Seeking answers to a deadly problem

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FULTON - Slender legs stretched forward, head drooped to the side, his seat just a hair off the floor, Michael Butt's lifeless body had the uncanny appearance of a pensive man sitting against the jail cell wall.

Then the coroner removed the makeshift noose from a low-slung towel hook. Butt's neck had hardly a mark on it. He probably slid into the position slowly - a final plea for attention in an unfamiliar place.

That's the picture his mother, Michelle Butt, has pieced together after more than a year of reflection and countless conversations with county officials on whose watch a 21-year-old inmate managed to hang himself.

The grief and guilt of her son's death are burdens Michelle believes she will carry for the rest of her life.

"How can they not?" she asks, as she dabs streaks of mascara away from her watery blue eyes.

That same sense of searching and loss afflicts many grieving families across northwestern Illinois, a region inexplicably disposed to a high suicide rate but paradoxically unwilling to confront it.

Fifteen months after the Clinton County coroner drove Michael Butt's body to the family's Albany home in an unmarked van, Michael's memory continues to both comfort and haunt his mother.

It's the unanswerable question that sends Michelle reeling: How could this happen?

It's also the guilt: What could we, as parents, have done differently?

Figures from the Illinois Department of Public Health show that families in Lee and Whiteside counties have a risk of suicide well above the state average.

This is particularly so in Lee, where the 10-year average suicide rate is nearly twice state norms and falls within the upper fifth of Illinois counties surveyed.

(Fourteen of Illinois 102 counties were excluded from the IDPH study because rates were too low and potentially could lead to the identification of victims, prohibited under federal privacy laws, statisticians reported.)

Laura Wessels, an elder at Second Reformed Church in Fulton, formed a suicide support group this year to help the Butt family and others like them cope.

What Wessels said she found after speaking with experts on suicide is that talking about it with teens has the opposite affect of the uninformed norm.

"The things we've heard - that if you start talking about it they're going to do it - that somehow the seed has been planted, and someone's going to commit suicide just because you bring it up, isn't really true," Wessels said.

"The truth is, the seed has already been planted, and they're relieved, really, that someone brought it up - to have someone to talk to," Wessels said.

The Butts have searched heaven and earth for answers - for some type of explanation for Michael's death.

"That's not something you ever forget," Michelle said of the day the coroner's van stopped at the bottom of the driveway.

"I got to see Michael one last time, but they wouldn't let me touch him. I couldn't touch my son. Not even one last time."

The family considered suing the Clinton County jail for negligence. Then they kept after paperwork just to determine exactly what happened. Michael was no career criminal - it was his first night in jail, after being arrested for allegedly taking a dog from a person who hadn't paid him for another pup, his mom said.

Now Michelle wears the silver and gold cross Michael wore. He believed long before the Butt family started going to church.

Michael's suicide sent ripples through the Fulton and Albany communities - it's effect stirring emotions under the surface, but remaining taboo.

"I remember people looking at me and giving these weird looks," Michelle said. "Everyone knew what happened, but no one would say anything."

While shocking for any family, Michael's suicide stunned the Butt family.

Michelle detected no warning signs, and the young man had no history of depression, she said.

"He loved his family and friends, he always gave the biggest hugs," Michelle said.

Suicide leaves a stigma on families unlike just about any other type of death, experts say.

Cheryl Robinson, the staff development coordinator for the Sterling School District, lost her son Patrick to suicide more than 3 years ago.

She has since become a voice for awareness and laments what she sees as Illinois' lackluster programs for youth.

"Some states have mandatory suicide prevention programs, but there's nothing in Illinois that says teens have to learn anything about it," Robinson said. "We have some programs in Sterling, but nothing specifically about suicide."

What surprised Michelle about the support group in Dixon, the first place she went to talk about her loss, was how many families appeared to have "normal" lives.

"You go to group and these are parents who are teachers and nurses, and they're good people - not the kind you might think."

The 10-year average of suicide rates per 100,000 residents:

Statewide: 8.6

• Lee County: 13.7

• Carroll County: 11.5

• Bureau County: 11

• Whiteside County: 10.6

• Ogle County: 8.9

Source: Illinois Department of Public Health

• 19 percent to 25 percent of Whiteside County eighth-graders, high school sophomores and seniors have felt "so sad or hopeless that they stopped doing some usual activities."

• 22 percent of sophomores and 10 percent of seniors answered yes when asked: "During the past 12 months, did you ever seriously consider attempting suicide?

Source: Illinois 2008 Youth Survey

Suicide Talk, a free seminar that provides strategies for discussing suicide with children and friends, will be offered 7 p.m. Nov. 20 at Sauk Valley Community College, room 1K4.

• Sinnissippi Centers Crisis Line, a 24-hour toll-free number for mental health crises, is 800-242-7642.

• The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, a 24-hour toll-free number for those considering suicide, is 800-273-TALK (8255).

• A support group for suicide survivors meets at 6 p.m. the second Monday of the month at Second Reformed Church, 703 14th Ave., Fulton. Call 815-289-3425.

• The Touched by Suicide support group meets monthly at the Hospice of the Rock River Valley, 264 state Route 2, Dixon. For more information, call 815-438-2345.