Death
On March 23, 1984, Grant committed suicide in Palm Springs by shooting herself with a .22 Long Rifle. Shortly after 7 p.m. she lay down, placed the gun horizontally against her head, and pulled the trigger. The shot passed through her right temple, out the left, and into the bedroom wall, according to police reports. The gun was discharged from such close range that the bullet left virtually star-shaped holes. Brain dead, Grant was rushed to Desert Hospital, where life support systems were disconnected after two days.
Grant's funeral was held March 28, 1984, at St. Michael's Church, a Catholic parish near the center of Farmington. Members of the adult industry were absent from the ceremony, believing their presence would only exacerbate the family's anguish. Instead, they contributed flowers and letters. Grant was buried in her favorite color, pink.
Preliminary investigations by Palm Springs police posed questions regarding the circumstances surrounding Grant's death. Weeks after the event, police were still awaiting results of toxicological and gun-residue tests. The possibility of a foul play investigation hung in the balance. It is known that Grant had received threatening phone calls related to Ehrlich's business affairs. Also, detectives noted Ehrlich avoided prison for a time by providing authorities with information. At the time of Grant's death, two people were playing pool in Ehrlich's house: Brenda Rosenow, a friend of Colleen's, and Cal Ardigo, a friend of Ehrlich's. Shortly before Grant's shooting, two unidentified visitors showed up outside the home. The back door of Ehrlich's house was a possible means of access to the bedroom and to Grant.
Read more about this topic: Shauna Grant
Famous quotes containing the word death:
“Sin their conception, their birth weeping,
Their life a general mist of error,
Their death a hideous storm of terror.”
—John Webster (c. 1580–1638)
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—Doris Lessing (b. 1919)
“If I had my life over again I should form the habit of nightly composing myself to thoughts of death. I would practise, as it were, the remembrance of death. There is no other practice which so intensifies life. Death, when it approaches, ought not to take one by surprise. It should be part of the full expectancy of life. Without an ever- present sense of death life is insipid. You might as well live on the whites of eggs.”
—Muriel Spark (b. 1918)