The kind of loss suffered by Sue and Kelly McCarthy is something every parent shudders to think about.
This past fall, they buried their child.
Thirteen-year-old Kyle McCarthy’s death Oct. 10 was tragic and senseless. Police say he used a cloth rope in the basement of his Harrison home to make himself unconscious in what’s known as the “choking game.” Kyle’s father found him about 15 minutes later and resuscitated him. But the boy never regained consciousness and died the next day.
This often hidden and misunderstood behavior by young teens has dealt similar blows to families across the country.
In their anguish, the McCarthys – including Kyle’s brother Don and sister Meg – relatives and family friends are determined to take action. They hope to convey the wrenching grief loved ones are left to endure as a consequence of this deadly game. And they want to warn other young people and their families and the community as a whole that the risks are real.
“Kyle was a good boy,” Sue McCarthy says of her son’s shy, sensitive and gentle nature. “He was just doing something he didn’t know was wrong.”
Kids in Kyle’s age group don’t realize how deadly it is, McCarthy says. “If they could witness what we went through, they’d never do it.”
TAKEN BY SURPRISE
The McCarthys have no answers as to why Kyle took such a deadly risk or how often he may have done so.
“He was just a little boy,” Sue says. “He got wrong advice from some kids and was too trusting, I think.”
Local police say they were aware of the behavior, also commonly called “the pass-out game,” among middle and high school students. Although national statistics are scarce, a growing number of Web sites set up by grieving families attest to the choking game’s presence nationwide. Teens and pre-teens seem to be the most common victims, and sometimes victims mistakenly are thought to have committed suicide.
The McCarthys say kids sometimes play the game because of peer pressure or because they think it’s fun. The couple wonders if their son was upset the day he tried it alone. A notice had been sent home about him misbehaving on the bus, and he says he was trying to get his belongings back from students who took them.
“I wish I knew what was going through his mind,” Sue McCarthy says.
Don and Meg McCarthy say they were shocked to learn Kyle had played the game, and then to learn from his friends that they had, too.
“I’ve had kids come up to me and say they’ve been doing it,” says Don, 16, a sophomore at East High School. “I had no idea about the game. Kids said it (Kyle’s death) made them think about it and changed their minds.”
Meg, 17, a junior at East, says kids have told her they have done it, and others have been asked by their friends to do it with them.
“In history (class), we once had a short discussion that there was a choking game going on,” Meg says, “but I didn’t pay much attention. ... I didn’t think you could die.”
GETTING THE WORD OUT
The McCarthys are determined to get people’s attention.
“We hope the word gets out not to just families in Appleton schools, but all schools,” Kelly says. “Most people we’ve run into never heard of it.”
“We’ve had tons of people come up to us to say, ‘Thanks for coming forward,’” Sue says.
The family’s purpose in telling their story is to keep parents and young people talking about the “choking game” until it stops.
The McCarthys’ nephew, Aaron Nack, friends and the school district have stepped up to help. Nack hopes to produce educational videos for children and parents, and he has created a “Stop the Choking Game Association” to bring the issue national attention.
Nack says he and other family members feel compelled to do something to fix the immediate problem and “make sure nothing more happens locally, and then expand nationally to put a stop to the game.”
“It’s so critical,” he says. “This is different than smoking or drugs. You only have to try this once.”
COPING WITHOUT KYLE
The McCarthys know life goes on, but it is painful without their “special little guy” in the thick of it, flashing his warm and lively smile, wrestling on the floor with Don, begging his big sister to drive him somewhere, lying with them in sleeping bags in the driveway gazing up at the stars and making noise with his video games and chatter.
“What’s so hard for us is sitting at the dinner table with four not five now,” Sue says.
“It’s so quiet,” Meg says. “We hardly talk now. Kyle was the talker.”
The McCarthys find comfort in spreading awareness. And they know that Kyle, who wanted to become a police officer, would agree with their mission even though he would shy away from the attention.
Says Kelly McCarthy, “I think he’d be proud that we’re trying to do this in his memory — trying to save other kids.”
Kathy Walsh Nufer is a reporter for The Post-Crescent in Appleton
