MOTHER OF FORMER SLOC EMPLOYEE SEEKS ANSWERS IN HER SON'S TRAGIC 1998
DEATH

Carol Christiansen knows what her 39-year-old son Jim looked like the
day he was found slumped on the floor of an abandoned Chevy Suburban.

She knows because she has examined the 60 photographs taken at the
crime scene and during the autopsy. She has read and reread the
coroner's report with all the gruesome details of what happens to
human organs and tissue during decomposition. She has seen the police
reports and year-old news stories insinuating her son was just another
junkie.

She has seen and heard things unimaginable to most of us, and felt
compelled to ask questions no mother should have to ask.

Why, she wonders, would an upbeat professional with a new job at the
Salt Lake Organizing Committee, two children and a baby on the way
risk it all for a fix? Why were no drug paraphernalia found in the
Suburban? Why didn't police dust for fingerprints?

And her biggest question of all: Why wasn't this treated as a
homicide?

Police say Jim's death was a sad but standard case of drug
overdose.

"He was not murdered. There was no assassination plot," says Sgt.
Jerry Mendez, who heads the Salt Lake City homicide unit that handled
the case. "He just loaded up on more than his system could handle."

Police and Olympic authorities also deny the case is related to
another controversy that overshadowed the tragedy. The Olympic bribery
scandal erupted just weeks after the SLOC employee's death, and, a
year and a half later, friends and family still wonder if there was
some connection between the two.

To be sure, the scandal has been a catalyst in Carol's crusade to
clear her son's name. It has caused such distrust of some Olympic and
community leaders that suspicions of murder and cover-up somehow seem
plausible, at least to Carol and the dozen or so strangers she has met
in the past 18 months.

"It may not all be what I think it is," Carol says, "but there is
something more to this than what [police] think it is."

As far-fetched as her theories might seem, Carol's concern has exposed
some gaps in the police investigation which have caught the attention
of Salt Lake City Mayor Rocky Anderson, who has some concerns of his
own about police handling of unattended deaths.

Anderson said he may seek an independent review of the case. "If there
is any truth to her allegations, they should be investigated."

Fighting the Addiction: James Kelten Christiansen was energetic,
outgoing, confident, a former Cottonwood High School cheerleader who
made friends easily. He was at one time a religious man, attending
church and serving a mission for the LDS Church.

He was a fitness nut who worked out daily, a contradiction to his
cocaine addiction.

After he remarried, Jim moved away from his Salt Lake City partying
pals, relocated to Denver and then to New York City, where he took a
job as a sales manager for Walt Disney Corp. But with Jim, the better
life got, the more it got the better of him.

"He was a strong-willed, success-oriented person," says one close
family member. "He conquered [his addiction] a number of times. But
every time he got on top of the world, he succumbed again. It just
followed him."

Jim completed treatment programs in New York and Utah, and seemed to
be on his way to sobriety. He was living in Layton, working as a
district retail manager for the U.S. Olympic Committee when, in July
of 1998, he landed a more lucrative job with SLOC managing the small
but growing store that sold pins and other Olympic
merchandise.

"It was his dream job," Carol says.

Two months later he was dead.

Tragedy Strikes: He disappeared on Sunday night, Sept. 13, after
closing the Olympic committee's retail booth at the 1998 Utah State
Fair. Eleven days later, his body was found in Salt Lake City in the
back of his company car.

The first time Rosa Runnoe noticed the Suburban was Sept.
21.

She rolled the green garbage can down the narrow driveway onto 600
East just like every other Monday, only this time she had to push it
around the back end of the big, white Chevy parked at the curb.

Three days later the vehicle was still there. She went to get a closer
look. The tinted window on the passenger's side was rolled down a few
inches. She peered in and saw a Diet Coke can on the dashboard
drinkholder. She went back in her house and called parking
enforcement.

Michael Odom is executive director of the Odyssey House substance
abuse center across the street. He had just finished his lunch break
and was relaxing on the front porch when he saw the Suburban. Its
license plate, 977KLH, matched the one in the missing person report
from the morning paper. He dialed 911.

Police found the vehicle unlocked and Jim's body lying on the back
floorboard, behind the bucket seats. He was on his side, his head
toward the left rear passenger door, legs bent at the knees and feet
elevated against the right rear passenger door. His shoes and socks
were missing. The gold band with a ruby inset that he always wore on
his right ring finger, the one that used to belong to his grandfather,
was gone. So was his wristwatch.

His black leather wallet was sitting in plain sight on the seat, with
his driver license and credit cards still in it. It is possible his
body rolled to the floor when the vehicle stopped and his checkbook
was pried from a pocket by the pinch of the cushions.

"Circumstances indicated that the body and vehicle were moved, to the
location where they were found, by another person, who is yet
unidentified," a Layton police officer wrote in his missing-person
report.

The Suburban was parked in a two-hour zone in a neighborhood
accustomed to aggressive parking enforcement. "It just blows my mind
that it was never ticketed," says Jane Johnson, who runs the Anton
Boxrud Bed & Breakfast next door to the Runnoes. "We're talking about
a huge Chevy Suburban with an Olympics decal right in the window."

Too Many Questions: Police cannot explain why the SLOC Suburban was
marked by meter monitors but never ticketed or towed. Neighbors
suspect it was in deference to the Olympic committee.

In Carol's conspiratorial view of the case, it is the same reason
police were all too willing to wash their hands of Jim's death.

The state medical examiner concluded Jim died of drug intoxication
involving cocaine and morphine, which is what the body rapidly
converts heroin into. Police located a former drug dealer living not
far from the crime scene who admitted ingesting a quarter ounce of
cocaine with Jim the night he disappeared.

Given those factors and Jim's drug abuse history, police concluded it
was an ordinary accidental overdose.

But Carol insists Jim's death was anything but routine. She points to
a string of seeming inconsistencies and loose ends:

- -- Although SLOC and Jim's wife, Dina, notified the Layton and Salt
Lake City police departments on Sept. 15, officers did not actively
investigate Jim's disappearance for several more days. "They told me
it's not a crime to be missing," Dina recalls of her conversation with
Layton officials.

- -- Although Jim had been robbed, police didn't release that
information to the public.

- -- Jim's gym bag, found in the Suburban, has mysteriously
disappeared.

- -- Police never checked the vehicle for fingerprints, something Mendez
acknowledges is standard procedure.

- -- Police also failed, at least initially, to follow up on another
clue: Jim's Discover Card, found in his wallet, was used to purchase
items from out-of-state X-rated catalogs three days after he
disappeared.

Carol especially is disturbed by the weight police gave to the
testimony of John McKelvey, the drug user who said he and Jim consumed
cocaine the night of Jim's disappearance.

First he said they got high at his apartment. Then they did it at the
fairgrounds. He told one officer Jim shot up "10 to 15 times in both
arms," but told The Salt Lake Tribune it was more like six or seven.

The state medical examiner found one needle mark on Jim's right arm,
not, as McKelvey's statements would suggest, evidence of repeated
intravenous drug use.

Police did not need to follow every clue to its logical end, Mendez
says. Even if the Suburban had been dusted for fingerprints, it would
not change the cause of death, he says.

"We call them dumps," Mendez says. "Someone will overdoes in a
residence, the other people panic and put the body someplace else to
cover up their own illegal behavior. That could very well have
happened here, but that doesn't suggest murder."

What the family doesn't understand, he says, is that Utah doesn't have
a Good Samaritan law. "If someone sees another person voluntarily
ingesting heroin, cocaine, alcohol, etc. and there are no signs of
force or restraint, that person is not required by law to seek medical
help," he says.

It also is not unusual for overdose victims to be missing personal
items. Mendez suspects someone happened upon the unlocked vehicle and
robbed the corpse of the watch, ring and expensive Nike boots.

Police Detective Kelly Kent, the Salt Lake City officer first assigned
to the case, says she has been to every pawn shop in the valley
looking for the ruby ring.

"The mother is still in a state of denial and we're not going to be
able to convince her otherwise," Mendez says. "I guess mothers are the
last ones to believe their kids would do something like that. Kids are
supposed to be around when the parents check out, not the other way
around."

Internal Affairs looked into Carol's complaints and found no evidence
of police misconduct or reason to conduct a formal investigation, says
Lt. Steven Diamond.

"To characterize it as they're not getting a straight answer is
offensive. They're just not getting the answer they want," he says.

'Doesn't Make Sense': Jim's longtime friend Mell Bailey was the first
person to tip reporters to Jim's disappearance. His death, as police
describe it, doesn't make sense, she says.

"Jim was a party boy," says Bailey, who runs an Olympic retail kiosk
at Fashion Place Mall. "But he never let it interfere with his job."

She became even more suspicious after a chance encounter in a bar five
months after Jim died. A man told her Jim did not die by his own hand
and that there was a plot to cover it up. He said if he told her more,
their lives would be in danger.

Bailey tracked down Carol and the two set out to debunk police
accounts of what happened to Jim. Although he was hired by SLOC years
after Salt Lake City was awarded the Games, the timing of the bid-city
scandal so soon after his death is a coincidence neither woman can
accept.

Their theory, stitched from suspicious circumstances and hearsay, is
that Jim was kidnapped from the fairgrounds and killed because he saw
something he wasn't supposed to see. His captors waited until the body
had deteriorated beyond recognition to cover any signs of a struggle,
and then dumped him and the Olympic Suburban on a Salt Lake City side
street.

When Carol read published reports that hookers may have been part of
the booty given to IOC officials, she recalled Jim had complained
about having to shuttle visitors to strip joints and parties. In the
past few months, she has consulted a psychic who offered details right
down to the shed in Willard where he was supposedly kept and killed.

"It's a helluva theory, but there is no basis to her allegations,"
says Sgt. Mendez.

Had authorities aggressively investigated Jim's disappearance from the
start, had they sorted out the inconsistencies and not been so quick
to dismiss Carol's inquiries, they might have saved her and themselves
a lot of grief, she says.

Anderson says if there are problems with police handling of the case
they will be investigated. As an attorney, he has in the past done
battle with the department over homicide investigations and wants to
ensure the handling of Jim's death doesn't fit a pattern.

"It's very troubling to think that family members of people who have
died, and where there are questions as to whether there was foul play,
are presented with inaccurate or inconsistent information," says
Anderson. "That has to add immensely to their tragedy."

Prolonging the Pain? SLOC did what it could to ease the family's
burden, says spokeswoman Caroline Shaw. The organization extended
Jim's pay for two weeks and made sure his insurance would cover the
birth of son James, delivered days after Jim disappeared. Employees
also contributed to a trust fund for the baby.

Carol hopes that raising doubts about Jim's death will help her and
her grandchildren cope with their loss.

"I don't want them to think their dad loved heroin more than he loved
them, because it's not true," Carol says, unable to stop the rush of
tears. "I can't face him on the other side unless I do everything
possible to try and clear his name on this side."

So far, however, her quest has only raised more questions. And it has
taken a toll on loved ones.

Dina worries that calling attention to the case may only prolong the
pain. She has come to grips with her husband's death and the
circumstances surrounding it. Yes, Jim had a problem. And yes, he was
on his way to sobriety. But with this disease there is always a risk
of relapse. Finding out what exactly what triggered it won't bring Jim
back.

"Society doesn't really understand drug addiction," she
says.

It's hard to say whether Jim's death -- or relatives' reactions to it
- -- would have been different had allegations of bribery and other
unethical dealings not surfaced in conjunction with the Salt Lake City
Olympics.

But they did, and the Christiansen family may never be the
same.

"I feel so sorry for the mother," says Runnoe. "She is just trying to
get some answers."