Teens see grim result of reckless behavior

It's 36 degrees in the cooler. Body bags on gurneys line the walls. Purple feet -- discolored by deoxygenated blood -- jut out of the ends of the bags.

It's 8:30 p.m. on March 1, and the Clark County C oroner's O ffice has received two bodies tonight so far. The daily average is 30.

Seven living, breathing teens enter the cooler, too. The smell of decomposing flesh hits them.

"I feel dizzy," a young man says. He blinks excessively and leans against the wall . On the brink of fainting, he is removed from the room.

The remaining six tread on.

They are in the Coroner's Visitation Program, which they were court-ordered to attend because of underage drinking, speeding and other violations.

"The judge sent you here not to scare you," says program co-coordinator Ron Moracco, "but to educate you."

The program, which started in 2002, is designed to deter violent and reckless behavior of at-risk youths by exposing them to the consequences of such actions.

Moracco and co-coordinator Roy Chandler begin the program at 6 p.m. and take turns speaking to the group about the morgue and what it does.

They are in what's called the "why and how room." Doctors meet there each morning to go over the previous night's log of bodies to determine the cause and manner of death.

Nearly 11,000 bodies went through the building last year, and 327 of them were of youths under 18.

In the front of the room are large photos of teens who came to the morgue through the back door.

Chandler and Moracco recount the stories behind the photos. Families of those victims have given their consent.

Among them is 16-year-old Shadow Ridge High School junior Adasha, who died in 2004 while car surfing in the school's parking lot. She fell off the roof of the vehicle, struck her head on the pavement and was pronounced dead at the hospital.

There's 19-year-old Basic High School graduate Nick, who crashed his car while drag racing. He exited through the windshield at 138 mph and broke every bone in his body.

Then there's 18-year-old Mojave High School senior Christina, who was sitting in the passenger seat of her friend's Chevrolet truck. He was doing doughnuts in the desert and the truck flipped. Christina, not wearing her seat belt, came out of her seat and her head moved out the open window. The roof of the vehicle pinned her head against the ground.

Uncensored photos of the accidents and victims are shown on the large projection screen.

They see Nick's body smeared on the ground like a deflated balloon.

They see Christina's brain matter and the top of her skull in the dirt next to the truck.

"The class is about consequences," said Chandler , "not what will happen but what can happen."

At one point a 9-1-1 recording is played. A woman pleads for help moments before her husband, who is inebriated, stabs her to death.

The recording stands out to 19-year-old College of Southern Nevada nursing student Ryan Del Rosario.

"I've been around people who do crazy stuff under the influence," he said . "It was kind of a wake-up call. It shows you the consequences of drug abuse, alcohol abuse and driving without seat belts."

A grant from the Department of Public Safety's Office of Traffic Safety makes it possible to take the program to local high schools. Since October, a condensed version has been shown at more than 20 high schools to more than 3,000 students.

T he group puts on aprons, gloves, masks, caps and shoe covers. They see the receiving room where bodies are brought in and the white board where information is posted.

The seven are led into a cooler and six into a second cooler where John and Jane Does from the 1970s and '80s are being kept for DNA analysis.

Chandler opens a brown paper bag and pulls out a skull from 1970 that they are in the process of analyzing.

Next, students enter the autopsy room and learn the process, organ by organ, on a mannequin.

Then they enter a hallway where they remove their protective gear. Then it's back to the why and how room, where each receives a certificate of completion to present to the judge, and they are released.

The experience isn't lost on any of them.

"That smell is the smell of death," Chandler says. "It'll stay on your clothes for about an hour."

Contact View education reporter Jeff Mosier at jmosier@viewnews.com or 224-5524.