Frail and smiling, 'Dr. Death' walks out of prison
LANSING, Michigan (AP) -- Jack Kevorkian, the retired pathologist dubbed "Dr. Death" after claiming he had participated in at least 130 assisted suicides, left prison after eight years Friday still believing people have the right to die.
Smiling broadly, Kevorkian said the release was "one of the high points of life" as he walked out with his attorney and "60 Minutes" correspondent Mike Wallace.
Inmates inside the prison had been milling about all morning for a glimpse of Kevorkian, while reporters and television vans greeted him on the outside with cameras and questions. (Watch Kevorkian enjoy freedom for first time in eight years )
Throughout the 1990s, Kevorkian challenged authorities to make his actions legal -- or try to stop him. He burned state orders against him and showed up at court in costume.
"You think I'm going to obey the law? You're crazy," he said in 1998 shortly before he was accused -- and then convicted -- of murder after injecting lethal drugs into Thomas Youk, 52, an Oakland County man suffering from Lou Gehrig's disease.
That conviction earned Kevorkian a 10- to 25-year sentence for second degree murder, but he earned time off his sentence for good behavior.
Kevorkian has promised to never help another person in an assisted suicide, but that hasn't dimmed the attention focused on his release from prison.
The 79-year-old retired pathologist left Lakeland Correctional Facility in Coldwater at about 10 a.m..
Kevorkian did not talk at length to the media, and a news conference is scheduled for next week.
Recently, Kevorkian has made it clear his support for letting people decide when they want to die hasn't wavered.
"It's got to be legalized. That's the point," he told WJBK-TV in Detroit. "I'll work to have it legalized. But I won't break any laws doing it."
Kevorkian went to prison after being convicted of second-degree murder in the 1998 death of Thomas Youk, 52, an Oakland County man with Lou Gehrig's disease. He was given a 10- to 25-year sentence and is getting out after serving more than eight years because of time off for good behavior. (Watch Kevorkian demonstrate his death machine )
Kevorkian has said he helped at least 130 people die from 1990 to 1998. Many who sought his assistance were not terminally ill.
On Thursday, the Michigan Catholic Conference warned it would oppose any effort to renew the push for assisted suicide in Michigan. The state has had a law banning assisted suicide since 1998, the same year voters rejected a ballot proposal that would have made physician-assisted suicide legal for terminally ill patients.
Oregon is the only state in the nation in which a terminally ill patient with six months or less to live can legally ask a doctor to prescribe a lethal amount of medication.
Right to Life of Michigan, which also opposes any effort to allow assisted suicide, said it distrusts Kevorkian's promise to not help anyone else die.
"He made similar false promises prior to a string of deaths, the last of which led to his imprisonment," the group said in a statement this week.
Kevorkian will be on parole for two years, and one of the conditions he must meet is that he can't help anyone else die. He is also prohibited from providing care for anyone who is older than 62 or is disabled. He could go back to prison if he violates his parole.
He will report regularly to a parole officer and won't be able to leave the state without permission. He can speak about assisted suicide, but can't show people how to make a machine like one he invented to give lethal drugs to those who wanted to die, Department of Corrections spokesman Russ Marlan said.
Morganroth said he would bring Kevorkian a suit and tie to wear out of prison. Morganroth will be accompanied by his son Jeffrey, an attorney, and by Ruth Holmes, a paralegal who has been Kevorkian's legal assistant during his years in prison.
They will drive Kevorkian to Oakland County, which includes Detroit's northern suburbs, where he will live with friends.
Kevorkian suffers from a variety of ailments including diabetes, hepatitis C, high blood pressure and hardening of the arteries in his brain. He will see his internist and a dentist after his release from prison, as well as some specialists, Morganroth said.
Kevorkian did not have many possessions to take out of prison with him, in part because many of them have gone missing.
"Strange as this may seem, last month ... someone stole his manuscript he'd been writing and his belongings," Morganroth said, adding that he expects someone took Kevorkian's clothes and medicine to sell on eBay.
Holmes said her friend wants to eat some of the things he couldn't freely get in prison, including a sandwich of plain sliced turkey on thin lavosh bread.
"He's looking forward to some grapes and apricots," she said. "He loves pistachios."
Working with Kevorkian, Holmes already has sent to a book publisher about 250 of the thousands of letters he got while in prison.
"He wasn't able to answer all of them, but it was very heartwarming to see the number of people who wrote to him from all over the world," she said.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
LANSING, Michigan (AP) -- Jack Kevorkian, the retired pathologist dubbed "Dr. Death" after claiming he had participated in at least 130 assisted suicides, left prison after eight years Friday still believing people have the right to die.
Smiling broadly, Kevorkian said the release was "one of the high points of life" as he walked out with his attorney and "60 Minutes" correspondent Mike Wallace.
Inmates inside the prison had been milling about all morning for a glimpse of Kevorkian, while reporters and television vans greeted him on the outside with cameras and questions. (Watch Kevorkian enjoy freedom for first time in eight years )
Throughout the 1990s, Kevorkian challenged authorities to make his actions legal -- or try to stop him. He burned state orders against him and showed up at court in costume.
"You think I'm going to obey the law? You're crazy," he said in 1998 shortly before he was accused -- and then convicted -- of murder after injecting lethal drugs into Thomas Youk, 52, an Oakland County man suffering from Lou Gehrig's disease.
That conviction earned Kevorkian a 10- to 25-year sentence for second degree murder, but he earned time off his sentence for good behavior.
Kevorkian has promised to never help another person in an assisted suicide, but that hasn't dimmed the attention focused on his release from prison.
The 79-year-old retired pathologist left Lakeland Correctional Facility in Coldwater at about 10 a.m..
Kevorkian did not talk at length to the media, and a news conference is scheduled for next week.
Recently, Kevorkian has made it clear his support for letting people decide when they want to die hasn't wavered.
"It's got to be legalized. That's the point," he told WJBK-TV in Detroit. "I'll work to have it legalized. But I won't break any laws doing it."
Kevorkian went to prison after being convicted of second-degree murder in the 1998 death of Thomas Youk, 52, an Oakland County man with Lou Gehrig's disease. He was given a 10- to 25-year sentence and is getting out after serving more than eight years because of time off for good behavior. (Watch Kevorkian demonstrate his death machine )
Kevorkian has said he helped at least 130 people die from 1990 to 1998. Many who sought his assistance were not terminally ill.
On Thursday, the Michigan Catholic Conference warned it would oppose any effort to renew the push for assisted suicide in Michigan. The state has had a law banning assisted suicide since 1998, the same year voters rejected a ballot proposal that would have made physician-assisted suicide legal for terminally ill patients.
Oregon is the only state in the nation in which a terminally ill patient with six months or less to live can legally ask a doctor to prescribe a lethal amount of medication.
Right to Life of Michigan, which also opposes any effort to allow assisted suicide, said it distrusts Kevorkian's promise to not help anyone else die.
"He made similar false promises prior to a string of deaths, the last of which led to his imprisonment," the group said in a statement this week.
Kevorkian will be on parole for two years, and one of the conditions he must meet is that he can't help anyone else die. He is also prohibited from providing care for anyone who is older than 62 or is disabled. He could go back to prison if he violates his parole.
He will report regularly to a parole officer and won't be able to leave the state without permission. He can speak about assisted suicide, but can't show people how to make a machine like one he invented to give lethal drugs to those who wanted to die, Department of Corrections spokesman Russ Marlan said.
Morganroth said he would bring Kevorkian a suit and tie to wear out of prison. Morganroth will be accompanied by his son Jeffrey, an attorney, and by Ruth Holmes, a paralegal who has been Kevorkian's legal assistant during his years in prison.
They will drive Kevorkian to Oakland County, which includes Detroit's northern suburbs, where he will live with friends.
Kevorkian suffers from a variety of ailments including diabetes, hepatitis C, high blood pressure and hardening of the arteries in his brain. He will see his internist and a dentist after his release from prison, as well as some specialists, Morganroth said.
Kevorkian did not have many possessions to take out of prison with him, in part because many of them have gone missing.
"Strange as this may seem, last month ... someone stole his manuscript he'd been writing and his belongings," Morganroth said, adding that he expects someone took Kevorkian's clothes and medicine to sell on eBay.
Holmes said her friend wants to eat some of the things he couldn't freely get in prison, including a sandwich of plain sliced turkey on thin lavosh bread.
"He's looking forward to some grapes and apricots," she said. "He loves pistachios."
Working with Kevorkian, Holmes already has sent to a book publisher about 250 of the thousands of letters he got while in prison.
"He wasn't able to answer all of them, but it was very heartwarming to see the number of people who wrote to him from all over the world," she said.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
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