Seeking Relief, McHale's Life Took a Fatal Turn

"He did a great job of showing himself to be in total control and having his life going in the right direction without us knowing it. A lot of people, myself included, were totally surprised when we heard some of the things that were going on."

In May 2007, McHale's family intervened, entering him in a Tampa area rehabilitation clinic. For almost a year, McHale's condition improved. Aside from one relapse, Margy said, he stayed clean.

But his progress proved fruitless. This year, on May 24, McHale had another relapse. Margy had been in contact with him that day and said she knew he was using. That night, Margy cried. For the next few hours, she typed text messages to her brother and offered him counsel.

She wrote that she loved him. She pleaded with him to be safe.

At 12:01 a.m., he responded for a final time, about nine hours before he died.

"Thanks. I love you too."

* * *

Margy McHale remembers her brother as a man who was as comfortable in an apron as he was in football pads. She remembers her brother as a man who insisted that she give him a shopping list before he visited her Montgomery Village home so he could stop by the grocery store and help her prepare a feast. She remembers her brother as a man who drew inspiration from his wife of 18 years and their sons: T.J., Michael and Matthew.

The Tom McHale who died wasn't the man she knew, she said. That was a man who fell victim to the power of addiction.

Tom McHale met Jackson at the rehab clinic, and later moved into Jackson's apartment. Jackson, believed to be the only person with him at the end, said he would not discuss McHale's drug use or death with a reporter.

Deputies found no narcotics among the unkempt conditions at Jackson's apartment on May 25, only a bottle of Jackson's blood pressure medication in McHale's right front pants pocket.

The autopsy report prepared by the District Six medical examiner's office of Pasco and Pinellas counties revealed that McHale tested positive for oxycodone and cocaine, as well as ethanol, cocaethylene (a cocaine/ethanol byproduct) and benzoylecgonine (a cocaine metabolite). No foul play was suspected. The official cause of death was accidental multi-drug toxicity.

McHale's autopsy mirrored those related to oxycodone that the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency has studied since 1996. Of the hundreds of deaths linked to abuse of oxycodone, according to the DEA's Office of Diversion Control, the majority involve multiple drug toxicities.

"I have a lot of faith, and I think it's hard for us on earth to understand," Margy said. "I think God takes you out of your pain, too. I don't know if that always makes sense, because there are family and kids, and it doesn't seem right. But sometimes in life, I think people are in so much pain that there's the faith that they're not in pain anymore."

McHale's friends from Montgomery Village still feel pain. They lost a powerful presence who had faults but made everyone feel as if he was genuinely interested in their lives. They lost someone with whom they shared hunting memories, late-night house parties and deep thoughts about confronting an uncertain world.

On May 30, friends, family and former teammates filled pews at St. Mark the Evangelist Catholic Church in Tampa for McHale's funeral. They heard about his large lifestyle and his legacy of generosity. They heard about his incorrigible laughter and those looks -- his short, wavy brown hair and sharp grin -- that they never again would witness.

They also heard about waste. How drugs will keep his lips from kissing his wife's cheek another goodnight. How drugs will keep his thick biceps from cradling those three beautiful boys on his knee, smiling at their downy faces and recognizing a piece of himself in them.

"I don't have an answer for why Tom had to die of addiction," said Mike Sears, who knew McHale since the fifth grade. "I just know that on our own we can't overcome it."

Said Moholt: "Hopefully, [McHale's death] will open the eyes of other people who are struggling from this that it can happen to the best person in the world. Hopefully, somebody will see the power of addiction, and if they're in that situation, maybe this can help them and [make them] ask for help. There's nothing wrong with asking for help."

A day doesn't pass when Margy McHale doesn't think about her brother, or his final message. She said he was a gentle man, and his time came too soon.

"I have a great peace," she said, "for knowing he's at peace."