The worst sound I ever heard. A man jumping to his death from the 26th floor.
By: Luis Antonio Perez
Tags: Suicide, Jumper, Death, Chicago, Sound

“The sounds of his desperate screams, screeching with regret as he fell to his self-inflicted death were so visceral they still haunt me…”

A man jumped from the 26th floor of the high-rise building across the street from my apartment. I heard the whole thing. I did not see it, but I heard it. The sound of his desperate screams — screeching with regret as he fell to his death — were so visceral they still haunt me weeks later.

It was a pleasant spring afternoon. My partner and I were enjoying a peaceful dinner on our quaint patio. We lived on the elevated first floor of a multi-unit courtyard building in Chicago. We talked about life and dined on pasta and salad as the soundscape of our neighborhood echoed through the courtyard. The humming roar of airplanes overhead, the whirring sound of cars driving by, the hissing brakes and mumbling announcements at the bus stop, sparrows chirping in the trees, clinking dog leashes, and the occasional distant sound of the siren from an emergency vehicle. These familiar and perpetual sounds, the sound of silence in a big city, would soon wane to the worst sound I ever heard.

We had just finished dinner. For the first time, we opened all of the windows of our apartment to allow the gentle breeze to pass through. My partner sat on the couch while I walked to the kitchen to put the dishes in the sink. As I walked back into the living room it happened. For two, long, sustained seconds a man’s voice let out a blood-curdling scream followed by a shorter scream that was interrupted by a loud smacking thud. The sound echoed so loudly it ruptured my soul. The sound shattered the rare tranquility of the day. Somehow, I knew exactly what had happened. My partner asked, “Did someone get hit by a car?” I take a moment to measure my response.

“No,” I tell her. “People don’t… make that sound when they get hit by a car.” Obviously, I had heard people scream before. In fear, in pain, in shock, but I had never heard someone scream like this. It was the sound of a human being in horror.

“Part of me wants to forget the man’s voice, another part wants to always remember.”

I’ve had difficulty trying to describe the sound, even to myself. Part of me wants to forget the man’s voice, another part wants to always remember. The scream was almost unreal, yet the most real sound imaginable. The scream was more of a short series of two successive screams. The first scream stopped me in my tracks. It was loud and piercing. The second scream was louder and ten times more horrified than the first. To me, they sounded like desperate pleas from a man who had suddenly realized the finality of his decision. He knew there would be no escape. I had never witnessed a suicide, but when I heard the sound I knew immediately that someone had jumped from the building.

Seconds after it happened I was still standing in the middle of my living room. Although I was certain about what had happened, my mind briefly considered the other possibilities. Maybe she’s right. Was someone hit by a car? No. When a car hits someone it happens fast. You don’t see it coming and the scream doesn’t last that long. It also doesn’t sound like that. Did someone fall from the third floor of my building? I don’t think so. The level of the horror of the scream was not proportional to a 30-foot fall. After a moment I finally walked toward the balcony to investigate. I braced myself for what I would see. I knew someone had jumped or had fallen. I suspected it was from the high-rise. I knew it would be in plain view from my balcony. As I reached for the balcony door, I hesitated.

“I knew someone had jumped or had fallen. I suspected it was from the high-rise.”

People who know me know that in an emergency situation I am often the first person to spring into action. Almost always I am the first to offer help while others hesitate. But this time as my hand reached for the balcony door I paused. I stood there for a long moment. It was uncharacteristic for me to hesitate in this way in this kind of situation. In an emergency, I am never deterred by the potential for the sight of carnage, blood, broken bones, etc., but this time things were different. I wasn’t simply a former boy scout that happened upon an accident. I understood that this would be one of the most awful personal experiences of my life. One that began less than 20 seconds before. It would be a memory that would scar. The screams this man let out told me that the aftermath of what had just happened may be something I did not want to see. Nonetheless, I reluctantly opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony.