Alice in Chains: The Untold Story

Based on the available evidence, the last person to see Layne alive was Mike Starr. On April 4, 2002—Mike’s thirty-sixth birthday—they met at Layne’s apartment. “I’m sick,” Layne told his friend. In addition to the toll years of addiction had taken on his body, Layne also had hepatitis C, presumably the result of his intravenous drug use.

Layne was channel surfing and stumbled on the John Edward program Crossing Over, in which the psychic medium did readings for audience members. He turned to Mike and said, “Demri was here last night. I don’t give a fuck if you fucking believe me or not, dude. I’m telling you: Demri was here last night.” Demri’s mother, Kathleen Austin, heard this story from Mike Starr after Layne’s death and relayed this story. She said she believes her daughter was there that night “to be there with Layne as he’s doing his transition.”5 Jason Buttino, who also heard this story from Mike, corroborated Austin’s account of Mike and Layne’s conversation.

Mike, who was high on benzodiazepine, later said he was with Layne that day “trying to keep him alive” and offered to call 911. Layne refused and threatened to never speak to him again if he did. Layne got agitated, telling Mike he was too high. Layne would get mad at him when he took the drug. “You’re an idiot on these pills,” Layne told Mike.

Mike had had enough. “Fine, I’ll just leave,” he told Layne.

Layne, perhaps thinking he had made a mistake, said, “Not like this—don’t leave like this” or “Not like this. I can’t believe that.” Those would be his final words to his friend he had known for nearly fifteen years. Mike went to his mother’s house and blacked out in the basement. This final encounter would haunt him for years afterward.6

At some point on April 5, 2002, Layne used heroin and cocaine. Known as a speedball, this combination has killed other high-profile drug users, including the actors John Belushi and River Phoenix. Nobody will ever know precisely what Layne did on the final day of his life or his state of mind at the time. Layne reflected on spirituality and death during a Rolling Stone interview in 1996, saying, “I’m gonna be here for a long fuckin’ time … I’m scared of death, especially death by my own hand. I’m scared of where I would go. Not that I ever consider that because I don’t.” He contradicts himself in this interview, because he is also quoted contemplating the afterlife, declaring, “I believe that there’s a wonderful place to go to after this life, and I don’t believe there’s eternal damnation for anyone. I’m not into religion, but I have a good grasp on my spirituality. I just believe that I’m not the greatest power on this earth. I didn’t create myself, because I would have done a hell of a better job.”7

He would be dead a little more than six years later, at the age of thirty-four.

Chapter 26

I have this sick feeling in my gut.

SEAN KINNEY

ACCORDING TO KATHLEEN AUSTIN, a drug counselor with nearly four decades of experience in the field, addicts will keep using as long as they are willing to accept the consequences. Once they aren’t willing to accept them, they quit. Layne once told Sean, “I’m never coming back. I’m not going to quit doing drugs. I’m going to die like this—this is it.”1

Layne’s wealth allowed him to indulge his addiction with little restraint. It also spared him from resorting to drastic or illegal measures to sustain his habit. Charles R. Cross reported it was the money that fueled Layne’s drug habit that tipped off his accountants something was wrong—specifically, the lack of activity on any of his bank accounts.2

According to Susan, “No one had heard from him, and the people that we were in touch with to let us know that he was still okay hadn’t heard from him. His little odd weekly habits had stopped. Sean got a call from one of those people and said, ‘I’m going over there, and I’m going to kick down the door. I have this sick feeling in my gut.’” She told him they needed to get Layne’s family involved.3

“I got a call from Susan that morning, and that’s when I called Nancy and explained the situation that this is not a band issue, it’s a family issue, and they can’t raise him and so forth,” Jim Elmer recalled. At 5:41 P.M. on Friday, April 19, 2002, Nancy Layne McCallum dialed 911 from her cell phone while standing outside Layne’s building. She told the dispatcher she had not heard from her son in two weeks and that he was a heroin addict, and she requested officers to stand by while she checked on his welfare.4