Rural Alaska

Bethel son's suicide leaves family, friends groping for answers

Drew O'Brien, the 23-year-old former state champion wrestler who excelled at work and often flashed that handsome smile, killed himself in Anchorage on New Year's Day.

He'd just spent a happy Christmas with his family in Bethel, his father said.

His parents bought him a pair of snow boots he wore everywhere. They gave him a black pin-striped shirt, too, and his eyes lit up when he opened the gift.

He'll be buried in that shirt, said Paul O'Brien, grief choking his voice.

"I wish I could say something that would make kids think about what they do," said Paul. "It's like it's a video game and you can take it back, but you can't.

"They just see this short term fix. In a sense I have to say I'm so angry with him. All this pain we're going through. And my daughters are just devastated.

"I think he knew how much we loved him. It's just that kids get in this funk and they drink and they get heartbreak with their girl and the next thing you know they do something stupid like this."

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Drew, who is part-Yup'ik, won the 145-pound state wrestling championship as a Bethel high school senior five years ago, a crowning achievement to a wrestling career that'd begun in elementary school.

The win was more remarkable considering he'd sat out his junior year with a broken back. Vertebrae had slipped out of place, the result of a genetic condition his family didn't know about until his sophomore season, when Drew took third at state and was invited to wrestle in the Arctic Winter Games.

The condition stayed hidden until Drew grew older, as his bulging muscles and broadening shoulders pressured his spine.

At 15, he was solid as a box and walked with a powerful sway, thanks to the wrestling and helping his dad swing hammers at his business, O'Brien Construction.

When Drew started complaining about his back and walking funny, the men in his life didn't believe him. They razzed him and told him to buck up.

Dad ordered his construction crews to work him harder. His longtime wrestling coach rode him, too.

"Me and Paul would say, 'Gee whiz, toughen up, you big baby,' " said Darren Lieb.

It didn't help that Drew was never one to complain much. But when the pain became bad enough, Paul took his son in for X-rays. His spinal cord was 95 percent displaced, his dad said.

"After the way I treated him, it was kind of devastating for me," Paul said. "I felt like such an ass to be honest. He was wrestling in a state where at any time he could have ended up being a quadriplegic."

But Paul helped his son mend after a spinal fusion his junior year, riding bikes as part of his rehabilitation, for example. Drew came back stronger his senior year. His march to the state title also included an honor as Alaska's wrestler of the week.

Drew was an easy one to coach, with no acting out, Lieb said.

"He had a great laugh, got along with everyone and all the teachers adored him. For something like this to happen is mind boggling for everybody," he said.

After hearing the news of Drew's death, Lieb flew to Anchorage with another family friend, Cory LePore, and Pat O'Brien, Drew's older brother and a 2002 state wrestling champ, to help the family box up Drew's belongings and bring his body back to Bethel.

A funeral mass is planned for 3 p.m. on Monday at the Catholic church in Bethel.

More recently, Drew excelled in a construction apprenticeship at Cook Inlet Housing Authority. Foremen saw him more like permanent staff, not an apprentice, because of his building experience and impressive work ethic, said Bob Juliussen, senior construction manager.

He would have graduated from his $24-an-hour, two-year apprenticeship in about a month. He'd been promised a tech job in the weatherization program once he graduated, unlike many apprentices who must be turned away. He was about to become the company's first apprentice sent to a national training convention in the Lower 48.

"He seemed like someone who had made it," Juliussen said. "He came to town and made it work. And work went good for him so it's tragic and just hard to understand."

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Suicides often leave people wondering. One common symptom before someone takes their life is a sudden emotional swing, but not necessarily toward misery. Some people seem suddenly happy, said Kate Burkhart, executive director of the Statewide Suicide Prevention Council in Alaska.

The two previous Christmases, the O'Briens had vacationed in Mexico with their two young daughters, and missed spending the holidays with Drew. This time, they made sure to wait until after Christmas before heading south.

Lately, Drew seemed to be coming into his own, his dad said.

Dad and Drew were growing closer. Paul would stay at his son's place when he came to Anchorage for shopping or work.

His father had helped him buy a new truck. Drew sent him a bottle of tequila as a thank you.

During the Christmas in Bethel, Drew told his older brother, Pat, he was proud of him, how much he loved him.

To his dad, he said: 'I'm so thankful and thanks for everything you've done for me."

"He was just growing up and starting to understand life, and then in one night it disappears," his dad said.

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Drew hung himself. He was found on Jan. 4 by an apartment manager, Anchorage police said.

His suicide is part of a long-term epidemic among Alaska Natives.

This year has seemed especially tragic in the 56-village Bethel region in Southwest Alaska. Final figures aren't available for 2010.

But a six-week stretch of at least nine suicides, mostly young Native males, made headlines in summer. Still, the deaths continued.

The region experienced 13 suicides in 2009 and 18 in 2008, according to figures from Alaska's Statewide Suicide Prevention Council.

Several kids from Drew's 2006 class have taken their life, Lieb said.

Paul doesn't know what he could have done differently.

"He could tend to get in a funk over relationships, and I'd talk to him about it," Paul said. "He had a good friend three or four years ago who committed suicide. We talked about it, and I tried to stay aware of his mental state."

"I think some of these kids, especially some with Yup'ik blood, they drink too much and they get into this state to where they truly black out. But yet they're functional.

"They just get in some mental place, and it's like their only way out and I don't understand it."

If you are considering taking your life, please call Careline Crisis Intervention at (877) 266-4357. The Fairbanks center also has a chat room and other information at www.carelinealaska.com. The national suicide prevention hotline is (800) 273-8255.

Help is available 24 hours every day.

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"There's a lot of help out there and a lot of love and I just wish these kids could realize it," Paul said.

This story is posted with permission from Alaska Newspapers Inc., which publishes six weekly community newspapers, a statewide shopper, a statewide magazine and slate of special publications that supplement its products year-round. Alex DeMarban can be reached at alex@alaskanewspapers.com, or by phone at (907) 348-2444.

Alex DeMarban

Alex DeMarban is a longtime Alaska journalist who covers business, the oil and gas industries and general assignments. Reach him at 907-257-4317 or alex@adn.com.

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