JACK KEVORKIAN WALKS FREE TODAY
By Stephen Frye
Royal Oak Daily Tribune, MI
June 1 2007
‘Dr. Death’ returns to the spotlight after years in prison Journal
Register News Service
After spending the better part of the 1990s in the limelight as the
nation’s most visible right-to-die advocate, thumbing his nose at
prosecutors and legislators, Jack Kevorkian’s quest was ended with
a murder conviction and, subsequently, a lengthy prison sentence.
Today, the man dubbed "Dr. Death" — who helped about 130 people commit
suicide, including the Waterford Township man for whom Kevorkian
actually flipped the switch — is to walk out of a Michigan prison
and back into the spotlight.
He will be brought a blue suit with a white shirt, and brown shoes
and socks to wear.
"No tie, he’s not a tie guy," said his longtime lawyer and advocate,
Mayer Morganroth.
After he is whisked away in a van by his attorney to the comfort of
friends and supporters, Kevorkian will open up to the public.
A press conference in Southfield is scheduled for Tuesday, and
Kevorkian is expected to be showcased in numerous interviews, including
"60 Minutes" on Sunday and Larry King on Monday, and possibly public
speaking engagements.
"And then on and on," said Morganroth of the media’s interest. "From
what I understand, they are coming from all over the place. It’s just
one after the other."
The first taste of freedom for the 79-year-old retired pathologist
will likely be a small bag of grapes, said Morganroth. Later, he will
eat a dinner featuring a favorite Armenian vegetable dish.
His other attorney, Geoffrey Fieger, is less low-key about the release.
"It’s about time," Fieger said.
Everyone involved in this case, Fieger said, will be forgotten after
they die, but not Kevorkian.
"Jack Kevorkian will be remembered for hundreds of years as a hero,"
Fieger said.
The brother of the man Kevorkian killed on "60 Minutes," Terry Youk,
believes Kevorkian should not have been incarcerated in the first
place for helping Thomas Youk, 52, end his life in his Waterford
Township home on Sept. 17, 1998.
The Detroit Archdiocese on Thursday condemned both Kevorkian’s work
and the media "hype" surrounding his release.
"For 10 years, Jack Kevorkian’s actions resembled those of
a pathological serial killer," said Ned McGrath, director of
communications for the Archdiocese. "It will be truly regrettable
if he’s now treated as a celebrity parolee, instead of the convicted
murderer he is."
So from Coldwater, where the Lakeland Correctional Facility sits
near two other prisons, Kevorkian appears poised to re-ignite the
controversy.
First, though, he will travel to southeast Michigan to have a private
dinner with close friends and prepare to restart his life.
He has no family in the area, with only a sister who lives in Germany,
Morganroth said.
"Right now, he is looking ahead, and he is talking about being out
and living his life," Morganroth said.
What’s next
Kevorkian will not be completely free as he settles in with a family in
the Bloomfield Township area; he will remain on parole for two years.
And while he insists, through his attorney and statements he made
to the parole board, that he is done with helping people end their
suffering by helping end their lives, Kevorkian risks a return to
prison if he wavers on that.
In his parole order, an explicit condition prohibits against his
participating in, or even counseling or advising others on either
physician-assisted suicide or euthanasia. He also is banned from
caring for anyone older than 62 or who is disabled, and he cannot be
employed as a caretaker for anyone.
"I hope he’s done," said Oakland County Prosecutor David Gorcyca,
who brought the charges that finally stopped Kevorkian’s run.
Gorcyca believes he will not have to deal with Kevorkian again.
"I think his last seven and a half years of incarceration have changed
his attitude quite a bit about the tact in which he chose to illuminate
this debate," Gorcyca said.
Kevorkian must visit regularly with parole officer Anthony Yambrick
in Waterford Township, and he has the same requirements if moving or
leaving the state, getting written permission beforehand.
His first task will be to obtain medical and dental care, Morganroth
said. Kevorkian will not require much, as frugality has always been
a trait.
"He has never lived expensively," said Morganroth, noting his enjoyment
of golf but with used clubs that cost a dollar apiece, his long use of
an old Volkswagen van, and his former life in a one-bedroom apartment
above a Royal Oak downtown business.
Morganroth said he would soon take Kevorkian golfing.
"He wants to get back to painting and his music and his writing,"
Morganroth said. "And he wants to do research. The speaking and
lecturing is on the back burner."
Prison life
While Kevorkian plans to look ahead, his eight years in prison offer a
unique perspective of what life is like within the Michigan Department
of Corrections.
Morganroth said Kevorkian preferred the "privacy" available in the
prisons with single cells and bars, saying even the barred door offered
some sense of privacy. His last prison has featured an open dorm with
cubicles and no walls.
Russ Marlan, spokesman for the prison system, said they had no
problems with Kevorkian, except for his medical conditions and a
single violation, in which he was confused about whether a group of
inmates he was with was supposed to eat lunch or go to another area.
Kevorkian moved around to several prisons, from Muskegon area to the
Upper Peninsula to Lapeer County to Coldwater.
"As a regular rule, he has been treated with much respect," Morganroth
said. "He has no complaints. He’s never had serious problems. He’s
never been struck or abused. For the most part, he is very much
respected. They ask for his autograph, sometimes shout out a ‘Kevorkian
for president.’ Guards have been respectful."
The total cost of his incarceration is $250,600, Marlan said, and
so far the Department of Corrections has collected $62,200, taking
90 percent of Kevorkian’s $29,000 in savings and 90 percent of his
pension, which is less than $1,000-a-month.
A claim by the Michigan Attorney General’s Office to seek further
payment will be challenged, as Morganroth said the issue was settled
eight years ago in a suit before Oakland County Circuit Judge Nanci
J. Grant.
"I haven’t seen them do that with anybody else," Morganroth said.
"They got the lion’s share of his savings and they got the lion’s
share of his pension. They’ve been getting it for eight years. It’s
only for Jack. Jack is always treated differently."
Marlan shared a story from a warden about at least one inmate in the
Upper Peninsula expressing concerns about Kevorkian being transferred
to their prison, prompting another inmate to offer this advice:
"If you are bunked with Jack and he asks you in the morning how you
are doing, you say GREAT."