The Death of Joe McKenna

By Steve Janas
We had just arrived at the house in Port Richmond where Joe lived. By
we I mean myself and my friend Josh Staab, whos been Joes
brother since fourth grade. Joes girlfriend Jessica was there, as was a
neighbor and two other friends of Joes. Theyd been getting fucked up
all day drug paraphernalia was everywhere. And Joe, who had just got
hold of some money, was about to leave on his bike for another run to
his corner boys on F & Lippincott. Josh even made a joke out of it: Im
going to time you.
Joe was back in eight minutes. After distributing the drugs to everyone
who had placed an order, Joe went up into the bathroom as was his
wont to do his own share. A few minutes later, Jessica heard a thump
behind the door. She asked if Joe was alright. Iuh, Joe said, and
there was another thump as he slid to the floor.
Jessica opened the door, and there was Joe, thrashing in violent
convulsions on the floor. Fishing Out is the street vernacular for this
condition, but what it really is, is an over-dose. This had been
happening more and more lately, I had been told, as Joe had reacted to
the deteriorating conditions in his life by shooting ever larger
quantities of cocaine and heroin into his veins. Jessica had begun
warning him repeatedly that he was killing himself, but that didnt stop
him. Might have been the plan all along, actually.
Anyway, Josh and I wrestled Joe out of the bathroom so he was lying
half in the upstairs hallway. We turned him on his side so he wouldnt
choke on his own vomit or the foam that was spilling from his mouth. I
asked Jessica if we should call 911. She was hesitant at first as I said,
this had been happening more and more lately, and before, Joe had
just snapped out of it. But this was different. She said yes call 911.
So we did, and it seemed like they took their sweet time getting there.
I guess everyone always says that, but I do remember seeing the first
responders coming down the street from their vehicles in a gait that
was more like a Sunday stroll than an emergency response.
They began CPR on Joe. Josh and I retreated downstairs to stay out of
the way, but we could listen. Different pieces of equipment were
brought in, with electronic voices that advised when an electrical shock
to the heart should or should not be administered. They massaged his
heart for a good 15 minutes you gotta give them credit for that. It
wasnt just a token effort.

Jessica was upstairs next to Joe the whole time, and it was the change
in her tone of voice that caused all of us downstairs to look at each
other in expressions of dread and horror. Joe, she kept moaning.
Joe The tone was one of mourning, not encouragement.
Finally the sounds of the heart massage stopped, and EMTs started
bringing pieces of equipment down the stairs. It was over. Even then, I
didnt think Joe was dead. I thought well, more hoped, I guess that
the EMTs were successful and Joe was groggy but at least alive.
It was when I went back upstairs that I saw the truth. There was no one
but Joe and Jessica up there, and Joe had been covered by a loosely
thrown sheet. Jessica was holding his hand from under the blanket,
rocking slowly back and forth, crying softly to herself. You were my
whole world, she said. What am I going to do without you?
I lifted a corner of the sheet to reveal Joes face he didnt look asleep
or out-of-it. He was too still. He looked dead. His eyes were partially
open, but they werent seeing anything. The breathing tube had been
left in his mouth, attached to one of those clear, plastic bubbles the
EMTs squeeze to force air into peoples lungs.
Joe lay like that for a couple hours after the EMTs left. The idea was to
wait for the police to arrive, take a statement, and then the MEs office
would send a vehicle to pick up the body. But the police had other
calls, higher priorities, and by the time anyone with a uniform showed
up again, Joes face had taken on a bluish cast and his hand had locked
into the position Jessica was holding it. He was growing cold. First the
fingers, then the arms, and so on.
The police did eventually arrive to take a statement, but the Medical
Examiner never showed up. Since it was just an OD, they could take
the body away in a police Patty Wagon, which is what they did.
Josh told the cops the corner where Joe would buy, and the cop did say
that if they found the guy who sold the bag of coke (likely cut with bath
salts) to Joe, they could charge him with murder. Maybe that will
happen. Hope so.
And thats that. The death of Joe McKenna. Just another street junkie
who ODd. Except to me. He was my friend. And always will be.