A Senseless Loss

by Linda Studley

On April 4, 1998 on a glorious clear Florida afternoon, my brother, David Studley, took his .38 into the bedroom of his dozing wife, shot one bullet directly into her heart, calmly called 911 to report a homicide and pending suicide, laid down beside her and planted the revolver in the roof of his mouth and pulled the trigger. And life, as we knew it, would never be the same.

When this gut-wrenching message came through to me before dawn on Sunday, I found it necessary to re-phone my brother-in-law to confirm his message. I was just certain I was living a horrific nightmare. As I sat at the kitchen counter, staring vacantly at the telephone, I asked myself, "Would somebody please advise me how to tell my brother’s daughters that both their parents are dead." Tragic, yes, but somehow the burden would be eased if I could have reported that they had been killed instantly by an 18-wheeler on 275. I truly believe that I was in shock for the next couple days perfunctorily performing mundane tasks. It was a surreal experience; as though I were watching outside my body. After the funeral, I sank into a deep dark abyss-just barely eeking out a daily existence. In a effort to comprehend suicide, I read every book on the subject that Clearwater Public Library offered. (Believe me, I never wanted to be an expert on suicide.) I must say that many of these books were archaic in their thinking. For example, I never once felt a stigma over my brother’s actions. Nor have I felt guilt; regrets, yes, but not guilt. Several books pointed out that once the suicide decision is made, the individual is almost euphoric. Can anyone imagine such desperation and agonizing pain that knowing this pain will soon end, brings joy. Most of us, would be overcome with grief and angst; those of us who do not suffer from severe depression. My brother’s letters to his family were almost upbeat in nature, reminiscing of all the "good times". There was no explanation as to his motive for the homicide-suicide.

During these dark days, I naturally sought out counseling, both individual and group. I talked to God on a daily basis-something I had not attempted in decades. I remained with this group counseling for one year and then one day, I realized that further talk would not bring further progress. David made his choice; I choose to use my resources and survive.

I am firmly convinced that this tragedy was preventable. David categorically believed that he was terminal, although no malignancy was revealed in his autopsy. He had been treated by 17 different physicians during the last 18 months of his life. Had none of these doctors detected the severe depression that he was suffering? Do doctors only concern themselves with the physical ailments when you reach a certain age (David was only 63). Did any one of them inquire as to his mental state? The drug, Floxin, had been repeatedly prescribed for an inflammation. In my research of medical journals, some of the side effects of this drug is "depression, anxiety, weight loss"-all symptoms that my brother suffered. Would eliminating this drug have saved his life? We’ll never know.

But the world suffered a terrible blow with the departure of David Studley (and indeed, Sally Studley). Not only was he brilliant, speaking several languages, he was one of the most delightfully captivating people you’d ever hope to meet. After graduating from the University of Texas, he joined the US Defense Intelligence. At family gatherings, we all sat mesmerized as he shared his accounts of intrigue and espionage. I recall one in particular as he related how he was instrumental in capturing a Nazi war criminal. He was one of the highest decorated civilians by our government. In fact, some friends have suggested that these deaths were somehow related to his career. How reassuring it would be to think that he died a martyr for his country. Alas, it is not the case.

All his life, David marched to the beat of a different drummer. While most high-schoolers play football, baseball, my brother was a survivalist, living off the land with his buddies in the hills of Pennsylvania. He chose not to rush a fraternity in college. During his summer break, he traveled through the jungles of Mexico in his VW bus. And while, he was there, he took up bull-fighting. There can be no doubt that Sally was the fashion plate in that marriage. One year she excitedly reported to my mother that she had purchased a "Johnny Carson" suit for David. And, sure enough, he disembarked from the airplane wearing his lovely new suit accessorized by white socks and sneakers. My mom and I howled.

All of our life, David and I have had different political views and have locked horns on numerous occasions. I miss those lively high-spirited exchanges.

My emotions have vacillated from deep sorrow to rage! What right did he have to decide that Sally should meet his same fate. I am grateful to Dr. Donna Cohen for her wisdom, knowledge and compassion. She has offered counsel and understanding in answering this enigmatic question. My brother fits perfectly into the profile of " caregiver dependent homicide-suicide" described by Dr. Cohen in one of her articles. –"perceived change in health coupled with depression". We know for certain that he had initially only planned his own suicide. He had begun a long list of instructions for Sally regarding disposing of property, suggested what to invest, where to reside, etc. What in God’s name changed his mind!!! There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that David truly loved his wife of 40 years. Sure, they experienced the same foibles as any long-term relationship, but their love and devotion to each other was undeniable. The entire family agrees that there would not have been a mutual pact. David robbed Sally of perhaps 20 more years. She was ebullient and enthusiastic about life and he robbed his own daughters and grandchildren of the joys of grandparenting. None of us know for certain how many weeks, months, years we have remaining on this earth. I do know that when I pass the Pearly Gates and greet my many beloved departed, my greeting to my brother will be:

"WHY, DAVID, WHY?"