Drowning Touches Reporter, Witnesses -- Similar Accidents Dreaded In Summer

As summer approaches, thousands of people will be using local beaches, most of them without incident. But on Friday, a young man lost his life. Times reporter Peyton Whitely found himself an arm's length away and was personally affected by the death. His account of the drowning follows. -------------------------------------

KIRKLAND - Lying in the bow of the patrol boat, the young man was wearing blue swimming trunks, with a small amulet around his neck, hung on a black cord.

He was dying.

It was 5 p.m. Friday, and rescuers were trying to save him as he lay in a King County Marine Patrol boat. At 5:31 p.m., he was pronounced dead at Evergreen Hospital.

As I watched them work, I didn't know his name. Later, I'd learn that he was Jeffrey Charles Luse, 21, a senior at Northwest College, and that his mother lived in Darrington.

As I watched, I wished everyone could see what I was seeing and, at the same time, wished no one would ever have to see what I was seeing.

Tragically, the scene probably will be repeated many times this summer; 26 people drowned in King County in 1993, the most recent year for which figures are available, and 88 drowned in the state that year. On Friday night at Green Lake, an 11-year-old girl nearly drowned and was reported in serious condition at Children's Hospital last night.

As a reporter, I've written probably hundreds of articles about death. Usually, they're reconstructions, done after the event.

Friday, Luse was dying about four feet away.

He'd gone underwater about 4:10 p.m. and was pulled out shortly before 5 p.m. at Waverly Beach Park, about a half-mile north of downtown Kirkland and directly across the street from my home.

Luse and a friend, 19, had gone to the beach, along with dozens of other swimmers. The beach will not be guarded until summer, and swimmers had been diving off the dock all afternoon, going out to two buoys set up to warn boats away.

Luse's friend reached one of the buoys, but Luse slipped out of sight.

What happened in that brief time Friday afternoon remains confusing. Some witnesses believe Luse called futilely for help as other swimmers thought he was playing a trick.

One person who tried to help was Johnny Curulla, who will begin work as a lifeguard at the park June 22, his second summer on the job.

Curulla said he'd been at the park enjoying the afternoon when he heard the screams and went into the water, but couldn't find Luse, and later got into a boat to try to guide rescuers.

Help also was offered by Bruce Johnson of Kirkland, who'd been water-skiing with friends off the park. Johnson said he also dove after Luse, going down about 15 feet.

"He was 3 feet from me, and he was dropping like a rock," said Johnson, whose boat picked up Luse's friend.

Johnson said couldn't tell how long Luse had been calling for help before he arrived in his boat.

Police and fire units were the first to arrive, but lacked diving equipment. The King County Marine Patrol boat was called. Divers were summoned, and arrived at 4:47 p.m. Once the divers were in the water, estimated at 70 feet deep, Luse was found in about five minutes.

The boat returned to the dock. Rescuers worked for about 15 minutes, shouting their progress.

The fragility of life was so clear. I'll never forget Luse's face, or the scene of his chest rising and falling as CPR was administered.

At 5:09 p.m., officially in critical condition, he was wheeled off the dock. About 20 minutes later, he was dead.

At the end of the dock, his friend was hugged by a blond-haired woman who tried to console him. She'd been in a nearby boat.

People began leaving the dock.

But Curulla stayed, staring into the water. Next to him were two girls, both crying.

For anyone at the park that afternoon, memories and questions about the death probably will remain for a lifetime. At the least, the tragedy might serve as a reminder at the start of summer of how critical it is to be careful around the water.

I thought how, if people had seen what I'd seen Friday, I might never have to write another article like this. How I wish that were true.