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The company, Southern Nevada Donor Services, offered grieving families a way to eliminate expensive funeral costs: free cremation in exchange for donating a loved one’s body to “advance medical studies.”
Outside Southern Nevada’s suburban warehouse, the circumstances were far from comforting. In the fall of 2015, neighboring tenants began complaining about a mysterious stench and bloody boxes in a Dumpster. That December, local health records show, someone contacted authorities to report odd activity in the courtyard.
Health inspectors found a man in medical scrubs holding a garden hose. He was thawing a frozen human torso in the midday sun.
As the man sprayed the remains, “bits of tissue and blood were washed into the gutters,” a state health report said. The stream weaved past storefronts and pooled across the street near a technical school.
Southern Nevada, the inspectors learned, was a so-called body broker, a company that acquires dead bodies, dissects them and sells the parts for profit to medical researchers, training organizations and other buyers. The torso on the gurney was being prepared for just such a sale.
Each year, thousands of Americans donate their bodies in the belief they are contributing to science. In fact, many are also unwittingly contributing to commerce, their bodies traded as raw material in a largely unregulated national market.
Body brokers are also known as non-transplant tissue banks. They are distinct from the organ and tissue transplant industry, which the U.S. government closely regulates. Selling hearts, kidneys and tendons for transplant is illegal. But no federal law governs the sale of cadavers or body parts for use in research or education. Few state laws provide any oversight whatsoever, and almost anyone, regardless of expertise, can dissect and sell human body parts.
“The current state of affairs is a free-for-all,” said Angela McArthur, who directs the body donation program at the University of Minnesota Medical School and formerly chaired her state’s anatomical donation commission. “We are seeing similar problems to what we saw with grave-robbers centuries ago,” she said, referring to the 19th-century practice of obtaining cadavers in ways that violated the dignity of the dead.
“I don’t know if I can state this strongly enough,” McArthur said. “What they are doing is profiting from the sale of humans.”
The industry’s business model hinges on access to a large supply of free bodies, which often come from the poor. In return for a body, brokers typically cremate a portion of the donor at no charge. By offering free cremation, some deathcare industry veterans say, brokers appeal to low-income families at their most vulnerable. Many have drained their savings paying for a loved one’s medical treatment and can’t afford a traditional funeral.
“People who have financial means get the chance to have the moral, ethical and spiritual debates about which method to choose,” said Dawn Vander Kolk, an Illinois hospice social worker. “But if they don’t have money, they may end up with the option of last resort: body donation.”
Few rules mean few consequences when bodies are
mistreated. In the Southern Nevada case, officials found they could do
little more than issue a minor pollution citation to one of the workers
involved. Southern Nevada operator Joe Collazo, who wasn’t cited, said
he regretted the incident. He said the industry would benefit from
oversight that offers peace of mind to donors, brokers and researchers.
“BIG MARKET FOR DEAD BODIES”
Donated
bodies play an essential role in medical education, training and
research. Cadavers and body parts are used to train medical students,
doctors, nurses and dentists. Surgeons say no mannequin or computer
simulation can replicate the tactile response and emotional experience
of practicing on human body parts. Paramedics, for example, use human
heads and torsos to learn how to insert breathing tubes.
Researchers
rely on donated human body parts to develop new surgical instruments,
techniques and implants; and to develop new medicines and treatments for
diseases.
“The need for human bodies is
absolutely vital,” said Chicago doctor Armand Krikorian, past president
of the American Federation for Medical Research. He cited a recent
potential cure for Type 1 diabetes developed by studying pancreases from
body donors. “It’s a kind of treatment that would have never come to
light if we did not have whole-body donation.”
Despite
the industry’s critically important role in medicine, no national
registry of body brokers exists. Many can operate in near anonymity,
quietly making deals to obtain cadavers and sell the parts.
“There
is a big market for dead bodies,” said Ray Madoff, a Boston College Law
School professor who studies how U.S. laws treat the dead. “We know
very little about who is acquiring these bodies and what they are doing
with them.”
In most states, anyone can legally
purchase body parts. As an upcoming story will detail, a Tennessee
broker sold Reuters a cervical spine and two human heads after just a
few email exchanges.
Through interviews and
public records, Reuters identified Southern Nevada and 33 other body
brokers active across America during the past five years. Twenty-five of
the 34 body brokers were for-profit corporations; the rest were
nonprofits. In three years alone, one for-profit broker earned at least
$12.5 million stemming from the body part business, an upcoming Reuters
report will show.
Because only four states
closely track donations and sales, the breadth of the market for body
parts remains unknown. But data obtained under public record laws from
those states – New York, Virginia, Oklahoma and Florida – provide a
snapshot. Reuters calculated that from 2011 through 2015, private
brokers received at least 50,000 bodies and distributed more than
182,000 body parts.
Permits from Florida and
Virginia offer a glimpse of how some of those parts were used: A 2013
shipment to a Florida orthopedic training seminar included 27 shoulders.
A 2015 shipment to a session on carpal tunnel syndrome in Virginia
included five arms.
As with other commodities,
prices for bodies and body parts fluctuate with market conditions.
Generally, a broker can sell a donated human body for about $3,000 to
$5,000, though prices sometime top $10,000. But a broker will typically
divide a cadaver into six parts to meet customer needs. Internal
documents from seven brokers show a range of prices for body parts:
$3,575 for a torso with legs; $500 for a head; $350 for a foot; $300 for
a spine.
Body brokers also have become
intertwined with the American funeral industry. Reuters identified 62
funeral operators that have struck mutually beneficial business
arrangements with brokers. The funeral homes provide brokers access to
potential donors. In return, the brokers pay morticians referral fees,
ranging from $300 to $1,430, according to broker ledgers and court
records.
These payments generate income for
morticians from families who might not be able to otherwise afford even
simple cremation. But such relationships raise potential conflicts of
interest by creating an incentive for funeral homes to encourage
grieving relatives to consider body donation, sometimes without fully
understanding what might happen to the remains.
“Some
funeral home directors are saying, ‘Cremation isn’t paying the bills
anymore, so let me see if I can help people harvest body parts,’” said
Steve Palmer, an Arizona mortician who serves on the National Funeral
Directors Association’s policy board. “I just think families who donate
loved ones would have second thoughts if they knew that.”
Some
morticians have made body donation part of their own businesses. In
Oklahoma, two funeral home owners invested $650,000 in a startup body
broker firm. In Colorado, a family operating a funeral home ran a
company that dissected and distributed body parts from the same
building.
When a body is donated, few states
provide rules governing dismemberment or use, or offer any rights to a
donor’s next of kin. Bodies and parts can be bought, sold and leased,
again and again. As a result, it can be difficult to track what becomes
of the bodies of donors, let alone ensure that they are handled with
dignity.
In 2004, a federal health panel
unsuccessfully called on the U.S. government to regulate the industry.
Since then, more than 2,357 body parts obtained by brokers from at least
1,638 people have been misused, abused or desecrated across America,
Reuters found.
The count, based on a review of
court, police, bankruptcy and internal broker records, is almost
certainly understated, given the lack of oversight. It includes
instances in which bodies were used without donor or next-of-kin
consent; donors were misled about how bodies would be used; bodies were
dismembered by chainsaws instead of medical instruments; body parts were
stored in such unsanitary conditions that they decomposed; or bodies
were discarded in medical waste incinerators instead of being properly
cremated.
Most
also insist they don’t “sell” body parts but instead only charge “fees”
for services. Such characterizations, however, are contradicted by
other documents Reuters reviewed, including court filings in which
brokers clearly attach monetary value to donated remains.
A
lien filed by one body broker against another cited as collateral “all
tissue inventory owned by or in the possession of debtor.” In bankruptcy
filings, brokers have claimed body parts as assets. One debtor included
as property not only cabinets, desks and computers, but also spines,
heads and other body parts. The bankrupt broker valued the human remains
at $160,900.
“There are no real rules,” said
Thomas Champney, a University of Miami anatomy professor who teaches
bioethics. “This is the ultimate gift people have given, and we really
need to respect that.”
Last December, Reuters
reported that more than 20 bodies donated to an Arizona broker were used
in U.S. Army blast experiments – without the consent of the deceased or
next of kin. Some donors or their families had explicitly noted an
objection to military experiments on consent forms. Family members
learned of the 2012 and 2013 experiments not from the Army but from a
Reuters reporter who obtained records about what happened.
In
another case, Detroit body broker Arthur Rathburn is scheduled to stand
trial in January for fraud, accused of supplying unsuspecting doctors
with body parts infected with hepatitis and HIV for use in training
seminars. U.S. officials cited the case as an example of their
commitment to protect the public. But Reuters found that, despite
warning signs, state and federal officials failed to rein in Rathburn
for more than a decade, allowing him to continue to acquire hundreds of
body parts and rent them out for profit. He has pleaded not guilty.
Given
the number of body brokers that currently operate in America, academics
and others familiar with the industry say regular inspections of
facilities and reviews of donor consent forms wouldn’t place a big
burden on government.
“This isn’t reinventing
the wheel,” said Christina Strong, a New Jersey lawyer who co-wrote a
set of standards that most states largely adopted for the organ
transplant industry. “It would not be a stretch to envision a uniform
state law which requires that those who recover, distribute and use
human bodies adhere to uniform standards of transparency, traceability
and authorization.”
“RAW MATERIALS FOR FREE”
Body
brokers range in size from small, family-operated endeavors to national
firms with offices in several states. Brokers also vary in expertise.
Garland
Shreves, who founded Phoenix broker Research for Life in 2009, said he
invested more than $2 million in quality-control procedures and medical
equipment, including $265,000 on an X-ray machine to scan cadavers for
surgical implants.
But other brokers have
launched their businesses for less than $100,000, internal corporate
records and interviews show. Often, the largest capital expenses are a
cargo van and a set of freezers. Some brokers have saved money by using
chainsaws to carve up the dead instead of more expensive surgical saws.
“You have people who want to do it in a pretty half-assed way,” Shreves said. “I have really grown to dislike the business.”
Brokers
can also reduce expenses by forgoing the meticulous quality control
procedures and sophisticated training called for by a national
accreditation organization, the American Association of Tissue Banks.
In
Honolulu, police were called twice to storage facilities leased by body
broker Bryan Avery in 2011 and 2012. Each time, they found decomposing
human remains. Both times, police concluded that Avery committed no
crimes because no state law applied.
Steven
Labrash, who directs University of Hawaii’s body donation program, said
the Avery case illustrates the need for laws to protect donors.
Avery
defended how he ran his business and said the incidents were the result
of misunderstandings. He said he is now raising capital for a new
company, Hawaii BioSkills, which he said will use body parts to train
surgeons.
“I’m all for oversight, and companies
that are doing this need to be transparent,” Avery said. “As long as it
doesn’t infringe upon the flow of business, that’s fine.”
Walt
Mitchell, a Phoenix businessman involved in the startup of three
brokers, said one reason the industry attracts entrepreneurs is that
businesses can profit handsomely from selling a donated product.
“If you can’t make a business when you’re getting raw materials for free,” Mitchell said, “you’re dumb as a box of rocks.”
“THE LAST SELFLESS THING”
Harold
Dillard worked with his brother resurfacing bathtubs and kitchen
countertops in Albuquerque, New Mexico. He was diagnosed with terminal
cancer the day after Thanksgiving in 2009.
“He
was 56 years young, active, healthy, had a great life, and one night –
bam!” said his daughter, Farrah Fasold. “He wanted to do the last
selfless thing he could do before he died, and so he donated his body.”
As
her father lay dying, Fasold said, employees from Albuquerque broker
Bio Care visited father and daughter, and made a heartfelt pitch: The
generous gift of his body to science would benefit medical students,
doctors and researchers. Fasold said Bio Care cited several sample
possibilities, including that her father’s body might be used to train
surgeons on knee replacement techniques.
Fasold’s
view of Bio Care soon changed. It took weeks longer than promised to
receive what she was told were her father’s cremated remains. Once she
received them, she suspected they were not his ashes because they looked
like sand. She was correct.
In April 2010,
Fasold was told by authorities that her father’s head was among body
parts discovered at a medical incinerator. She also learned – for the
first time, she said – that Bio Care was in the business of selling body
parts.
“I was completely hysterical,” she
said. “We would have never have signed up if they had ever said anything
about selling body parts – no way. That’s not what my dad wanted at
all.”
Inside Bio Care’s warehouse, authorities said they found at least 127 body parts belonging to 45 people.
“All
of the bodies appeared to have been dismembered by a coarse cutting
instrument, such as a chainsaw,” a police detective wrote in an
affidavit.
Bio Care owner Paul Montano was
charged with fraud. According to the police affidavit, Montano denied
abusing bodies and told detectives that he ran Bio Care with “five
volunteer employees,” including his father. He did not respond to
requests for comment.
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Special Report: In the market for human bodies, almost anyone can sell the dead