Don’t Know Jack,” the HBO film, earned Pacino an Emmy and Golden Globe. Kevorkian cut a vivid image at premieres and awards, sometimes wearing his iconic blue thrift-store sweater with a tuxedo. He almost glowed at receptions as women circled him and powerful men elbowed their way through the adoring crush to shake his hand.
Kevorkian was tickled by the movie. Nicol printed a picture of Al Pacino, who played Kevorkian to show his friend. Kevorkian then responded: “Where did they get that picture of me?”
Kevorkian was a trained pathologist serving in Michigan and California hospitals before launching his rogue career.
Both Kevorkian and Nicol contracted hepatitis C from experiments they did together in the 1960s at the former Pontiac General Hospital, where they both worked—Kevorkian as a pathologist and Nicol as a medical assistant.
In the experiments, Kevorkian and Nicol transfused themselves with cadaver blood to determine whether the tranfusions would be a viable option, particularly on battlefields.
Nicol said the cadaver experiments “went nowhere’’ even though they showed the procedure was viable. It was much like many of Kevorkian’s other ideas. “He always was onward and upward to newer things,’’ Nicol said. “He told me we could look back on our lives as noteworthy.’’
At the time, Kevorkian already was known as Dr. Death, a nickname nurses gave him, Nicol said. Over the years, the name took on a different significance.
Once a stiff-necked practitioner who mocked and challenged authorities, an imprisoned Kevorkian promised in affidavits and requests for release that he would not assist suicides if he were released.
Death came naturally to the man who’d vowed he’d starve himself rather than endure submit to the state’s authority behind bars.
“It’s not a matter of starving yourself in jail, it’s a matter of I don’t want to live as a slave and imprisonment is the ultimate slavery,” he said in 1998.
Gaunt, theatrical and hyperbolic, Kevorkian appeared to demand martyrdom, staging increasingly outlandish provocations from appearing in court as Thomas Jefferson in a tricornered hat, knee britches and powdered wig to offering for transplant a client’s crudely harvested kidneys.
Those who opposed him were denounced as superstitious know-nothings, Dark Ages hypocrites and philosophical cowards.
Nicol said he hopes Kevorkian is remembered “for his work, his courage and his willingness’’ to help patients. He took pride in helping patients he thought were not helped by doctors and hospitals, particularly alleviating their pain.
