Posted On June 15, 2022

Janos “John” Lutz was 19 when he enlisted in the Marine Corps out of high school, aiming to do his part for his country in the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks.

As he hoped, he was deployed to the front lines in Iraq.

Janine Lutz recalls the first time that her son called her from the war zone. He was solemn as he told her what he had seen that day — a car bomb explosion.

“We were the first to arrive at the scene. Body parts were everywhere,” her boy said, guarded as he recounted some of the details. He said he was OK, that this was all part of his service. He was now a Marine, and this is what Marines do.

But at the end of the call, just before hanging up, he suddenly lowered his voice to barely a whisper, so soft that no one could overhear.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he said under his breath.

It was the first crack in his voice she had heard since he joined the military, a chilling reminder of just how real her son’s wish had become.

But as brutal as his time in Iraq was, it was nothing compared to his next assignment in Afghanistan, where he saw combat in one of the largest military offensives of the war. It was during that operation, in July 2009, that his best friend, Lance Cpl. Charles Sharp, was killed. Lutz and his fellow Marines of Echo Company’s second platoon dragged Sharp’s body, hoping to get him to the medical chopper, but Sharp bled to death in their hands before they could get him aid. Lutz saw far more carnage, which his mother would learn about only later from some of the Marines with whom her son served.

When Lutz returned to the States a year later, he was tormented by nightmares and the pain from injuries he suffered in a battlefield explosion. At Camp Lejeune, N.C., he was prescribed an assortment of drugs. By the time he returned home to Davie, Florida, he had tried to kill himself — and he was addicted to anti-anxiety medication.

He tried to wean himself off the drugs, and for a brief time, it appeared he was on the road to recovery. But 18 months later, in January 2013, he overdosed on morphine and a powerful sedative, leaving a note on his bedroom door that said “Do not resuscitate.”

He was 24.

About 17 veterans a day commit suicide in the United States. In Florida, 550 veterans died by suicide in 2019, the most recent statistic available from the Florida Department of Veteran Affairs.

For Janine Lutz, the answer lies in veterans connecting with other veterans in their local community.

She founded the Cpl. Janos V. Lutz Live to Tell foundation, which offers programs for veterans with PTSD. Each month, she organizes a Broward Chapter meeting of “Buddies Up,” where veterans and first-responders (who also suffer from PTSD) help each other. She has traveled around the country in an RV organizing similar meetings, and has also developed an app for veterans to connect with other veterans.

“People think they have an idea what death and destruction looks like, but until you really see it, it’s a whole different game,” she said.

“These veterans, they think that if they reach out they are being weak. No, by you reaching out, you could be saving that person you are reaching out to.”

The U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs has been working to address the suicide crisis among veterans and members of the military since the late 2000s, when rates began to rise.

Original Post: Florida mom channels grief into fight against veteran suicides