Loskarn’s mother releases open letter he wrote before committing suicide

The former chief of staff to Sen. Lamar Alexander (R-Tenn.) who committed suicide left behind an open letter where he says he was drawn to child pornography because he was abused as a child.

{mosads}Jesse Ryan Loskarn, 35, hanged himself in his parents’ basement in Sykesville, Md., last week, just over a month after he was arrested on child pornography charges.

His mother, Gay Loskarn, posted a letter from him online Monday where he apologizes to the people he hurt and talks about his “deepest, darkest secret.”

“I found myself drawn to videos that matched my own childhood abuse. It’s painful and humiliating to admit to myself, let alone the whole world, but I pictured myself as a child in the image or video. The more an image mirrored some element of my memories and took me back, the more I felt a connection,” Loskarn wrote. “This is my deepest, darkest secret.”

Loskarn did not specify who abused him, or how, and said he first encountered child pornography on a peer-to-peer music-sharing site.

“The first time I saw child pornography was during a search for music on a peer-to-peer network. I wasn’t seeking it but I didn’t turn away when I saw it. Until that moment, the only place I’d seen these sorts of images was in my mind.”

Two sources close to the family confirmed to The Hill that the letter is genuine.

An introduction preceding Loskarn’s letter says it was found after he killed himself last week. His life, it said, had been consumed by “a media frenzy” whose goal was to destroy “his reputation beyond repair.”

The U.S. Postal Service raided Loskarn’s house in December and arrested him on charges of purchasing child porn through the mail and sharing it online.

Loskarn says in his letter he was on suicide watch for five days in the D.C. jail’s psychiatric ward.

“Why did I do this and how can I kill myself?” Loskarn said he thought.

Loskarn said his arrest had destroyed the “mental equilibrium” that he had created to cope with his past.

“Today the memories fly at me whenever they choose. They’re the first thing I see when I wake and the last thing I think about before falling asleep. I am not in control of anything anymore, not even my own memories. It’s terrifying.”

At a hearing in December, a judge ordered that Loskarn be confined to his parents’ home, where he was banned from accessing the Internet.

Prosecutors had argued for Loskarn to remain locked up to prevent him from using the Internet, harming himself or fleeing. His defense attorneys, however, said those risks were overblown.

Loskarn’s fall from grace and death has been a shock to people Capitol Hill, where he was a familiar face.

In the letter, Loskarn said he kept his emotional pain hidden from those around him.

“Those I worked with on the Hill would likely describe me as a controlled, independent, and rational person who could analyze a situation with little or no emotion. That’s how I viewed myself. In retrospect, the qualities that helped me succeed on Capitol Hill were probably developed partly as a result of the abuse and how it shaped me.”

Alexander had initially put Loskarn on administrative leave, but later fired him as details of the allegations against him were revealed.

“My family has been wounded beyond description,” Loskarn wrote. “My former boss and colleagues had their trust broken and their names dragged through the mud for no reason other than association. Friends’ question whether they ever really knew me.”

He also apologized to the children who were victimized.

“To the children in the images: I should have known better. I perpetuated your abuse and that will be a burden on my soul for the rest of my life.”

Politico first reported the existence of the letter. 

Here is the full text of the letter, which can also be viewed here. 

On December 11, 2013, I was arrested for possession of child pornography.  Writing those few words took a long time; seeing them in print is agony.  But I owe many, many people an explanation – if that’s even possible – and that’s why I’ve written this letter.

The news coverage of my spectacular fall makes it impossible for me to crawl in a hole and disappear.  I’ve hurt every single human being I’ve ever known and the details of my shame are preserved on the internet for all time.  There is no escape. 

My family has been wounded beyond description.  My former boss and colleagues had their trust broken and their names dragged through the mud for no reason other than association.  Friends’ question whether they ever really knew me. 

Everyone wants to know why.

I’ve asked God.  I’ve asked myself.  I’ve talked with clergy and counselors and psychiatrists.  I spent five days on suicide watch in the psychiatric ward at the D.C. jail, fixated on the “why” and “how” questions:  why did I do this and how can I kill myself?  I’ve shared the most private details of my life with others in the effort to find an answer.  There seem to be many answers and none at all.   

The first time I saw child pornography was during a search for music on a peer-to-peer network.  I wasn’t seeking it but I didn’t turn away when I saw it.  Until that moment, the only place I’d seen these sorts of images was in my mind. 

I found myself drawn to videos that matched my own childhood abuse.  It’s painful and humiliating to admit to myself, let alone the whole world, but I pictured myself as a child in the image or video.  The more an image mirrored some element of my memories and took me back, the more I felt a connection. 

This is my deepest, darkest secret. 

As a child I didn’t understand what had happened at the time of the abuse.  I did know that I must not tell anyone, ever.  Later the memories took on new and more troubling meaning when I became a teenager.  They started to appear more often and made me feel increasingly apart from everyone else.  In my mind I instigated and enjoyed the abuse – even as a five and nine year old – no matter the age difference.  Discussing what had happened would have meant shame and blame. 

I always worried someone might look at me and know, so I paid close attention to others for any sign they might have figured it out.  No one ever did.  By my late teens I reached a sort of mental equilibrium on the matter.  I couldn’t stop the images from appearing altogether, but I generally controlled when they appeared. 

As an adult I thought I was a tougher man because of the experience; that I was mentally stronger and less emotional than most.  I told myself that I was superior to other people because I had dealt with this thing on my own. 

Those I worked with on the Hill would likely describe me as a controlled, independent, and rational person who could analyze a situation with little or no emotion.  That’s how I viewed myself.  In retrospect, the qualities that helped me succeed on Capitol Hill were probably developed partly as a result of the abuse and how it shaped me. 

In the aftermath of my arrest and all that followed, the mental equilibrium I had created to deal with my past is gone.  Today the memories fly at me whenever they choose.  They’re the first thing I see when I wake and the last thing I think about before falling asleep.  I am not in control of anything anymore, not even my own memories.  It’s terrifying. 

In my life, I had only ever mentioned the abuse to three friends, and then fleetingly so.  I never spoke to a mental health professional about this or any other matter until I was in the D.C. jail.  I talked with a counselor there about my crime and the horrible hurt I had caused so many people.  I didn’t talk to him about my past.  I didn’t think it mattered because I intended to kill myself as soon as possible.

The session ended and I left to be taken to a cell.  Before I’d gone far, the counselor called me back.  He said there was something he couldn’t put his finger on and he wanted to talk some more.  And then he just stopped and looked at me, not saying a word.  He was the first person in my life who I think had figured it out.  And he was the first person I ever spoke to in any detail about those memories. 

That conversation was the first of many that have already taken place, and many more to come, as I begin the process of trying to sort this out and fix myself.      

I understand that some people – maybe most – will view this as a contrived story designed to find some defense for defenseless behavior.  That it’s an excuse.  In some ways I feel disgusting sharing this truth with you because in my heart I still struggle to see my five-year-old self as a victim.  But I’m sharing this with you because it is the truth, not an excuse.  And I believe it played a role in my story.

To my family, friends and Capitol Hill colleagues:  I’ve had individual conversations with each of you in my mind.  I’ve pictured your face as I admitted to my failure and heard the shock and disappointment in your voice.  I lay awake at night reviewing these conversations over and over again.  They are among the most excruciatingly painful aspects of this terrible, terrible nightmare. 

To those who choose to sever all ties with me, I don’t blame you.  No one wants to think or talk about this subject matter.  All I can say is: I understand and I’m sorry.

To those of you who have offered words of compassion to me and my family: your kindness has been remarkable.  Compassion is harder to accept than condemnation when you feel as disgusting and horrible as I do, but it means a great deal.  I’m more grateful to you than you can possibly imagine. 

And last, to the children in the images:  I should have known better.  I perpetuated your abuse and that will be a burden on my soul for the rest of my life.