November 1, 1997 – November 20, 2021
The phrase “a tortured soul” has been used semi-romantically to describe many artistic people.
But Jason was very much a tortured soul without the romantic connotations. He’d had behavioral problems since childhood; he was diagnosed with Asperger’s in adolescence, plus major depression; recently two professionals had floated the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder as well. BPD has a terrible name that doesn’t tell you anything about it; in a nutshell, its core is very strong, nigh-uncontrollable emotions, coupled paradoxically with an extreme difficulty in making personal connections.
Despite all of his problems, Jason was brilliant. Seriously. Because of social anxiety and simple recalcitrance, he dropped out of high school in the tenth grade (after a junior high attendance record that could only generously be called “spotty”). But when he was eighteen and working nights at Burger King, he realized that he would get nowhere without even a high school diploma, so he entered the work-at-your-own-pace alternative adult high school, and caught up on two and a half years in two and a half months; he graduated in the same month as his former classmates.
And that wasn’t the only part of his brilliance. If he wanted to do something, he could teach himself how. He only dabbled in the visual arts every view years, but nevertheless excelled. In the past few months, he did some outstanding work in gouache, entirely self-taught.
But his true love was the theater. Despite his social anxiety, he loved rehearsing and performing. I think that was partly because having a script and knowing exactly what he was expected to do was a relief to him.
The past few years, since he turned twenty, had been hard for him. His frustrations with the world manifested more and more in fiery outbursts. And when COVID came along and took performing away from him…
His one solace was solitude in nature; he spent long stretches on multiple-day trips to central and southern Utah just to sit on a craggy peak and enjoy the stillness, and in-between those longer trips he spent days upon days getting to know all of the mountain trails (and offtrail areas) in northern Utah.
In the last year or so, he had turned to self-harm; he punched himself in the face so much that sometimes he couldn’t go to work for a week while the swelling went down. He had a girlfriend he had met in the cast of a show, but he kept the part of his life apart from us, and literally all we knew about their relationship was that he would sit in his camping van and scream at her on his cellphone when he was in a dark place.
He agonized over simply being alive. Part of the problem for BPD sufferers is that they can see exactly what they’re doing and how their behavior affects others, which fills them with guilt and shame, which spurs them to further harmful behavior… He told how empty and dead he felt inside, how he hated having to live with his “broken brain,” and how he wished constantly that he was dead.
After many suicide threats, there were suicide attempts. We only found out about them afterward. He came back from a hike with roper burns on his neck. he would message us that he was ready to kill himself. Just this past Tuesday, he told us all goodbye; it was only after repeated calls and texts from us and siblings and his girlfriend that he finally let his girlfriend (her name’s Jessica, so I don’t have to keep typing “his girlfriend”) know where he was; she found him in a parking lot, talked to him a long time, and eventually brought him home.
My wife stayed with him all the next day, but he didn’t want her to beyond that; again, he felt guilty at how he was “ruining” everyone’s lives by burdening them.
He was seeing both a therapist and a psychiatrist, and had just started neurofeedback therapy with another therapist, but I think the BPD diagnosis was the beginning of the end. He had asked for and received a BPD workbook for his birthday; he was willing to try to work through it now that he had a name for it. But my casual reading on BPD pointed out that medications were ineffective, and therapy maybe brought some moderate gains after a decade. For someone who was now to the stage of multiple suicide attempts per week, a decade would have been an eternity.
We saw him Saturday morning; he didn’t seem particularly out-of-sorts. He left to do his own thing.
About four-thirty, he sent Jessica a photo of himself with a rope around his neck. He had a bittersweet smile on his face, and his fingers were raised in a see-you-later salute. The goodbye message was short.
Calls and text from all of us went unanswered. He had all location services turned off on his phone, including the metadata in his photo. Jessica called the police, and they were able to ping his phone near the mountains on the east edge of Layton, near the Bonneville shoreline trail; unfortunately, pinging only determines location within a 2500-meter radius, which on the mountain is a huge area. The police also found his van on an overlook on the mountain near a trailhead. The police brought in a canine unit, but it arrived and went out before we got there to unlock the van, so the dog had nothing from which to get a good scent.
The police searched for more than three hours, until well after dark, then called it off for the night. Search and Rescue had been unavailable; they were spread thinly enough trying to find people who wanted to be found.
The night would be getting into the 30s down on the valley floor where we lived; it would be colder on the mountain. Our only real hope was that he was still alive and would decide to come back and curl up in his van for the night.
We came back in the morning, along with our son Alex, Jessica and her friend and parents — literally the first time we had met Jessica face to face — and a couple of volunteers from a hiking group that Michele had found on Facebook.
He wasn’t in his van.
So we all knew that it wasn’t a rescue, it was a recovery. We went up the trailhead, split up, and wandered.
He was found in about twenty minutes by Jessica’s mother, who had never met him; that was a blessing. I sent Michele back down to wait for the police while I went to see.
It was a stream in a tiny canyon. He was most of the way up the side. If it hadn’t been for the rope around his neck, he would have just looked like he was standing there.
I raged a bit. I called him a stupid son of a bitch, and maybe some other things. Then I just sat down. My son Alex came, and we just sat there crying until the sheriff’s deputy arrived.
I stayed close but out of the police’s way. Michele went home to update our daughters. Our youngest had completely missed the whole thing; she was in her high school’s performance of The Music Man, and was already at the school when Jason sent Jessica the photo. She got home late, after we were in bed, and couldn’t be roused before we left.
Alex and I stayed and talked to the deputy, and the detective, and the search and rescue who would bring him out. They treated it as a crime scene just in case, so there was a medical examiner and a crime scene technician and a photographer; we stayed out of the creek area, where we couldn’t see what was going on, and I began the whole slog of calling and messaging people. Finally, after noon, they brought out the body bag, took some more pictures (mercifully out of our sight), and drove him away and we went home.
Things are all up in the air at this point; we’ll probably have him cremated, so his ashes can be scattered somewhere in the San Rafael Swell. Because of family matters, the funeral won’t be until after December 1st. I’ve set up a Facebook page where those who are interested can see updates.
Time like this can make some examine their faith — not doubt it per se, but look at it with a more searching eye. I live my religion, but how much do I actually believe what I believe? I can only answer that this way:
Grandad, my father’s father, is my absolute person who’s passed on. Jason never got to know him; the one visit we had that Jason was old enough to remember, Grandad had slowed right down; instead of being a jovial, boisterous troublemaker, he was just a quiet old man with a cane. And right now, I tear up when I think that Grandad and Jason will become great friends in the hereafter, which I think tells me how much I believe it.
Jason had lost all religious faith by the end; he had come to believe — or at least he told us — that we were just physical animals, with no existence beyond this. More than anything, I think this spells out the terrible his mental anguish was, that he would prefer complete annihilation to the life he was living. I hope right now he’s joyfully surprised.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. A lot of this has been more of me processing events via the blank screen than informing the rest of your about events. As long as I’ve still got your attention, I want to share a few things I’ve learned with having been on the receiving end of people’s regard and caring — mostly what not to do. I’ve done all of these things, so I know that they are all done in a spirit of love, and I also readily admit that people with personalities other than mine probably react differently, but especially because those grieving get to hear these things over and over and over again:
- Don’t tell me that he’s in a better place, or at peace. I know his torment better than you ever did. Your second opinion is about as necessary as a Cub Scout advising a surgeon on how to conduct an operation.
- Don’t ask what you can do for me and wait, expecting an answer. There is literally nothing you can do. There’s not a house or storage unit to be cleaned out, a Gatorade won’t make me feel better, you can’t mow my lawn. I’m sorry, but having to tell people, “There’s nothing, I’m okay,” a couple dozen times in a row is another slog I don’t need. If you actually know something specific you can do that I need, offer that. Otherwise, just say, “I’m here for you,” and put your hand on my shoulder. Don’t obligate me to reply.
- Don’t assume I need a hug. This is mostly me, I know; I’m not a huggy guy. If we’re not very close — like, “already living in my house” close — then opening your arms for a hug isn’t going to comfort me, it’ll burden me. Again, a handshake or a hand on the shoulder is fine.
- Don’t offer me meals. I understand, food is the Mormon love language. But we can still dress ourselves, groom ourselves, and feed ourselves. If I had accepted all of the meal offers I’ve received in the last 24 hours, we’d be eating other people’s cooking into the new year. His death does not burden us with travel or other necessary pursuits that hinders us from making meals, and I really don’t want to have to keep track of the Tupperware to return.
- Just show up a the funeral, shake our hands, and smile.
I am so sorry. My heart goes out to you and your family.
Thank you.
I’m sorry for your loss, Nathan.
Thank you.
Nathan and family, I was heartbroken to hear the news and my thoughts (and tears) have been with you. I’ve hugged my kids tighter the last 24 hours. We were all privileged to know Jason and watch him grow up.
Thanks.
Thanks for sharing your tender thoughts. We remember you as a young man helping us with Superior Carpet Ceiling and Drapery Cleaning. Andre particularly enjoys that carpet dying you did of the teenage ninja turtles. We are 2 hours south of your sister Bethany in San Antonio. We would love to reconnect with your family again. Garry and June Boucher
I’m incredibly sorry for your loss. Jason’s truly amazing and an incredible friend and it was an honor to have known him, I’m sorry to see it end this way for him.
Thanks, whoever you are. 🙂
Brother Shumate, your gift at writing is amazing. Thankyou for sharing something so close and personal.
Thank you.
Nathan, I’m sorry to hear of this tragedy. I definitely understand the list of things you don’t want to hear, and I think people say those things because they don’t know what to say.
I’m here for you. And I’ll virtually place my hand on your shoulder.
Nathan, I am truly added to hear of you and your family’s loss. Stay strong my friend and grieve when you feel able to.
I only met Jason a couple times at SeaQuest but the overwhelming love the team has shared with me is amazing.
They’ve shared stories with me about his love and passion for the animals and how he enjoyed educating our guests.
SeaQuest is a better place because we got to get to know Jason. I’m thankful for his time with us and the influence he left on the team.
When I received the news yesterday I had to make some of the most difficult calls I’ve ever had to make. The team really loved him.
Thank you for sharing Jason with us.
Our entire companies thoughts and prayers are with Jasons friends and family.
God bless and God speed.
Chuck Findlay
Chief Operating Officer
I’m terribly sorry for your loss. I don’t know you, but was compelled to read about your son. I have mental illness and addiction in my family, and I am the caretaker. I appreciate you sharing insights and personal thoughts.
Nathan, I am so sorry for your family’s loss. May God bless you and your family.
Words are simply that. G’mama’s & my prayers are with you and your entire family. I have put all your names on the prayer roll of the Halifax Temple. That was all I could do. “Professionals “ really don’t know much more to say. At least this “professional “ doesn’t. I was talking to G’mama tonight and mentioned about how she & G’dad will have a much better opportunity to get to know him and help him, if he wants it. I do agree with you that he must have been so terribly desperate and tormented that this was his only alternative. If any of you want to talk to me, fine. I have no magic bullet solutions. I think you writing about it is very brave and very therapeutic. I love you all. & so does G’mama.
I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve loved seeing Jason’s enthusiasm about his acting career over Facebook over these past few years, and while we were never more than acquaintances, it was always a bright spot in my Facebook feed. I will pray that you and your family will be comforted and blessed with peace.
Nathan I am at a loss for words. I know nothing I can say or do will dull the pain you and your family is going through. I don’t know the daily challenges you’ve had to endure. My heart goes out to you. If you ever just need someone to sit there while you just vent let me know. Though I know we know each other only from events we’ve attended. I’m more than happy to be that person. Just know that and I’m sure countless others are here when you need us.
Condolences to you and your family.
I am heartbroken for you and your family and for Jessica. I have no words…
So sorry to hear about your family’s loss Nathan. Deepest Sympathy to you all.
What a beautiful sweet soul he was. I’m borderline and in therapy and yes it’s a tough road to live with. I’ll keep up the good for Nathan! 🙏
What a beautiful sweet soul he was. I’m borderline and in therapy and yes it’s a tough road to be on. I’ll keep up the good fight for Nathan! 🙏
What a beautiful sweet soul he was. I too have borderline and yes it’s a tough road to be on. I’m currently in therapy and I’ll continue to keep up the good fight for Nathan! 🙏
Hi Nathan, I don’t know you, but I know Bethany and she is wonderful. Except that she always says “Grade 8” instead of “8th grade”, but she does it for ALL the grades. As a parent of 7 children with mental health disorders, I just wanted to tell you that you are not alone. There are others of us who watch our children helplessly when they no longer want to live. Your son was fortunate to have loving parents. Thank you for adding to the truth about mental illness that is out there. You have helped many people.
Dear Nathan and Michelle~my heart is truly broken for you and your family. I know you stated you don’t want to hear certain sentiments, but believe me I UNDERSTAND. I understand from Jason’s point of view. I am sorry he could not see the value of his life, the love of his family nor the goodness of God. I promise you with all my soul the Atonement of Christ works!!! It will in your healing and it will for Jason. My sincerest love and warmth to all of you.
💔 Love Bobbi Menlove
Thank you Nathan for the lovely tribute to our grandson Jason, and for educating all of us on the trials of those with mental illnesses. If I were there, you all would have to take a hugs from me.
To the entire Shumate Family
Our hearts 💕 are breaking for you guys
That piece that Nathan wrote is so heart wrenching that it’s hard to quit crying. I know from experience how awful it is
Nathan as friends and neighbors we don’t know what to do so please don’t be offended,we would do anything in the world for you guys.Prayers and messages of Love are many and will keep coming. God Bless you all
My whole heart is with your family. Thank you for writing such an amazing description of Jason.
So sorry for your loss as well. Our prayers are with you and your family
Doug and Linda macKay
I’ve always thought about you two when reminiscing about my time at Northridge. Having fun in art class. You and Jason always could make me laugh or smile. I just want you to know I always looked up to you and Jason as we. I’m here for you even though I’m in Colorado. Miss you guys.
I only knew Jason for a short time when we were both just kids. I’m truly sorry for you and your family’s loss, I’ll always remember him as a friend, and the impact he had on not just my life but the lives of those around him
I worked with jason at burger king. He was a great friend and coworker, my brother and i have great memories with him. Thank you for writing this it was sad but beautiful.
I don’t know you at all, and I’m truly sorry for your loss, but I also want to thank you for your message. It was beautifully written in a way that spoke to my soul. I, too, have grieved the loss of loved ones and appreciate the details, the emotions, the honesty of this.
Sending prayers and a solid handshake.
Thank you for sharing this. I understand it may have been difficult, so I want to let you know that it has at least helped one person. It has helped me process his death, and has motivated me to be more present for and understanding of others I know who suffer from mental illness. I’m so sorry your family and Jason had to go through this.
Oh Michelle, Just know how much I love you and praying for your family! Nathan has written the most wonderful tribute to your son, I had no idea! You always have a smile on your face. I wish I had words to comfort you! Hugs!!
So sorry 🥲 I didn’t know Jason well. He stayed with us in Australia when he had nowhere to go for a few weeks. He was kind and thoughtful and I wish him well, wherever he is and I’m sure our healing and learning continues on the other side..
God be with you 😇😇
There are no words that you can hear right now that will make this better. When my son passed away my sister told me to go see his body as much as I wanted before the funeral. The mortuary will accommodate. This was the best thing I could do since I got to say my goodbye to his face in private and could cry all I needed. I just wanted to share that with you in case you hadn’t thought of it. I am sorry you have to go through this. My heart goes out to you.
Thank you for sharing your very painful journey. I can’t imagine or understand your pain right now but the thing that is clear to me is that you really did everything you could do. I do believe God can and will heal Jason’s soul and I pray for peace and healing for you and your family.
Hi Nathan,
I am so sorry.
Our family lives in Price so if you need help coordinating a meal near the San RPhael let me know. Thanks for being so open and sharing this difficult experience.
Thank you for sharing this Nathan. We are so sorry for the pain you and your family have endured with the loss of Jason. Please know you are in our thoughts and prayers. That is what we can and will do for you. And we agree with you that he is enjoying some very special time with your granddad.
Randy & Kari Boothe
Freedom is now Nathan’s from any issues.💘
I never met your son but his story has touched many tonight. know that even strangers’ hearts will hold on to his memory.
peace, healing, and love all the way from Broadway.
xx
and Jesus said, “Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.”
how sweet the Savior’s warm embrace must feel to a boy who spent so much of his mortal life in suffering. may he rest in eternal love.
loss like a storm cloud that never really goes away– sometimes it lightens up a bit, other times, it begins to rain for days and days. it’s completely random. and miserable. and beautiful. and bittersweet.
but you will live on. as the world keeps spinning, as the sun and moon trade spots in the sky, as the birds chirp every morning, as new children are brought into this world and old souls return to our Father in heaven. your life will go on. and so will Jason’s memory.
thank you, jason, for being on this earth when you were. thank you for fighting. thank you for trying. thank you for living. your life was short, but not meaningless. i’ll make damn sure of that. rest in peace, bro.
I’m sorry for your heartache. Prayers for your whole family! I hope you find comfort and peace through this difficult trial.
I went to junior high with Jason but I never got to know him very well. At an age where everyone was only interested in conforming to fit in, he was never afraid to be himself. Now that I’m an adult I realize just how courageous and respectable that is. I’m sad to know that such a fun and creative person is gone.
Dear Shumate family… Michael and Mary and you younger children I knew from PEI.
Those early years, the threads of our intertwined Canvas are precious.
Nathan, your honesty in sharing deeply touches my heart. I trust in faith and prayers, may you all be comforted in this most difficult tine by the one and truly source of comfort.
I offer much love to all your family on behalf of the Blakeney family 🙏🏻❣️
I am so sorry for your family’s loss and for Jessica’s loss. He sounds like a brave kid who fought urges for a long time. I hate covid policies for doing this to your son. I hate covid policies for driving people to stop humans from gathering regularly, like they do in normal life, the way Nathan should have always been able to do with theater friends and groups, which humans desperately need! How dare humans remove the gatherings! How dare humans require “social distancing”? Never again should we allow this to happen! Never again!
I guess I just don’t see what Covid has to do with any of this. Jason was in torment and a pandemic didn’t cause him to suicide, the illness did. He bravely kept on as long as he could. His family is braver still in dealing with his death.
We’ve never met. I was friends with your son throughout middle school. I dropped out of highschool when I was 15 and we didn’t really talk after that. But after hearing of his suicide, I’m often finding myself thinking about him, and knowing myself and what struggles we all go through. I can’t help but wonder if things would have been different had we stayed friends. Maybe things changed as he got older, but when I remember him and our times together, I think things could have been different. I don’t know. Maybe it was too long ago and the darkness didn’t properly reveal itself until he got older. But maybe it was always there and my childish naivety blinded me to it. I just think about him sometimes, and wish we had stayed friends, especially knowing now what he was going through, and feeling much of the same feelings.
Regardless, I am sad, and I am sorry.
Hi Nathan. Your funny bad movie reviews helped me get through through a rough year in 2007 and I got your ebook at the time. I think Seven Lucky Ninja Kids was my first experience. I haven’t caught up with your work in about 5 years as I’ve been so busy. I searched out your site today cause I needed some of that funny movie mindset. I similar struggles in my own life and any prayers sent my way are appreciated. Other than that, I will always be on the lookout for any hilarious bad movie. Best wishes. Tom