Alice in Chains: The Untold Story

It can be surmised that there were four things that formed his daily routine: his toys and video games; his cat, Sadie; his art projects; and his drugs. Less than a ten-minute walk from Layne’s apartment is a PETCO and an art supplies store. Both businesses were open during the time Layne lived in the neighborhood, and it is possible he frequented these stores. However, none of the employees at the PETCO were working there during the period Layne lived in the area; the employees at the art store say the business changed ownership in early 2002, and they don’t recall seeing him in the store. They also said there was another art store nearby at the time that has since gone out of business.

As you walk down nearby University Avenue, teeming with bars, restaurants, and shops, as well as University of Washington students, there are many businesses that might have had items of interest to Layne. Store employees said because of the constant turnover in students, employees, and businesses opening and closing, it would be unlikely to find stores frequented by Layne or people who might have seen him.

Morgen Gallagher ran into Layne at a Super Bowl party in January 2001. Layne told Gallagher he was going to clean up and go to rehab so he could audition for the newly vacant lead singer position in Rage Against the Machine. Based on accounts of Layne’s final studio sessions in 1998, it is unlikely this was anything more than his talking or thinking out loud.

In early 2001, Nick Pollock was buying groceries at a QFC supermarket in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood. He saw someone wearing what he described as a “ridiculous costume,” consisting of a funky hat, a fake wig, and a long coat, shuffling like an old man. It was Layne. Pollock approached him, not sure what to expect because on previous occasions Layne had not recognized him. This time, Layne recognized him immediately.

“Nick!” he said, giving him a big hug.

Pollock was alarmed. “It was so disturbing to me that I had a hard time just putting sentences together,” he recalled. “He looked like a dead man walking. He had no teeth that I could remember. His skin was gray. He looked like an eighty-year-old man. He really looked like a skeleton with skin hanging off of it. If he weighed a hundred pounds, I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

The two spoke for about ten minutes, Pollock said, small talk that he tried to keep going. He didn’t ask about Alice in Chains. “I knew that I wasn’t going to ask him anything about girlfriends—not at all applicable—what he’s been doing, where he’s been … It wasn’t the Layne I knew. I mean really: it was like the ghost of him was in his body.”

Layne and Pollock made noncommittal plans to get together. Pollock was so shaken, he almost walked out of the store with his cart without paying for his groceries. He went home and broke down in tears.

Jeff Gilbert was walking down University Avenue looking for a place to eat and shopping for records in late 2001 or early 2002. Layne recognized him on the street, approached him, and said, “Hey, Jeff, what’s up, man?” Gilbert remembers it was cold, and Layne was wearing a long jacket, knit cap, scarf, and gloves. “His pants were too big on him,” Gilbert recalled. “He looked like an eighty-year-old version of himself, and it was frightening.”

They spoke for about ten minutes, and he said Layne was lucid. “He still managed to smile. Every so often, you’d see that little glimmer.

“He seemed tired, very tired, like he finished two forty-hour workweeks with no days off kind of tired.” He also remembered Layne smelled bad.

Mike Korjenek, a waterproofing-company employee, recalled seeing Layne twice at the Rainbow Tavern, a bar that was a less-than-five-minute walk from Layne’s building at the time. “He would hang out and sit in the corner” by himself in the late afternoon. He thinks this was in late 2001 or early 2002. Although Korjenek said other people spotted him at the bar during this period, calling him a regular would not be accurate.

“He looked ghostly. He looked very emaciated,” Korjenek said. “I remember us thinking that we shouldn’t be gawking at him.” Despite his appearance, he was still recognizable. Layne was sitting in a booth by himself about thirty feet away, slightly hunched over and looking downward, but not asleep.

An employee at a local comic book store, who agreed to speak only on condition of anonymity, said Layne would come in the store “semiregularly” between 2000 and 2002. The owner at the time told him, “That’s Layne Staley. He’ll spend a lot of money, so might as well stay open late for him.”

“He’d kind of wander around, look at stuff, leave stuff all over the store, every now and then knock stuff over. No big deal,” the employee said. “He looked pretty high. He was always kinda out there. So I figured he was just wandering around and go, ‘Oh, let’s look at this stuff!’”