Case 296: Aaron Bacon
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At around 6am on Tuesday March 1 1994, 16-year-old Aaron Bacon lay sleeping in his bed in the home where he lived with his parents in Phoenix, Arizona. The quiet of the early morning hour was broken by a high-pitched noise outside Aaron's closed bedroom door. One of the family's three pet Sharpeys was whining. The sound woke Aaron, and soon he heard their other two dogs start to growl and bark as well.

Aaron's bedroom door suddenly swung open and three men walked in. Two of them were strangers who Aaron had never seen before. The third was his father. As Aaron lay confused and stunned in bed, his father said, "Aaron, I love you. But we're going to have to make some changes today."

Sally and Bob Bacon had been worried about their youngest son for some time. Aaron had always been a bright, talented, and exceptionally empathetic child. When he was little, his mother had discovered that he was making peanut butter sandwiches and leaving them out for unhoused people who lived in the same historic district of Phoenix that they called home. He stood up for kids at school who were being bullied, and he was passionate about music and writing poetry.

But things had slowly started to change when Aaron was in the eighth grade. The problems began when his brother Jared, three years older than Aaron and the only other child of Sally and Bob Bacon, began experimenting with recreational drugs. Aaron was unhappy about this. His father Bob was a recovering alcoholic.

By 1994, he had been sober for eight and a half years and was doing well, with a thriving career as an architect and a designer. Bob had always been very upfront with his sons about this, teaching them about the dangers of addiction. Yet, when Jared started using drugs, neither Bob nor Sally confronted him about it, which upset Aaron.

Jared eventually asked his mother for help and his parents sent them to a respected rehab facility in Minnesota. The experience didn't seem to change Jared's behavior and he continued to smoke cannabis after leaving the facility. He eventually stopped using drugs on his own a few years later. But six months after Jared had entered rehab, Aaron began to experiment for himself. He started smoking cannabis and taking psychedelics.

Aaron had always been a top student, but his grades began to drop. He campaigned to be allowed to change schools, leaving the exclusive private school he attended for a public one called Central High. Aaron told his parents he felt stifled by his current school and wanted to study somewhere with a more diverse student body. His girlfriend also attended Central High, adding to its appeal.

Sally and Bob had agreed but were disappointed when the switch didn't seem to make Aaron any happier or more settled. In fact, his behaviour grew worse. He would take the family car out at night without permission, getting into minor scrapes and later denying it when his parents noticed the damage. Aaron was increasingly withdrawn and irritable, no longer confiding in his mother as he once had.

The final straw came in February of 1994 when Aaron was attacked by members of a street gang in his school parking lot. Witnesses to the assault said that it didn't appear to be a random incident. It looked like the gang members knew Aaron. They had called him "Rabbit", a nickname that suggested familiarity. Sally and Bob wondered if Aaron was in fact an associate of the gang.

He was now smoking pot regularly. What if the attack had been drug-related? Concerned that their youngest son might have escalated from taking drugs to selling them, Sally and Bob knew they had to do something as soon as possible. They pulled Aaron out of school and considered their options. They were already in family therapy, which they'd started after Aaron started stealing their car.

Sally and Bob did not want to send Aaron to a rehab facility as they had with their oldest son. Sally had realized that the reason the facility hadn't helped Jared was likely because he didn't have an actual addiction. The same was true for Aaron. He just needed some guidance to set him on a better course. Then Sally remembered something she'd heard about from a friend.

Her friend had told her about a wilderness therapy camp designed especially for troubled teens, located in the southern region of Utah. Sally's friend knew a couple who had sent their rebellious son there and he'd reportedly emerged with a wonderful new attitude. The program was called North Star Expeditions. North Star had been founded four years earlier by a former military policeman named Lance Jagger.

It was one of many such camps that had sprung up in Utah and other western United States during the 1980s and 90s. In fact, it was estimated that there were roughly 115 organizations that offered wilderness programs designed to assist so-called troubled youths across the entire country.

Away from televisions, computer games, and friends deemed to be a bad influence, teenagers who attended these programs could reconnect with the natural world via long, difficult hikes and sleeping outside. They were taught outdoor survival skills such as starting a fire with no matches as a way to improve their discipline and self-esteem. Sally and Bob Bacon were intrigued by the idea of wilderness therapy.

They called North Star Expeditions and asked for a brochure. North Star's base camp was located in the small Utah town of Escalante, which in 1994 was home to less than a thousand people. Situated in the south central part of the state on the scenic Utah byway, it was also home to stunning natural scenery. Red rock canyons and sprawling deserts surrounded the town.

There were four phases to North Star's 63-day program. A-Team was the first phase, an orientation portion for new arrivals. Then they graduated to Primitive, where they were transported out to the Escalante River Basin and provided with backpacks, sleeping bags, and clothing. This phase began with a 48-hour fast, after which attendees were given a week's worth of food supplies.

They had to cook their food themselves and it mostly consisted of rice, lentils, oatmeal, as well as some vegetables and proteins. Next came the hand-cart phase, where teens would learn to work together as a team. The final phase was llamas, which taught care for animals and prepared the youths for their return home.

After reading about the company and its many success stories, the Bacons spoke with North Star representatives over the phone. They were told that the campers hiked for around 8-10 hours a day, then sat by a campfire at night, writing in their journals and chatting about their issues with trained experts. Sally Bacon thought this sounded perfect for Aaron.

He was a thoughtful, introspective boy who was content being alone and loved to write. Sally could picture him sitting by a fire, scribbling away and having plenty of time for reflection while surrounded by stunning scenery. It almost sounded like it would be a vacation for him. The Bakens were given a list of names of parents whom they could call to ask about their own children's experiences at the camp.

Sally also ran the idea by their family therapist. Every person Sally spoke with was in favour of Aaron attending North Star. Convinced that North Star sounded like the right fit for Aaron, Sally and Bob decided to proceed. It wasn't going to be cheap. The program cost $13,900 and also charged for interstate transportation, as Aaron would be travelling over from Arizona.

Northstar also said that for an extra $775, one of the organisation's owners, Lance Jagger, would fly to Phoenix and personally escort Aaron to the camp. They recommended this approach over parents bringing their child to Northstar, as it would set the new tone for the troubled teen from the get-go and prevent unpleasant family fights.

Sally and Bob agreed and took out a second mortgage on their home to fund the costs. The day before Aaron was due to be taken to Utah, the couple met with Lance Jagger and his wife Barbara at a hotel in Phoenix. The four had a long meeting to discuss the finer details of the plan. Sally also wanted to voice some final concerns.

Aaron was tall at just under 6 feet and thin, weighing 131 pounds, or roughly 59 kilograms. Sally was worried that the program, which saw teenagers receive fairly basic food, might lead to him shedding weight he couldn't afford to lose. Barbara reassured Sally that they would never let any of their campers lose weight. Sally wanted to know what the protocol was when a teenager made a complaint.

What if, for example, a camper reported that they had been sexually abused by one of the camp leaders? How would North Star handle that? Lance and Barbara explained that if a child made a complaint, someone from the North Star office would be immediately dispatched to the location where the teens were camping to investigate the matter. But the Bakens wouldn't need to worry, because Aaron would be well cared for.

His days would be spent in some of the most beautiful locations in the western United States and there would be therapists on hand for him to talk through his issues with. Bob warned that Aaron wasn't the type of person who responded well to threats or intimidation tactics. A hostile approach wouldn't work on him. Lance told Bob not to worry, stating: "I have a special gift for working with kids. They really open up to me.

Early the next morning, Lance Jagger and a colleague arrived at the Bacon residence to collect Aaron. Sally and Bob had mentioned North Star as a possibility to Aaron, but the unannounced and somewhat aggressive collection process totally shocked him. As Aaron still lay in bed, his father explained that the other two men in his room were there to help and he wanted Aaron to go with them.

Aaron started to get up when one of the two men reached out and roughly grabbed his arm. He was large and weighed almost twice as much as the scrawny 16-year-old. Aaron tried to slip out of his grasp, prompting the man to take hold of Aaron's shoulders and push him back down on the bed. "'You're coming with me,' he said. "'If I detect any resistance, I'll assume you are trying to get away and I'll take the appropriate action.' "'Do I make myself clear?'

When Aaron was escorted from his bedroom, flanked by Lance and his co-worker, Sally could see how scared he looked. She moved to hug him goodbye, but Lance didn't allow Aaron to hug his mother back. Sally kissed Aaron on the cheek and said "I love you." Aaron was silent. After he left the home, driven away to the airport by his handlers, Bob began to cry.

Sally and Bob weren't allowed to talk to Aaron while he was at North Star. They were permitted to call the head office once a week for a report on Aaron's progress. Sally typically called and would speak to either Barbara Jagger or another staff member named Darryl Bartholomew. They always told her things were fine, though Aaron was rebelling somewhat.

Barbara said he'd tried to manipulate her, while Darrell described him as belligerent and a whiner who was refusing to carry his pack on hikes. The other kids in the program didn't like him. These descriptions didn't sound like Aaron as far as Sally was concerned, but she rationalised it by telling herself the program coordinators were likely jaded from their experience working with teenagers who really were manipulative.

Several weeks passed. One day, Sally received a call from North Star asking her a question. Was it true she had a rare form of epilepsy that could sometimes cause loss of bowel control? Sally affirmed that this was true and asked why they wanted to know. The staff member told her that Aaron had soiled himself and told his camp counsellors about his mother's condition.

He said he was worried that he might have inherited it. This alarmed Sally. She told the staff member that had never happened before and Aaron had shown no signs of having epilepsy. She couldn't understand why he would soil himself, which was something that hadn't happened since he was an infant. The staff member reassured her that nothing was really wrong with Aaron. Teenagers in the program pulled stunts like that all the time.

Sometimes, if they were hiking and not permitted to stop to go to the bathroom, they would soil themselves to make a statement. Sally was confused. She asked why they wouldn't just be allowed to use the bathroom in the first place, but was merely told it wasn't always possible if they were trekking up a hill. On the evening of Wednesday March 30, Sally called North Star for another progress update.

Aaron was nearing the end of one month at the camp. Unfortunately, the news wasn't positive. Darryl Bartholomew told Sally that Aaron wasn't cooperating with them and was trying to obtain other kids' food, despite having his own to eat. His attitude was so poor that he'd have to repeat the program. Distraught by this news, Sally went to bed crying that night.

As she lay there, she prayed that things would improve for Aaron. The following day, Sally was driving when she received a notification on her pager to call North Star. When she arrived home, she phoned the organization's head office and spoke to Barbara Jagger. "Aaron is down. We can't get a pulse," Barbara told her. Sally didn't understand what Barbara was saying.

When she asked what that meant, Barbara explained that Aaron had been airlifted to a hospital in Page, Arizona. Sally should call her husband, Bob, as he'd already been notified and had the hospital's number. Sally immediately called her husband at work. He sounded numb and spoke directly, telling Sally that apparently there had been some sort of freak accident at the camp.

Aaron had collapsed, possibly after eating something poisonous. Camp leaders had done all they could to revive him, but nothing had worked. Aaron was dead. Three days later, Aaron's remains arrived at a mortuary in Phoenix. The devastated and shocked Sally and Bob went there to identify him. As the sheet was removed from Aaron's body, Sally covered her eyes and began to scream.

Casefile will be back shortly. Thank you for supporting us by listening to this episode's sponsors. This episode of Casefile is sponsored by BetterHelp. Kids are constantly learning and growing, but as adults, we sometimes lose that sense of curiosity. What's something you'd like to learn? Maybe a new language, playing an instrument, or learning to cook.

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Visit betterhelp.com slash casefile today to get 10% off your first month. That's betterhelp, H-E-L-P dot com slash casefile. Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. When Aaron Bacon first arrived at North Star's base camp, he was strip searched and given a medical exam.

Blood and urine tests revealed he had traces of cannabis in his system, but there was nothing else of concern. Staff members shaved off Aaron's long hair and provided him with clothing, including a hooded sweatshirt, three shirts, three pairs of cotton pants, socks, underwear, and a pair of cheap hiking boots that were two sizes too small. He was also given a journal.

All North Star participants had to write in their journals daily, as well as compose an essay outlining what they had done to be sent there. Everything the teenagers wrote was read by North Star's staff members, including letters home to loved ones. In Aaron's essay, he expressed his belief that his parents were making a mistake by sending him to North Star. Quote,

"If I am forced to change, this program seems ready to force me. This is not my parents' last resort. Child abuse, which I think this program is, is never a resort. It only results in the opposite." Aaron clashed with North Star's owner, Lance Jagger, whose rough, hewn style was the opposite of Aaron's more intellectual personality.

Nevertheless, Aaron soon tried to adopt a more positive approach. He apologized to Lance's wife Barbara for being rude when they first met, explaining that he didn't usually behave that way, but he'd been angry about the situation he found himself in. His apology was rejected by Barbara, who replied, "'You're so full of shit. Aaron, you're trying to manipulate me.'"

Aaron and five other new arrivals soon started the first phase of the program, A-Team. Designed to help the teenagers acclimatize to both their physical surroundings and the program's style, A-Team involved camping in the wilderness for ten days. They were driven out to the desert to stay in rough terrain at 5600 feet elevation.

In March, the temperature during the day was chilly, and it dropped to below freezing at night. All participants were given a backpack that they had to keep all their provisions in, including a sleeping bag. Aaron, who was used to the warmer weather in Phoenix, struggled with the freezing cold climate. The clothes he'd been given weren't warm enough, and he described shaking uncontrollably from his arrival on.

A few days into A-Team, Aaron's stomach started to hurt badly and he had problems with his bowel movements. He was also hungry and craving a proper meal. Most of the rations he was given, such as oatmeal and lentils, had to be cooked over an open fire.

The teens were each responsible for cooking their own meals and had to learn to light their own fires using a Native American technique in which a piece of wood was inserted into a socket drilled in another piece of wood and spun quickly. If a student failed to light their own fire, they weren't allowed to use another teenager's fire or sit by one to stay warm. Aaron struggled to learn the technique and was unable to start a fire.

Consequently, he often went hungry. Despite not mastering fire starting, Aaron was moved into the second phase of the program called "Primitive". This involved a grueling six-week hike. Aaron's group of six teenagers was led by three camp counselors employed by North Star: 19-year-old Craig Fisher, 20-year-old Sonny Duncan, and 21-year-old Jeff Hauenstein.

Only two counselors stayed with the group at any given time, with the three young men rotating shifts to take turns. Primitive began with the teens undertaking a 48-hour fast while simultaneously trekking through rough terrain. Aaron, who still had an intense stomach ache, wrote of how bad he felt:

But he tried to put a positive spin on things, noting that the next couple of weeks would both "test my physical limitations and broaden them." The hiking was difficult. It involved lots of clambering across sharp rocks and steep cliffs. As Aaron's boots were too small for his feet, he began to develop painful blisters.

Under the weight of his 45 pound or 20 kilo backpack, he also started to trip and fall. After the first fall, Aaron struggled to regain his feet due to the weight of the pack. He eventually managed but soon fell again. His legs felt weak like jelly. After this second fall, his entire body was numb and he couldn't lift his arms.

When Aaron reported these issues to his counsellors, they dismissed Aaron's complaints, believing he was feigning discomfort and pain to get out of the program. They told him to stop being lazy. The more Aaron complained about feeling sick and dizzy, the more harshly he was criticised.

It wasn't long before some of the other teens and even the counselors were calling him gay, using the word as a derogatory slur to imply Aaron was weak and not masculine enough. On Sunday March 13, two days into the hike, the group was permitted to break their fast. All of the teenagers were given a can of peaches, but during the hike that day, Aaron continued to trip and fall.

At one stage, when he tried to climb through a canyon, he slipped and hit his chin on a rock, cutting it open. Aaron wrote in his journal: "I'm just so enveloped in pain." The staff didn't seem to care one bit. After this, Aaron started suffering nosebleeds. He continued to feel the cold intensely. Two days after his bad fall, Aaron said he could no longer carry his pack.

The weight was just too heavy and he wasn't strong enough to hike with it anymore. The counselors refused to help, so Aaron had to abandon the backpack by the track with the intention of collecting it a couple of days later when they trekked back over the trail. Because all students had to carry their own food, Aaron wouldn't have access to his rations. As punishment, the counselors also confiscated his sleeping bag.

Over the next couple of days, Aaron tried to quell his hunger by eating things he and other students scavenged from the terrain: a raw lizard and a cooked scorpion. He hiked a little better without his pack, but still fell again, breaking a large water container he was carrying for the group. His situation started to improve later on Thursday March 17 when he got his pack back.

He was able to cook some rations and he got through that day's hike with no falls. In his journal, he described it as: "My first good day here at North Star." But the next day, Aaron struggled to cross a chest-deep stream with the rest of the group. He lacked the strength to lift his pack over his head to prevent it getting wet, so it and all of its contents were soaked.

That night, he sat cold and shivering on the fringes of the group. He wasn't allowed near the fire for warmth and had to sleep in a wet sleeping bag. Aaron wrote of how scared and sick he felt in his journal. The pages were dotted with blood from his frequent nosebleeds and his handwriting was starting to become illegible. Over the next few days, things worsened.

Aaron had his sleeping bag confiscated again for lack of cooperation. He only had a wool blanket for warmth and was forced to sleep away from the rest of the group who huddled together near the fire and beneath a tarpaulin. He was also barred from eating after failing to light a fire and went multiple days without food. Starving and still suffering intense stomach pain, Aaron started to lose control of his bladder,

He began urinating himself during the night. Then, as the group was setting out on the ninth day of the hike, Aaron accidentally defecated in his pants. He hadn't even felt the need to go to the toilet. It had just happened without warning. When Aaron confided in 21-year-old Jeff Hohenstein, the most experienced of the three counsellors, Jeff yelled to another counsellor, "Hey, he took a dump in his pants!"

The other counsellors and group members laughed. Aaron told the counsellors that he was sick and needed medical attention, but they ignored his pleas and accused him of faking it. They told Aaron his incontinence was proof he had no self-respect. Aaron wrote in his journal: "I am in terrible condition here. My hands are all chapped and my lips are cracking. I feel like I am losing control of my body.

The next morning, Aaron wasn't allowed breakfast and instead resorted to eating some prickly pear cactus. That night, all of the students had dinner withheld as punishment for being late setting up camp. Meanwhile, the counsellors had bacon and pork chops. Aaron wrote in his journal,

"All I can think about is cold and pain. I miss my family so much. My hands, my lips, and my face are dead." It was his final entry. Aaron wasn't allowed to eat for the next three days as punishment for failing to keep his camp cup clean and deciding to again leave his pack behind.

Another student secretly gave him some powdered milk mixed with brown sugar, and he consumed more cactus as well as a tea made from pine needles. Otherwise, he had nothing. Members of the group could see how listless and flat Aaron had become. He was pale, his cheeks looked hollow, and he had grown even thinner than he already was.

Aaron continued to complain about his stomach ache and the cold, but the counselors refused his requests to see a doctor. They gave him nothing at night to stay warm, despite Aaron having no sleeping bag or blanket due to leaving his pack behind. On the evening of the hike's 14th day, Lance Jagger and his business partner, Bill Henry, paid a visit to the group.

They gave Aaron a blanket to sleep with, but refused to let him join the other group members under the shelter. The next morning, Lance and Bill demanded the teenagers perform a series of exercises, including 100 jumping jacks and 100 sit-ups. Aaron could only manage 10 sit-ups by himself. The counselors helped him do another 25.

By this stage, Aaron was unable to walk much and only managed to hike a total of two miles. He could hardly move unless someone else helped him stand up. The counsellors began to let him eat again, giving him some rice and lentils, but he later threw them up. When Aaron yet again complained about stomach pain on Monday March 28, the counsellors repeatedly accused him of malingering.

Aaron explained that it hurt him to eat and asked to see a doctor. They told him they were a long way away from any doctors. The following day, the group had to perform a full body hygiene task which involved stripping down, hand washing their clothes and bathing. The other teenagers noticed how scrawny Aaron had become, later describing him as looking like a victim from a Nazi concentration camp.

Aaron struggled to walk without falling down. Even lifting firewood was too difficult for him. He was able to eat small amounts of food, but he kept moaning and saying he was dizzy. When he looked at the sky, he hallucinated streaks of purple and flashing lights. He also told the others he was seeing spots.

On Wednesday March 30, the counsellors finally requested help, radioing North Star's emergency medical technician, Georgette Costigan. She came to the camp to check on Aaron. However, the counsellors didn't tell her of his extensive complaints or that he'd barely eaten anything or slept in a sleeping bag for days. Georgette noticed Aaron's skin was dry and flushed but didn't perform a medical exam.

Figuring it was nothing serious, she refused the counsellor's request that she take Aaron back with her, instead saying she'd check on him again the next day. She gave Aaron a slice of cheese and made him promise to keep hiking. Later that evening, Aaron vomited and moaned repeatedly.

While the other teens sat around the fire writing in their journals, he sat alone with his head tilted to one side, his mouth open and drooling. Counselor Craig Fisher told him to stop it and mimicked him. That night, Aaron was allowed to sleep in a sleeping bag for the first time in eight nights. Before going to bed, he told Craig Fisher that he didn't want to die. Craig assured him that he wouldn't.

The next morning, it took Aaron an hour to crawl the 20 feet from his sleeping bag to the campfire. He repeatedly fell asleep during this attempt to reach the group. The counsellors had to pick him up off the ground as he was unable to stand on his own. Once he was standing, he immediately fell over again.

Aaron said that he needed to use the bathroom and was unable to make it to the latrine that the group used by himself. The counsellors carried him there, then left Aaron alone. One of the staff members radioed Mike Hill, a counsellor with another group, to ask if Aaron could be left with them, as he was unable to walk and the emergency medical technician would be visiting Mike's group that day.

Mike agreed and offered to collect Aaron with some of his campers. When he arrived at the primitive camp, he was shocked to discover Aaron sitting inside the latrine covered with excrement. He had fallen in and was unable to get up. One of Aaron's counsellors mocked him by imitating the way he had collapsed and told Mike that Aaron was deliberately starving himself because he wanted to die.

Horrified, Mike and several of his campers lifted Aaron out of the latrine and carried him to a shady spot. "Are you doing this because you want to die?" Mike asked Aaron. "No, sir," Aaron replied. "I don't want to die, sir." Mike made Aaron some oatmeal, but he only managed to eat a few spoonfuls. In a hoarse voice, he told Mike that all he could see was a white glare.

A Native American man from the Apache tribe, Mike later said he knew then that Aaron was dying. He took out some Apache healing powder he kept in his pocket and sprinkled it around Aaron. Then he knelt and prayed. One of the boys camping with Mike's group began to cry.

Sometime later, Mike received a message from Eric Henry, the son of North Star co-owner Bill Henry, that he was headed their way with a truck to collect Aaron. "Get the faker ready," Eric said. When he arrived, Eric lifted Aaron into the back seat as he was unable to get up by himself, then spent about 15 minutes chatting with other staff members.

Just before 3pm, they heard a banging sound coming from the truck. Aaron was slumped unconscious, his head knocked against the back window. He had no pulse and his heart had stopped. Eric Henry and Mike Hill pulled Aaron from the car, and Eric radioed Basecamp while Mike tried to administer CPR.

Georgette Costigan, the emergency medical technician, soon arrived at the scene and attempted to revive Aaron. She was joined by the physician's assistant who'd examined Aaron when he was first admitted to the program, but didn't recognize the frail and gaunt boy in front of him. Advanced life support procedures were performed on Aaron without success. Georgette repeatedly cried out, "'Oh shit! Oh shit!'

A helicopter was sent for and Aaron was flown to a hospital in Page, Arizona, where he was pronounced dead. When North Star Expeditions called the Bacon family to inform them of Aaron's passing, they used vague language and implied there had been some sort of tragic accident. Bob Bacon was left with the impression that Aaron had suddenly collapsed out of the blue, perhaps after accidentally eating some kind of poisonous vegetation.

But when he and Sally Bacon viewed their son's body in the morgue, they knew that whatever had happened was no sudden accident. In the month since they had last seen Aaron, their son had grown so emaciated that his limbs resembled toothpicks and his face was gaunt and hollow. His entire body was black and blue with bruises, while his skin from his groin to his feet was covered in weeping, open sores.

The only way that they could recognize him was from a childhood scar above his right eye. Sally and Bob were horrified that staff from North Star had given them no warning about the state their son's body was in or what they might see when they identified him.

An autopsy revealed that during the four weeks he'd been at the camp, Aaron's weight had dropped from 131 pounds, or 59 kilograms, to 108 pounds, just under 49 kilograms. This amounted to a 17% loss of body mass. Many of the bruises covering his skin were from the repeated falls he'd suffered. Others were from the staff members' resuscitation attempts.

The sores from his groin down were the result of Aaron's incontinence, which he'd endured over the final two weeks of his life. Aaron had ultimately died of acute peritonitis, an inflammation of the membrane that lines the abdominal wall. This inflammation is caused most commonly by bacterial infection.

In Aaron's case, it was the result of a perforated ulcer in his large intestine, which allowed the contents of his digestive system to leak into his abdominal cavity. Despite North Star staff saying Aaron's demise had been sudden, the infection was large and extensive, indicating it had been growing over a long period.

It was estimated that the ulcer had most likely developed around Tuesday March 15, about two weeks after Aaron's arrival at North Star. Hypothermia, stress and malnutrition would have all caused the ulcer to worsen. Aaron had been complaining of stomach pain since almost the beginning of his time at North Star. If the ulcer had been diagnosed early on, it could have been cured by an over-the-counter medication.

If Aaron had been taken to hospital as late as the day before his death, or even hours before his final collapse, his life would most likely have been saved by antibiotics and proper medical care. A few days after the Bakens viewed their son's body, they received a call at home from a television reporter who was also based in Phoenix and was covering Aaron's death for their station.

The reporter was seeking a statement from the couple about the fact that four years earlier, two other teenagers had died in incidents at two separate Utah-based wilderness therapy programs, both of which had direct links to North Star Expeditions. In mid-1990, California couple Kathy and Bob Sutton were desperate to help their daughter, 15-year-old Michelle,

Michelle had been cheerful, creative and trusting, but her life was upended one night when she was hanging out with friends. She had been sitting in a truck with a boy she knew from school when he sexually assaulted and raped her. Michelle confided in her parents, who took her to hospital for an examination and helped Michelle report the rape to the police. But the boy was never charged.

Michelle struggled in the aftermath of the rape and her pain was exacerbated by having to see her rapist at school every day. Her mother Kathy began to suspect that Michelle was experiencing suicidal thoughts. It was clear to the Suttons that their daughter needed help. They tried a few different measures, including speaking to the pastor at their church. Soon, a family friend told them about something that might help.

There was a wilderness therapy program in St George, Utah called Summit Quest that had been started by a woman named Gail Palmer. Gail had created the program to help teens who were struggling with issues just like Michelle. Although they were initially reluctant to send their daughter away, the Suttons eventually realized that Michelle needed help that they weren't equipped to provide.

Kathy contacted Gail Palmer for more information. Gail was empathetic and compassionate. She explained that Summit Quest had been running for two years and had many satisfied customers whose testimonials were provided. The program ran for 63 days and taught teens how to survive in the wilderness. They would be led by trained survival experts who would help them build their self-esteem.

Gail said that while the program was challenging, it was also safe and supportive. There were doctors, nurses, a nutritionist, and psychologist all on site who would be able to help Michelle. As well as addressing physical stamina, the program built mental resilience and spiritual strength. Over the course of several weeks, Kathy spoke with Gail Palmer 21 times.

After asking every question she could think of and addressing all of her potential doubts, Kathy was convinced that Summit Quest could help Michelle regain her sense of self. She paid Gail $13,900 for Michelle's enrolment. Michelle was agreeable to the plan because she wanted to both heal and get away from the boy who raped her.

She left California and started the Summit Quest program on Tuesday May 1 1990. Nine days later, Michelle was dead. During an exercise, her group's counselors had gotten lost prolonging a hike in the stifling summer heat. Their radios were broken, leaving them unable to call for assistance and water supplies were limited.

When Michelle ran out of her allocated water supply, counsellors told the other group members not to share their water with her. Not even when she started throwing up, falling down, and complaining that her vision was blurry. Even as Michelle became so dehydrated that her mouth appeared white and crusty, her counsellors accused her of faking her symptoms and joked that it looked like she had been eating marshmallows.

After hiking over a mountain late on the afternoon of Wednesday March 9, Michelle collapsed and died of dehydration. Summit Quest counsellors couldn't alert base camp due to their broken radios, so instead they had to light signal fires to get attention. It was 18 hours until a passing plane spotted them and sent help.

Gail Palmer subsequently smeared the girl's name by saying Michelle had smuggled cocaine into Summit Quest and died of a drug overdose, not dehydration. These claims were entirely false. No criminal charges were ever laid against Gail, but the Suttons later sued Summit Quest and reached a partial settlement for $345,000 in 1992.

The settlement money was paid by Summit Quest's insurer. Despite Gail Palmer's assertions that Summit Quest attendees had access to a psychologist, no actual therapy was ever provided by the Wilderness Therapy Program. The camp counselors weren't experts in adolescent development or wilderness survival. They were mostly college students being paid minimum wage.

Although Gail had told Kathy Sutton that Summit Quest was two years old, in reality it was brand new and Michelle's group was their first ever. Summit Quest was operating under a 90-day provisional license and Gail Palmer wasn't an experienced survivalist or child health expert. Prior to launching Summit Quest, she had worked in the admissions office for another wilderness therapy program.

The testimonials from satisfied parents and teens that she'd shared with Kathy Sutton had been taken from that business, which was called Challenger. Challenger was founded in 1987 by entrepreneur Steve Cardisano after a career in the military. Steve Cardisano was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and a former student at Utah's Brigham Young University.

In the 1970s, BYU introduced its own wilderness therapy program for college students. This course lasted several weeks, taught basic survival skills, and encouraged students to reflect on their goals while living in the wilderness. It was very successful until 1975 when a female participant died of dehydration. After that, BYU ceased offering the program.

Steve Cardizano had completed the program when he was a student and had loved it. His experience inspired him to start his own program aimed at younger participants in Escalante, Utah. He dubbed it Challenger and it set the benchmark for what the wilderness therapy industry would become in Utah and surrounding states.

Teenagers had to complete arduous hikes, were given scant food and water, and were verbally berated under the guise of tough love. Counselors were taught to distrust the teens they led, with Steve Cardizano describing them as master manipulators who would feign injuries or illness to get out of the program.

Challenger quickly took off, thanks in part to Steve Cardizano's decision to promote the program on daytime television talk shows such as Sally Jessie Raphael and Geraldo. Many parents in the late 1980s and early 90s harboured concerns about their children ending up on the wrong path. This was due in part to moral panics around drug use, street gangs and supposed satanic cults.

Steve Cardizano's message reached a lot of concerned parents who were desperate to help their children. Many took out second mortgages so they could afford the $15,900 price tag. Challenger was cheap to run. All that was required was some camping equipment and low-cost foods like oats and lentils. Steve Cardizano also set the model for hiring young people to work as counsellors and paying them minimum wage.

With lots of money coming in and very little going out, Challenger made $3.2 million in its first year of operation. After Gail Palmer started her own wilderness therapy program, which resulted in Michelle Sutton's death, Steve Cardizano publicly accused his ex-employee of criminal negligence, telling journalists: "At Challenger, a tragedy like the one that killed Michelle Sutton could never happen."

Six weeks later, 16-year-old Kristen Chase left her home in Florida to attend Challenger. She wasn't given a physical exam upon being admitted to the program, but her mother did provide them with extensive medical records, which included difficulty running, a knee injury, and a history of coughing up blood. On Tuesday June 26, just a few days into her program, Kristen collapsed after a five-mile hike.

Counsellors had dismissed Kristen's complaints of feeling unwell, denied her water, and ridiculed her. Kristen died of exertional heatstroke. It took more than two hours for help to arrive. This time, authorities in Utah laid criminal charges.

Kane County prosecutors charged Steve Cardizano and an employee who went by the name "Horsehair" with negligent homicide and nine counts of child abuse relating to Kristen and other Challenger attendees. Horsehair subsequently agreed to testify against Cardizano in exchange for having his own charges dismissed.

At Cartesano's trial more than a year later in September 1991, Challenger employees gave evidence that students were beaten and treated abusively while under their care. But before the jury could deliberate, a mistrial was called due to the judge having failed to read the charges to them at the beginning of the trial. Eight months later, there was a retrial.

The jury ultimately acquitted Steve Cardizano after determining that the prosecution hadn't done enough to prove he was guilty. One juror later spoke out, saying that they had all agreed there were issues with the program. Steve Cardizano had actually told one former staffer that it was inevitable some teens undertaking wilderness programs would die. He'd referred to this likelihood as a window of loss, stating…

We're going to help so many kids that it's worth the loss of a few." An ongoing problem with Utah's wilderness therapy programs was the lack of state regulation and oversight. Wilderness therapy falls under a broader category of behavior modification facilities known collectively as the troubled teen industry. Aimed at parents who have concerns about their adolescent children's behavior, these facilities take many forms.

They can be boot camps, treatment centers, or wilderness therapy. They're also marketed as being able to solve numerous issues the parents may be worried about, including drug use, sexuality, behavior deemed disrespectful, or playing too many video games. When Steve Cardisano started Challenger, the troubled teen industry was a burgeoning one.

There were no federal laws in place to regulate it, meaning the situation varied from state to state. In January 1990, new regulations were drafted in Utah dictating that all wilderness therapy participants must first pass a physical exam by a doctor and be provided with a minimum amount of water each day.

Michelle Sutton and Kristen Chase both died shortly before these regulations were set to take effect in July 1990. In the wake of their deaths, the state of Utah passed a law requiring all wilderness therapy programs to be licensed by the Department of Health and Human Services, and also began drafting stricter regulations.

They were helped in this by some who'd worked within the industry, including ex-Challenger employee Horsehair. At the same time, Horsehair, whose real name was Lance Jagger, decided to start his own wilderness therapy program alongside fellow former Challenger colleague Bill Henry. In October 1990, the two men were granted a license by the state of Utah to begin their new business.

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You heard that right, homechef.com slash casefile. Must be an active subscriber to receive free dessert. Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. Aaron Bacon's parents had not known about the earlier wilderness therapy deaths, let alone that Lance Jagger was criminally charged for one.

Four days after Aaron died, he was buried in his hometown of Phoenix on Monday April 4. A few days later, Sally and Bob Bacon drove to Utah to see the location where he had died. They also met with the county sheriff, deputy sheriff, and the county prosecutor. Bob asked whether his son's death would be investigated. The prosecutor said that it would.

When the police first arrived at North Star following Aaron's passing, they hadn't believed that the death was suspicious. All of the North Star employees and staff they spoke to said that Aaron collapsed out of the blue. Staff members had made every effort to revive him. But the investigators were aware that Aaron's death was the third time a teenager had died while enrolled in a Utah Wilderness Therapy program.

Consequently, they would have to look into the circumstances very carefully, even if nothing seemed amiss. Aaron's fellow campers were asked to provide written statements about his death, and the deputy sheriff, Celeste Bernards, also seized their journals. She also had Aaron's own journal in her possession. The picture painted by Aaron's words was vastly different to one given by camp counsellors.

According to Aaron's version of events, he had been complaining about ill health since almost the start of the program, only to be mocked, dismissed, and even punished. Over the next few months, Deputy Bernards carefully scrutinized the other students' journals. They had also written about Aaron's deteriorating health and how he had been treated, and their descriptions matched his.

Deputy Bernard's added up crucial details in their accounts, such as how Aaron was punished by having food withheld. During interviews, the other teenagers in Aaron's group said that sometimes they'd tried to help him by sneaking him food and sharing their blankets, but usually they were too scared to do so due to the punishments that would follow if caught.

Deputy Bernards cross-checked the camper's claims against provable data, such as what the temperature and weather conditions were during Aaron's month at North Star. She calculated that Aaron had been forced to sleep 14 nights in the desert without a sleeping bag. For four of these nights, he didn't even have a blanket. He had been deprived of food entirely for a total of 11 days.

These punishments were in direct violation of North Star's own code of conduct. When they were hired, every counsellor at North Star received a copy of the company's policies and procedures manual which they had to read and sign. A page titled "Discipline and Treatment of the Student" read in part: "The following is not appropriate treatment of a student and is grounds for dismissal."

the withholding of any meal, denial of clothing, shelter, or bedding, failure to provide adequate medical care and/or treatment, verbal abuse using language which attacks the well-being of the student. This may include, but is not limited to, name-calling, teasing, humiliation, ridicule, use of foul and abusive language, etc.

Deputy Bernards looked into North Star's finances. The business grossed roughly $1.68 million per year, with between $1 and $1.5 million being pure profit. They were able to make this much thanks to their minor outlays and underqualified staff.

Despite North Star assuring parents that all their staff were trained in therapy and wilderness skills, most camp counsellors they hired were barely out of school and hadn't undergone criminal background checks. They also claimed to have a camp psychologist named Doc Dave who was on hand to help kids. In reality, Doc Dave was a social worker who only met the teens once when they first arrived at North Star.

Investigators were concerned about the conditions teenagers at North Star were being forced to endure. The camp had been checked in the weeks after Aaron died and was found to be fully complying with Utah's regulations, but the police still had their doubts.

In early September, they conducted a surprise inspection of North Star's headquarters, with two doctors, a psychologist, and a nurse examining the 21 adolescents who were in their care. They determined that three girls staying with North Star weren't well enough to continue with the program. They were removed and had to stay with foster families until their guardians could take them home. North Star continued to operate for its other campers.

When LA Times journalist Joe Morgenstern contacted North Star co-founder Lance Jagger following this development, he described the inspection as a witch hunt. He thought it was ridiculous that investigators were listening to, quote, "solely the words of the kids." North Star representatives were adamant that there was no way they could have known about Aaron's condition.

One spokesperson even claimed he hadn't been deprived of food, but instead rejected the food offered to him. Co-owner Bill Henry blamed Aaron Bacon's cannabis usage for his death, insisting he must have had his ulcer for a long time, but his history of smoking pot must have masked the pain. Joe Morgenstein fact-checked this claim with doctors, who said that nothing could have covered the pain of a perforated ulcer.

Just over a month after the surprise inspection of North Star, prosecutors charged Lance Jagger, Bill Henry, and six of their employees with felony child abuse charges. Georgette Costigan, the camp's emergency medical technician, was also charged with witness tampering.

According to Mike Hill, the counselor for another group who had tried to help Aaron in his final moments, she had tried to convince some of the students to revise their written statements for the sheriff's office to make them look less incriminating. These charges against Georgette Costigan were later dropped due to a lack of evidence. The prosecutors had other problems that would make pursuing the case difficult.

Although 22-year-old North Star employee Mike Hill had tried to help Aaron, he soon confessed that he'd committed a crime against another camper. In December 1993, he had sexually abused a 17-year-old boy in a previous program and made him perform sex acts in exchange for food. This crime completely undermined Hill's credibility as a witness.

Hill subsequently pleaded guilty to one count of forcible sexual abuse. He had been the only North Star staff member willing to testify against the company, but the prosecutors knew they could no longer use him. However, two of Aaron's fellow campers were willing to testify and did so at a preliminary hearing. In closing arguments, a lawyer for the prosecution stated:

Once it was decided that Aaron was a faker, a manipulator, that was the party line at North Star. They said "We ignore Aaron because he's faking. I don't know how you fake a 23 pound weight loss in 24 days." Following the hearing, all of the defendants were ordered to stand trial. Eventually, most of the defendants struck plea deals that saw their felony charges reduced.

Five of them pleaded guilty to negligent homicide, which is a Class A misdemeanor in Utah. Those who accepted this plea included two of Aaron's counselors, Sonny Duncan and Jeff Hohenstein, emergency medical technician Georgette Costigan, and North Star co-owners Lance Jagger and Bill Henry. Jagger and Henry also pleaded guilty to operating a program that violated licensing regulations.

These defendants were given a one-year suspended sentence, three years probation, and ordered to each pay a $2,500 fine. They were also ordered to perform community service. The sixth defendant pleaded guilty to a lesser charge of attempting to abuse a disabled child,

Aaron Bacon fit the legal definition of being a disabled child as his physical illness that began shortly after he arrived at North Star left him unable to care for himself. This defendant received probation and community service, and the seventh defendant was permitted to sign a diversion program agreement in exchange for nine months of good behavior. But the final defendant refused to cut a deal.

Craig Fisher had been just 19 when he'd had to care for Aaron as one of his three rotating camp counsellors. He had demonstrated a rather belligerent attitude during the preliminary hearing, with Sally Bacon reporting that when the judge wasn't looking, Fisher had looked at her, sneered, and given her the finger.

While his co-defendants had been convinced to accept plea agreements to avoid a long trial and harsher charges, Fisher rejected the idea outright. He went to trial facing the third-degree felony charge of abuse or neglect of a disabled child. Some of Aaron's fellow campers were called as witnesses, as were the other North Star employees who'd pleaded out. Aaron Bacon's parents also testified:

Craig Fisher's attorney argued that his client had merely been following the orders of his superiors and had no real say in how Aaron Bacon was to be treated. When his client had responded to Aaron's complaints by yelling at him, he'd just been trying to help him. It didn't take the jury long to find Craig Fisher guilty.

After his conviction, Fisher went to hug Sally Bacon, telling her he'd had no idea how sick Aaron had really been. Sally replied that even if he hadn't known how unwell Aaron was, he hadn't done anything to help him. She told Fisher that she hoped he would learn from the tragedy and would never again treat another human that badly. Then she hugged him back in a display of forgiveness.

When it came time for Craig Fisher to be sentenced, his attorney pointed to this hug as a sign of his client's remorse. This left Sally feeling used, and when she stood to read her victim impact statement, she made sure to mention how Fisher had previously glared at her and given the finger. Fisher was ultimately sentenced to one year in a county jail. He appealed his conviction and lost.

Fisher was later released after serving only a few months of his sentence. Sally and Bob Bacon filed a civil suit against Northstar, which was settled out of court and paid by the defendant's insurance companies. The couple also became crusaders against the wilderness therapy industry, speaking out in the news and on television programs about how they were misled and what their son's experience had been.

They also demanded stronger legislation and industry oversight. In an interview with the Salt Lake Tribune, Bob Bacon stated, The lessons are not being learned.

The Bakens faced harsh pushback from wilderness therapy advocates, who victim-blamed and smeared their family's name by claiming Aaron, Sully, and Bob were all drug addicts. Parents of other children who'd been enrolled at wilderness therapy camps were among those critiquing the couple. Six months after Aaron's death, the state of Utah revoked North Star's license and the camp was permanently shut down.

Some parents were furious about this, with one mother asking Sally, "Where did you think you were sending him?" "At daycare." Sally later told author Maya Solovitz about this interaction and added, "They wanted a boot camp, and that's what they were sold. I didn't want a boot camp, so that's what I was sold."

And see, that's what they didn't understand. These people sell you whatever you're looking for." In her 2006 book, Help at Any Cost: How the Troubled Teen Industry Cons Parents and Hurts Kids, Maya Solovitz noted that at least nine other children had died in wilderness therapy programs in the years following Aaron's death.

Most of these deaths occurred when teenagers were denied requests for water, food, or medical attention. That number has increased in the years since Salovitz's book was published, with non-profit organization Breaking Code Silence counting more than 30 wilderness therapy deaths since 1990 and 175 in the troubled teen industry overall.

One occurred as recently as February 2024 when a 12-year-old boy was found dead at a camp in North Carolina. Other abuses aren't fatal but have still resulted in trauma. Children have been forced to perform manual labor, ordered to attack one another verbally in order to gain privileges, and sexually assaulted.

Other abuses have included the denial of basic hygiene and sanitary items, and forcing teens to march with their ankles tied until their feet bled. In one instance, a girl was made to dress as a sex worker and given a name tag that read "shameful slut". The boys in her group were told to call her "slut", "ho" and "bitch".

Some teenagers were forced to wear diapers, gagged with sanitary products, and ordered to clean toilets with their bare hands. There have been numerous cases of teenagers suiciding while in treatment programs, or coming to harm after trying to run away from one.

Although different states have passed laws relating to the troubled teen industry over the years, a lack of regulation and oversight has meant that teenagers have continued to suffer at the hands of unqualified and abusive individuals.

In 2020, the industry was in the national spotlight again when media personality Paris Hilton spoke out publicly about her experience at Provo Canyon School, an involuntary residential treatment center for teens in Provo, Utah. In the late 1990s, when Hilton was 16, she had gone through a rebellious phase.

Her parents eventually sent her to a wilderness therapy camp and later Provo Canyon School in the hopes it would correct her behaviour. Hilton stayed at Provo Canyon School for 11 months and was released around the time she turned 18. She has testified before Congress about her experiences in these troubled teen programs, stating:

These programs promised healing, growth, and support, but instead did not allow me to speak, move freely, or even look out a window for two years. I was force-fed medications and sexually abused by the staff. I was violently restrained and dragged down hallways, stripped naked, and thrown into solitary confinement."

"My parents were completely deceived, lied to and manipulated by this for-profit industry about the inhumane treatment I was experiencing." Paris Hilton's revelations led to others coming forward to share their stories on social media as well as increased attention from journalists and the public. Hilton subsequently worked with Utah lawmakers on a new law aimed at improving industry regulation.

It came into effect in March 2021. Under this law, troubled teen programs have to submit to more annual inspections and report use of physical restraints to the Utah Office of Licensing. As of 2024, there is still no federal oversight of the troubled teen industry, and there are more than 10,000 such programs operating in the United States.

Utah has more of these facilities than anywhere else in the world. This is due in part to the state's strict parental laws, which supports parents making decisions for their children over a minor's personal wishes. While many states have now made it illegal to hold teenagers in such programs against their will, this is not the case in Utah.

It's estimated that the industry still brings the state almost half a billion dollars in revenue each year. The individuals who were charged for the death of Aram Bacon moved on with their lives. North Star co-owner Bill Henry violated the terms of his probation by only completing 86 hours of community service instead of the court-ordered 1,440 hours.

He then violated it again by moving interstate to Oregon, where his wife had been hired by another wilderness therapy program. The couple's son, Eric Henry, was later hired by the same company while still on probation for his role in Aaron Bacon's death. In 2023, streaming platform Netflix released a documentary about wilderness therapy titled "Hell Camp", which focused primarily on the programs led by Steve Cardizano.

Lance Jagger appeared in the documentary to talk about his time as an employee at Cardizano's program Challenger. Now well into his middle age and wearing a breathing tube, Jagger stated: "We didn't break them down to punish them. We broke them down to get rid of the old crap and help them be a better and more positive person. Some of the kids were so scared they'd almost pass out, and that was fine by me.

I wanted them to have a little fear." Aaron Bacon's parents still feel that the adults involved in their son's death paid too small a price for their role in his demise. They have spoken out against Lance Jagger's assertion that he's providing tough love, with Sally Bacon telling ABC News: "You can do tough love as a parent because you love the child. They can do tough. They can't do love.

Police gave Sally and Bob their son's journal after they had copied its contents as evidence. The entries were painful for the couple to read as they detailed Aaron's physical decline in excruciating detail, as well as his emotional pain. Some pages were dotted with Aaron's blood, but there were also lines that spoke of Aaron's love for his family.

In one early entry, he reflected on his goodbye before being taken into North Star and wrote, I should have told them that I love them and I'm sorry I didn't. I didn't even hug them and that was terrible. I sure wish I could hug them and tell them I love them now.