In defense of David Swain
Dec
18
2009
This article was posted as a response to an Dateline NBC Crime Report on 18 December 2009 about the alleged murder of Shelley Tyre at the hands of her diving partner and husband David Swain in the British Virgin Islands. Swain has been convicted of murder and is serving a life sentence in a Tortola prison. You can read the transcript of the show The Trouble at Twin Wrecks here: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34468647/ns/dateline_nbc-crime_reports/
As a professional scuba diving instructor of five years with over 2000 logged dives and several hundred students trained, including nearly fifty trained as Rescue Divers, I find a few details in this case unanswered that may cast Swain’s guilty verdict under reasonable doubt.
The prosecution argued that Swain ‘held her down’ to drown her. If such is the case, then the most viable technique would unfold as such:
- Swain approaches Tyre from behind, locks his knees around Tyre’s tank and grips the first stage of her regulator. This technique, known as the knee cradle, allows Swain to remain extremely close to Tyre in a way that, no matter how she twists or turns, Swain remains locked behind her.
- Locked in place, Swain reaches around, forcefully jerks off Tyre’s mask and rips out the second stage of her regulator.
- Swain then runs both of his arms under Tyre’s shoulders and puts Tyre in a full-nelson headlock, applying a downward pressure on her head. Certified divers are trained to be able to quickly recover lost masks and regulators. As an experienced diver, Tyre would have no problem performing these tasks. Therefore, the full-nelson headlock (a common rescue technique used by lifeguards) would be necessary incapacitate Tyre’s arms long enough to drown her.
- Swain would hold Tyre in this position for at least three minutes, long enough for her convulsions to subside and her lungs to fill with water. Tyre becomes unconscious and death is final within ten minutes.
Perhaps the Dateline special simply failed to go into enough detail about the autopsy, but therein lays the answers as to whether this technique was used. Drowning is an extremely violent procedure: the body goes through a set of fierce convulsions while the lungs flood. Furthermore, Tyre, behind restrained from behind by Swain, would struggle for her life, jerking against his restraining arms as she tried to escape and recover her regulator. This would undoubtedly leave severe bruises on Tyre’s underarms and back of neck.
But were these bruises present? If so, then it’s damning evidence against Swain. If not, then there’s a major gap in how Swain managed to restrain Tyre without causing physical damage.
There are a few other eye-raising flaws in the prosecution’s case that warrant attention. The Dateline special states:
“First, the pressure gauge on Shelley’s tank showed she’d used just under one-third of her oxygen on her dive … which the experts said meant she had breathed air underwater for only eight minutes before she drowned, right near the Twin Wrecks where she was found.”
First of all, ‘oxygen’ is the wrong word—it should read ‘air’ (if it was oxygen, should would have died at 20 feet during her descent from oxygen toxicity). I’ll let that slide as a journalism mishap.
Later in the report it’s mentioned how Tyre had a low air-consumption rate. No real diving ‘expert’ would consider a low air-consumption rate to be one-third of a tank in eight minutes at eighty feet. That rate is atrociously fast and something to be expected only from severely inexperienced or extremely large divers. In comparison, after eight minutes at eighty feet on a standard 80 cubic foot cylinder I will use approximately one-ninth of my tank. Though I am much more experienced than Tyre, I am also considerably larger and male, two factors that suggest my breathing rate is probably close to hers. One-third of a tank (ignoring air loss due to panic and/or struggle) would place her about twenty minutes into the dive.
Twenty minutes. Recreational no-decompression limits are 30 minutes for 80 feet, and if Swain/Tyre were running a more conservative profile using a rounded-up maximum depth of 90 feet (appropriate for this dive), then the maximum time limit is 25 minutes. In order to extend the dive, Swain and Tyre would ascend to a slightly shallower profile by moving higher on the wreck or swimming over to a shallower section of the reef, as Swain claimed to do. From my experience leading certified recreational divers, the transition in dive levels during a multilevel dive is one of the most common times when buddy separation occurs, especially if the multilevel profile is being done on-the-fly using dive computers.
When I first saw the lay of the Twin Wrecks dive site, my first thought was “line of sight.” Scuba divers are trained to stick together in buddy teams; however, more experienced divers sometimes extend their degree of buddy separation when navigating large objects such as a wreck. This is not necessarily prudent, but it does occur quite commonly, especially when one diver in the team is performing a specific task, such as Swains’s photography. Photographers are particularly notorious in the dive industry for becoming “lost in their view finder” and losing track of depth, time, and buddy location.
The lay of the site—two wrecks with a gap in between—lends itself quite easily to losing line of sight on your buddy. When line of sight is lost, the easiest way to relocate your buddy is to scan towards the surface for bubbles. If Tyre stopped breathing while out of Swain’s line of sight, there would be no such means of relocation. By the time he found her, the critical three-minute window in which the lungs fill with water may have already passed.
Regarding the broken mask, torn mouthpiece, and missing fin, I draw your attention to a video of a fatal diving accident available on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eejQPUyeNiY. (Please be advised, this is a very disturbing video to watch). In the video, Yuri Lipski, a Russian-Israeli recreational scuba diver, dies at an extreme depth of 90+ meters (295ft) due to an unidentifiable problem (aside from the fact that he was stupidly deep—the maximum depth for recreational diving is 40m/130ft). Note his reaction at the end as drowning and panic presumably takes over: he rejects his gear, starting with his regulator (around 17:09:15 on the video camera), possibly some other equipment not visible to the camera, and then, surprisingly, a fin (17:09:32)—seventeen seconds after his last breath, by which point the body, under duress, can no longer hold a breath and is forced to inhale, commencing drowning.
When true panic sets in, the body resorts to primitive instincts rather than training, and the mind sends the irrational message “This gear is killing you, you must get rid of it.” I have seen this countless times when training divers of all experience levels: people, stricken by panic, first rip off their mask, regulator, and then anything else they can grab in an attempt to ascend uncontrollably. In fact, this instinct is so common that, based on my experience, I would estimate that one in four new divers ‘bolt’ (this type of panic) during their initial training—hence why the initial training is performed in water deep enough to stand.
Experience can help calm your mind during moments of panic underwater, but when a real emergency strikes and true panic (such as TMJ causing Tyre’s jaw to lock, preventing her from gripping her regulator mouthpiece), there is no accounting for how violently and irrationally a diver may behave. The fact that Tyre’s dive log account four incidents of panic over a 107 dive period suggests that she had a predisposition towards irrational behavior underwater—diving is an extremely mental sport, and such panic tendencies grossly shorten one’s chain-of-errors that can culminate in death.
As an aside, failing to continue CPR or provide oxygen does constitute negligence. Any Emergency First Repsonder is trained on this fact. Swain, however, was most likely in a state of severe shock, and being alone with Tyre’s corpse he could not continue to do CPR indefinitely and also get Tyre to medical treatment. CPR rarely restarts the heart; it’s purpose is to extend the victim’s oxygen window through artificial circulation of the blood long enough to get the victim to a place where they can be defibrillated.
In conclusion, I see three glaring holes in the prosecution’s case:
- The lack of bruises on Tyre’s body indicating Swain’s method of restraint,
- The air consumption rate not matching up with the alleged time of attack.
- The loss of gear due to panic rather than struggle.
I cannot say with certainty that Swain is innocent (perhaps the Dateline report left out some of these aforementioned holes), but if I were on the jury I would certainly see reasonable doubt to his guilt. His case should be reopened and real diving experts brought it for his defense.
4 Responses to “In defense of David Swain”
I heard about this story but haven’t read it yet. This is interesting you posted on this. My wife and I recently returned from Cozumel where I sort of had a freak out moment diving. I wrote about it here, just breathe.
After reading your post here, it reminds me of how important it is to fill out things like this in my dive log. I’ve only had two real times of sort of freaking out, if you can call it that. One was at around 20 feet when I was still in my class in St. Croix (Cane Bay) and had to do the mask removal and got some water in my nose. I got mad at myself more than anything that I freaked a little. I just always remind myself “I have air in my mouth.”
I played a lot of baseball in my younger years. As a short-stop, I would always think about two plays ahead, “if this happens, this is what I’m going to do… if that happens I’m going there.” I do the same thing driving; sort of the “3 second out” idea with cycling. I try and do that mentally before diving and talk through it with my dive buddy also. I’m aware that if someone runs out of air they’re probably not going to politely come over and motion for my alternate. They’re probably just going to yank it out of my mouth. So I’d better be prepared mentally for what and where all my gear is.
This last trip I choked on some water (long story, two much wetsuit, not enough weight) and, in my opinion, crappy rental gear. But I also realize, I’m responsible for my own safety and that of my buddy. I had that “bolt” moment you talk of… I wanted to just shoot for the surface (but I was still only about 10 feet so…) but I just reminded myself that “you have air man, you’re OK, just relax.” Plus I get sea sick sometimes and the thought of waiting on the boat didn’t sound good either.
My wife is always wanting to freaking go deep!! (OK, that sounded nasty… but something to…. never-mind) and I try and convince her to stay closer to me, or keep going after her and keeping her at our depth. A lot of times we actually hold hands (we’ve only been married a year) She’s not totally out of control or anything, but I like to stay aware of how deep we are at all times. I know I should know this, so shoot me for forgetting, but WHAT exactly is the maximum no-deco depth and time for rec diving? Meaning, what is the deepest you can go and do an uncontrolled emerg ascent without killing yourself? I know there’s probably a lot of variables like previous dives, etc. but generally speaking?
The reason why I bring it up is, there seems to be as much sea-life as we ever really want to see in waters no deeper than 30-60ft. But my wife always wants to hit the deeper wall dives, which are nice and all, but it doesn’t really seem like you see as much stuff. OK, I know we haven’t been diving that long… (only about 25 dives each, Curacao, Cozumel, St. Croix, and Kauai). But the shallow relaxed shore dives are really pretty damn awesome if you ask me.
OK, I just watched this video of David talking about the last time he saw Shelly. He didn’t even know where she was… or didn’t seem to care really. My guess is he didn’t do it either, but sounds like the civil case may have gotten it right.
You brought up some interesting questions here. Especially with the air consumption and their depth. He may have been negligent, but if something seriously happened to her (stroke, TMJ, whatever) there might not have been much he could have done if he was right next to her at that depth. I recently had what’s called a laryngospasm. Which is when you’re larynx spasms and cuts off your air flow for a few seconds or minutes (which seems like an eternity). My first thought was I was dying and to call 911, it really freaks you out! But after getting a CT scan I have acute sinusitis and a cyst in my nasal cavity. The post nasal drip causes the larynx to get agitated and basically charlie horse. My second thought was “man, if that happened when I was diving, I’d be dead.” Although I know what it is now, so maybe I could hold my cool and keep my reg in my mouth until it passes if I ever have one when diving.
My first reaction to David’s video “the last time I saw her” was that I couldn’t believe he was so careless about where she was. Granted he’d been diving for years and years, but I try to always stay within a few kicks of my buddy.
“Just breathe” is one of the most important mantras you can remember while diving.
One of my old instructors taught me “If you can still breathe, you’re alive, and that’s a good thing.” If you feel yourself approaching that edge of panic, focus on your breathing. Counting to yourself helps: in-two-three, out-two-three-four-five-six…… Force yourself to concentrate on the rhythm of your breathing cycle. Concentrate on the fact that air is in fact being delivered with every inhalation. Listen to your bubbles. Slow it down. Relax.
Freak out moments do occasionally happen in scuba. I encountered my first when I was at about the same experience level as you, Jared, and it wasn’t my last. Don’t berate yourself over it; after all, we ARE going several stories underwater on a life support unit! Instead, think about what led up to the event, how you reacted and what you could do differently, and then practice. Take some time in the shallows to rehearse an out-of-air emergency with your buddy. If a flooded mask bothers you, run through it a few times in a confined water area. The more you work on it, the more you will replace the instinctual “fight or flight” with premeditated training.
Speaking of meditation, your reference to baseball is a great comparison. I was a highly ranked competitive swimmer for most of my youth and had to rely on meditation techniques to ‘clear my mind’ before my events (with variable results– I would often vomit my guts out just before a race due to nervousness). Scuba diving is an incredibly mental sport. Before a dive, I’ll often sit on the boat with the regulator in my mouth, close my eyes, and practice my breathing rate. If it’s not too choppy, I’ll do this on the surface with my face in the water, triggering the mammalian reflex to lower my heart rate. Competitive free divers (breath-hold diving) use a myriad of meditation techniques to physically lower their need for oxygen.
Remember: long exhalation cycles eliminates carbon dioxide— the toxin that triggers your diaphragm to breathe— from your system, helping your relax, conserve air, and maintain better buoyancy control.
A few notes I’d like to make from your dive log in Just Breathe. When descending, especially when feeling queasy, try to drop down in a heads-up position. Sure, you’ll go down a bit slower, but this can be accelerated by negatively breathing (having very long exhalations). The benefits are that it will help you maintain your orientation (thus avoiding vertigo), allow you to make more fine-tuned adjustments to buoyancy, and (most importantly) assist your regulator with breathing.
Most rental regulators have an unbalanced second stage (the part you put your mouth on) that become more difficult to breathe from when in an inverted position. Combining an inverted position with the over-breathing that typically accompanies the start of a dive (when you are the most nervous) and you are likely to experience a slight ‘choking’ sensation on unbalanced second stages. Descending in a heads-up position will help alleviate this. When you go to purchase your own regulator, you’ll probably want to purchase a balanced second stage with a venturri assist valve; my Aqualung Legend regulator has this feature which helps me with doing heads-first descents as well as hovering upside-down when I want to snap a cool picture or drop into a canyon.
Regarding your concerns about going deep, you should only go as deep as the comfort level and training of both you and your buddy permits. You guys are more than just a team exploring the beautiful underwater realm; you’re also each other’s back-up life support! You should never be so far apart that in the unlikely event of an out-of-air emergency you can quickly reach your buddy’s alternate air source. And never, never, never let your buddy talk you going deeper than you feel comfortable; besides being an example of peer-pressure gone wrong, you also have to adjust for increased air consumption, decreased no-decompression time, and nitrogen narcosis. I strongly advise people to take an Advanced Open Water course to learn more about how to safely plan and execute deeper dives. Remember, 100ft is the wrong place to solve a novel problem!
You asked:
The maximum depth for an experienced recreational diver is 130ft. Most people set their maximum at 100ft unless there’s a specific reason to be going deeper. If you’re new to the game, 60-80ft is quite reasonable. No-deco times drop-off exponentially with depth. For a first dive of the day, you can get 2 hours 20 minutes at 40ft, 55 minutes at 60ft, 30 minutes at 80ft, 20 minutes at 100ft, and a measly 10 minutes at 130ft. Repetitive dives cut into this allowable maximum bottom time. A live-saving mantra in diving is “Plan the dive, dive the plan.” Use the recreational dive planner to plan your dive in advance with your dive buddy, then follow it strictly, only making adjustments on the side of increased conservatism. Oh, and get a dive computer. I can’t recommend this piece of gear enough; it really changes the way you dive and keeps you significantly safer when used properly.
The deepest you can do an uncontrolled emergency ascent without killing yourself? It’s not a pretty answer: there are reports of divers dying as shallow as five feet by doing an uncontrolled breath-held ascent due to an embolism. The key word is “uncontrolled.” You should never have to do an uncontrolled ascent. Stick close enough to your buddy to grab her alternate air source should something go wrong! If for some reason you’re not close enough, do a Controlled Emergency Swimming Ascent (CESA) by swimming at a controlled rate towards the surface (sixty feet per minute max) while making an “AHHHH” sound the entire way to vent off expanding air. Open Water divers are required to do this from 20ft down as part of their course. I’ve personally done it from 50ft as part of a training exercise and Navy divers are purported trained to do it from 100ft. The control is crucial, as it gives time for air to safely leave your lungs. Remember, at a mere 33ft your lungs are holding twice the amount of air as they would on the surface.
Both the alternate air source and CESA are skills that you should take the time to refresh if it’s been more than a few months since your last dive. Better to have the skills sharp in your repertoire than try to figure them out in a panic!
Keep diving and breathing!
You’ve got some very compelling analysis here. I didn’t catch the 60 minutes segment, but I’m certainly interested in watching it now. And that video of Yuri Lipski is both baffling and tragic.