[cia-drugs] A MILITARY MURDER COVERUP?

[Larry-Jennie]

A MILITARY MURDER COVERUP?
14 FAMILIES TELL STORIES OF SUSPICIOUS DEATHS RULED SUICIDES.
Philadelphia Inquirer
Sunday, May 16, 1993
By David Zucchino

Sean Harrison of the Morning News of Springdale, Ark.,
contributed to this article.

Kenneth Louthain was a frightened young man when he returned home to
Indiana on leave from the Navy 18 months ago. He confided to his best
friend that all was not well aboard his ship, the USS Virginia.

"He was scared, really scared. He told me: 'Listen careful and remember
what I'm gonna tell you,' " the friend, Brian Urbin, recalled last week.

Petty Officer Louthain, 23, described a drug deal he had stumbled across
aboard ship, according to Urbin. The suspected dealer was a Navy
machinist's mate who carried a briefcase loaded with narcotics. Urbin said
Louthain had given him the man's name and the location of his berth aboard
ship.

"Kenny said the guy told him if he said anything about what he saw, he'd
kill him. He'd get him at his work station or while he was sleeping," Urbin
said. "And Kenny told me: 'If anything happens to me, don't believe what
the Navy says.' "

Last Oct. 3, Kenneth Louthain was found dead aboard the Virginia while the
guided missile cruiser was off the coast of Jamaica. His parents say the
Navy told them he committed suicide by doubling a phone cord around his
neck, putting the receiver back in place, then somehow hanging his
185-pound body
from a phone bolted to a wall in his shipboard office.

Navy investigators told the family that Louthain had been depressed.

"My son did not take his own life. He had everything to live for,"
Louthain's father, Donnie Louthain, said last week. "Instead of
investigating his death properly, the Navy set out from the start to prove
a suicide theory."

Louthain and his wife, Carole, accuse the Navy of covering up their son's
murder, and they are demanding that the case be reopened. They said a
civilian autopsy they arranged revealed unexplained bruises on Kenneth's
back and shins, and a gash on his elbow.

Taken alone, the Louthains might be dismissed as parents unwilling to
accept the suicide of a beloved son. But 13 other families have told The
Inquirer remarkably similar stories of sons whose deaths have been ruled
suicides or accidentally self-inflicted, despite what the families maintain
is evidence of murder.

Some of the families have charged that their sons died after witnessing
drug sales or drug use by fellow soldiers and sailors. Others contend that
their sons died after complaining about lax conditions or thefts aboard
ships or on bases.

In other cases, the deaths came during seemingly routine periods in the
young men's lives - despite rulings by the military that the dead men had
been depressed, usually over a breakup with a girlfriend or wife. In only
two cases were suicide notes reported found, and families have contested
the validity of both. The families say their sons gave no hint of
depression in their last phone calls or letters home.

All but three of the cases involve sailors and Marines whose deaths were
investigated by the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, the civilian-run
agency known as the NIS. The NIS has been found by outside agencies to have
bungled recent investigations into the Tailhook sex scandal, the 1989
explosion aboard the USS Iowa, allegations of spying by U.S. Marines in
Moscow, and the beating death of a gay sailor in Japan last year.

In interviews last week, the 14 families accused the military of lying to
them, covering up evidence, losing blood samples or other critical pieces
of evidence, failing to interview key witnesses or perform basic forensic
tests, and providing contradictory reports of precisely how and when their
sons died. They also say that the Navy has denied them access to crucial
investigative reports.

"We want answers. What we're getting is lies," said Robyn Hall, who
disputes a Navy ruling of suicide in the death of her son, Navy security
officer Michael Leslie, 25, in Guam in September 1991.

Catherine Jakovic, who has challenged a Navy ruling that her Marine son
killed himself in New Jersey in 1991, said of military investigators: "They
intimidate you and deny you access to people and information. They hush
things up and keep families in the dark. There are no facts, just their
versions."

The families charged that suicide rulings were made hastily to avoid
investigations that might have turned up embarrassing details of drug or
alcohol abuse, or security violations - and possibly murder - by military
personnel. In doing so, they alleged, investigators are forced to alter or
destroy some evidence and ignore new leads.

Dozens of inconsistencies, contained in reports that the 14 families were
able to obtain from the military, raise questions about suicide rulings in
the deaths of young men at sea, in foreign countries, and at bases inside
this country.

Hall, a county housing specialist from Louisville, Ky., wonders how her son
managed to shoot himself in the head while on duty if, as the Navy told
her, one wrist was handcuffed to the steering wheel of his security truck
and a forensic test could not conclude whether he had fired a gun with his
other hand. The Navy told Hall that her son had killed himself because he
was upset over a split with his girlfriend.

Lois Vanderbur, a homemaker from tiny Mapleton, Iowa, wonders why her son,
Marine weapons expert Lt. Kirk Vanderbur, 24, would first wound himself in
the abdomen with a shotgun, then crawl almost 10 feet and shoot himself in
the forehead with a semi-automatic rifle. That is how the NIS told her that
Kirk committed suicide on a civilian rifle range near Camp Lejeune, N.C.,
in February 1992.

Vanderbur contends her son was murdered. "If Kirk wanted to commit
suicide," she said, "he had a .22-caliber pistol right at home."

John MacCaskill, a retired police officer from Rockville Centre, N.Y.,
wonders how his son, Marine embassy guard John MacCaskill Jr., 21,
committed suicide in San Salvador in 1988 by firing a .357 magnum into his
mouth - as the NIS ruled - when the family's own autopsy shows no powder
burns in John's mouth and none of the massive facial or dental injuries
that such a powerful weapon would cause at point-blank range. MacCaskill
said the military had his son's body gutted and his organs buried in an
unmarked grave, and had failed to take blood samples or gunpowder-residue
tests.

Virgil Essary, of Beebe, Ark., wonders why his son, Seaman Martin J.
Essary, 21, would hang himself aboard the USS Wasp - as the Navy has ruled
- the day after he had phoned home to say he was going to turn in seamen
allegedly dealing drugs aboard ship. The Navy told Essary that his son had
committed suicide because he was distraught over the loss of a girlfriend.

Jakovic, of Laurence Harbor, N.J., wonders how her son, Marine Lance Cpl.
Scott Jakovic, accidentally shot himself in the head while playing Russian
roulette - as the NIS says - if the Navy initially charged another Marine
with killing her son. Jakovic contends that her son, who she said had
complained to her of drug abuse at the Earle Naval Weapons Station in New
Jersey, was murdered by a Marine who later tested positive for cocaine use.

Jim Langford, an electrician in Elk Creek, Calif., wonders how his son,
Army Spec. 4 Chad Langford, 20, shot himself in the head at Redstone
Arsenal, Ala., in March 1992 - as the Army has ruled - when one hand was
handcuffed and a palm print on the gun that killed him was not Chad's.
Langford says his son, an MP, had told him that he was on an undercover
drug investigation and that drug dealers would kill him if they found out.

Marenicola Whittles, an accounting clerk from Bloomfield, N.J., wonders
which of three official versions of her son's shooting death to believe.
She said military investigators had told her that her son, Cpl. Cornelius
Whittles, 22, died at the Earle base in Colts Neck, N.J., in 1989 while (1)
playing Russian roulette, (2) cleaning his gun and (3) clowning around with
his gun. She said she suspects that five security officers who were in the
small security station where her son died know more about his death than
the NIS has reported.

And Nadine Gilmore, of Wichita, Kan., wonders how her son, Petty Officer
Christopher Michael Varrientos, 19, strangled himself with a loading strap
aboard the USS Cape Cod on Jan. 20 en route to Guam - as the NIS told her -
when there were no significant abrasions on his neck. But there were
bruises on his abdomen, collarbone and cheek, Gilmore said. She maintains
that her son, whom she described as cheerful and upbeat when she spoke to
him by phone 16 hours before he died, was murdered.

"I could face up to a death in combat," Gilmore said, "but not the lies and
contradictions and coverups they've handed me."

Last week, several of the families told their stories in private to staff
members of the oversight subcommittee on investigations of the House Armed
Services Committee. The panel is looking into the military investigative
agencies - particularly the NIS - in the wake of the Tailhook scandal. It
agreed to the families' long-standing requests to listen to their
allegations.

The families are demanding that their cases be reinvestigated by an agency
other than the NIS or the Army's Criminal Investigation Division (CID).

Earlier this year, President Clinton ordered an investigation by the
Defense Department's Inspector General's Office into two Navy deaths -
Essary's and the 1975 death of another sailor from Arkansas. Clinton acted
after the Morning News of Springdale, Ark., reported on the two cases.

Public affairs officials at the Pentagon, the Navy and the Army said they
could not comment on the families' accusations because to do so would
improperly disclose personal details of the dead men and their families.
The officials declined to speculate on explanations for the high numbers of
suicides in all four military branches.

The Marine Corps has reported 22 suicides so far this year, compared with
26 for all of 1992, 25 in 1991, 38 in 1990 and 24 in 1989. The Army
reported 75 suicides last year, the Navy 51 and the Air Force 58.

The families say it is easier for the military to quickly rule the deaths
suicides rather than deal with embarrassing allegations.

"They fouled up so many times that they finally came up with the
explanation they were after all along - self-inflicted wound," Catherine
Jakovic said of the NIS inquiry into her son's death.

In virtually every case, the families say their sons gave them no hint of
depression or desperation. Lois Vanderbur, for instance, says her son had
just ordered a $3,000 gun and a new weight-lifting system. The dead
Marine's brother, Lars, said Kirk mailed him a letter the day before he
died, telling how to mail packages to his new duty station.

"Kirk always used to dump on people who committed suicide with guns," Lars
said. "He used to joke that it gave guns a bad name."

The families say also that the military has blocked their attempts to find
out what happened to their sons, ignored their questions and told
commanders and military witnesses not to discuss the cases.

"At first, I never thought the military would lie to us," Robyn Hall said.
"Then they kept changing their stories, modifying witnesses' statements.
When I confronted them they'd change their story again or refuse to discuss
it, saying it was 'too abstract.' "

Harvey Hargrove said he had been turned away again and again: "They'll tell
you what they want you to know - and nothing more."

Marenicola Whittles was more blunt: "I was always a believer in, 'If the
military says it, then it's true.' Not anymore."

*

Harvey Hargrove is a gentle, plain-spoken carpenter from Hot Springs, Ark.,
who arrived in Washington last week wearing a pair of Big Smith overalls
and a blue baseball cap. He said he hated Washington as soon as he saw the
place; he couldn't wait to drive back home to rural Arkansas.

But first Hargrove laid out the long, complex story of the death of his
son, William Ray Hargrove, 30, an Army sergeant. It proved to be a tale of
two military deaths.

The younger Hargrove was found dead behind his home near a military post in
South Korea in February 1992. The Army ruled that Hargrove, despondent over
an impending divorce, had hanged himself from a tree with a parachute cord
shortly after being summoned to his base office. His wife found him.

Billy Ray's best friend, fellow Desert Storm veteran Sgt. Nurma "Mike"
Carmichael accompanied the body back home for burial in Arkansas. There,
according to Harvey Hargrove, Carmichael said he blamed the Army for Billy
Ray's death and would "make them pay" for it.

On the same trip, Mike Carmichael visited his uncle, Oscar Carmichael, in
Nuevo, Calif. According to Oscar Carmichael, his nephew told him he did not
believe Billy Ray had committed suicide. He vowed to investigate the death
when he returned to Korea.

Two weeks later, on April 5, 1992, Mike Carmichael was found dead in Korea.
The NIS said he had been strangled by a parachute cord strung from the door
handle of a metal locker inside his NCO quarters at an Army barracks. It
was his 38th birthday.

Like Billy Ray Hargrove, Carmichael died after he was summoned back to work
on an off-duty day. Like Hargrove, he was found by his wife. Like Hargrove,
his death was ruled a suicide by the Army. And like Hargrove's wife,
Carmichael's wife told investigators she had found metal wire - not
parachute cord - around her husband's neck.

Oscar Carmichael, a retired Marine, believes that the similarities are not
coincidental and that the two friends' deaths are connected. Harvey
Hargrove suspects they were murdered.

"I think those two boys found out something they weren't supposed to find
out," Hargrove said.

Both men concede they have no proof of murder, only unanswered questions
and contradictory, piecemeal evidence supplied by the Army.

In Hargrove's case, his father says several of his son's important personal
documents are missing. Among them are files Billy Ray kept on his campaign
to have his unit receive commendations for its Desert Storm service.
Hargrove said Billy Ray knew he was being investigated for writing a phony
letter of commendation for his unit.

The Army did give him a photocopy of what it said was a suicide note found
on his son's body, Hargrove said. But he said he is not sure the
handwriting is Billy Ray's, and he intends to have it analyzed by an
expert.

In Carmichael's case, his uncle said one soldier had cut Mike's body down
and others had disturbed evidence in the barracks room before investigators
arrived. Oscar Carmichael said he had seen Army reports noting that these
breaches had hampered the investigation.

Nonetheless, Carmichael said, the Army ruled that Mike had committed
suicide, in part, because he feared his ex-wife would sue him for half his
retirement pay. He was due to retire in October after 20 years of service.
But Carmichael said the ex-wife had long ago signed an agreement not to
seek the pay.

Carmichael contends that the suicide explanation is part of an Army
coverup.

"The more I find out, the more mysterious it gets," he said.

Harvey Hargrove, loading up military documents from his son's case for the
drive back to Arkansas, left Washington more convinced than ever that his
son and his friend had been murdered.

"No way those two boys committed suicide," he said. "This whole Army story
is a sham."

*

Donnie Louthain held up a color slide to the light. It showed the naked
body of Kenny Louthain on a coroner's table, a thick dark bruise streaked
across the middle of his back. Another slide showed a deep pink gash inside
Kenny's left elbow. Another showed dark abrasions on his shin.

"No explanation from the NIS. Nothing," Louthain said, slipping the slides
back into plastic envelopes.

For Louthain, the injuries were yet more evidence the NIS had failed to
disclose, much less explain. Each time he confronted the agency with new
questions, he said, it provided answers that didn't fit the evidence.

Louthain said the NIS had told him that no one else - including a murderer
- could have fit into the tiny room where Kenny died. Louthain and his wife
later visited the USS Virginia and went into the room. Five people easily
fit inside, he said.

The NIS said Kenny was in a sitting position on the floor when found,
Louthain said, meaning he was not strangled by suspending himself. Was he
able to strangle himself by merely slumping on a phone cord attached to a
receiver secured in the phone cradle?

"How do they explain that?" Louthain asked. "Well, they don't."

According to Louthain, the NIS also dismissed the alleged threats related
to drugs. Although an investigator interviewed Brian Urbin, Kenny's best
friend, Louthain said the NIS had later told him that it considered Urbin a
publicity seeker.

To the best of his knowledge, Louthain said, the NIS has not questioned the
machinist's mate named by Urbin as the alleged drug dealer.

It wasn't only alleged drug use aboard ship that bothered Kenny, Louthain
said. He had shown his parents videotapes and photos of hazing parties
where sailors were tied up and taped from head to toe, including their
faces and necks.

The Louthains showed the videos and photos to a Navy admiral involved in
the investigation.

"It got his attention," Carole Louthain said. But she said the family had
heard nothing about a possible hazing connection in their son's case.

Her son had every reason to go on living, Carole said. He had made plans
for home leave in Indiana at Christmas, making a date with a girl back
home. He talked about going deer hunting. He had just enrolled in a
shipboard algebra course. He called his sister a week before he died,
badgering her about servicing a truck he had bought and left with her.

A few months before Kenny's death, his parents said, he had counseled a
friend in Indiana who was threatening suicide. He told the friend he was
being selfish and immature. The friend backed down, Donnie Louthain said.

None of these things are in the files the Louthains have managed to get
from the NIS. Carole Louthain says the Navy is not interested in them
because they do not fit their conclusions.

She has conclusions of her own.

"I didn't believe our son committed suicide when they first told us," she
said, stuffing NIS documents back into a briefcase. "After what we've found
out since then, it's not even a remote possibility."

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