What We Know about
Thomas Merton’s Death
Paper by David Martin and Hugh
Turley presented to Thomas Merton Symposium, Pontifical Antheneum,
Rome, Italy, June 13, 2018
The
state of knowledge of Thomas Merton’s death can best be described as highly
unsatisfactory. Michael Mott’s 1984 authorized
biography, The Seven Mountains of Thomas
Merton, has been taken as the
last word on the subject. Everyone who has written about Merton’s death since
then—and there are many—has apparently accepted his explanation of how Merton was
electrocuted by a defective fan, departing from his description on occasion
only with their own embellishments, based solely upon imagination rather than new
research.
This
is unfortunate, because Mott leaves a lot of loose ends. First, he quotes directly from the just-then-revealed
conclusion of the Thai police report, a document that only a few people had
previously seen and of whose full contents few are even now aware:
However,
the Investigating Officer questioned Dr. Luksana Narkvachara, whose views were that Reverend Thomas Merton
died because of:
1.
Heart
failure.
2.
And
that the cause mentioned in 1. caused
the dead priest to faint and collide with the stand fan located in the
room. The fan had fallen onto the body
of Reverend Thomas Merton. The head of
the dead priest had hit the floor. There
was a burn on the body’s skin and on the underwear on the right side which was
assumed to have been caused by electrical shock from the fan.
Therefore the cause of the death of
Reverend Thomas Merton was as mentioned.
There were no witnesses who might be suspected of causing the
death. There is no reason to suspect
criminal causes.
Mott softened the blow
of that revelation by preceding it with a quote from the report that said that
a “defective electric cord” had been installed inside the fan’s stand that
caused an “electrical leakage” sufficient to kill a person who touched the
metal part, but that’s not what the attending doctor said killed Merton, hence
the “however.”
“The police
investigation had not inspired much confidence,” writes Mott, and who could be
surprised that it hadn’t? “Many felt
electrocution was deliberately played down to protect the reputation of the
conference center. It may have been so.”
What Mott has just told
us, using nice language for it, is that the official investigation of Merton’s
death amounted to a cover-up. This is a
very poor beginning for learning what the actual cause of death was. Then Mott provides us with only one possible
motive for the cover-up, to protect the reputation of the local conference
center. But that center was run by a
large, powerful international organization, the Red Cross. It would sound like a big scandal if one were
to say that there was a cover-up to protect the Red Cross, so Mott says
essentially the same thing, but in different words.
But there is another
big, powerful organization involved here.
If a family has a member killed by a defective fan in a public facility,
a product liability lawyer would advise the family to sue whoever might be
responsible, and the deeper the pockets of the responsible party the better. That would not just be the Red Cross, but it
would be the maker of the fan. Mott doesn’t
say who that was, but according to several witnesses, the fan was made by
Hitachi.
Now we’re looking at a
major scandal involving a big multinational corporation. Might the Thai authorities have performed
their cover-up on behalf either the Red Cross or the Hitachi Corporation? Merton’s home abbey of Gethsemani
in Kentucky was, in effect, his surviving family. One might well ask why the abbey did not
bring suit for damages against either the Red Cross or Hitachi, or both. Does that mean that the abbey privately
accepted the verdict that Merton actually died of natural causes and that they were
willing to do so in the absence of an autopsy?
That’s right. There was no autopsy, even though the
official doctor’s certificate stated, “a post-mortem examination has been done
in accordance with the law.” Mott offers
a variety of weak excuses for the absence of an autopsy but says nothing about
the statements by the Thai authorities that give the unmistakable impression
that there was one. He also fails to
tell us that the police report made no mention of the curious bleeding wound in
the back of Merton’s head. Mott,
himself, does mention that injury, employing the passive voice: “Little
attention seems to have been given to a wound on the back of Merton’s head that
had bled considerably. The obvious
solution appears to be that it was caused when his head struck the floor.”
The big story here,
though, is that an investigating police force that Mott has virtually acknowledged
engaged in a cover-up should pay absolutely no attention to the bleeding wound
in the back of Merton’s head. Merton
fell upon a level floor. Mott
notwithstanding, it’s not the least bit obvious that the floor caused such a
wound. How deep did the wound go? Did it reach the brain? If the wound were probed might one find a
projectile of some sort? An examination
on the spot—even without a full autopsy—might have provided an answer to some
of these questions, but the Thai police failed even to acknowledge the wound’s
existence. At this point one must begin
to ask if they conducted their cover-up on behalf of someone even bigger and
more powerful than the International Red Cross or the Hitachi Corporation.
The police report also said
nothing about Merton having been wet from a shower when he came into contact
with the fan. Mott, on the other hand
has this passage: “What seems the most
likely reconstruction is that Merton came out of the shower either wearing a
pair of drawers or naked. His feet may
have been wet still from the shower.”
Does that not also suggest
that the police are covering up for those responsible for the faulty fan that
killed Merton? At this point, readers
may be surprised to learn that it is the police and not Mott who are on the
firmer ground. In fact, speaking of the
loose ends in Mott’s explanation of the event, it’s really very hard to say
what ground Mott is on. Notice that he
doesn’t even say for certain that Merton was wet from a shower, though he even
leaves open the possibility that Merton donned his shorts while still wet from
the shower, something that is even less likely than a Hitachi fan shocking
someone to death.
The police, in this
instance, had good reason to make no mention of Merton having taken a
shower. That is because he didn’t. He left lunch at the main building of the
conference center at around 1:40 p.m. in the company of Father François de
Grunne, O.S.B., of Belgium to take a break from the conference, which was to
resume at 4:30. The cottage where they
were staying was a 10 to 15 minute walk away.
Father Celestine Say, O.S.B., from the Philippines, followed about five
minutes behind them, and he could see them far ahead of him in
conversation. By the time Say arrived at
the cottage, de Grunne had gone upstairs to his room
and Merton to his room on the first floor.
Say’s room was also on the first floor.
John Moffitt, the poetry editor of the Jesuit America magazine was the fourth person in the cottage, with a room
upstairs, but he had joined a group for a short sightseeing trip into Bangkok
for the afternoon.
The doors with their
frames for the private rooms seem to have been more or less permanent structures,
but the walls were not. They were nothing
but a wire mesh, with bed sheets hung next to them for privacy. Air could
pass through, an important feature in the tropical climate with no air
conditioning, and so, too, could sound. A shower room was accessible from the parlor
between the two private rooms. The fan
that was found lying on Merton was in his room, which was some distance from
the shower.
Say said that he could
even hear Merton when he was walking barefooted in his room, but from the time
that he arrived at the cottage, he never heard a sound from Merton. He could even see that Merton was not lying
in his bed, but thought that he might be reclining on the floor, either because
it was cooler or for penance. Say was
awake the whole time from when he arrived at the cottage shortly before 2:00
p.m. until de Grunne came downstairs and told him to
come have a look into Merton’s room at around 4 :00 p.m. Say even took a shower himself when he was
unable to take an intended nap because of the noise de Grunne
was making pacing up and down upstairs directly above him. At no time after his arrival at the cottage
did Say hear or see Merton take a shower.
The testimony that de Grunne gave to the police was included with the police
report when it was sent to the Gethsemani Abbey in
1969, but it seems to have disappeared.
De Grunne wrote several letters to Moffitt in
that year, and he makes no mention of Merton having showered, either. The shower was absent from contemporary news
reports, as well.
A few weeks after the
conference, Sister Marie de la Croix, O.C.S.O., who was at the conference,
prepared a 5-page report in French whose English title is “The Last Days of
Thomas Merton.” In that report she wrote
that the first thing Merton did upon returning to the cottage was to take a
shower, but then, she says, he took a nap before his encounter with the fan, so
the shower would have been immaterial to the supposed electrocution. At any rate, she was not a witness, having
been on that same excursion into Bangkok with Moffitt and was probably just
repeating erroneous scuttlebutt.
One other early
document makes mention of a shower. That
is a letter sent on December 11, 1968, the day after the death, purportedly
from “the six Trappist delegates at the Conference” to Abbot Flavian Burns at
the Gethsemani Abbey.
There were actually seven remaining Trappists in attendance at the
conference after Merton’s death. If
there was ever such an actual signed letter, it has also disappeared. Whoever wrote the letter merely speculates,
saying only that Merton might have taken a shower, but none of the Trappists
would have been in any better position than Sister Marie de la Croix to testify
to the fact since none of them were witnesses, either.
Mott is bad enough with
his hedging and equivocating, but he is most unreliable when he is most
definite. Right at the beginning of his
narrative of what happened at the cottage he says, “At some time before three
o’clock Father de Grunne heard what he thought was a
cry and the sound of something falling.
There were noises at all hours in the area around the cottage, but this
sound seemed to come from below.”
With this passage, he
has planted in the mind of the reader that that was the moment of Merton’s
fatal encounter with the fan. On this
point Mott seems to be close to agreement with the police report. “At 3:00 P.M., on the same day, Reverend De Grunne who stayed in an upper room over the scene, while
walking into the bathroom, heard a loud noise coming from the lower story which
sounded like a heavy object falling onto the floor,” they say.
Notice
that the cry is missing from the police report.
Perhaps Mott got that from Father Say, who he implies failed to hear the
noise because he was brushing his teeth at the time and the water was
running.
Say did, indeed, report
that de Grunne came down and asked him if he had
heard a “shout,” and Say was brushing his teeth at the time, but the time of
his experience is quite different.
According to Say, the first thing he did upon returning to the cottage
was to take off his habit and to go brush his teeth. It was at that moment, which would have been
around 2:00 p.m., that de Grunne came down, knocked
on the bathroom door, and asked Say if he had heard a shout, which Say said he
had not. Say later reported in a letter
that it would have been an easy matter for de Grunne
to look into Merton’s room and see his condition, but he did not. He simply went back upstairs and paced the
floor.
What one would never
gather from Mott, or from the police report, for that matter, is that de Grunne behaved a great deal more like a suspect than a
reliable witness. It looks like he was inviting Say to make the
discovery of Merton’s body, but Say only noticed upon returning to his room
that Merton was not lying in his bed, looking no further, out of respect for
Merton’s privacy.
De Grunne
interrupted his almost two hours of pacing around, according to Say, to leave
the cottage for a short time and then to come back. After coming down that third time at around
4:00 p.m., either to ask Merton to go for a swim or to ask him for the key to
the cottage, depending upon which of the two mutually exclusive reasons de Grunne has given, he made his “discovery” and then invited
Say to come look into Merton’s room.
Neither of de Grunne’s reasons for going to
Merton’s room at that time is plausible.
He had already gone out and come back into the cottage, either using the
key to regain reentry or without needing a key for an unlocked outer door, and
it was too late to go for a swim. The
conference was set to resume at 4:30.
Say then saw Merton
lying in his shorts on the floor of his room with the fan lying across
him. The door was latched from inside
(though later gaining entry without breaking the door proved relatively
simple). De Grunne
left toward the main building, ostensibly to go for help. Upon encountering two abbots, Fr. Odo Haas, O.S.B. and Fr. Egbert Donovan, O.S.B., his first
words were to ask them if they had had a good swim. Even Mott thought this pleasantry odd, but he
dismissed it on account of de Grunne’s “nervousness.” Say later wrote that de Grunne’s
manner generally had given him “the creeps.”
Donovan wrote that de Grunne told them that he
had come down and discovered Merton because of the noise that he had
heard. Now we have a third possible time
for the crucial noises from down below that de Grunne
claims to have heard.
In
July of 1969, in a letter responding to John Moffitt, de Grunne
took it all back. In that letter he said
that whatever noises he might have heard must have been coming from the nearby
neighborhood.
There is another source
for the 3:00 p.m. time. An unsigned
statement, purportedly to be from Fr. Haas, says, “We met Rev. Fr. Grunne [sic] and he told us that about 3 pm he heard a cry
and the fall of a heavy object in or nearby the house. After some time he wanted to go look in the
room where Fr. Merton was, off on the right.”
There’s the 3:00 p.m.,
but now we have a third reason for de Grunne to have
come down and look into the room, and after a long, implausible delay, at
that. Because it has a number of clear
errors, however, we have concluded that this document cannot be authentic. Mott has seized upon the biggest error,
though, apparently because it is essential for the lethal-fan argument. Haas, Donovan, and Say were the first people
into Merton’s room. The Haas statement
says that when he tried to remove the fan from Merton’s body, he got a strong
electric shock and could not free himself from it until Say rushed to unplug
it. Say reported, however, that Haas
recoiled from the shock and when asked, said that the shock was not too
strong. Even the police report said that
Haas “jerked away from the fan.” For
Mott, that turned into Haas dramatically being “jerked sideways and held to the
fan” until Say could unplug it.
Finally, the reader may
have noticed that we say that the witnesses found Merton in his shorts. Say even photographed the scene. Mott, however, purposely neutralized the
photographic evidence by writing that the photograph was taken after the scene
had been disturbed and that the body by that time might have been dressed for
modesty’s sake. He had to have known
that that was not true, because he had seen the same letters from Say that we
have seen and he knew that Say’s purpose in taking the photograph was precisely
to preserve the death scene as the witnesses had seen it, because they thought
it was so peculiar. Mott also fails to
explain how there could have been a burn on the underwear—as he quotes from the
police report—if the body had been found naked.
In
summation, the widespread trust in Michael Mott’s account of Thomas Merton’s
death has been very badly misplaced.
Hugh
Turley and David Martin, authors of The Martyrdom of
Thomas Merton: An Investigation
June
13, 2018
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