Spaces of Death

From Jamie Pietras at Salon.com, you can read in detail about one of the more twisted phenomenons to hit the web recently-- a site called MyDeathSpace, which connects its audience not only to news about recent deaths, but to the MySpace pages of the deceased. Just below the cartoonish skull logo and tombstones that are prominently branded on its front page, the site promises "one death or suicide an hour."

Most of the victims listed are in their teens or 20s, and each is memorialized according to the same standardized format: with an unattributed news story, an obituary (or in some cases, a blog entry that details the circumstances surrounding the death), a photo of the victim, usually culled from a once-active MySpace account, a link to the MySpace page, and a discussion board link at the bottom.

When a person dies, his or her MySpace page and its assortment of photos, blog entries, songs, and videos becomes a de facto shrine to the deceased -- teenage life's trivialities, dilemmas and existential crises packaged and displayed as a neat narrative.

That narrative may continue well beyond death if victims have left their message boards open to the public, as friends, family members and even strangers add comments to the page. (MySpace's default configuration allows comments to be posted without a user's preapproval). The MySpace version of one's life story even has a soundtrack, depending on whatever death metal, hip-hop or emo track users choose to embed in their profile. For some, it's a form of reality-based entertainment, of the most morbid variety. MyDeathSpace's avid fan base scours the news for recent tragedies and keeps the site current by submitting deaths for consideration.

MyDeathSpace is the creation of Mike Patterson, a 26-year-old San Francisco paralegal. Patterson claims he created the site to teach teens a "lesson" about risky behaviors, especially when it comes to driving automobiles. Today, MyDeathSpace claims more than 8,000 registered users. Registration allows members to receive notification of new deaths by e-mail, chat electronically with others, and most important, post on the discussion boards. Others sign up to become premium members, which grants them access to new deaths 24 hours before they become publicly available.

What began as a platform for virtual rubbernecking took on new significance after the massacre at Virginia Tech University. The tragedy offered a glimpse of a new meta-reality: 17 of the victims had MySpace profiles, which mainstream press outlets eagerly scoured for information. No organization was better equipped to handle MySpace-trolling duties than MyDeathSpace. The next morning, the New York Times blog was pointing traffic toward the site, described as specializing in "respects and tributes to the recently deceased MySpace.com" members. Tens of thousands flocked to it, and hundreds signed up for accounts, which allowed them to post in the discussion forums. Unable to handle the increased bandwidth, the server crashed.

For better or worse, this is a new American way of death, where a MySpace page takes the place of your obituary and becomes fodder for worldwide forum banter. A person may die, but the MySpace page does not -- as a matter of policy, MySpace only removes inactive profiles at the request of a family member. An active MySpace page is typically the only prerequisite to earning a spot on MyDeathSpace, which now lists more than 2,800 deceased individuals. Most are between the ages of 16 and 23.

The more robust a victim's MySpace page, the more lively the MyDeathSpace discussion is likely to be. Occasionally, a MySpace page reflects the circumstances of a person's death with eerie prescience -- the photos of guns maintained by someone killed by a gunshot, the drug-related songs and movies enjoyed by a person who goes on to overdose, or the proclivities toward thrill-seeking professed by someone who dies recklessly.

Taken as the cautionary tales Patterson says he envisions, the collected tragedies on MyDeathSpace are chilling. After all, the young rarely die of natural causes. They die of suicides and murders; of daredevil stunts involving moving trucks and merry-go-rounds; and, of course, alcohol and drug overdoses. One 21-year-old soldier discussed was found dead after drinking Southern Comfort through a funnel.

Grieving family members who use the site to find solace or sympathy aren't always embraced warmly, though. A woman identifying herself as "TarasMom," the mother of a murdered grandson and daughter, posted in a forum last August, warning users that their barbs toward the dead "cut like a knife."

Members responded in typically caustic fashion. "I am sorry about your loss, but this is AMERICA, land of the free," wrote one user. "Dead people don't need mothers and I'm sure there has to be something about you more interesting than being some chick's mom. Why not move on?" another added.

While some have written to Patterson threatening to sue MyDeathSpace or have the site shut down, there is little First Amendment basis for actually doing so, according to David Hudson, a research attorney with the First Amendment Center at Vanderbilt University. After all, MySpace profiles that are open to the public effectively become public information. And legally speaking, it is impossible to defame a dead person. So far, the site has yet to meet a legal challenge.

Visitors who write Patterson e-mails critical of MyDeathSpace run the risk of having the text of their e-mail (and oftentimes, their e-mail address) publicly displayed on a "Hate Mail" discussion thread. Members often respond by trolling the Internet for facts or photos about the complainant in order to post them. When Salon contacted several people who are critical of the site, none would speak for the sake of an article, fearing repercussions by the MyDeathSpace community.

Patterson argues that if you don't like the site, don't come to it. But tell that to those who arrive at MyDeathSpace inadvertently, having Googled the name of a deceased friend or relative. Nevertheless, Patterson respects the wishes of family members who want to have a child's MyDeathSpace profile deleted, except, he says, in the case of convicted murderers.

Patterson packs MyDeathSpace with advertisements for dating services, death-related sweepstakes and merchandise, and even a graphic video of animal slaughter courtesy of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Though he charges both for ad space and premium memberships, Patterson says he doesn't "make any money" from the Web site. But some of the site's defenders point out that morticians have long profited from death, and if people are going to criticize Patterson for profiting from the public's insatiable obsession with death, shouldn't they also go after Fox News, MSNBC and any other news outlet that fawned for weeks over the minutiae of Anna Nicole Smith's death and autopsy?

Patterson says the site provides links to suicide prevention hotlines and that he once intervened personally when he was contacted by a 15-year-old girl who implied that she was thinking of killing herself, when she asked a site administrator to save her a postmortem "spot" on MyDeathSpace.

Whatever the real motivation behind the site (altruistic or not), MyDeathSpace remains an equally potent warning about the dangers of activity online. "Once you have a MySpace page, you've exposed yourself to be open to anything," says Amber Perry. Moderator Terisa Davis agrees, noting that she keeps her own MySpace blog postings private: "I don't necessarily want the whole world reading that."