Why are people still selling suicide drugs to young people online?
As part of National Suicide Prevention Week, Charlotte Lytton talks to David Parfett about the death of his son Tom in 2021, from poison bought from a Canadian website
Today, instead of celebrating his eldest son’s 24th birthday, David Parfett will visit the crematorium in Amersham where Tom has been laid to rest. It has become something of a tradition in the two years since he bought a fatal dose of poison online from a website with alleged links to Kenneth Law, a former chef at a five-star hotel in Toronto turned suspected purveyor of lethal drugs, which are believed to have assisted the promising philosophy student’s bid to end his life.
Tom’s is one of 88 UK deaths that a National Crime Agency (NCA) investigation last month linked to Law, who is now in custody in his native Canada, charged with 14 counts of counselling and aiding suicide. His suspected Canadian victims were, like Tom, aged between 16 and 36; vulnerable young people who turned to the internet in their lowest moments and, instead of finding help, were given the tools to make an irreversible decision, according to police. “It’s a complete waste,” Parfett says. “It is immoral for people of that age to be dragged into that kind of world.”
Law is believed to have sold more than 1,200 packages of poison (which we are not naming on ethical grounds) to people in 40 countries. These include the US, New Zealand, Austria and Italy, all of which are carrying out their own investigations. The NCA’s decision to investigate him has come following confirmation that the Canadian authorities will not include any overseas evidence in their prosecutions. The move is in some ways a success, Parfett believes. But while he considers it “really, really positive that, finally, we’re going to get the investigative resources on this that had been lacking over the last couple of years”, there is “also a lot of sadness… I think there were definitely missed opportunities to investigate sooner, which may have prevented some of those deaths”.
Fifty seven-year-old Law, whose representatives have been contacted by The Independent, was the subject of an investigation earlier this year by The Times, during which he allegedly told one undercover reporter posing as a suicidal buyer that he was doing “God’s work”. While his motivation early on had suggested that he supported people’s right to choose how they die – assuring customers he had been spurred on by the slow decline of his mother (claims about whom could not be verified) – avarice is now believed to have been the main driver, with Law suspected of preying on the darkest times of others to make a living. When challenged outside the Toronto post office from which he was delivering an armful of packages, Law, who later declared bankruptcy, said: “I’m not assisting anything, I’m selling a product.” But Parfett disagrees, describing such websites as a “loaded gun” for people like Tom, whose life he says was valued on par with a deadly dose of poison, “at around £40”.
Dangerous chemicals for sale circulate with relative ease online, creating a deeply dangerous issue with global reach. “This is a massive problem,” says Parfett, a data director for a theatre. “You’ve effectively got unregulated euthanasia that’s going on in plain sight,” orchestrated by “people who encourage people to take their own lives and then provide them with a suicide kit”.
This time two years ago, Tom had just restarted his second year at St Andrew’s University – something his family had taken as a hopeful sign that his mental health was on the up. His struggles up to then had become apparent gradually, his father reflects, with Tom, who had autism, dropping out of university to seek help between his (divorced) parents’ homes in London and Maidenhead, Surrey. He was prescribed antidepressants, which, combined with the time out and a genuine passion for his studies, left him “really looking forward to [going back]. He didn’t seem to have any concerns.” When Tom did return, though, “that quickly changed, because he just found it very difficult to focus”. In the weeks leading up to his death, Tom had been talking openly about his mental health to his family, and discussing his suicidal ideation with his university. But on his 22nd birthday in September 2021, he was sectioned, and “he was really frightened by it”, Parfett, 55, recalls.
You question what you could have done better; how could you have supported him?
The groundwork, he knows now, had already been laid. Indeed, it was only in following Tom’s online footprints in the aftermath of his death that Parfett became aware of the numbers of people sharing how low they were feeling – and how to act on it – with strangers: “I had no idea that forums like this existed,” he says. “In fact, I was probably quite naive; I thought, of course you wouldn’t be able to find internet resources that would help you understand how to kill yourself.” But not only do they exist, they are “staffed by people who are encouraging others to die; who seem to take pleasure from encouraging others to die… we’d never accept something like that happening on our high street, but because it’s happening on the internet, we seem powerless to actually do anything about it.”
He points to Neha Raju, 23, who allegedly ordered poison from Law online. Neha was found dead in her Guildford home a few months after Tom – but Parfett believes that Surrey Police “didn’t connect the dots and see, actually, there was a pattern”. (Craig Turner, deputy director of the National Crime Agency, said: “Our deepest sympathies are with the loved ones of those who have died. They are being supported by specially trained officers from police forces.”)
Institutional failures of this kind abound, says Parfett, who believes that “inevitably, there’s going to be more” than the 120 deaths currently being linked to Law. “I’m just astonished that we as a society know this is happening, yet don’t do anything about it.” Assisting suicide is punishable by up to 14 years in prison in the UK and Canada, meaning that if convicted of multiple counts, Law could spend the rest of his life behind bars.
Parfett is “pleased he’s being prosecuted. I hope that he is jailed.” But his bigger focus is on pushing police to invest resources into the prevention of dangerous websites, and arresting and charging those who see selling toxic chemicals as a side hustle. The often mentioned (but yet to be enacted) Online Safety Bill is not the panacea parliamentarians insist that it is, Parfett says, with its limited scope only further highlighting that “our regulatory framework is just not fit for purpose”.
This dragging of feet does little to help already devastated families to heal from their loss. Parfett mulls the difficulty of even articulating his status now; if you lose your wife, he notes, you’re a widower, “but somebody who loses their child – there’s no way of describing it.” He is reminded every day by the gap that has been left; heightened by his younger son welcoming a little boy 11 months ago, to whom Tom would have “loved” becoming an uncle, and the new spaniel that his dog-obsessed eldest would have adored, too. That he is missing these moments, his birthday, and the opportunity to finish his studies and make his place in the world remains a “huge sadness”, Parfett says. “He had his whole life in front of him.”
Along with his anger about Tom being failed by regulations that should have protected him, he admits that his anguish has at times turned inwards; he has asked himself whether, had he done something differently, his son would still be here. “It’s something that’s with us every day. You do question what you could have done better; how could you have supported him? How could you have prevented this happening?”
There were so many opportunities for intervention, Parfett says. But the ease with which his son was able to find toxic substances online put paid to any chances of those. “I’m 100 per cent certain that if people like Law weren’t around, Tom would still be with us.”
If you are experiencing feelings of distress, or are struggling to cope, you can speak to the Samaritans, in confidence, on 116 123 (UK and ROI), email jo@samaritans.org, or visit the Samaritans website to find details of your nearest branch. If you are based in the USA, and you or someone you know needs mental health assistance right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Helpline on 1-800-273-TALK (8255). This is a free, confidential crisis hotline that is available to everyone 24 hours a day, seven days a week. If you are in another country, you can go to www.befrienders.org to find a helpline near you.