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Not in NAMUS that I can see
trellis.law
A LITTLE OVER a year ago, a despondent San Franciscan named Hugh Erik Mejia mailed three identical letters to three friends, telling them he'd soon be dead. He wrote, "If within 24 hours of receiving this document, you haven't been notified by the 'authorities' of my death, you may proceed to initiate the search for my remains and contact them. In all probability, my remains will be found in the S.F. financial district, the S.F. bay, or on the coastal areas of Marin, San Francisco, or San Mateo counties."
The friends steeled themselves for the worst. It never came.
They contacted the coroner's office. No Hugh Mejia – and the only John Doe in the morgue was an elderly Asian man who'd been discovered in Golden Gate Park. Searching Mejia's cramped Tenderloin studio, they found the effluvia of a life – stacks of videotapes, piles of books, thrift-store clothes, pages of complex mathematical formulas, a photo of Malcolm X meeting Fidel Castro – but no corpse. Holding out hope that Mejia might be alive, they photocopied missing-person posters and taped them up all over the city. Nobody called.
His five-foot-five-inch, 120-pound body has never materialized.
For those close to the 38-year-old, most of them fellow travelers in the radical political scene, his disappearance in January 2002 is an enduring mystery and a source of more than a little anguish.
In the last days of 2001, Mejia began firing off ominous e-mails to the FNB listserv.
"I am planning to make my final exit by no later than Saturday 1, December," he wrote on Nov. 7.
The first of December came and went, and Mejia was still around. But he continued openly plotting his demise. "[T]his final exit on my part should be viewed as euthanasia, and not dismissed as just another suicide. I simply no longer have the emotional, psychic, financial, and material resources to live on this planet in its current state of decline. I have come to the conclusion that there is no future for me, or this planet," Mejia wrote on Dec. 5.
Jeff Giaquinto, a substitute teacher, and FNB member hatched a different plan in early January 2002. After consulting a psychologist, Giaquinto intended to get Mejia involuntarily committed to the locked psychiatric wing of General Hospital. He laid a trap, inviting Mejia to his home, a run-down property in Hunters Point shared by a half-dozen dissidents. Giaquinto intended to call 911 when Mejia arrived at the house, which, ironically, was dubbed the "Asylum" by its inhabitants. He'd tell the cops and paramedics his friend was a danger to himself.
Mejia, however, didn't show.
A few days later, on Jan. 31, the "I'm dead" letters arrived. No one has laid eyes on Mejia since.
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Case PES05286920 In Re: Hugh Erik Mejia - Trellis: Legal Intelligence + Judicial Analytics
On July 02, 2007, Mejia, Dolores Smith filed a case against Mejia, Hugh Erik in the jurisdiction of San Francisco County, CA. This case was filed in San Francisco County Superior Courts, with Dorothy L. McMath presiding.
trellis.law
A LITTLE OVER a year ago, a despondent San Franciscan named Hugh Erik Mejia mailed three identical letters to three friends, telling them he'd soon be dead. He wrote, "If within 24 hours of receiving this document, you haven't been notified by the 'authorities' of my death, you may proceed to initiate the search for my remains and contact them. In all probability, my remains will be found in the S.F. financial district, the S.F. bay, or on the coastal areas of Marin, San Francisco, or San Mateo counties."
The friends steeled themselves for the worst. It never came.
They contacted the coroner's office. No Hugh Mejia – and the only John Doe in the morgue was an elderly Asian man who'd been discovered in Golden Gate Park. Searching Mejia's cramped Tenderloin studio, they found the effluvia of a life – stacks of videotapes, piles of books, thrift-store clothes, pages of complex mathematical formulas, a photo of Malcolm X meeting Fidel Castro – but no corpse. Holding out hope that Mejia might be alive, they photocopied missing-person posters and taped them up all over the city. Nobody called.
His five-foot-five-inch, 120-pound body has never materialized.
For those close to the 38-year-old, most of them fellow travelers in the radical political scene, his disappearance in January 2002 is an enduring mystery and a source of more than a little anguish.
In the last days of 2001, Mejia began firing off ominous e-mails to the FNB listserv.
"I am planning to make my final exit by no later than Saturday 1, December," he wrote on Nov. 7.
The first of December came and went, and Mejia was still around. But he continued openly plotting his demise. "[T]his final exit on my part should be viewed as euthanasia, and not dismissed as just another suicide. I simply no longer have the emotional, psychic, financial, and material resources to live on this planet in its current state of decline. I have come to the conclusion that there is no future for me, or this planet," Mejia wrote on Dec. 5.
Jeff Giaquinto, a substitute teacher, and FNB member hatched a different plan in early January 2002. After consulting a psychologist, Giaquinto intended to get Mejia involuntarily committed to the locked psychiatric wing of General Hospital. He laid a trap, inviting Mejia to his home, a run-down property in Hunters Point shared by a half-dozen dissidents. Giaquinto intended to call 911 when Mejia arrived at the house, which, ironically, was dubbed the "Asylum" by its inhabitants. He'd tell the cops and paramedics his friend was a danger to himself.
Mejia, however, didn't show.
A few days later, on Jan. 31, the "I'm dead" letters arrived. No one has laid eyes on Mejia since.
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