Parents Of Suicide
Writings Library
Kenneth’s Story

Ranata Kliemchen
December 7, 2000

Kenneth was 28 when he hung himself in a mental health facility on March 13, 2000. Kenneth and my story is a little different in that he and I did everything we could to get treatment for his manic depressive disorder with paranoid hallucinations (possible schizophrenia). We struggled for 16 months to get medical treatment but the main roadblock was our criminal justice system. Before I go any further, let me allow Kenneth to introduce himself in his own words. The following is a biography he wrote to introduce himself to different music labels, hoping to be recognized as both a lyricist and performer.

From the Badlands of Gary, Indiana, steps the
Sinister Minister, MC squared.
Known also as: the Rebel of Treble and
Bass when rockin' mics

Southside of Chi-town...

Kenneth James Lasinski was born Oct. 7, 1971 in the small town of Hillsdale, Michigan. The son of a Pentecostal minister and his wife, Ranata. Ken Dog listened to rebellious songs like "BAD BOY LEROY BROWN", at age 5, thanks to the radio airways. Soon he discovered his own style in groups like Dougie Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew, N.W.A. Chicago House music, Run D.M.C. and the Beastie Boys!

Ken began composing original songs at age 17 on electric bass guitar, and jamming with a garage/cover band, day to day. He loved his newfound expression, playing and writing profusely, honing his skills with each melody. 10 years and several demos later, the "Black Sabbath of Hip-Hop" emerges from the depths of the abyss to inspire, while at the same time, speaking out against censorship, reefer laws, racism, purist morals, and any other interference to his constitutional right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of HAPPINESS.

Groove, classic rock, and hip-hop, fused together, construct this MC's distinct, ear pleasing sound, with just a dash of FUNK, ta FUNK OFF his lyrics say:

"Spin a bomb(er), slammin' Dom (Perrier) so my mind won't think, connectin' so many STYLES, I'm the missing link, in the game, all rappers ain't the same, stayin' true to the pain, heard the name: Kenneth James?"

Tattoo artist by profession, recording artist by destiny, Ken Diggity can be reached at the following numbers for questions or record deals:

Between Nov 25, 1998 and Oct 15, 1999, Kenneth got in trouble with the law 3 times because of his paranoid hallucinations. He believed that there was a government conspiracy to kill him. He saw shadowy figures with guns at different times either following him or spying on him from outside of his residence. On all 3 occasions he called the police for help and unfortunately, when they arrived, Kenneth believed that the police were in on the conspiracy and subsequently fought for his life. (the law calls this resisting arrest) The total sum of Kenneth's injuries were broken ribs, 2 ruptured kidneys, multiple lacerations, (from going through windows) contusions and abrasions from head to foot. After Kenneth was released as a dialysis patient, one of our local police departments arrested him. (it is a very long story as to all the charges that were brought against him) To them he was nothing but a criminal. Nov 19, 1999, Kenneth was arrested and he remained so until this death on March 13, 2000. In those 4 months, I watched my son die little by little and a piece of me died with him. No one in authority (judge, lawyer, probation officer) and no professional (doctors, nurses) ever cared about Kenneth. They never knew of his great emotional and physical pain. I TRUSTED ALL of them to do what was best for my son and in the end he left this world without any one of them ever having a clue as to who he was, what he felt or what he wanted.

Not one doctor or nurse talked with me even though I requested they do so almost daily. I butted heads with his probation officer because she refused to acknowledge that Kenneth had been diagnosed with a mental illness. According to her, "He was just a substance abuser who needed a pep talk and he should stick with his 12 step program." On Jan 1, 2000, she placed him in a halfway house (dedicated to the rehabilitation of alcoholics) for a court ordered 90 days. On Feb 5 and March 2, he was admitted into a mental health treatment facility due to his suicide intentions. He attempted suicide at the hospital on March 9, but the doctor, for some reason unknown to me because he still to this day has not answered any of my questions, decided to release Kenneth on March 13. Kenneth's probation officer was informed of this and she faxed a warrant for his arrest to the hospital, which the staff gave to him. The probation officer also informed both the hospital and Kenneth that a police car was dispatched to take him back to jail. (after the second hospitalization, she determined that Kenneth had failed to meet the court's 90 day order at the halfway house) With the warrant in his hand, Kenneth was able to slip away from the staff, went to his room and hung himself before the police car arrived.

Am I angry? You bet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm plenty angry. Since when is mental illness a crime?

I need to back up a little. On Oct 15, 1999, Kenneth was taken to a local jail because of one of his paranoid episodes. He severely injured himself in his cell that night and had to be admitted into the hospital intensive care unit. (I am not sure if Kenneth intended suicide that night. His explanation was that he was sure the police were going to kill him and dispose of his body. He needed to leave blood evidence that he had been there) In a psychiatric evaluation done on Oct 16, 1999, Kenneth was asked what he would do if he had to go back to jail? He replied, "I will kill myself." I was standing by his side when he made this statement.

I have been agonizing a week trying to decide what more I could say to sum up the life of my beautiful child. Kenneth was an artist. He wrote about 1000 poems and 100 songs. Was just beginning to sell his paintings, was a very sought after tattooist and began to get into sculpture just months before he died. If it wasn't art, it wasn't worth his time. He was an Air Force veteran who served during "Desert Storm". Kenneth often wrote about death, but I am going to send his last poem he entered into his journal on March 9, 2000. 4 days before his hospital discharge, he attempted suicide by hanging and this is the subject of his poem. When the attempt failed, he stabbed the inside of his left wrist repeatedly with his ink pen. The hospital treated him for his wounds and had him sign a statement promising not to hurt himself again. I guess this was their suicide prevention program. In any event, they took his ink pen away from him but not the bed sheet he tried to hang himself with! I will also include a poem he wrote for me. He presented it to me on Christmas Day, 1999. He wrote it that month while he was in jail. I'm prejudiced, but its got to be the greatest poem any mother could have written about her.


I hung myself again, today
the bed sheet's length
too long
in the past
the fabric tore
and ripped me free
of "Satan's Door."
fuck this life, I can't control!
someone else owns my soul
I try and try
to NO avail
it's now my veins
this pen
stabbing, driven, bloody mess
I pray
my bones
might find
some rest!

MOM (I recite this every morning when I'm getting ready for work. I can clearly hear Kenneth's voice repeating the words)

I love my mother, I attest,
because by far, she treats me best.
when others spit and curse my name
she's proud as ever, just the same.
my eyes well tears to think of this,
her love for me is priceless.
a deeper bond, I've NEVER had
to Hell with lovers and my Dad!

I only wish to see her smile
and pray she stays with me awhile.
advice she gave was never wrong
self-assured and ALWAYS STRONG,
through this world of PAIN and STRIFE
the best role model in my life,
a peaceful teacher and a friend,
there for me she's always been.

people come, then turn to dust.
the ONLY person that I trust.
you showed the way to make life calm,
for this GIFT, I thank you, Mom!

What the heck, I'll go ahead and include the poem he wrote about his dad, also written while he was in jail.


I'm a bit upset, I'm a burning SUN
I'm a new-life form, I'm an ALIEN
I'm the dog you kicked, the confidence you stole
the one you didn't love, the heart you turned to coal
a monster that you made, the spirit that you broke
so dry, I never cry... so lost, I turned to coke
a zombie dead for years, a light that hasn't shined
a treasure that ya waste... a toy you left behind
the one you didn't want... the one ya thought was dumb
the CHILD that YOU beat... SO HURT, IT MADE ME NUMB!
can't forget the past... though, I was just a kid
can't forgive you, DAD, for the things you did
got away from you, but the SCARS remain
can't be proud of ME... and it's YOU I blame
I'm a bit upset, I'm a burning SUN
I'm a new life-form, I'm an alien

Written by:
Ranata Kliemchen
Mother of: Kenneth James
10/07/71 – 03/13/00