A tragedy multiplied with every ‘forward’

The Catsourases are by no means the first to suffer at the hands of cyber-aggressors. But their story is unique in that it touches on so many of the ways the Web has become perverted: as an outlet for morbid curiosities,a space where cruel behaviour suffers little consequence and an uncontrollable forum in which things once private can go public in an instant. The case also illustrates how the law has struggled to define how legal concepts like privacy and defamation are translated into an online world.

For the Catsouras family,calling attention to the case has obvious drawbacks: they realise some who read this story may seek out their daughter’s death photos,though they desperately hope you won’t. But the family decided that sharing its story with Newsweek was worth that risk,to raise awareness of the real suffering caused by their dissemination. “The fact is that we will never get rid of the photos anyway,” says Lesli,Nikki’s mother. “So we have made a decision to make something good come out of this horrible bad.”

Nikki’s death had all the makings of a sensational story. She was gorgeous; it was Halloween,and she was driving a $90,000 sports car. From the outside,the Catsourases seemed to have it all. But the family’s life wasn’t as idyllic as it seemed. In third grade,Nikki was diagnosed with a brain tumor that doctors didn’t think she’d survive. Eight-year-old Nikki had to undergo intensive radiation,and doctors told her parents the effects of that treatment on her young brain might show up someday—perhaps by causing changes in her judgment,or impulse control. Her family believes that’s why,the summer before the accident,Nikki tried cocaine and ended up in the hospital in a cocaine-induced psychosis. She used cocaine again the night before the accident,her family says.

As Christos left for work,he waved goodbye to his daughter,and Nikki flashed him a peace sign from the couch,smiling. Lesli went to fold laundry. About 10 minutes later,Lesli heard the door slam,and footsteps from the back door. She walked toward the garage and locked eyes with Nikki,who was backing out of the driveway in Christos’ Porsche 911 Carrera—a car she was never allowed to drive. Nikki accelerated out the cul-de-sac. Lesli phoned Christos,who began driving around trying to find his daughter and called the police. As he waited on hold,two police cars raced past him,sirens blaring. “Has there been an accident?” he asked. “Yes,” the dispatcher told him. “A black Porsche.”

At the accident site,a crane was lifting the remains of a car so crumpled it was hard to tell what it had been. He collapsed onto the pavement. Later,two coroners told the family Nikki had been driving at close to 100mph.

Soon,photos of the crash showed up on websites,many of them dedicated to hard-core pornography and death. A fake MySpace page was set up in Nikki’s name,where she was identified as a “stupid bitch.” “What a waste of a Porsche,” a commenter wrote.

The Catsouras family hired a lawyer and a tech company that works to remove malicious content from the Web. Together,they track the websites displaying the photos,issue cease-and-desist letters,and use advanced coding to make the photos harder to find in a Google search. Neither tactic was very successful: the family has no legal basis to compel Web sites to remove the photos.

So the family sued the CHP for negligence,privacy invasion and infliction of emotional harm,among other charges. In California,though,the case established little legal precedent. In March 2008,it was dismissed by a superior-court judge,who ruled that while the dispatchers’ conduct was “utterly reprehensible,” it hadn’t violated the law. “This is America,and there’s a freedom of information.” The Catsourases have appealed against the court’s decision.

Today,the entire family is in therapy. At times,they wish they could put it all behind them. “In a perfect world,I would push a button and delete every one of the images,” says Lesli.