DISGRACELAND - Jim Morrison: Who Killed Jim Morrison?
Episode Date: July 7, 2026But wait, Jim Morrison overdosed on heroin because he was a drug addict rockstar just like Janis Joplin, right? Wrong. Who exactly was “the Count," the French aristocrat who was there at the sce...ne of Jim’s death? The same man who was with Janis Joplin hours before she died? Was rumored to somehow be involved with Jimi Hendrix? The friend of Keith Richards and Gram Parsons? And why did Jim Morrison hate him so much? And why was Mick Jagger’s ex-girlfriend Marianne Faithfull so insistent that she knew how Jim really died? To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to a monthly exclusive episode, weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at disgracelandpod.com/membership. Visit www.disgracelandpod.com/merch to see the latest Disgraceland merch! Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - GET THE NEWSLETTER Follow Jake and DISGRACELAND: Instagram YouTube X (formerly Twitter) Facebook Fan Group See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
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This is exactly right.
Elvis.
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Disgraceland is a production
of Double Elvis.
This is the story
of how Jim Morrison really died.
It's not the story
of a junkie rock star
overdosing on heroin.
A drug, Jim Marrison.
Morrison didn't use. A drug Jim's friends knew that he despised. And it's not the story of a singer
dying from an innocuous heart attack. This story deals with what I believe to be the truth
behind Jim Morrison's death and the shadowy figure from one of music history's darkest corners.
A man whose name seldom gets mentioned, but who is known not only by the Doris Frontman,
but by Janice Joplin, Keith Richards, Graham Parsons,
and many others from the 60s and 70s rock scene
who found themselves in need of hard drugs.
This figure was an aristocrat, a French count
by the name of Jean de Britois,
and he was hated by Jim Morrison,
but he was there, in Paris, on the scene,
at Jim's apartment the morning after he died.
Why?
What did this mysterious count
have to do with Jim's common-law wife, his girlfriend, Pamela Corson. And did he have something to do
with Jim's death? Or did Jim Morrison, as conspiracy theorists would have us believe, ever even die at all?
Did he fake his own death to escape the pressures of being in the doors, of being a rock star,
of making music? Great music. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show,
that wasn't great music.
That was a preset loop from my melaton called Misty Mountain Flop, MK, 1.
I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to It's Too Late,
I feel the Earth move under my feet by Carol King.
And why would I play you that specific slice of double A-side cheese could I afford it?
Because that was the number one song in America on July 3, 1971,
And that was the day Jim Morrison supposedly died of a heroin overdose,
or, depending on who you talked to, faked his own death.
But neither of those things are true.
This is what really happened.
This is the story of how Jim Morrison really died.
I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland.
Jim Morrison is alive.
He's 82 years old and,
living a quiet life in a cottage somewhere in the south of France, reading Rimbaud and writing poetry.
Actually, no, he's not. He's dead. But before he died, he was the Zodiac killer. And then after he
faked his death, he was Rush Limbaugh. But those things aren't true either. But people do believe them.
Ever since the moment news broke back in July of 1971 that Jim Morrison, the singer of the
Dors had died, a good amount of people, even people close to Jim, wouldn't accept the fact
that he was actually dead.
They just wouldn't believe it.
Dora's keyboard player, Ray Manzarek, was immediately skeptical.
Jim's own sister, Anne, is on record saying that Jim is the exact type of guy who would
fake his own death.
And he was.
Jim Morrison courted death.
He drank himself into oblivion and ate acid like he.
it was candy. He dangled himself from hotel balconies, stumbled through traffic, cut himself
in occult blood sacrifices while blitzed on cocaine, and sang about breaking on through to the other
side. In the evidence in the aftermath of his death, at least the evidence available to the public,
was most definitely sketchy enough to lead people to believe that Jim's death was perhaps
something else. Supposedly, nobody close to the doors who knew Jim, besides,
his common law wife, Pamela Corson, aka Pam Morrison, saw the body. And by the time
Doors' manager Bill Siddens arrived in Paris three days after Jim's death, the coffin was sealed,
and there was no autopsy. A day after Bill Siddons arrived, Jim Morrison was quickly buried,
in Paris, and his body was never returned to the United States.
Jim Morrison died officially of heart failure, but no one believes that.
Most believe that Jim died of a heroin overdose, but I don't believe that.
And after listening to this podcast, you won't either.
At the time of Jim Morrison's death in July of 1971, the doors were one of the biggest bands on the planet.
Embroiled in controversy because of Jim's antics, the band had just finished
recording what would be their final album, LA Woman.
Though the band had experienced critical and creative highs and lows, the doors were still a top-selling
band, and with the completion of LA Woman, the band was free from their recording obligations
with Elektra Records and was now the subject of a new bidding war between other record labels.
The word was that Atlantic Records was about to offer the doors an unprecedented amount of cash to sign with them.
All of this was happening at the same time that Jim Morrison was awaiting the verdict
for an appeal of his conviction concerning an incident two years prior in Miami,
where Jim had exposed himself to an audience on stage.
Jim was facing six months in prison for the crime.
1971 was a time of great creative and personal turmoil for Jim Morrison.
He had just completed what he believed to be his band's greatest album.
He no longer had a record label to end.
answered to, and he wasn't sure he wanted a new one and a new set of headaches. His girlfriend, Pam,
had left Jim in Los Angeles that spring to live in Paris. Jim suspected she was living with another man,
one who indulged her heroin habit, a habit Jim Morrison hated. In addition to being separated
from the one true love of his life and facing prison time, Jim was exhausted by the image he'd created,
that of the lizard king,
a swash-buckling leather clat,
Adonis, part rock-and-roll genius,
part drunken buffoon.
Jim had eaten all the acid.
He'd slept with all the groupies
and experienced all the things,
and now he romanticized a quieter life
as a poet.
So he traded Los Angeles,
the city of night that he sang about in L.A. woman,
for Paris, the city of light.
To understand how Jim Morrison really died,
in Paris in 1971.
You have to understand what happened in Los Angeles in 1970.
Count Jean de Bretoy had one green eye and one yellow eye.
He also had the strongest heroine in Los Angeles.
The count was young, handsome, mysterious, and hated by Jim Morrison.
Which was an anomaly, as plenty of rock stars counted the count as their friend.
Keith Richards, Janice Joplin, Graham Parsons, members,
of the GTOs and perhaps even Jimmy Hendricks.
But Jim hated the Count for the exact reason that these other rock stars appreciated the young
foreign aristocrat because he dealt heroin.
To Jim's great annoyance, the Count shared his heroin with Jim's girlfriend, Pamela.
In fact, the two shared more than their love of the addictive opiate.
Pamela and the Count had a romantic relationship that likely stretched back to the Count's first
days in Los Angeles as a UCLA student, where he became the university's hashish supplier
by using his family's French diplomatic connections to smuggle drugs into the states
through the Moroccan embassy and onto campus. The count was rich, and Pamela Corson, despite
her relationship with Jim Morrison, one of the most famous rock stars on the planet, was not.
The count took Pamela on extravagant jet-set shopping sprees all over the world.
spoiled her. Jim did not. The Count loved the fact that Pamela was friends with famous rock stars.
Jim Morrison could care less about status. The Count used Pamela's connection to the LA rock scene
to move not only hash, but heroin. Jim Morrison, by every account from everyone who knew him,
hated heroin. He had an extreme, lifelong fear of hypodermic needles. Pamela's heroin used was
seriously frowned upon by Jim and a regular source of tension between the couple.
But that didn't keep the count from creeping around Jim and Pam's Hollywood bungalow.
During this time in the fall of 1970, Jim Morrison was cooling his jets in Los Angeles
awaiting sentencing for his indecency charges in Miami.
The band was beginning work on their L.A. woman album and dealing with the fact that their
longtime producer and creative confidant Paul Rothschild no longer wanted to work
with them over the direction their music had taken, veering into schmaltzy territory he said
sounded like cocktail music. So, Jim Morrison drank a lot and snorted a ton of cocaine and
carried on relationships with various women not named Pamela Corson. Elsewhere in the city of
Los Angeles, bodies were dropping. A spate of heroin overdoses in the first few days of October
1970 were overrunning L.A. County emergency rooms. Street dealers went on the land when news began
to circulate that their product was killing innocent addicts. Medical examiners tow-attack victims who
unwittingly injected what was known as the dealer's supply, uncut, highly potent, pure batch heroin
that had flooded L.A. streets that weekend. The lethal dope sent nine people to the morgue, all because
some dealers screwed up and didn't dilute as a legal product with a cutting agent, an additive that
would allow the drug to be injected without its potency stopping the user's hearts. It was the act of
an irresponsible dealer, either that or someone who just didn't care, someone who believed they
were not only above the law, but who looked down on his customers, who put on a pedestal
those with status, the beautiful people like him, the rock stars he coveted relationships with.
Someone like the boyfriend of Jim Morrison's girlfriend, Pamela.
Someone like the Count, Jean-Day-Bretoy.
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So, Jim Morrison had reason to fake his own.
own death, to disappear. He was exhausted by his rock star image. He was potentially headed to jail
because of the criminal sentencing in Miami. He was suddenly free from his obligations to his record label
and to his bandmates. Los Angeles had become a hotbed of heroin use, a drug his girlfriend Pamela
couldn't shake. Those were the reasons. But where could Jim Morrison and internationally
recognizable rock star disappear to?
For Jim, there could be only one answer.
Paris.
Paris was perfect.
It was bohemian, romantic.
It had a rich history of French poets like Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine,
who did some of their best work in the city.
Plus, American expat writers like Gertrude Stein, T.S. Eliot and Ernest Hemingway,
had all left their marks on Paris back in the 20s.
Perhaps now, 50 years later, the city would inspire Jim Morrison.
to do the same.
So, how would Jim Morrison then fake his own death?
Well, there would need to be a cause of death.
Heart attack.
That was believable.
And he'd need an accomplice to help him with the faking of the death.
And then, of course, with the disappearing act,
and ideally someone to disappear with.
And that was obvious.
Pamela Corson was the only answer.
He and Pam would likely have to prevent authorities
from closely inspecting the body.
There would need to be a quick burial, of an empty casket, of course.
And the burial would most certainly have to be in Paris.
The body would have to be interred locally and not return to the states in order to maintain their secret.
And then, well, at that point, after the funeral, Pam could disappear with Jim.
And they could go anywhere they wanted.
They could retire to Vienna and live the life of Bohemians.
They could move to Tuscany and live off of the land.
They could stay in Paris and lay low for a while.
until anonymously blending back into the rhythm of the city.
After some time, they could even return to the United States.
It was big enough to disappear in.
They could head to Texas or Florida or the mountains in Colorado.
Anywhere was better than Los Angeles.
But no one here gets out alive.
To pull off their scheme, Jim and presumably Pam would need friends to help.
Enter Alon Rone and Agnes Varda.
Alon was one of Jim's friends.
a photographer who was in Paris at the time.
And Agnes Varda was another one of Jim's friends,
the trailblazing French filmmaker who was at the time
assisting Bernard Bertolucci with the script for Las Tango in Paris.
Both were on the scene on July 3, 1971,
in the immediate hours after Jim's death at Jim and Pam's apartment,
summoned by Pam that evening to help her through the ordeal
of dealing with the French authorities in the police and medical examiner
and their nosy neighbors.
And from Milan-Roney's depiction of the death scene,
it doesn't appear at all that either he or Agnes Varda
were in any way in on any sort of scheme
to help Jim Morrison fake his own death.
Now remember, the evidence that conspiracy theorists used
to support the theory that Jim Morrison didn't die
is that, number one, nobody saw the body.
And number two, there was no autopsy.
And three, he was buried very quickly in a sealed coffin.
But Alon Rone and Agnes Varda did see the body, and so did a whole lot of other people.
More on that in a minute.
And there may not have been an autopsy, but that's because Pamela Corson was hell-bent on making sure that that didn't happen.
And Alon-Rone and Agnes Varda had a front-row seat to the decisions made by the medical examiner.
More on that in a bit, too.
Sure, the body may have been buried quickly in a sealed coffin without anyone from America seeing it before it was interred,
but that was because Pamela Corson was, according to Alon Rone,
determined to make sure that authorities didn't discover
that Jim Morrison, the American rock star, had died of a drug overdose.
Pamela didn't want their apartment searched.
She didn't want to be detained by authorities either.
She also didn't want Jim's reputation tainted by a cause of death
having to do with illicit drugs.
So a quick burial without an autopsy was necessary.
And if this meant that Jim's family and friends wouldn't have the chance to see him in the flesh one last time,
then from Pamela Corson's perspective, so be it.
But to the conspiracy theorist, I say Alon Rone did see the body,
as did a whole lot of other Parisians, including a Frenchman,
whom Alon saw on the scene at Jim and Pam's apartment in the hours just after his death.
And that Frenchman?
The Count Jean-de-Bretoy.
Back in Los Angeles, a few months earlier, in the fall of 1970.
Over that weekend, the emergency rooms were overrun with heroin fatalities.
The Count Jean de Bretoy sat nervously in Mercy Fontenow's Hollywood apartment.
Mercy was known around the L.A. rock scene as Miss Mercy.
She was a protege of Frank Zappa, part of the all-girl rock group, the GTOs.
And like most of the L.A. scene at the time, she was friendly with the prologue of the music.
The Count. The Count told her, I have something for you. Mercy had a habit of saying yes to any drug
put in front of her. The Count had a new batch of dope. The Count wanted to see the effect that Drug
had on one of his clients. He just dropped off a few baggies with another client an hour or so ago
and had a weird feeling about it. He was worried. Was this dope too strong? The Count could shoot
up Miss Mercy and if everything was okay, then he'd know, and he could stop worrying. And if the
dope was too strong, well, it was too late to cut it. Too much of it was already out on the street,
but at least the Count would know. And he could make arrangements to fly out of the country
before anything bad came back on him. The Count sat back and watched Miss Mercy shoot his heroin.
Immediately, something was wrong. Miss Mercy felt it. She started struggling.
panting, waving her arms, and trying to speak, but the words wouldn't come.
It was exactly like one of those dreams.
The monster is there with you.
In the room, you can see him, but no one else can.
He's going to kill you, but you can't get your voice to work.
You're trying to scream, but nothing comes out.
Miss Mercy was trying to say something.
Her eyes rolled back into her skull, and her head fell backward against the chair.
She then pulled her head back up in a struggle,
and it rolled loosely around her shoulders as she managed to somehow get out the words,
I'm going down, I'm going down.
The count could see that and was already working to solve the problem by loading a syringe with cocaine dissolved in water.
He then jammed the needle into Mercy's other arm, a direct hit with a vein.
Mercy shot up out of her seat with a gas.
She was going to be okay.
But the Count had his answer.
The heroin was not okay.
This heroin was too strong, and yes, it most certainly needed to be diluted.
He thought of his other client, the one whom he just left with numerous baggies of this lethal heroin.
He remembered that she wore an amulet around her neck and that she kept it filled with cocaine for occasions just like this,
a precaution to snap her back to life if heroin ever sent her into an overdose.
Except what she didn't know and what the count also didn't know was that,
His client had a friend, and that friend had decided that cocaine wasn't as useful to have around as heroin was.
So that friend emptied the cocaine from the count's client's amulet and stuffed it with heroin.
That same night, when the count's client injected his dope and had the same reaction Miss Mercy had,
she reached for the cocaine in her amulet and quickly snorted it in an effort to save her own life.
except what she ended up snorting instead was more heroin.
So, Janice Joplin died of a double dose of Count Jean de Britois's lethal heroin on October 4, 1970,
along with eight other victims in the Los Angeles area that weekend.
This happened, just two weeks after Jimmy Hendricks died in London, officially,
from choking on his own vomit after taking too many barbiturates and drinking too much wine.
But there were already rumors that authorities had it all wrong, that Jimmy had been murdered,
something to do with his manager and an insurance policy and a debt to the mob,
and being injected with a hot shot of heroin.
Either way, a couple days later in Hollywood, when Jim Morrison got word that Janice Joplin had died,
he sat at the bar at Barney's beanery, stared into his whiskey,
raised his glass to the barflies, and said,
You're drinking with number three.
We'll be right back after this word, word, word.
Betrayal Weekly is back with brand new stories.
From threatening text messages disturbing a small Midwestern town.
It was from an unknown number.
Who else is getting these messages?
Why did it start with us?
To long cons and stolen identities.
Who lies about being this sick?
This was the last time I ever believed a word she said.
New voices, each with the courage to tell their own story.
He said I had been kidnapped.
Okay, just trying at normal.
He was essentially on the run.
Every family has secrets.
The rug had been pulled from underneath me.
Oh my God.
It was right in front of my face and I didn't even see it.
Listen to Betrayal Weekly on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Hi, I'm Chris Fairbanks.
And I'm Karen Kilgariff.
We host Do You Need a Ride, the mobile comedy podcast that answers the question.
What does it sound like when we drive our comedian friends around the wild streets of Los Angeles?
Yes, every week we pick up a hilarious guest, maybe run some errands, share some laughs, and our dreams.
Like when Martha Kelly shared her career pivot.
I want to become a influencer of divorced moms whose kids have gone off to college, who have decided they're going to start living life for themselves.
Or the time Baron Vaughn got distracted by the majestic scenery.
Then there's a freaking deer right there on this side of the road.
Holy shit.
Eating freaking road grass.
Road grass.
I wish you said glass.
New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network.
Listen to Do You Need a Ride on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
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Jim Morrison was right. Less than a year later, he would indeed become
number three. He was dead, and he most certainly did not fake his own death and disappear.
Again, to recap. The conspiracy theorist case that Jim faked his own death relies on the claim
that nobody saw his body after he died, nobody besides Pamela and perhaps a crooked Parisian
official or two who were bribed. But this is categorically false. According to Alon-Roney,
Agnes Varda, and many others, there were numerous people who streamed
in and out of Jim and Pam's apartment in the hours after he died, trying to make sense of the
situation. And Jim's body was on full display to all. Jim's heart stopped sometime in the early
morning hours of July 3, 1971. His body was discovered by Pamela, she claims, a few hours
after that, in the bathtub, lying in the water, dead. And that's where the body was when Alon
and Agnes arrived a few hours later after Pamela had called him to come over to help assist
with the ordeal that was unfolding around her. When Alon arrived, there was already a police investigator
on the scene who had taken charge. He obviously saw the body. Alon, being a French expat,
helped the inspector translate the information that he needed from Pamela, who only spoke
English. Pamela, according to Alon, was determined not to let the inspector or anyone else know
the truth of Jim's identity, that he was a rock star.
She wanted them to believe he was an ordinary American citizen.
Alon assumed that this was to head off any unwanted attention from the press, which is understandable.
Along with the police inspector, there were now paramedics on the scene, and they also saw the body,
still in the tub, still submerged in water.
More policemen arrived and more eyes on the body.
The front door to the apartment was open.
Alon saw a curious neighbor from the building just wander inside the apartment,
and the neighbor later recounted that he too saw the body.
The apartment was a hive of activity in those morning hours.
And during all of this, at some point, Alon and Agnes pulled Pamela aside to get the story.
Pamela explained that earlier in the evening, she and Jim decided to sniff some heroin.
She went to bed.
He then, apparently, according to Pamela, snored.
had more heroin, drew a bath, got into the tub, and never got out.
Alon was immediately skeptical.
He was close with Jim Morrison.
He knew that Jim hated heroin and that Jim hated when Pamela used heroin.
The idea that he would use heroin with Pamela was highly suspicious.
There was now a doctor on the scene.
He saw the body as well, and he wanted to know from Milan what Jim's story was.
us. The phone then rang. Pamela answered it and spoke in hush tones. Alon knew who she was
speaking with, her Parisian friends, the ones Jim hated so much, the ones Jim wanted Pamela to
break free from, the heroin addicts. Jim said to Alon recently about Pam in regards to her and her
friends and her heroin habit, quote, you and I are on the side of life. She is on the side of death.
Pam told Alon that she had gotten rid of all the drugs in the apartment.
But Alon also saw Pam inside of Jim's desk while the authorities were preoccupied,
locking away his papers, his poetry.
She then made for the fireplace with another stack of papers, letters, letters that she had written.
Musings, she told Alon, about her drug use that she didn't want the authorities to find.
She set fire to the letters in the fireplace.
She also grabbed the Newsweek magazine Jim was reading.
And the cover story on that magazine?
The Plague of Heroin.
Pamela then grabbed a fur coat.
It belonged to one of her friends,
and it was seemingly worth a lot of money.
She told Alon that she had to call her sister in Los Angeles,
and that she wanted her sister to head to the Elektra Records office
to steal the latest earnings from the doors before it was too late.
Alon Ronez is on record recounting this statement from Pamela Corson.
Alon suggested that instead of focusing on stealing money,
that they called Jim's lawyer in Los Angeles to help arrange the necessary affairs of the deceased.
Pamela did not like this idea.
She then explained that she wanted Jim's body cremated.
Alon protested.
Cremation in France was something that criminals did to the deceased
when they didn't want to answer questions about the recently departed.
But Pamela didn't want Jim's body.
flown back to the United States.
She was suspicious of the process.
The body would be inspected.
She didn't want it known that Jim overdosed, so cremation was necessary.
Alon protested again and convinced Pam that a proper burial could take place there in Paris
quickly at Perlachet's cemetery, the eternal home of great artists befitting of Jim's
post-mortem company, including Frederick Chopin, Eugene Delacroix, Edith Piaf, and Oscar Wilde.
In the meantime, Jim's body would remain in the apartment, in the tub, on ice, with Pam sleeping next to him, keeping guard throughout the end of the weekend and into Monday.
A highly unusual move, something that authorities told Pam was nearly never done.
But Pam wouldn't allow the police inspector or the medical inspector or the doctors to prevail against her wishes to keep the body in the apartment until the funeral.
For reasons I still don't understand, authorities allowed.
allowed Pam to keep the body there in the apartment.
Dry ice was delivered, the bathtub was packed,
and Jim Morrison's dead body remained under the watchful eyes of his girlfriend, Pamela Corson.
A month earlier, in June of 1971, in the south of France on the French Riviera,
at a decadent hideaway known as Villanelco,
the Rolling Stones had begun recording what would become their masterpiece,
exile on Main Street.
They were outlaws, on the run, hiding out of the run, hiding out of it.
from UK tax collectors.
In addition to their financial problems, the Stones had another problem.
Where to procure heroin to satiate the habits of Stone's guitarist Keith Richards
and his friend and visitor to Nell Coat, the Cosmic American songwriter, Graham Parsons.
To solve this problem, the Stones had another visitor.
The Count, Jean de Bretoy.
Keith Richards was so impressed by the Count's product that he offered the Count use of his home
in London. The Count took Keith up on the offer. He left the French Riviera for Keith's place,
and when he settled into Keith Stiggs in the Tony neighborhood of London's chainwalk, he made some
new friends. New friends with similar habits. Talitha Getty, heiress to the Getty fortune,
an actress songwriter, Rolling Stone's muse and ex-girlfriend of Mick Jagger, Marianne Faithful.
The Count was especially keen on Marianne.
Mary Ann was rock and roll royalty.
Marianne co-wrote the Stone song, Sister Morphine.
She was famously part of the Stone's bust at Redlands.
She was the infamous naked girl and fur
who was plastered all over the front pages of the newspapers back in 1967,
and she loved heroin.
So in June of 1971,
while Count Jean de Bertoy took advantage of Keith Richards' offer
to use his home in London,
he also took advantage of his new.
neighbor's heroin habit and used his supply to begin a relationship with one of London's
hippest young women, Mick Jagger's ex, Marianne Faithful. The pair quickly decided to split from
London for Paris. The count had another girl there, another girl who relied on his heroin,
another girl with a rock star boyfriend, Pamela Corson, aka Pam, Pam Morrison.
In the early hours of July 3rd, 1971, Marianne Faithful and Count Jean de Bertoille awoke to the sound of the telephone.
They were in bed in a five-star Paris hotel.
According to Marianne, Pamela Corson was on the other end of the line and she was frantic,
begging the count to come to her apartment immediately.
Marianne was not jealous.
Anything but.
She wanted desperately to meet the notorious rock star Jim Morrison.
The count wouldn't allow it, though.
After hanging up, he quickly dressed and left Marianne behind for Pamela.
Jim Morrison was dead by that time on the morning of July 3, 1971.
His death was not faked.
We know this because of the many, many people who saw his body over the span of many hours later on that morning.
The more interesting question is,
Did Jim Morrison fake his death?
No, the more interesting question is,
how did Jim Morrison die?
Officially, a French medical examiner
determined that Jim Morrison died of heart failure.
This is what Pamela Corson wanted.
She did not want it known
that Jim died of a drug overdose.
But he did, clearly.
She'd admitted that on the scene to Alon Rone.
This information was corroborated by Agnes Varda,
who was also there with Alon and Pay.
and it's been confirmed over and over again by others close to Jim and Pam.
But Jim Morrison dying of a heroin overdose doesn't make sense because everyone who knew Jim
Morrison, including Pamela Corson, knew that he despised heroin.
He didn't use heroin.
Jim Morrison drank and he used cocaine.
Furthermore, he was in Paris to clean up, to get healthy.
So it's strange credulity to believe that he chose this time in his life to develop a heroin
habit. Especially after, according to his close friend, Alon Rone, he'd recently described the drug
and his girlfriend's and her friend's usage of the drug as deathly. But wait, there's more.
In the police report filed by the Paris Police Superintendent, Pamela Corson stated to him that
Pam found Jim's body in the tub submerged in water sometime between 8.30 and 9 a.m. And then she called
authority shortly thereafter. Pam further claimed that she last saw Jim alive sometime around
four in the morning before she went to bed. However, in the report filed by the Paris Fire Brigade,
detailing the evidence as witnessed by the lieutenant on the scene that morning, when he arrived
on the scene at 9.21 a.m., the water in the tub was still lukewarm. Now, would the water still be warm
if Jim drew his bath hours earlier?
Or perhaps was the bath drawn later?
After.
Perhaps after Jim died.
Perhaps after Jim died somewhere other than the tub.
Perhaps after Jim was placed in the tub.
What happened between the hours of 4 a.m.
when Pamela last saw Jim at 9.21 a.m.
when authorities arrived at her apartment.
According to Marianne Faithful, Pamela called the
Count, and the Count went to Pams. Did Pamela and the Count move Jim's body? Why would they do that?
Was that move part of a larger cleanup effort on behalf of the two?
Marianne Faithful has claimed that earlier that evening, Pamela Morrison was snorting the
count's heroin. It was the type of heroin with the street name Cotton Candy.
Heroin isn't like cocaine or marijuana. It doesn't have a signature color.
There's black heroin, brown heroin, and there was cotton candy heroin,
called such because of its light color.
It was pinkish, nearly white.
And because of this, Marianne Faithwell claims that Jim Morrison mistook Pamela Corson's
heroin for cocaine, snorted too much of it, overdosed, and died.
We know the count was at the apartment that morning.
Remember the phone call Pamela Morrison received from her Parisian friends,
the one that agitated Alon Rone.
After that phone call,
Alon claimed he saw the count outside on the street
and that he himself let the count into the apartment to see Pan.
Later that morning, when the count returned to Marianne at the hotel,
Marianne claimed he was agitated and that he beat her.
Afterward, he told Marianne to get packed.
He was clearly scared to death, afraid for his life.
Jim Morrison had taken his heroin and died, and now he and Marianne Faithful needed to leave
from Morocco immediately.
Or so goes the story by Marianne Faithful.
This story, the story that Jim Morrison mistakenly snorted heroin, thinking it was cocaine
and died.
If we're to believe Marianne Faithful, this story makes far more sense than the idea that Jim
Morrison was just another junky rock star who overdosed on three.
smack. But wait, there's yet another story. In Paris, in 1971, there was a nightclub that Jim Morrison
hung out at called the Rock and Roll Circus. It was a hotbed for drug use of all kinds, including heroin.
In 2007, the manager of that club, San Benet, published a book in French only, in which he made the
claim that Jim overdosed on heroin that night at the rock and roll circus and that his body was moved.
out of the club, back to his apartment, and placed in the tub.
Conspiracy theorists love this theory, but I don't.
First of all, why would they take the body all the way back to Jim's apartment
and carefully stage a scene with him in the tub?
Why not just take him out of the club and leave the body in the street,
or in somebody's car, or anywhere, really?
Why go through all the trouble of having to sneak the body through the streets of Paris
into an apartment and then presumably convince the dead dudes
girlfriend to get behind this fantastic lie with you, a lie that would clearly complicate her life.
What incentive would Pamela Corson have to support this lie? And even more interesting question
is, why was Pamela Corson behaving so dishonestly in the hours after the body was discovered?
According to Alon Rone, she was allegedly busy making arrangements to get her hands on Jim's
money back in L.A. She was hiding papers, burning letters, squirtless.
whirling away expensive furs and making plans to have the body quickly cremated.
And when that didn't work, she moved to have the body quickly buried instead.
She didn't want Jim's lawyer involved, so she settled on dealing with his manager, Bill Siddens,
who, once he was informed in Los Angeles of Jim's death, dropped everything and flew to Paris.
According to John Densmore, the Doris drummer, Bill Siddens told him that when he arrived at the scene,
he found heroin in the apartment in a carved wooden box,
and that it was his belief that Jim snorted that heroin by accident and died.
When I look at stories like this,
where multiple people are saying different things,
each with their own relationship to the truth,
I look for incentives.
What incentive does the person making the claim have for making that statement?
Why would Bill Siddons lie to John Densmore,
the drummer for the band that he managed?
his client, his friend.
I can't think of a reason why.
Why would Alon Rone, Jim Morrison's close friend,
lie about what he saw that morning,
about the way Pam was acting?
Seems to me that doing so would make his life more complicated, more painful.
And why would Agnes Varda back up his lies as well?
I have no answer for that.
Why would the manager of the rock and roll circus
publish a book with wild claims about where and how Jim Morrison died?
Well, I can think of a couple reasons, and none of them speak to the author's credibility.
Marianne Faithful's comments strike me as the most credible.
She had no incentive to lie, and no incentive, financial or otherwise, to say what she said.
She started talking immediately after Jim's death and later published her depiction of her
involvement with the count and the count's involvement with Jim's death in her autobiography.
Marianne's comments never elevated or relegated her status in pop culture.
They were just part of her own wild rock and roll story, and her story that Jim Morrison died
by mistakenly snorting her boyfriend, the Count Jean de Britois' heroine, an act that was then
covered up by Pamela Corson and the Count.
That story is the story that's supported by more evidence than any of the other claims
surrounding Jim Morrison's death.
We know who the Count was and what he did for a living.
We know others died from his heroin.
And after Jim died, after the count split for Morocco with Marian, they soon broke up.
And then his life spiraled out of control.
He died in 1972 of a heroin overdose.
Some who were close with him believe that he committed suicide over how he felt about the deaths that he caused,
most notably the deaths of Janice Joplin and Jim Morrison.
And in 1974, Pamela Corson also tried.
died of a heroin overdose, but not before telling many, many different versions to friends
about what happened the night that Jim Morrison died.
Pamela Corson was the last person alive who truly knew how Jim Morrison passed away.
A death at just the age of 27, that no matter the cause was most definitely a disgrace.
I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland.
All right, guys, thanks for checking out this episode of Disgraceland.
Listen, question of the week.
This week, super simple.
How do you think Jim Morrison died?
Was it heart failure?
As officials have said, was it a heroin overdose by his own accord because he was a junkie?
Or was it heroin overdose by mistake?
Let me know your theories.
Perhaps it was something else.
617-9066638.
Voicemail and text at Disgracelandpot on the social's disgraceland pod at gmail.com on email.
Hit me up and let me know how you think Jim Morrison.
died, and perhaps you'll hear yourself on this week's after-party coming up right after this.
All right, here comes some credits.
Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis,
the Exactly Right Network, and IHeart Podcasts.
Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelampod.com.
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Rockerola.
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Who else is getting these messages?
Why did it start with us?
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Who lies about being this sick?
This was the last time I ever believed a word she said.
Listen to Betrayal Weekly on the IHeart Radio app,
Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Hello, it's me, Anna Sinfield, the host of The Girlfriends.
I'm back with more one-off interviews
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Is badness hereditary?
Let's see how we can stop killing.
I'm not too intimidated by her.
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Listen to the Girlfriend Spotlight
on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts,
or wherever you get your podcasts.
If you live in L.A., you already spend about 89% of your life in a car.
So we turned it into a podcast.
On Do You Need a Ride, we pick up our comedian friends,
drive around Los Angeles and discuss what's happening in the world around us.
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All you did was roll your window down.
He almost hit that.
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New episodes every Monday on the exactly right network.
Listen to Do You Need a Ride on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
