The Final Leap (2 page)

One reason Casey wanted to go to college far away was to escape the prejudices of people who thought, in her mind, that she must be full of herself since she grew up in affluence. That's not how she saw herself; it wasn't who she was. “If I had one word to describe Casey,” her father says, “it would be ‘authentic' or ‘genuine.' She hated phonies.”

Despite periods of depression, Casey never exhibited any obvious signs of suicidal behavior, her father says. Death was not a theme in any of her writing, and she did not talk about dying, let her appearance go, withdraw from others, give away prized possessions, or exhibit any risk-taking behavior other than sneaking an occasional cigarette. Now, though, she was on the bridge.

His heart pounding, John Brooks calls 911. The dispatcher contacts the California Highway Patrol, which in turn contacts the Bridge Patrol and the Coast Guard. It's a regular occurrence for the Golden Gate Bridge security force to receive a B.O.L. (be on the lookout) report either by phone or e-mail from a parent whose child may be heading to the bridge to jump. The red Saab is found, abandoned, near the bridge. There's no sign of Casey, though, either on the bridge or in the water.

A few months earlier, Casey and a friend were driving across the Golden Gate Bridge. They talked casually about a number of things, and the subject of suicide came up. Both agreed that the only way to do it was to jump off the Golden Gate. The friend asked Casey, hypothetically, which side she'd jump from. Casey answered without hesitation—the east side, the side facing San Francisco.

On Sunday night, just two days earlier, Casey had snuck out of the house and driven to the bridge. She didn't know until she got there that the gate to the pedestrian walkway is locked from 6
P.M.
to 5
A.M.,
November to March (the rest of the year it's open until 9
P.M.).
Few people—and no tourists—are interested in walking on the bridge after dark. Frustrated, Casey had returned home. The next morning, on a message board to her friends, she wrote, “I had a really, really bad scare last night. In reality it was so close between life and death and at least right now, I'm still not sure if I made the right decision. I'm just so tired, tired of life and tired of everything in it. I hope [I] never, ever even think of doing, or almost doing, such a thing again.”

Monday night she stayed up past midnight doing homework. She carried a heavy academic load, including three Advanced Placement classes. Her last communication was with a friend via computer. They talked about reincarnation. Casey wrote, “I think if I was reincarnated as anything in my next life it would probably be really shitty because I've been so lucky in this life.”

After making the 911 call, John and Erika Brooks drive to the bridge in a state of high anxiety. They hope desperately that it's all a mistake, that even though the Saab is at the bridge, Casey has run off somewhere. Police officers try to prepare them for the worst. It is not unusual for them to find an abandoned car near the bridge that eventually is linked to a suicide.

One of the officers reviews videotape from bridge cameras taken early that morning, then shares the information with the Brookses. Even though it is semi-dark, a young woman matching the description of Casey Brooks is clearly visible on film. She's dressed like a jogger, walking alone on the pedestrian path, smoking a cigarette. After surmounting the railing on the east side, the side facing San Francisco, she stands motionless on the chord for ten seconds. Then she jumps.

The world of John and Erika Brooks will never be the same.

The couple that held hands and jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge after a last kiss Saturday was identified yesterday.

—San Francisco Chronicle
, October 4, 1977

I've been thinking about suicide for a long time. In fact, it has occupied my daily life for the last fifteen years. That's how long I have directed the Contra Costa Crisis Center, a twenty-four-hour crisis intervention and suicide prevention center in Contra Costa County, California.

Contra Costa has a population of 1.1 million people. It is directly east of San Francisco, across the bay from the city. This fact isn't particularly notable except that it's a short ride by car or bus from many parts of the county to the Golden Gate Bridge. After San Francisco and Marin, the two counties that are joined by the world's most famous span, Contra Costa is the county with the highest number of Golden Gate Bridge suicides. On our crisis lines we talk down people who intend to jump from the bridge, and in our grief counseling program we console family members and friends of bridge jumpers.

One of my first lessons at the crisis center concerned the Golden Gate Bridge. A local artists' guild brought new paintings every month to display in the agency's offices. As soon as they went up, staff went around and made sure that none of them included an image of the bridge. If they did, the paintings came down. We didn't want to hurt or offend anyone whose loved one might have jumped.

Over the years, I've written periodic articles and opinion pieces about Golden Gate Bridge suicides. When published, they have elicited shock and disbelief. People, especially local people, are stunned to learn that the bridge is the top suicide site in the world. Since it opened in 1937, there have been more than fifteen hundred confirmed suicides, although the actual number is believed to be well over two thousand. That's because the bodies of many jumpers aren't ever found, they're washed out to sea. Other times the body is found, but far enough away that the death cannot be attributed with certainty to the bridge. Police need evidence to verify a death, and if a body isn't recovered or a jump isn't witnessed, there can't be confirmation, even if personal effects and a suicide note are found.

The same people who are shocked when they hear the extent of the problem, a problem that is rarely publicized (no book has been written about it before), are surprised to learn that the Golden Gate Bridge is the only international landmark without a suicide barrier. The Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building, St. Peter's Basilica, the Duomo, and Sydney Harbor Bridge—to name just a few—have had suicide barriers added to prevent a procession of tragic and unnecessary deaths. The Golden Gate Bridge, so far, has not. It stands today as the location where more people go to kill themselves than anywhere else. The bridge's easily surmountable, four-foot-high railing, year-round pedestrian access, fame, and beauty make it alluring to anyone who's fighting inner demons and looking for a quick way out.

In this book I offer a perspective that is gleaned from my many years of work in the field of suicide prevention. In addition to directing the crisis center, I was appointed by the governor of California to a blue-ribbon committee that developed the state's suicide prevention strategy. I also helped draft the legislation that resulted in the creation of California's Office of Suicide Prevention. In addition, I served four years on the steering committee of the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, based in New York City, which operates America's three suicide hotlines (800-273-TALK, 800-SUICIDE, and 888-628-9454, the latter for Spanish-speaking callers). It is my belief— and I'm certainly not alone in this—that suicide, in most instances, is preventable. In fact, it's the most preventable form of death. Moreover, one of the surest ways to prevent suicide, as many studies have proven, is to restrict access to lethal means. That's where the Golden Gate Bridge comes in; it's about the most lethal means there is. The odds of surviving a jump from the bridge are roughly the same as surviving a gunshot to your head. The major differences are that with jumping one doesn't have to obtain or handle a weapon, and there's no messy cleanup for loved ones to deal with afterward. A person just has to get to the bridge and jump.

For many people, the Golden Gate Bridge represents hope and a fresh beginning—the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the chance to start a new life in one of the most glamorous, beautiful, and tolerant cities in the world. For others, the bridge represents an altogether different destination—the end of the trail. They throw themselves off it with such regularity and so little fanfare that the public forgets that the problem exists. Certainly no one is reminded how often it occurs. Most people see only the splendor of the bridge; not the deaths linked to it.

That used to be the case with me. Although I've lived in the San Francisco Bay Area my entire life, I never gave much thought to the issue of suicides from the Golden Gate Bridge or the need for a suicide barrier. No one I knew well had ever jumped from the bridge, seriously considered jumping, or lost a family member or friend that way. Never in my infrequent walks across the bridge had I seen someone jump or attempt to jump.

After I started at the crisis center, everything changed. I learned facts about the bridge that astonished me, mainly because I felt that I should have known them already. Then I realized that most of the people I knew or came into contact with didn't know them either. That was the genesis for this book.

For instance, most people don't know that the vast majority of individuals who jump from the Golden Gate Bridge live relatively close to it. Only a small number of those who use the bridge to attempt or complete suicide come from other states, an even smaller number come from other countries. Despite the myth that the bridge serves as a mecca for troubled and depressed souls around the world, in actuality its attraction is largely local.

Most people don't know that it's not just single men suffering from mental illness who jump. More than 10 percent of Golden Gate Bridge jumpers are adolescents. Adult jumpers, meanwhile, include virtually every profession. Many are married with children. Some live in affluence.

Most people don't know that because of the short railing, at least three young children have been thrown over the side by parents who jumped after them. In another case, a five-year-old girl was told to jump by her father, and complied.

Most people don't know that it's not unusual for jumpers to survive the fall. Upon hitting the water their bones shatter, their body organs burst, they plunge deep beneath the surface, and ultimately they drown. Far from being a fast and painless way to die, jumping from the bridge can produce final minutes that are excruciating and terrifying.

Most people don't know that the original design for the bridge called for a higher railing specifically to protect against suicides. In a last-minute design decision, however, this safety feature was sacrificed for the view.

Most people don't know that at one time the Golden Gate Bridge actually had a safety net. It was installed during construction at a cost of $130,000 (the equivalent of $2 million today), ran the length of the span, and was designed to protect bridge workers. At various times, nineteen men fell into the net and were saved. When the bridge was completed, the net was removed.

Most people don't know that one section of the bridge has had a barrier for many years. There is an eight-foot-high, 350-foot-long chain-link fence on the San Francisco side, before the toll booths. It's not pretty, but then it's not intended to be. It's also not there to prevent suicides. Its purpose is to prevent garbage from being thrown onto visitors walking below, at Fort Point.

Most people don't know that the reason why the Golden Gate Bridge has surveillance equipment and motion sensors has nothing to do with suicide prevention. Yes, the equipment is used to spot would-be jumpers and direct rescue workers to the location as quickly as possibly. And yes, Bridge District officials promote the system as evidence that they are concerned about suicides and have procedures in place to prevent them. But the reason why surveillance equipment was originally installed was to monitor traffic conditions on the bridge and in the toll plaza area. The reason why it has been beefed up substantially in recent years is to fight terrorism. Because it's an international landmark, the Golden Gate Bridge is considered a primary target for terrorists. Closely monitoring the goings-on of motorists and pedestrians is deemed critical to the safety of millions of residents.

The most important thing that people don't know about the bridge is how big the suicide problem is. To hear that more than fifteen hundred people have died jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge is hard to believe. To hear that the deaths continue at a rate of two to three per month—with virtually no public outcry—is even harder to accept. To hear that no other site in the world is close to the Golden Gate Bridge when it comes to suicide leaves one feeling numb and of the opinion that this problem can't continue, it has to end.

That's the reason for this book. It's intended to educate readers about Golden Gate Bridge suicides with the hope that more people will realize that this deplorable situation must be remedied at once, without further delay. And it can be. A taller railing or a well-designed net underneath will solve the problem immediately and effectively. Of course, there are people who object to any changes because the bridge is such an icon. As a centerpiece, conduit, and symbol it reigns supreme, not only for the city of San Francisco but for California and the West. Yet doing nothing only adds to the death toll.

In the following chapters I provide a wide-ranging examination of the most popular suicide site on earth. I explore the bridge's celebrated history; it's unfortunate appeal to people who want to die; the dark stories of the suicides themselves; how the few survivors of Golden Gate Bridge jumps view their near-deaths; the roles of the police, Coast Guard, coroner, Bridge District, and mental health community; and the simple change that would without a doubt prevent these tragedies in the future.

The story of Golden Gate Bridge suicides started mere weeks after the bridge opened in May 1937 when a World War I veteran became the first official casualty, and it has continued ever since. One reason why it continues is because people don't want to believe or, perhaps, prefer to ignore that the extraordinary, spellbinding, one-of-a-kind bridge is blemished. That might damage San Francisco's thriving tourism industry, which supports thousands of businesses as well as enhances government coffers. It also would give pause to artists, photographers, moviemakers, and poets who craft paeans to the bridge. Most importantly, it would mean confronting a problem that's unpleasant to consider, that some people are so distressed they want to end their lives.