'Twas The Day After Thanksgiving

by Donna Pendergast

'Twas the day after Thanksgiving and all through the land

The shoppers were awake, the agenda was planned

The coffee was brewing, the tennies were laced

The stores would soon open, around the house they all raced

The stores were all decked out with flash holiday flair

with hope that the shoppers would soon buy their fare

And Mom with her coupons and dad with his cash

had compiled a list for the mad morning dash

When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter

Mall doors were now open, 'twas all that would matter

The crowd surged ahead in a frenzy quite crazy

Not a place for the weak and worse for the lazy.

Holiday lights in the window of a once simple store

gave the luster of magic to something quite plain before

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

But a runaway mob propelled from the rear.

Push forward, move faster, don't worry where you tread

Don't look back, don't falter, think bargains ahead

From outside the front door, for the length of the mall

Now dash away, dash away, dash away all.

Like leaves in the middle of a wild tornado fly

run for the shops, many presents to buy

Super special sale and bargains galore

but you need to move quickly and get through the door

Then in a twinkling, a voice on the mike

Door buster special, something you'll like

You need to get this deal, you need to buy more

But you better move fast, only five units per store."

So off to that aisle, shoppers flew in a flash

I'm going to get me one and save tons of cash

But I only can do it by fighting off the crowd

I need to be brazen, I musn't be cowed.

As boxes fly  into carts full of loot

get out of the way or I'll give you a boot

I need to get this deal, my kid needs this toy

And I'm on a mission to search and destroy
.

Don't you know it's Black Friday, only one thing to say?

Survival of the fittest is the order of the day

I'm going for the deals, I want only the best

I can't stop or falter, I can't take a rest.

Up and down the corridors, until plum out of steam

I got all my bargains, my haul is a dream

I'm done hitting stores from morning to night

Merry Christmas to all, you put up a good fight.

Black Friday is one of the most anticipated shopping days of the year for bargain-hunting shoppers. It's a time to hit the stores and officially launch the holiday shopping season. But criminals look forward to the shopping season for a very different reason. Based on experience I can tell you that they are hoping to take advantage and prey on shoppers. Be a smart shopper and heed these safety tips:

1. Avoid the ATM. Early Friday morning is no time to be hitting the money machine for a dose of cash. If you absolutely need to visit the ATM, be safe about it. Use a well-lit ATM inside an open establishment. Be especially mindful of anyone who appears to be watching you near an ATM. Also be aware of anything that seems unusual about the ATM machine itself. Criminals have become adept at rigging ATM machines to trap your card which they will extract from the rigged machine after you walk away. They can later use it by entering your pin number which they have learned by either watching you punch it in up close or watching from afar with binoculars.

2. Be Alert. Pay attention to surroundings and keep an eye out for any unusual activity. Park under lights and shop with a buddy. If you have to exit your car in a dark parking lot, wait for a crowd that is heading toward the store or mall as well.

3. Keep your purse close to your body and tightly shut. I have personally been the victim of a pickpocket who was so adroit that he was able to lift my wallet out of my purse while it was on my shoulder. I never felt a thing. Keep a tight leash on your purse and be alert in crowds and aware of persons bumping up against you. A neat tip for your purse if you are putting it in a shopping cart. Put it in the child seat area and lace the seatbelt straps through the purse handle and lock them. This prevents a thief from running by and grabbing it on the run.

4. Don't fight. Black Friday can bring out the worst in shoppers. A good deal is not worth a physical altercation.

Be safe out there tomorrow. Happy shopping, and remember, people. it's only stuff!  Today, think of what's really important and be thankful for what you already have.

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Angel Killer: Deborah Blum Discusses Serial Stalker Albert Fish and eBook Publishing

by Deborah Blum

When first thinking that I might tell the story of Albert Fish – the cannibal killer who stalked New York City in the 1920s and '30s – all my friends advised against it. Did I really want to spend hours of my life with a subject this warped? “Call me if you if you really decide to write that book,” a long-time friend at NPR said. “So that I can talk you out of it.”

And yet the story haunted me. It tapped me on the shoulder when I was working on other projects. If you write for a living, you know what that means. I decided finally that I would write it but not as a full-length book.  So I pitched the shadowy, murderous path of Albert Fish as a long narrative story – an e-single – to the rising star digital publisher, The Atavist.

Last week, that story – titled Angel Killer – was the number-one selling non-fiction single on Amazon (number eight out of all Kindle singles). Partly, I think, because it’s just an incredible story of murder and detection and of scientists wrestling with their own definitions of justice regarding a madman. Partly, I hope, because I told it with style.

But also because this turned out to be just the right format for my story set in shadows.  I just participated in a panel on e-books at the National Association of ScienceWriters meeting in Raleigh, N.C.  I’m including a link to that session here because you can download a pdf there with all kinds of great information about e-publishing, from commissioned pieces like my own to self-publishing.

We talked about this newly wonderful opportunity to write a long-form story, a place where you could publish in the 10,000 to 20,000 word length (mine’s about 11,000) as opposed to a full-length book of 100,000 or more words. We talked about all the digital possibilities not available in print.  In the enhanced editions, for instance, Angel Killer contains video, audio (by me), music, interactive murder maps. We talked about what the future looks like for writers and publishers.

But here’s the thing. Every person on my panel agreed that in the end, it wasn’t the bells and whistles that made this most exciting. It was the story itself. And the opportunity to tell it a really good length, long enough to do it justice, but short enough to make it a fast read.  Which brings me back, of course, to the dark journey of Albert Fish and why I couldn’t quite let it go.

I’m not a writer who specializes in serial killers. I am a science writer who specializes in poisons and toxicology, so I do often tell stories that you might consider true crime. My book, The Poisoner’s Handbook, for instance, is subtitled “Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz-Age New York.” And it was because I spent so much time researching criminal justice in that time period, that I encountered the crimes of Albert Fish.

At first his story looks like that of many serial killers. White, male, poor and poorly educated, abused as a child, angry. He was born in 1870 in Washington, D.C. scraped out a living as a painter and handyman for most of this life in New York City. He was thin, gray, a shadow man drifting through the city streets. He stalked, he killed, and for well over a decade, he got away with it. One of the nicknames for him, after he became infamous, was the Gray Man.

But he was crazier than most. And, yes, it’s hard to argue with that description of a cannibalistic serial killer who sends recipe-infused letters to the families of his victims. I say that because he was delusional. He suffered from hallucinations, heard voices, believed that he followed the instructions of vengeful angels (hence the title of my story.)

And the question of his sanity was why I became so interested. During his 1935 trial, that was the most important, really the only question about his future. Was he crazy enough to escape the electric chair at Sing Sing Prison? The psychiatrists for the defense didn’t see it as escape. They saw a desperately mentally ill man who had become a successful killer. They wanted him locked away, studied, used to gain new understanding of multiple murders. The state of New York, though, just wanted him dead.

As a result, the trial provided one astonishing scene after another of psychiatrists facing off over a killer’s sanity. Even today, the testimony of some of the state experts – one scientist described Fish’s habits as “just a matter of taste” – is some of the most egregious on record. It was that extreme scientific testimony, the question of how we define sanity that first caught my attention.

But it was the ethical, moral dilemma that kept me interested. How should we deal with the dangerously crazy in the criminal justice system? Is there a best answer for what to do with a killer like Albert Fish once we’ve managed to catch him? One person wrote me to say engraving his name on a tombstone was a good enough result. But of the defense psychiatrists at the time likened executing an insane old man to witch burning in the Salem trials of long ago.

So, that’s why I wanted to tell the story of Albert Fish. I wanted to put myself – in the way writers do – on that wooden bench with the jurors and see if I could answer that question.  And did I find it? Some days I know exactly what I’d do. And on others the story still taps on my shoulder, letting me know that I’m still wrestling with the question. But that’s okay.  A good story should haunt you for a while anyway.

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Times Up

by Donna Pendergast

It was a call that I never expected to get.  Susan Murphy-Milano was on the line and she wanted me to write the foreword to her book Times Up. I had to repeat the words to make sure I understood. "You want ME to write the foreword to your book," I  asked with incredulity? to which she answered, "Yes."

I could almost hear the smile in her voice as she repeated her request.  She went on to give her reasons, stating how much she admired me and what I had accomplished in my career and how she could think of no one else who she would rather have write the foreword to her new book.  As I listened through the fog, the words kept repeating in my mind, "She wants ME to write the foreword to HER book." WOW.

As I listened to her reasons, all I could think was why is this incredible woman saying all these things about me-she is the hero? We ended the call with me agreeing to write the foreword and her expressing her utmost gratitude that I would honor her by accepting her request. Honor to her? I thought as I hung up the phone. You have got to be kidding me. For the truth is, I was the one who was overwhelmed and honored. I never dreamed at the time that her chosen title for the book would be eerily prophetic.

In hindsight, I now know that the tone of that call was nothing out of the ordinary. For Susan, it has never been all about herself but rather always about everyone else. She has spent her life looking out for and trying to ensure that women in abusive relationships didn't have their lives cut short because they were naive and in denial as to the inevitable outcome of  their dangerous situations. You see for Susan it was a matter of life and death, she had seen a horrific outcome first hand and she was determined that no one else would have to experience what she had gone through.

In January 1989, Susan's father, Philip Murphy, a 30-year Chicago police officer and decorated violent crimes investigator killed her mother with his .44-caliber service weapon.  He then took his own life by shooting himself in the head.  It was the culmination of a violent and abusive pattern of behavior which had characterized her parents entire marriage. After finding her parents' bodies, Susan vowed to change the way intimate partner homicides are handled and investigated. It was to become a lifelong crusade which undertook with ferocity and passion.

She went on to become a nationally renowned  crusader and women's rights advocate who spent her career advocating for women and children who are the victims of domestic violence. A much sought after speaker she has been regularly featured on shows such a  "The Oprah Winfrey Show," "Larry King Live," MSNBC, CNN. The list goes on.   Her books Defending Our Lives, Moving Out, Moving On, Times Up, and the just released Holding My Hand Through Hell have empowered scores of women and set the standard as the go to  tomes for women in trouble. She was a contributor here at Women In Crime Ink for a period of time but had to give it up because  of the demands on her time and the need to fulfill other commitments.

But  it was what she did behind the scenes that really defines Susan as a person.  Always available on the other end of a phone she personally involved herself in the fight to keep women safe sometimes at considerable risk to her own personal safety.  I personally  was the recipient of Susan's concern and compassion last year when I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer.She was always at the other end of a phone and her calls always seemed to come when I needed them most. In her personal life and her professional life Susan burned the candle at both ends and saved more lives than we will ever know.

As the fates would have it, she couldn't save her own. On October 1, Susan decided to forego her treatment and let nature take its course with her cancer.  I was blessed in my situation, needing no radiation nor chemotheraphy after my initial surgery. Susan was not as lucky. Without treatment, she is reported to be declining rapidly, although comfortable and well cared for by a team of hospice care workers and a dear and committed friend who is holding her hands toward heaven. It is a cruel and unfair irony. The woman who saved so many lives can not save her own.  She has fought a valiant fight but this  demon  is  just too strong. We all, of course, hope for a miracle, but the odds are hugely against her and time is said to be running out.

Susan realizes more than most that time can be short.  She has lived life fully grasping it and making the most of it, and she will leave behind  a larger legacy than most can ever hope to leave behind. So I know I speak on behalf of Susan when I say these words,  fight the fear, follow your dream, seize the day, don't be afraid to love, take a chance. You never know when your time might be up.

Go softly on the wings of angels, sister. You have earned some rest. I love you!

Statements made in this post are my own and are not intended to reflect the views, opinion or position of the Michigan Attorney General or the Michigan Department of Attorney General.

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Prisoner Rights Run Amok in Sex-change Case

(Wikipedia Commons)

by Diane Dimond

I unequivocally oppose a recent pro-prisoner court order that you may find positively shocking. I know I did.

The prisoner at the center of the controversy is MichelleKosilek. But up until 1993, this person was known as Robert Kosilek. In 1990, Robert’s wife, Cheryl, already distressed over his drinking came home to find him dressed up in her clothes. A fight ensued and the trial court found Robert was guilty of strangling Cheryl with a wire and abandoning her naked body in the family car outside a local mall.

Just before Kosilek went on trial for Cheryl’s murder in 1993, he declared he was a woman trapped in a man’s body and legally changed his name to Michelle. Kosilek appeared in court with long luxurious hair and wearing eye makeup, rouge, women’s glasses, slim cut jeans and a set of dangling circle earrings. Despite self-identifying as a female, upon conviction, Kosilek was sentenced to an all-male prison in Norfolk, Massachusetts to serve life in prison without parole.

Over the years, Kosilek’s attorneys have repeatedly filed motions asking the court to order sex-reassignment surgery for the convicted murderer. In 2002, after specialists testified Kosilek did, indeed, suffer from severe gender identity disorder the court allowed Kosilek to begin receiving taxpayer funded psychotherapy, female hormone injections, laser hair removal and access to women’s underwear and make-up. All of that wasn’t enough for Kosilek’s peace of mind, however. Court documents revealed s/he  attempted self-castration and twice attempted suicide in prison.

Now, let’s pause here so I can be clear. I have no doubt that gender identity disorder exists and that it can be psychological hell for those who are born this way. But there are lots of people on the outside struggling with Kosilek’s problem, unable to come up with the money for a gender reassignment operation. Do we afford convicted killers health care rights that law abiding citizens don’t have? The answer is yes, according to a recent decision from U.S. District Court Judge Mark Wolf.

“It may seem strange that in the United States citizens do not generally have a constitutional right to adequate medical care, but the Eighth Amendment promises prisoners such care,” Judge Wolf wrote in ruling that the state of Massachusetts must pay for the prisoner’s sex-change operation. To do otherwise, Wolf ruled, would constitution cruel and unusual punishment.

Now, stop and think about this a minute. Here is a person who lives in the general population of an all – male prison. It may be one thing for him to dress up like the character Klinger from the old M*A*S*H* TV series but it might be something altogether more dangerous for Kosilek to actually become transgendered and think nothing will change within his testosterone driven prison community. Judge Wolf heard testimony from prison officials about the unique security problems Kosilek’s case would present but he dismissed the argument. As it stands now Kosilek gets his free operation but the state could appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court which would delay things.

Other states have grappled with similar federal cases filed by prisoners wanting a sex change operation but I couldn’t find one where a judge actually ordered taxpayer funded surgery.

Judge Wolf’s apparently groundbreaking decision seems so shortsighted to me. He made it sound as if he had no choice in the matter, that it was a “medical necessity” for this prisoner. It’s as if the judge forgot that the state has already bent over backward to accommodate this prisoner’s numerous wishes over the years.

I’m not the only one who is outraged by this. After the ruling, U.S. Senator Scott Brown of Massachusetts said Kosilek’s surgery would be, “An outrageous abuse of taxpayer dollars.” A niece of Cheryl Kosilek nearly begged the state to quickly appeal the decision saying, “As far as I’m concerned, he deserves nothing. If he wants to attempt suicide … let him.”

Judge Wolf’s written ruling didn’t address what would happen to Kosilek after the operation. Would s/he be left to fend for her/himself in the all-male population or be transferred to a women’s prison? What if Kosilek decides he is unhappy with the results and wants further surgery? And, most important, what signal does this send to all the other poor but law-abiding souls who cannot afford the psychotherapy, the hormones, the gender reassignment surgery? For the truly desperate it seems to be an invitation to commit a really serious crime so they can advance their goal of changing sexes.

I can see providing a prisoner a heart transplant or expensive cancer treatments so they don’t die. That, to me, fits in the “medically necessary” category. But, to those Kosilek sympathizers who declare granting this operation is humane – I asked them one question: How humane was Robert Kosilek when he pulled that wire around his wife’s neck and tugged on it until it nearly took her head off? He’s gotten enough rewards for his murderous behavior.

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Shocker in the Dawn Viens Missing Person's Case

by Cathy Scott

As promised by Los Angeles County Sheriff's Lt. Dave Coleman in 2011, detectives planned to talk at length with David Viens, who has long been suspected of killing his missing wife, Dawn.

Investigators did more than that. They interviewed David Viens' daughter, from an earlier relationship, about the goings-on immediately after Dawn disappeared in 2009 from the quaint village of Lomita, California.

In 2011, investigators jack-hammered and tore down interior walls of the Thyme Café, owned by Dawn and David Viens. Deputies also used a cadaver-sniffing dog.

They were on the right track. This week, the sheriff's department announced a shocking revelation gleaned from interviews with the daughter and the confession of her father. It is this: David Viens told police he "slow cooked" his wife's body for four days in a brand-new cooker he'd purchased for the cafe. He then hid her skull and jaw in his mother's attic.

David had been having an affair with a younger woman and, a week after Dawn's disappearance, witnesses saw him tossing out Dawn's clothing. Then he moved his new girlfriend into his home. On top of that, the girlfriend took over Dawn's duties at the cafe.

Dawn, who was in her late 30s, was last seen by friends on October 18, 2009 leaving her the cafe.

Not long after her disappearance, however, as law enforcement zeroed in on David, as a deputy tailed him while driving on Pacific Coast Highway, David stopped his car, ran to the cliff and jumped 80 feet to the beach below. He survived but suffered multiple fractured bones and internal injuries. After he recovered, he confessed to police and he was indicted for murder.

Meanwhile, in exchange for the daughter's damning statements about her father David and to secure her eventual testimony in court, the daughter reportedly was given immunity from prosecution. She told deputies that the day after Dawn disappeared, David Viens gave her Dawn's cell phone and asked her to pose as Dawn and send text messages to Dawn's friends and family saying she needed time for herself and would be out of town for a few days. As days turned into weeks, David became the main person of interest.

These kinds of details, albeit some of them grisly, have the makings for a true crime story. In fact, the Dawn Viens story is my next true crime book (I started the manuscript late last year). You can't make this stuff up.

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Drew Peterson's Body Language During Verdict, and Sociopathic Seduction of Women

by Dr. Lillian Glass

When we look back at the trial of serial killer  who received the death sentence, Ted Bundy, it was reported that he showed no emotion.

When we look back at the reaction of Scott Peterson who was convicted to death for killing his wife and unborn baby, we all witness that he had a mask like facial expression and showed no emotion. Now we have seen the same thing with Drew Peterson. As soon as the "guilty" verdict of was read for killing his third wife Kathleen Savio, Drew Peterson showed no emotion.

That lack of emotion is typical of a sociopath’s reaction when found guilty. They detach and tune out as though the situation had nothing to do with them. They may even joke and make light of their situation. Peterson was overheard saying, after hearing the verdict,  “I guess that ruins my Christmas.”

His joke clearly reflects that he feels no remorse for what he did.

Peterson  will be spending the rest of his natural life behind bars where like most sociopaths will insist he did nothing wrong and how it was everyone else’s fault he is in prison. This sociopath will be where he deserves to be so he can no longer seduce, marry,  and harm women who fall prey to him.

He fancies himself  as being irresistible to women. Like many sociopaths, his seductive personality  lured them in. The fact that he was a policeman and considered to be on the right side of the law, initially  made many women feel safe and secure. But once he got  them into his clutches, it was a different story.He became controlling and  abusive.

Thank goodness 24-year-old Christina Raines' father put an end to her engagement with Peterson a few years ago. Her father told the media that Peterson tried to control his daughter and use her to watch his kids.

The young woman’s father was her savior; he went to Peterson’s home with police in tow to collect his daughter, escorting them to and from he home with police units. Peterson, who was  more than twice the young woman’s age, blamed her father and the press for the breakup. In typical sociopath form, Peterson said, "This is what the media always does to me. As soon as the story got out on Chrissy, I knew it would be a problem for us.“

If you listen close enough to what a sociopath says, they often reveal themselves as  Peterson did in his "Nightline" interview years back when  Peterson said, after he was asked about Christina Raines’ family, “I’d be wary of me too.” He also  admitted  when the romance is gone in his relationships he tends to have flings and move on.

Thankfully, his comments sparked a fight between the couple, and Christina Raines returned the engagement ring and a cell phone.

Christina Raines, 24, is still alive. It's unlucky that Stacey Peterson, who is still missing,  was just 17 when the affair began while he was still married to Kathleen Savio. Kathleen was 10 years his junior when he married her. Most of the women he married or went after were  young and petite. These were women  Peterson  felt he had some control over.

I had the opportunity to  briefly see Peterson when I was at CNN. Peterson was there to do the Larry King show and was in the makeup room, where,  according to the makeup artist, he  hit on her. She told me that he stared directly into her eyes and didn't break the gaze as she applied his makeup.

Perhaps Peterson  wanted to see if he could control this curly haired, glasses-wearing,  pierced, short-statured woman with colorful and strange tattoos all over her arms, chest and neck. The eye stare was no doubt  his test to see if he could assert control over  this different-looking woman. Most likely, Peterson has played this staring game with many other women. Those who blinked, turned away, or women he sensed were intimidated  by his stare were the ones, if circumstances allowed, he probably took to the next level of seduction.

Even though Peterson will live out his years behind bars, don’t be surprised if you hear that he has landed another relationship. Unfortunately, there are emotionally disturbed women out there who are attracted to men behind bars and who feel empowered by defending them.  They have the illusion  the criminal  would never do any harm to them because they are special and they have control over the situation, which is only true  when the perpetrator is behind bars.

Little do they realize that sociopaths like Peterson will still be in control as he plays mind games with them in an engaging way with manipulation and emotional abuse, which is  typical of a sociopath like Drew Peterson.

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Eerie Deaths in Thailand of 2 Sisters

Wikipedia Commons

by Deborah Blum

The Phi Phi Islands sit off the western coast of Thailand, floating like jewels in a turquoise sea, a picture-perfect image of a tropical getaway. Director Danny Boyle filmed his 2000 psychothriller, The Beach, on the largest of those islands and if you know the movie, you know, despite the gem-like setting the story ends badly.

They say, though, that the movie put the largest of the islands, Ko Phi Phi Don, on the map as a tourist getaway, a reasonably priced home to glittering beaches and unlimited partying. And that’s undoubtedly what drew two young sisters from a small Canadian village, just north of the Maine border, to travel there for a summer break from their university studies.

Noemi Belanger was 26 and her sister, Audrey, 20, when they planned the June vacation. Both sisters lived in their hometown of Pohenegamook, Quebec. Did I mention that it was small, the kind of place where people know each other, stay close? The population is about 3,000 and both girls worked for their father, Carl, in his grocery store before starting university classes. They were happy girls, friendly, residents say, involved in their community, helping out at the local library, at public beaches.

This summer, they were ready to fly a little, indulge in a splashy vacation. So they saved their money and flew to Thailand in June, went to visit the Phi Phi Islands. And there, as a flood of mid-June news stories made obvious, things went very wrong. Very, very wrong.

The stories were puzzled, horrified. A story in Canada’s National Post described a hotel maid finding the sisters dead in their room, with lesions tracked across their bodies, their fingernails and toenails turned an odd grayish blue. They were huddled in their beds, relayed the Global Post, smeared with vomit and blood.

Rumors flew of an exotic poison, of a lurking killer. Dismissive statements from the police added to the sense of mystery. “We found many kinds of over-the-counter-drugs, including ibuprofen, which can cause serious effects on the stomach,” one investigator said, sounding as if packing painkillers was the real problem. Mysterious poison deaths of tourists visiting the Phi Phi Islands were recalled: the 2009 death of a Seattle woman, still unsolved today. The similar and also unexplained death of a 22-year-old woman from Norway the same year. An odd cluster of deaths in another Thai city during winter of last year, including a 23-year-old woman from New Zealand. The conspiracy theories expanded to include the unexplained deaths of two young women in Vietnam this summer. “Is this a cover-up?” asked a letter writer in the Bangkok Post after the police went on from the ibuprofen theory to one that involved food poisoning.

And not just any food poisoning. A leak from the investigation suggested that detectives were considering the possibility that the sisters had dined – somewhere – on either poisonous mushrooms or blowfish, sometimes called pufferfish or fugu. The fishes are considered a delicacy but they must be carefully prepared to exclude any contact with the liver or other internal organs, which contain an exceptionally potent neurotoxin called tetrodotoxin.

Neither of these suggestions, though, were an ideal match for the described symptoms. Tetrodotoxin is most famous for its ability to induce a corpse-like paralysis in victims; they may remain alert but unable to move or communicate, gradually suffocating as the lungs fail. Poisonous mushrooms tend to kill by gradually destroying the liver. As quickly as the suggestion was floated it seemed to disappear, leaving the questions to further simmer over the summer.

Until last week, when a preliminary autopsy report was announced, which apparently indicated a toxic level of exposure. According to news reports, toxicologists in Thailand now believed that the two sisters had been drinking a popular local cocktail that contains Coca-Cola, cough syrup, ground up leaves from the kratom tree, and the well-known mosquito repellent DEET and is admired for its hallucinogenic qualities. In their case, apparently, too much DEET had ended up in the drink.

Or as the tourism-focused island paper, Phuket Wan, wrote following the announcement:

Phi Phi is renowed as a rites-of-passage destination for 20-somethings and it transforms from a haven for day-trippers in the sunshine to a less beguiling island party after dark. Alcohol is just one of the many ingredients that Phi Phi’s party people mix in their buckets. Each bucket is a concoction of all kinds of juices and substances that are mixed into containers of various sizes and usually sucked through straws all night long.

It’s a nicely sinister portrait of cocktails in the Phi Phi islands. Still my first reaction was a kind of “DEET, really?” skepticism. We’re not talking about anything like tetrodotoxin here; this is a compound we routinely spray all over ourselves on camping trips and summer hikes. Our Environmental Protection Agency estimates that about 30 percent of the U.S. population uses a DEET-infused product every year. Plenty of us have accidentally swallowed a little during an over-enthusiastic assault on mosquitoes without getting sick (including myself). Not that you’d want to take it by the tumbler, of course. But it’s reasonable to ask whether it would take a tumbler to kill you

The short answer, yes, pretty close to that. DEET, by the way, stands for N.N-Diethyl-meta-toluamide, which is basically chemist-code for a formula that includes the familiar elements carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen and oxygen. It apparently works as a repellent by disrupting insect olfaction-detection systems. And an EPA analysis found that it is slightly toxic to birds, fish, and aquatic invertebrates and has”very low toxicity potential” in mammals, such as ourselves.

So, it’s not surprising that the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry reports that people have committed suicide with the repellent but only by drinking full “bottles of DEET” along with quantities of alcohol. In other words, The stories were puzzled, horrified. A story in Canada’s National Post described a hotel maid finding the sisters dead in their room, with lesions tracked across their bodies, their fingernails and toenails turned an odd grayish blue. They were huddled in their beds, relayed the Global Post, smeared with vomit and blood.

Rumors flew of an exotic poison, of a lurking killer. Dismissive statements from the police added to the sense of mystery. “We found many kinds of over-the-counter-drugs, including ibuprofen, which can cause serious effects on the stomach,” one investigator said, sounding as if packing painkillers was the real problem. Mysterious poison deaths of tourists visiting the Phi Phi Islands were recalled the 2009 death of a Seattle woman still unsolved today, and the similar and also unexplained death of a 22-year-old woman from Norway the same year. An odd cluster of deaths in another Thai city during winter of last year, including a 23-year-old woman from New Zealand. The conspiracy theories expanded to include the unexplained deaths of two young women in Vietnam this summer. “Is this a cover-up?” asked a letter writer in the Bangkok Post after the police went on from the ibuprofen theory to one that involved food poisoning.

And not just any food poisoning. A leak from the investigation suggested that detectives were considering the possibility that the sisters had dined – somewhere – on either poisonous mushrooms or blowfish, sometimes called pufferfish or fugu. The fishes are considered a delicacy but they must be carefully prepared to exclude any contact with the liver or other internal organs, which contain an exceptionally potent neurotoxin called tetrodotoxin.

Neither of these suggestions, though, were an ideal match for the described symptoms. Tetrodotoxin is most famous for its ability to induce a corpse-like paralysis in victims; they may remain alert but unable to move or communicate, gradually suffocating as the lungs fail. Poisonous mushrooms tend to kill by gradually destroying the liver. As quickly as the suggestion was floated it seemed to disappear, leaving the questions to further simmer over the summer.

Until last week, when a preliminary autopsy report was announced, which apparently indicated a toxic level of exposure. According to news reports, toxicologists in Thailand now believed that the two sisters had been drinking a popular local cocktail that contains Coca-Cola, cough syrup, ground up leaves from the kratom tree, and the well-known mosquito repellent DEET and is admired for its hallucinogenic qualities. In their case, apparently, too much DEET had ended up in the drink.

Or as the tourism-focused island paper, Phuket Wan, wrote following the announcement:

Phi Phi is renowed as a rites-of-passage destination for 20-somethings and it transforms from a haven for day-trippers in the sunshine to a less beguiling island party after dark.

Alcohol is just one of the many ingredients that Phi Phi’s party people mix in their buckets.

Each bucket is a concoction of all kinds of juices and substances that are mixed into containers of various sizes and usually sucked through straws all night long.

It’s a nicely sinister portrait of cocktails in the Phi Phi islands. Still my first reaction was a kind of “DEET, really?” skepticism. We’re not talking about anything like tetrodotoxin here; this is a compound we routinely spray all over ourselves on camping trips and summer hikes. Our Environmental Protection Agency estimates that about 30 percent of the U.S. population uses a DEET-infused product every year. Plenty of us have accidentally swallowed a little during an over-enthusiastic assault on mosquitoes without getting sick (including myself). Not that you’d want to take it by the tumbler, of course. But it’s reasonable to ask whether it would take a tumbler to kill you

The short answer, yes, pretty close to that. DEET, by the way, stands for N.N-Diethyl-meta-toluamide, which is basically chemist-code for a formula that includes the familiar elements carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen and oxygen. It apparently works as a repellent by disrupting insect olfaction-detection systems. And an EPA analysis found that it is slightly toxic to birds, fish, and aquatic invertebrates and has”very low toxicity potential” in mammals, such as ourselves.

So, it’s not surprising that the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry reports that people have committed suicide with the repellent but only by drinking full “bottles of DEET” along with quantities of alcohol. In other words, evidence is that it would take that tumbler full to kill you. I also looked at the other ingredients in the suspect cocktail, except for the Coca-Cola (which hasn’t contained cocaine for more than a century). The codeine in cough syrup could, in a high enough amount, add to a sleepy buzz. And kratom – while known to be hallucinogenic – can also bring on a numbing lethargy in too high a dose. It is generally, though, considered to be most risky for its addictive qualities than for its acute toxicity issues.

Which brings us back to the DEET theory of death. And that requires someone to pour a ridiculously large quantity of this pale yellowish liquid into a drink served to two sisters from Canada. Could someone be that careless? Sure, especially if they were enjoying the island brew themselves. Still, only the Belanger sisters died after that night on the beach; under this theory only one over-toxic cocktail was served. And that does raise a few other questions. For instance, why – as you may have noticed from my fatality list – is it mostly young women who are dying of mysterious chemical poisonings in a tropical paradise?

Even Phuket Wan (which seems remarkably tough-minded for a publication focused on tourism) seems unconvinced by the mosquito repellent hypothesis, noting that it would be unusual for only two people to be poisoned by a shared bucket drink.

Could it be a cover up, the paper asked, for a heavy-handed use of insecticide in the sisters’ room? Insecticides have been suspected in some of the other deaths. Could it be that island authorities were trying to hide the existence of a killer who was deliberately spiking drinks? Or, slightly less creepily, that the women had been killed by excessive use of insecticides by hotel management and that authorities were moving to protect reputations? “All options remain open,” the paper warned, until the authorities produce evidence of a much more meticulous investigation.

And, yes, you’ll find me in the “options remain open” camp as well. It may well be that this is as simple as it sounds, two trusting travelers from rural Canada drinking an untrustworthy bar drink.

Still, at the moment, if I felt a sudden urge to go party in the Phi Phi islands, you would find me insisting on a nicely capped container – and, I think, opening that bottle myself. Which, frankly, makes good sense -- most of the time anyway.

evidence is that it would take that tumbler full to kill you. I also looked at the other ingredients in the suspect cocktail, except for the Coca-Cola (which hasn’t contained cocaine for more than a century). The codeine in cough syrup could, in a high enough amount, add to a sleepy buzz. And kratom – while known to be hallucinogenic – can also bring on a numbing lethargy in too high a dose. It is generally, though, considered to be most risky for its addictive qualities than for its acute toxicity issues.

Which brings us back to the DEET theory of death. And that requires someone to pour a ridiculously large quantity of this pale yellowish liquid into a drink served to two sisters from Canada. Could someone be that careless? Sure, especially if they were enjoying the island brew themselves. Still, only the Belanger sisters died after that night on the beach; under this theory only one over-toxic cocktail was served. And that does raise a few other questions. For instance, why – as you may have noticed from my fatality list – is it mostly young women who are dying of mysterious chemical poisonings in a tropical paradise?

Even Phuket Wan (which seems remarkably tough-minded for a publication focused on tourism) seems unconvinced by the mosquito repellent hypothesis, noting that it would be unusual for only two people to be poisoned by a shared bucket drink.

Could it be a cover up, the paper asked, for a heavy-handed use of insecticide in the sisters’ room? Insecticides have been suspected in some of the other deaths. Could it be that island authorities were trying to hide the existence of a killer who was deliberately spiking drinks? Or, slightly less creepily, that the women had been killed by excessive use of insecticides by hotel management and that authorities were moving to protect reputations? “All options remain open,” the paper warned, until the authorities produce evidence of a much more meticulous investigation.

And, yes, you’ll find me in the “options remain open” camp as well. It may well be that this is as simple as it sounds, two trusting travelers from rural Canada drinking an untrustworthy bar drink.

Still, at the moment, if I felt a sudden urge to party in the Phi Phi islands, you would find me insisting on a nicely capped container – and, I think, opening that bottle myself. Which, frankly, makes good sense -- most of the time anyway.

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