Top

news

Stories

 

Erik Turbenson suicide foreshadowed gay taunting trouble at Anoka-Hennepin

One student's tragic struggle inside the school district

Brian Stauffer

After the curtain closed, his new friends from Perpich Center for Arts Education, his current school, flocked around him. They knew nothing about hospital visits or suicide attempts. It was as if none of it ever happened.

"He was definitely one of the cool kids at Perpich," recalls his closest friend, Ashley Siegel.

The death of Tammy Aaberg's son Justin in 2010 inspired Sue Turbenson to start speaking to other parents
Jana Freiband
The death of Tammy Aaberg's son Justin in 2010 inspired Sue Turbenson to start speaking to other parents

  

NEARING THE HOLIDAY BREAK, Erik finally had time to catch up with his old Coon Rapids friends. He dragged Fracisco around shopping for three hours, hunting for the perfect shade of bright orange to dye his hair. He chattered like the old Tootles.

"I want to come to Iowa with you for New Year's," he told her. "Let me ask my mom."

But Erik never called, so Fracisco left for her trip without him.

On January 1, 2001, the day before the start of school, Erik came out of his room and found his mom.

"Want to play a game?" she asked.

He set up mancala, an African marble game, and without much conversation, mother and son played a few clattering rounds. Sue won a game, then Erik. He was calm and smiling.

At the end of the second game, he stood to go to his room and his mother got up to hug him.

"I love you, Erik," she said.

He smiled wordlessly and went into his room. Switching on his computer, he logged on to his AOL chat account and found Siegel. After some idle chatter about New Year's, she told him she had to go to bed.

"I'm not coming in tomorrow," he typed.

"Why?" she wrote back.

"Not feeling well," he wrote. "Tell everyone I love them."

"Okay, I will!" she answered.

A few hours later, he saw that Fracisco and her girlfriend were online. He chatted for a while with Kay's girlfriend, until she started asking if something was wrong.

"I hope you guys had a good New Year's," he typed abruptly. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

Then he signed off.

Shortly after, in the dead of night, Erik carried out his plan. He put on a nice shirt and his favorite black beret. He taped a sign to his bedroom wall with an arrow pointing down to his desk. "Suicide note," it read.

In the note, he asked that no one blame themselves—he'd made up his mind some time ago. He was still unhappy. It was the prospect of facing another school semester. He was tired.

Moving silently through the house, his entire family fast asleep, Erik slipped into the backyard with a rope. He stepped quietly through the snow. He looped one end around the limbs of a tree in his dark and heavily wooded backyard.

Then he shimmied up the tree, placed the noose around his thin neck, and jumped.

  

NO ONE WHO KNEW Erik Turbenson ever forgot the story of the bee.

After a long, hot day of strutting in carefully choreographed formations across a well-trimmed practice field, summer band camp was finally coming to a close for the Coon Rapids Marching Cardinals. The sweaty and exhausted teens were called to attention as their band director delivered the final notes of the day.

Like those around him, Erik stood with military discipline, his Yamaha bass drum dangling from thin shoulders. After a few minutes of muggy stillness, Erik finally dared to move, raising one reedy arm straight up in the air. The director carried on with his instruction, but Erik's hand wouldn't go down.

Finally, the director called on him. "What do you need, Erik?"

"Can I be excused?" Erik asked sheepishly. "I'm being stung by a bee."

As he fumbled to take off the drum rig, snickers rippled through the ranks.

"Pussy," a boy hissed.

"Suck it up, faggot," another whispered.

A stream of tears poured down Erik's face as he retreated to the locker room.

To his friends, this was classic Erik—so dedicated he stood dutifully in formation while suffering the pain of the insect trapped in his clothes.

They recall this as a testament to Erik's strength. Others remember only the cruel words, and the fact that this kind of thing happened to Erik all the time.

Recalls bandmate Kelly Lamkins: "Nobody did anything about it."

<< Previous Page | 1 | 2 | 3
 
 

Most Popular Stories

Browse Voice Nation
  • Voice Places

    Voice Places

    Discover restaurants, nightlife, travel, shopping...

  • VOICE Daily Deals

    VOICE Daily Deals

    Get 50 to 90% off every day on restaurants, movies, massages...

  • Best Of

    Best Of...

    More than 10,000 of the BEST things to eat, drink, and experience

  • My Voice Nation

    My Voice Nation

    Join the Village Voice community and get exclusive deals and info

  • Happy Hour

    Happy Hour

    Your local Happy Hour guide at your fingertips

or

Log in or Sign up

Social Connect:

Use your favorite account to access My Voice Nation.


Use your My Voice Nation account to log in:





Forgot password?
or

Sign Up or Log in

Social Connect:

Sign up for My Voice Nation with your preferred network.


Sign up for a My Voice Nation account:



Privacy policy