Fall of the House Of von Kloberg

"His bills were astronomical," recalls Gelmi, 50, who lived near him on Cathedral Avenue, took him to dinner and bought him groceries. But the once-shameless lobbyist felt ashamed to accept charity and what he called "welfare" treatment at public hospitals.

"He looked like a walking corpse-to-be," Gelmi says. Last winter she called a suicide-prevention hotline but was unable to arrange an intervention. She says von Kloberg was furious that she had tried.

After Monkevicius left town, several of von Kloberg's friends say their worst suspicions were confirmed -- that the 33-year-old baron was nothing but a "kept boy" who dumped his sugar daddy after the money ran out.

Not true, declares Monkevicius, speaking in a lengthy interview from Rome, where he relocated in mid-February. "We loved each other very much and stood by each other. It was a real relationship. It was not about the money and not about the sex."

He portrays von Kloberg's friends in Washington as jealous backbiters: "Once I came into Edward's life he was not dedicating so much time to his friends. All those gifts he was buying for them, it sort of stopped. He was making me happy."

Though their romance faded more than a year ago, he says he continued to help care for von Kloberg. "Edward was very lonely. I would get him dinner and lunch, support him, taking him for walks and to the pool, exercising him at home, trying to make him better."

After Monkevicius left the country, he says von Kloberg phoned him incessantly, wanting to visit. Monkevicius says he discouraged him but in April von Kloberg decided to fly to Rome.

Monkevicius says he met his former lover at the airport and, over the next two weeks, helped him pay for lodging at small, inexpensive hotels. During the day, they would visit the grand five-star hostelries where von Kloberg stayed during the flush years: the Villa Medici at the Spanish Steps, the Excelsior on Via Veneto. They'd nurse Cokes and cappuccinos.

"He could just sit for an hour and for him that was enough," says Monkevicius, his voice solemn. "He said to me, 'This is the way life should be, my dear.' "

Von Kloberg didn't talk of suicide, he says, but made odd inquiries: "He asked how high you could climb up into the Colosseum and how deep the Tiber was . . . And he was asking me every day to take him to the Castel Sant'Angelo."

The castle, not far from Vatican City, rises majestically above the Tiber. The ancient papal fortress is popular with tourists who climb its winding stairways to peer over the ramparts onto the city.

Fans of Puccini's opera "Tosca" know it well. The opera ends with Tosca leaping to her death from the castle; her lover is dead and she cannot bear to live without him.

The Tragic Finale

Monkevicius's account might be flavored by self-interest, but it's corroborated in part by Christopher P. Winner, editor of the American, a magazine based in Rome, whose late mother was a friend of von Kloberg. The lobbyist visited her often in the glory days (once bringing Pakistani president Mohammed Zia-ul-Haq to a party at her apartment) and now was intent on giving the son a photograph of her that he had brought with him to Rome.

Winner spoke briefly with von Kloberg twice but was too busy with coverage of the papal succession to see him. "He left seven messages on my machine, most waxing poetic about my mother," Winner says by e-mail. "He seemed wistful, despondent, unstable, perhaps drunk," but there was no talk of suicide.

"What precipitated Ed's messages to me was a desire to go back in time to happier days in Rome," Winner says. The final voice mail came on April 30.

The next day, von Kloberg went alone by taxi to the Castel Sant'Angelo. He lingered there until early evening and the museum was closing. He went to one of the sentry openings high in the rough fortress walls, climbed on a chair, and flung himself an estimated 20 stories to the courtyard below.

Police found several handwritten notes on von Kloberg's body, at least one of them blaming Monkevicius for his act. They also found a four-page glossy reprint of the Executive Class article that von Kloberg frequently sent to clients, with its cover of him clasping hands with former president Bush.

In a note to the police, he described himself as a "relatively public figure" and suggested they could learn more about him by Googling his name.

Another note cited his pain upon learning that Monkevicius had allegedly taken another lover during their relationship. "My brother felt betrayal," says Carol van Kloberg, his younger sister and sole survivor, who reviewed the notes given to her by police. "He cited personal and business betrayals and deceits by Darius."

Monkevicius denies having an affair -- "No, never. It was never true" -- and says von Kloberg had never accused him of stealing.

And what of the note the spurned lover left for him? "It was actually not very nice," Monkevicius admits. "He says that I am his killer -- that he died out of love for me." He chuckles in an odd, dismissive way.

He believes von Kloberg killed himself "like Tosca" to scapegoat him: Had the lobbyist committed suicide in Washington, people would have assumed that money and health woes were to blame. "He was finishing his life in a very eccentric way: He jumped from the castle out of love, to show that he is still powerful and great, and what a big heart he has."

Monkevicius finds the episode "very tragic" but he will not accept fault, saying, "I did everything I could."

As for becoming the president of Lithuania, an ambition he spoke about in a March interview with one of the country's largest newspapers, the baron says he's put that on hold. Instead, he's started a business as a wedding planner. (Not just any wedding planner, he says, but one who arranges private blessings from the pope.)

Globetrotting Till the End

Carol van Kloberg had her brother's body cremated in Rome. She plans to hold a private service in Washington, perhaps in a few months.

It took longer than expected for the Italians to return the ashes. In June they arrived at Dulles, marked for pickup by "Edward von Kloberg." They were sent back to Rome, then returned through Paris, then finally made it to Upstate New York, where his sister lives.

This gave von Kloberg's friends something further to talk about and even smile about. It seemed so fitting. He always loved to travel.