For over three decades, Pam Williams believed her brother Phil died from a sudden brain aneurysm, a tragic medical event with no preventable cause. She was assured of this explanation during her childhood and carried it through her life, shaping her grief and identity. However, in 2016, a former Elan resident named Mark Babbitts revealed that Phil had been forced into a boxing match at the Elan residential school in Poland, Maine, just days before his death. Witnesses described Phil as visibly unwell—complaining of severe headaches, dizziness, and loss of balance—yet he was still placed in the ring, a practice known to occur at Elan as part of a student-led control system. Multiple former residents reported seeing Phil collapse after the fight, being left in a room, and later being told he had died. Despite these accounts, no official investigation was launched in 1982, and no autopsy was performed. Records show the state and medical authorities deemed the death a natural cause, though a redacted post-mortem report suggests a witness observed the procedure. There is no record of a criminal or internal review by Maine agencies, nor any medical history review of Phil’s condition. The Elan program, which claimed to rehabilitate troubled teens through accountability, was linked to widespread allegations of abuse, including physical violence, forced humiliation, and lack of medical oversight. While some former residents praised Elan’s transformational impact, others described a system where youth were punished, isolated, and pressured into violent confrontations. Pam’s journey from grief to re-investigation reflects a broader issue: the persistent failure of institutions to protect vulnerable youth and to investigate deaths in state-run facilities, especially when evidence points to systemic negligence. The case underscores the danger of unchallenged official narratives and the importance of survivor voices in uncovering the truth.
For more than 30 years, Pam Williams believed she knew how her brother died.
She was told it was a medical event, the kind of tragedy no one could have stopped.
She carried that explanation with her as she tried to rebuild her life around it.
But sometimes the truth doesn't disappear, it just waits.
In 2016, a stranger showed up with questions about what really happened inside a school in rural Maine,
a place that promised help, structure, and change for struggling teenagers.
What followed would force Pam to confront a different version of her brother's final days,
one built on conflicting memories, unanswered questions,
and the possibility that what she'd been told all those years ago wasn't the full story.
I'm Kylie Lowe, and this is the case of Phil Williams Jr. on Dark Down East.
Pam Williams smiles when she talks about her big brother, Phil.
Oh, goodness. He was the best. He was, oh my goodness, like my protector.
I was everything to him.
He was about three years older, a big enough gap to make him a hero in Pam's eyes,
and close enough to make them playmates when they were younger.
He was just always there, running around, having me cling to him and teaching me things,
and just making sure I was not getting into trouble, but just taking care of me,
just protecting me, and if I ever needed anything, he was right there,
and yeah, he was, he was my life.
He loved to sing. He even played a little guitar.
Phil had this presence about him that people noticed right away.
My favorite thing was his smile. He had a beautiful smile.
Because we're Hawaiian, we're dark-skinned,
so when he smiled, he just really lit up everything.
I mean, it just, he was beautiful.
He just lit up, like, the whole area he was in.
All the girls would come around him, and yeah, he attracted a lot of the females.
From a very young age, he had curls in his hair.
Yeah, he was very nice-looking.
Phil took his role as big brother very seriously.
He had to.
The world they were growing up in didn't really leave space for kids to just be kids.
We weren't together a lot, because we were in a broken home.
Our parents were alcoholics, drug addicts, very abusive to each other.
That's why he took care of me so much.
Their father was convicted.
He was convicted of conspiracy to commit murder
and of being an accessory before the fact to assault with intent to murder.
The victim was Pam and Phil's mother,
who had been awarded custody of the kids in their divorce.
Their mom survived the attack but never fully recovered.
She lived nearly three decades in a nursing home.
After that, Phil and Pam were placed into the foster care system.
They were sent to live with a family in Rockland, Maine.
And that's where things started to change for her big brother.
And that's when he started having trouble.
They said, behavioral trouble.
We didn't know what the trouble was.
Phil would go into fits of rage that, now with the benefit of retrospect,
may have been triggered by intense headaches.
He complained of fierce pain in his head constantly.
At the time, their cause was unknown and untreated.
I just remember,
a lot of violence,
a lot of him screaming and smashing his head on walls,
saying that his head hurt so bad,
begging for them to help it stop.
Pam didn't recognize this version of her brother.
Just remember being scared all the time,
starting to be scared of him.
And it just,
I didn't know what was going on.
I didn't know why,
they kept saying it was his fault.
He would sometimes get down and, you know, cover his head and just,
I didn't understand why they were saying it was his fault.
It didn't look like his fault.
It looked like he was in pain.
There was an incident of physical violence involving Phil and their foster brother.
That may have been the breaking point.
Pam has few memories from early childhood,
after years in therapy to understand why she's never been able to recover them.
But there are a few especially heavy moments that still float to the surface.
Like the night her brother was taken from her.
And then, yeah, just one night,
the police coming to our foster home and removing him.
Phil was picked up by police and removed from the foster home.
He was first sent to a youth center,
and then to Sweet's,
a mental health care provider,
before he was placed at Alon One Corporation in Poland, Maine,
most well-known simply as Alon.
He was 15 years old.
Pam didn't know anything about Alon when Phil was placed there.
She was told very little by the adults in her life,
but everything she did here sounded encouraging for someone like her brother.
Through some virtual digging,
I came across an old brochure for Alon Online.
It looks like it was created sometime during or after 1985,
based on dates from quotes featured inside.
According to its founders,
and straight from the Alon brochure itself,
quote,
Alon is a school.
It is not a correctional institution,
nor is it a mental hospital.
It is a carefully conceptualized
and caringly administered residential community
for adolescents with, quote-unquote,
out-of-control behavioral problems.
Alon works with juveniles to help them
see the causes and consequences of their conduct,
and then to teach them the skills of responsible living.
Alon was founded in 1970.
It was started because there were no proper facilities for youth
who did not belong in mental hospitals or in penal institutions.
Those adolescents who were sent to mental institutions were not cured.
They learned how to become patients.
Those who were sent to juvenile justice institutions were destroyed,
either because they became victims of actual criminals,
or because they themselves became criminals.
Unlike the usual institutions,
which operate in the medical-social work model
or the correctional model,
Alon insists that each individual is responsible for his own behavior
and only grows through practicing responsibility.
Alon's philosophy insists that each person is only as sick as he or she wants to be.
The community of peers isn't fooled by the clever, manipulative actions,
and self-defeating adolescent behaviors in the way conventional institutions
have allowed themselves to be bamboozled.
The Alon community will not tolerate the individual who insists upon illness.
It demands that each student comes to grips with wellness.
Alon is highly productive.
Through Alon, several thousand troubled adolescents have freed themselves
from alienation and confusion.
Their obnoxious behavior has become unnecessary and fades away
into unpleasant memory."
They kept telling me that he was doing better.
That, yeah, they were working on his behavior.
They were getting him treatment for his headaches.
That was the picture Pam was given.
That her brother was safe.
That he was in school.
That people were finally listening to him, finally helping him.
That this was a place where he could get better and eventually come home.
She believed she would see him again, but that didn't happen.
I didn't get to see him.
The next thing I remember is we were making him a gift box for Christmas,
but it came back in the mail.
And then a couple days after Christmas, I was told that he had already passed.
And now,
they didn't want to tell me because they didn't want to ruin my Christmas.
And I lost it.
The next time she saw Phil was at his funeral.
At first, we were told that he had died of a brain aneurysm.
Pam was told that he collapsed from a brain aneurysm.
It was described like a ticking time bomb that no one knew had been counting down.
The explanation did not change.
Pam did not make it any easier to cope with what she'd lost.
I tried to jump in the grave with him at the funeral.
You know, my dad, my foster dad had to, you know, pull me literally to the van to get me away from the graveside.
Yeah, I tried to go with him.
I was horrible.
That moment changed me forever.
Losing Phil altered the course of her life, and it sent her into a spiral that took many years to climb out of.
Through treatment and therapy, she made progress.
She found ways to navigate her grief and make peace with the Phil-shaped hole in her life.
For over 30 years, Pam believed what she was told as a child about how and why her brother died.
There was no reason to question it.
And then she got a call from a stranger that challenged everything she thought she knew about Phil's death.
We didn't trust him at first.
We were like, you know.
Who is this guy, Mark?
And is he telling the truth?
Like Phil, Mark Babbitts was a former Elan resident.
According to reporting by Judith Meyer for the Sun-Journal, he spent about a year there in the mid-70s, ordered by the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services.
In 2016, he'd tracked Pam and her father down because he said he had information about Phil.
And they agreed to meet with him, though not without serious reservations.
Pam didn't know what to make of this guy from Chicago, driving up in a fancy car, dropping Phil's name.
Was he for real, or some kind of con man, or worse?
But if Mark really had information about her brother, Pam wanted to hear it.
Mark got straight to business during their first in-person meeting.
He handed over a copy of Phil's death certificate.
The immediate cause of death listed on the death certificate is brain stem compression.
Due to, or as a consequence of, massive cerebral hemorrhage.
Due to, or as a consequence of, probably ruptured aneurysm.
That did not come as a complete surprise.
Pam and her father already knew Phil's cause of death.
They had made peace with what they understood at the time.
That no one knew the aneurysm was there before it ruptured, and that once it happened, nothing could have changed the outcome.
But what Pam didn't know until. Mark showed up, was what other residents at Elan said they witnessed before Phil reportedly suffered the probable rupture of a brain aneurysm.
The horror that was going on in those buildings, when we found out about it, at first we were like, just in shock.
Elan One Corporation was founded in 1970 by Joseph Ritchie and psychiatrist Dr. Gerald Davidson.
Joe didn't come from traditional education or clinical training.
He was in recovery from substance use and had spent time in treatment programs himself.
Experiences the Elan brochure calls a crude precursor of Elan.
He was not a physician.
He was not a teacher.
He had not attended a school.
He had not attended college.
And he was 24 years old when Elan opened its doors.
The name Joe Ritchie is still well-known in Maine today, even after Joe's death, for reasons beyond the school.
He was a businessman, and by 1979, he and Dr. Davidson had purchased the Scarborough Downs racetrack.
Joe was more than just the co-founder of Elan.
He also served as executive director.
He was in charge of the daily functioning of the Elan program and the training and development of its staff.
Below Ritchie and Dr. Davidson were the staff carrying out the program.
They were trained in Elan's, quote, special techniques and could not be manipulated by, quote, clever adolescents, according to the brochure.
By the mid-80s, Elan had about 170 beds.
Kids came from 30 states and five foreign countries.
Some students were placed there by their parents, who paid tuition, about $1,000 a month in 1972.
Rising to around $55,000 per student in 2011.
Others, like Phil, were placed there through the state.
It was licensed by the Maine Department of Education as a high school, authorized to grant diplomas.
So how did Elan actually work?
According to its own materials, the goal wasn't short-term behavioral control.
It was total change.
Students weren't just expected to stop doing the wrong things.
They were expected to rebuild.
Students were pushed to confront themselves directly and answer questions like,
Inside Elan, the program functioned like a miniature society, largely run by the students themselves.
Each unit had jobs and a chain of command.
New arrivals started at the bottom.
Advancement brought more status, responsibility, and privilege.
But it had to be earned.
The system relied on constant evaluation.
Success meant moving up, failure meant being pushed back down.
Students were often placed in roles where they were expected to struggle,
with the idea that setbacks would build resilience.
At the same time, pressure to perform was constant.
Peers enforced expectations, and everything had to be earned.
The Elan brochure I found addressed the concerns parents might have about sending their kids to the school,
like whether they'd be able to visit,
quote,
We will want you to visit your child when the time is right,
when he or she has changed enough to act in an appropriate manner,
has changed enough to start interacting with you productively.
In about six to eight months,
the student should become autonomous enough to be capable of negotiating and interacting with his or her parents
in a way appropriate to an adolescent rather than a petulant child.
Then we will ask you to visit Elan.
End quote.
In the meantime,
parents were promised quarterly reports,
though even those might be delayed,
and if the updates were difficult to read.
For example,
if a report noted a child suffering from depression,
the brochure prepared parents for that, too.
Quote,
Depression must occur when the resident becomes aware of how he has wasted his opportunities and hurt others.
This kind of depression is desirable and useful
because it leads to a new, more mature way of healing.
End quote.
Finally, the brochure reassured parents of where responsibility lay.
Always remember, it reads,
Elan's philosophy does not allow you to be blamed for your adolescence behavior.
That behavior is the adolescence responsibility, not yours.
At the end, co-founder Dr. Davidson leaves the reader with this.
Quote,
Over the years at Elan,
we have learned much about troublesome adolescents,
as distinguished from troubled, i.e. mentally ill.
They are incompetent.
Traumatic events, some accidental, some caused by ignorance,
some caused by meanness, have blocked the adolescent.
The energy that should go into personal development
is diverted into nonsensical, useless, or self-destructive behavior.
When a youngster's total energy and passion is taken up with failing school to make parents suffer,
with getting even instead of getting ahead,
with drugs, with battling secret fears, or whatever,
then that adolescent does not grow.
He or she has no time to do the work of adolescence.
Dropping out of school, encapsulated with rock music all day over the Walkman,
or focusing on video games and harassing adults,
doesn't build much of a future.
It produces incompetence.
End quote.
On paper, Elan presented itself,
as structured, intentional, even therapeutic,
but stern, if that's the right word for the tone that the brochure gives off.
A place where difficult kids could rebuild themselves from the ground up.
That's the version families were given.
The reality, for many residents, was much darker.
Elan boasted clinical services and special techniques,
delivered with specialized care and backed by professional standards.
So what were those?
One of the most common forms of discipline at Elan
was something called a haircut.
If a resident committed an infraction,
they could be surrounded by their peers and screamed at.
They were forced to listen as other kids tore them down for what they'd done.
A reporter for the Evening Express who witnessed one of these in 1972 wrote,
Screaming and yelling is very much a part of the scene at Elan.
One of the first things a resident learned,
is how to scream.
And then there was the ring.
The infamous ring.
It was quite simply student-against-student boxing.
Not hidden, not a secret.
This was being publicly reported as early as 1974.
In a Lewiston Daily Sun article by Jeffrey Govalt,
a resident named Amy was described as being,
forced to box another resident after lashing out at them.
Just weeks later, that same reporter documented 69 licensed
violations at Elan's second location in Waterford. Among the concerns? Boxing matches between kids
of different sizes. One local resident questioned whether the people running Elan were responsible
at all. By the mid-1970s, concerns had escalated beyond local reporting. Mark Babbitts himself,
the man who brought information about Phil to Pam, he had been removed from Elan in 1975,
along with 11 other residents, after the Illinois Department of Children and Family
Services received allegations of abuse, both mental and physical. The Illinois DCFS report
documented allegations of handcuffs, straitjackets, forced humiliation, and physical violence.
One resident was allegedly made to stand for hours, handcuffed to a table. Others said children
were beaten. According to reporting by John S. Day for the Bangor,
Daily News, one account alleged that residents were ordered to pour a mixture of food and human
feces over another child's head. The conclusion from that evaluation was blunt. Quote,
team members found the Elan program abhorrent to all expected standards of child care. End quote.
But in the weeks that followed, reports of other evaluations surfaced. Another team from Illinois
had given Elan a clean bill.
just a month before the allegations of abuse. A psychologist from Cook County also offered a
favorable recommendation weeks after that. And some students, interviewed without staff present,
said the allegations in the Illinois report were exaggerated or outright false.
Maine launched its own investigation, but I have not found public documentation showing that it
resulted in substantiated findings of physical abuse, enforcement action, or loss of licensure.
Joe Ritchie planned to sue the evaluator and the state of Illinois for defamation.
The disposition of that case, if it ever came to be, is unknown.
Over the years, more allegations surfaced, some paired with lawsuits against Elan.
But many of those cases were dropped, dismissed, or never moved forward.
And still, the stories persisted. Years later, when Pam sat in her home listening to Mark Babbitt's,
this is what she was trying to process.
The stories that I was told, I didn't even know that some people would do such things.
You don't treat children like that. How, when you're supposed to be nurturing children,
when you're supposed to be taking care of children, how can you treat them like that?
But it was what Mark told Pam and her father next that totally shifted the earth beneath them.
Mark explained that he had spoken to former students who were at Elan with Phil in December
of 1982. These former residents alleged that in the hours or days before Phil died,
he had been placed in the ring for a boxing match.
The idea that this could have happened, that Phil could have been forced to box,
and could have suffered repeated blows in a school-sanctioned fight,
that it could have triggered something already at risk inside his brain,
had never been part of Pam's reality.
And just like that, everything she thought she knew about her brother's death started to unravel.
After Mark came and told us all this, I had to start over again.
It was like he died all over again.
Because it was totally different.
In that big renewed grief, something else was unleashed alongside it.
Mark wanted someone to dig deeper into Phil's death.
What he believed was Phil's murder.
And Pam was going to help.
On February 23rd, 2016, more than three decades after Phil Williams died,
the Androscoggin County Sheriff's Office received a report of a possible homicide.
The name in the case file is redacted, but through my reporting it appears to have been Mark Babbitt's walking into the lobby that day,
telling authorities he wanted to report a possible murder committed on December 27th, 1982.
He described how kids who were residents at the Elan School in Poland, Maine,
were forced to box each other while everyone else watched.
According to the report, he said he had gathered information from several of his followers
that something had happened.
Something happened during one of those fights in the Elan 7 building on December 27th, 1982.
He handed over Phil's death certificate to the sergeant saying,
he believed this should have been investigated decades earlier.
That if anyone had looked closely at the time,
they would have found the same information he was now bringing forward.
The sergeant completed the report and passed it up the chain of command to the chief deputy,
who would then notify Maine State Police and the Attorney General's office, the agency's
responsible for investigating homicides in Maine, outside of Portland and Bangor.
For the first time since 1982,
Phil Williams' death was being treated as something that deserved an investigation.
Maine State Police opened an investigation into the murder of Phil Williams,
and the investigation into Phil's death in 2016.
Detective Herbert Layton tracked down former Elan residents for interviews,
many of them brought forward by Mark Babbitts.
I obtained 71 pages of records from that investigation.
They are heavily redacted.
On top of names, including Phil's name, which I had to provide to request the documents,
nearly every pronoun is inexplicably blacked out,
which makes it difficult to identify exactly who is speaking,
in each account.
But taken together with my other research and reporting,
the picture is clearer.
One former resident who lived in Elan 7 between 1981 and 1986 told Detective Layton they remembered
Phil for two things in particular: his curly hair, and the fact that he complained of headaches
all the time.
That resident also remembered being present during a boxing match, believed to involve Phil.
They described a group of residents forming a
circle around the ring.
At some point during the fight, Phil fell and began to convulse.
He was taken away, and later the residents were told that he had died.
The former resident explained that the ring was never really seen as dangerous, but after
Phil's death, there was a growing fear among the kids that Elan might actually be capable
of seriously harming them.
Another witness recalled retrieving the boxing equipment that day, gloves and headgear.
They remembered that there were three rounds, but only two people boxing Phil, suggesting
that one of them may have fought him twice.
A different former resident, who had known Phil for several months before his death,
described what led up to that moment in more detail.
They remembered a general meeting shortly after Christmas in 1982, where Phil was called
to the front and confronted by other residents.
During that meeting, people accused him of faking something likely his headaches but
this part is redacted, and were encouraged to say whatever they felt about him.
After that, according to this witness, Phil was sent into the ring.
The account states that two residents boxed him, with one going two rounds.
The witness said Phil did not fight back, he kept his gloves up, covering his head.
At one point the power went out, and the fight continued in the dark.
When it was over, Phil was taken into an office and left there.
Another resident was assigned to sit outside and watch.
After a short time, they heard a noise from inside the room.
When they looked in, they could see him sitting, hunched over, with his hands covering his head.
The resident asked if he was okay, but his response is redacted in the report.
Concerned, they went to get a staff member and said that Phil didn't look right, that
he appeared to be in pain, and they were told to return to their seat and were scolded for
leaving their post.
A few minutes later, they heard what they described as "flopping sounds."
When they went back to their seats, they heard a voice.
They went back into the room, they found Phil on the floor convulsing, like he was having
a seizure.
They called for help.
People rushed in.
Someone told them to hold him down.
Phil was then removed, possibly on a stretcher, and the next day, the resident was told by
a nurse that he had died.
Another witness described Phil as unresponsive after the fight, choking on vomit while he
was in that same office.
According to that account, a staff member instructed them to roll him onto his side.
At some point after his death, that same witness asked why Phil had been placed into the ring
if it was known that something was wrong with him.
They were told it was safe because he had been wearing headgear.
Another account describes Phil in the days before he died as "visibly unwell," complaining
of pain, dizzy, losing his balance, and crying.
According to that resident, staff did not believe him and told him to continue working.
When he said he couldn't, a general meeting was called.
Phil was later released on bail.
Phil was called.
And the ring was set up.
Several residents who spoke to investigators in 2016 believed that Phil had been put into
the ring multiple times in the days following the incident.
leading up to his death. One witness believed it was possibly as many as 10 times over a four
or five-day period in an effort to force him to admit he was faking it. But not every account
aligns. One former resident told Detective Leighton that Phil was not left alone in an office after
the fight. In their version, Phil returned to the cottages that night. The following day, Phil said
he still didn't feel well. A staff member responded that they would see what they could do.
According to this witness, while sitting on a bench outside the kitchen later that day,
Phil stood up, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. That resident said they were right
there at his feet as he had a seizure and stopped breathing. The sequence of events is not identical
in every account, but across nearly all of these statements, there is one consistent thread.
Former residents talked about the ring. According to witnesses who claimed to be there,
the ring was
somewhere in the hours or days leading up to Phil's death.
Detective Leighton also tracked down a number of former Elan staff members as part of the 2016 probe,
including someone who worked in Elan 7 at the time Phil was there.
That person didn't remember Phil by name and had no independent memory of him, but they did remember
the day a boy was taken to the hospital and the call that came afterwards saying that the boy had
died.
At first, they couldn't recall whether that boy had been in the ring, but later in the interview,
they remembered that staff had reported behavioral problems and sought permission to put him there.
That same day, they got the call that the boy was being taken to the hospital,
then another call reporting his death.
Detective Leighton also interviewed a former staff member who worked at Elan
years later, in the mid-1990s, possibly in a medical role.
Redactions make it difficult to say for sure.
Now, this witness described how most kids were taken from their homes,
sometimes pulled from their beds, and transported to the facility in the dead of night.
Once there, they were required to remove personal items and were bathed for what staff referred to as
bugs.
According to this former staff member, nurses did not receive complete medical histories for
residents. They were told what medications a child was on, but not necessarily a full picture of
their health.
The former staff member confirmed that the ring existed, and that residents did box one another.
They said they didn't personally recall treating any serious injuries, though,
mostly things like bruises or split lips, sometimes days after the fact.
But the former staff member's experience added another layer.
They also said that when they personally raised concerns about the program internally,
they were told it was none of their business. And when outside officials came in to review
or recertify Elan, there were never any problems noted.
The former staff member believed those officials may have been told
not to believe anything the kids said.
This is just one account from one person who worked at Elan at least a decade after Phil was there.
Elan described its own medical care as attentive and comprehensive.
The brochure boasted their focus on improving each student's physical, psychological,
and dental health. On campus, nurses,
handled daily care, coordinated with outside providers, and worked under a physician who
regularly oversaw treatment. In serious cases, students were taken to St. Mary's Hospital,
about 15 to 20 minutes away, where Elan maintained a working relationship and shared medical records.
The program also emphasized early detection of psychiatric issues,
stating that staff were trained to recognize warning signs and intervene quickly.
Now another witness, a retired Maine probation and parole officer who
supervised a juvenile placed at Elan in the late 1970s, described the structure this way.
Elan used kids to control kids, which not only solved the problem of staffing,
but also solved the problem of adult staff members being accused of assaulting the juvenile
residents by having another juvenile strike the child at the behest of Elan.
End quote. But there's one account in the case file documents I received,
that throws a wrench into the whole thing. Detective Layton interviewed a person described
as the overall supervisor of Elan 7, someone who worked there before, during, and after the time
Phil was a resident. That person said they had no recollection of any child dying at Elan,
aside from one resident who may have died from a contagious illness. In fact, they told
investigators it made no sense that a child could have died while living there without them knowing
about it.
As Detective Layton continued the investigation, there were a few other details that stood out,
some clarifying, others raising even more questions.
None of the witnesses he interviewed, whether staff or former residents, could recall any kind
of formal meeting among leadership to discuss Phil's death at the time. There was no clear
memory of a review, a debrief, or any internal response that you might expect after a child dies
in a residential program.
There were also no consistent memories of an ambulance being called. Instead,
multiple witnesses described Phil being placed into a station wagon and driven off campus.
It's also important to note that not every person interviewed had negative things to say about Elan.
One former resident said the program changed their life, helping them break a cycle of substance use.
They described the ring as controlled, saying only bullies were made to participate,
and that the ring was used as a means of control.
And that no one was brutally beaten while boxing.
There were also questions raised about the motive for bringing these allegations forward
more than 40 years later. One witness suggested that the stories surrounding Phil's death,
and what may have led up to it, could have been influenced by the possibility of a future
lawsuit. Which brings us back to Mark Babbitt's.
A little more about Mark Babbitt's. After he was removed from Elan by the Illinois DCFS,
he eventually returned, possibly by choice, but he did not graduate from the program.
He later spent time in another residential facility. In the years that followed,
after his own struggles and time in prison, he became a vocal advocate for former
Elan residents. He helped connect survivors, supported efforts to share their stories,
and was even involved in projects like the Last Stop documentary, which
focused on experiences inside the program.
His advocacy apparently involved the possible pursuit of legal action.
In a 2016 written response from Maine Assistant Attorney General Laura Nomani,
it's clear Mark had been in regular contact with the AG's office about the investigation into Phil's
death.
In the letter sent to Mark, Nomani reminded him that she cannot discuss
aspects of the investigation with him. And then she wrote,
You recently informed me that you are contemplating filing a $52 million civil
action against the state of Maine for monetary damages relating to the Elan school.
You requested advice in the filing of such a suit. If this is a matter you intend to pursue,
you should consult with your private legal counsel."
She went on to say,
that the Attorney General's office could not provide him with legal advice and they would
represent state agencies in any such case. For some, yes, that raised questions about
Mark's motivation for stirring this all up. But for Pam, it doesn't change how she sees Mark or
his mission. She believes he cared deeply about what happened to kids at Elan and about making
sure those stories were heard. At the same time, like many survivors, his advocacy exists because
alongside a pursuit of accountability, including the possibility of compensation for what they say
they endured. By 2016, investigators were trying to piece together what might have happened to Phil.
But that raises a more basic question. What happened in 1982 when he actually died?
What's striking, what's hard to ignore, is how little evidence there is that anyone looked into
his death at the time. I could find essentially nothing to suggest that Phil's death was
investigated by any law enforcement agency at any level in 1982. When Detective Leighton checked
decades later, the office of the chief medical examiner had no record of conducting an autopsy
in Phil's case. Reporting by Katherine Skelton and Lindsay Tice for the Sun-Journal suggests
the OCME was notified of his death, but because the attending physician's
determined it was due to natural causes, an autopsy was not ordered. That's one version
of events, but the records from the 2016 investigation complicate that. In those case
files, Detective Leighton writes, quote, I reviewed the report of post-mortem examination of redacted
and later notes that another individual was listed in the report as a witness to the autopsy.
If someone witnessed a post-mortem examination of redacted, it was a witness to the autopsy.
If someone witnessed an autopsy, it suggests
one may have taken place. There is also a heavily redacted interview with that witness.
While details specific to Phil are removed, the witness speaks generally about the type of
condition believed to have caused his death, likely a brain aneurysm, saying that people are born with
them, that they are difficult to diagnose, and that they most commonly rupture between the ages of 25
and 45. Rare in someone Phil's age, but not impossible. So even at the most basic level,
there are inconsistencies. It's not entirely clear whether an autopsy was done or how thoroughly his
death was examined. What is clear is what didn't happen. There's no record of an official criminal
investigation by police or the Attorney General's office in 1982. The Maine Department of Education
did not investigate.
Alon, in connection with Phil's death.
And then there's the question of DHHS, the Department of Health and Human Services here
in Maine. Phil was a child in state custody. He died while placed at a facility the state
had approved, one that already had documented allegations of abuse. So was there an internal
investigation by DHHS? Pam has tried to find out. She has requested records from the Department of
Health and Human Services.
From the Office of Child and Family Services. But she has never been able to see them. She still doesn't know how or even if the state examined what happened to her brother. A child dies while in state custody, and there's no clear record of anyone stepping in to ask why. To ask if he was receiving proper medical care. To understand the conditions he was living in. Why was this not an immediate cause for a closer look? If not a full investigation of his death, then why was this not an immediate cause for a closer look?
If not a full investigation of his death and the circumstances surrounding it.
I'm not a prosecutor. I'm not a legal expert. But here's what I've come to understand through research and reporting. Under Maine law, murder requires proof that someone intentionally or knowingly caused that death. Or engaged in conduct so extreme that it shows a depraved indifference to human life. That is a very high bar.
Without clear evidence of intent or conduct that a jury would view as that level of indifference, a murder charge becomes difficult to sustain.
In Maine, manslaughter covers situations where someone causes a death without intending to, but does so either recklessly or in a way that reflects a serious failure to recognize an obvious risk. That crosses into criminal negligence.
Recklessness means a person is aware of a substantial risk and consciously disregards it.
Criminal negligence means they fail to recognize a risk that any reasonable person should have seen. But both fall under the umbrella of manslaughter in Maine.
Witnesses described Phil as visibly unwell in the days leading up to his death. He complained of severe headaches, struggled with balance, and appeared physically compromised. And yet, according to those same accounts, he was still placed into what essentially was a forced boxing match.
If a jury believes that Phil is guilty of a murder charge, then it's possible that Phil is guilty of a murder charge.
for the murder of Martha Moxley.
Find it in the show notes.
Thank you for listening to Dark Down East.
You can find all source material for this case
at darkdowneast.com.
Be sure to follow the show on Instagram
at darkdowneast.
This platform is for the families and friends
who have lost their loved ones
and for those who are still searching for answers.
I'm not about to let those names
or their stories get lost with time.
I'm Kylie Lowe,
and this is Dark Down East.
Dark Down East is a production of Kylie Media and Audiocheck.
I think Chuck would approve.
Podcast Summary
Key Points:
For over 30 years, Pam Williams believed her brother Phil died from a brain aneurysm, a medical tragedy with no preventable cause.
In 2016, a former Elan resident, Mark Babbitts, revealed that Phil was forced into a boxing match at the Elan school, where he suffered repeated blows and likely triggered a fatal brain aneurysm.
Multiple former residents and staff described witnessing Phil’s physical deterioration, being placed in the ring despite known headaches and instability, and being left in isolation after the fight.
The Elan program, marketed as a therapeutic alternative to mental hospitals and prisons, used student-on-student discipline, including public humiliation and boxing, with little accountability.
No formal investigation occurred in 1982 after Phil’s death, and no autopsy was conducted or recorded, despite staff awareness of his health issues.
Maine state agencies, including the Department of Health and Human Services, failed to conduct an internal review of Phil’s death, leaving critical gaps in oversight.
The lack of medical records, absence of a criminal investigation, and inconsistent reports raise serious questions about negligence and possible abuse.
Pam’s personal grief and belief in the official narrative were shattered when confronted with survivor testimonies, prompting a reevaluation of what truly happened to her brother.
Summary:
For over three decades, Pam Williams believed her brother Phil died from a sudden brain aneurysm, a tragic medical event with no preventable cause. She was assured of this explanation during her childhood and carried it through her life, shaping her grief and identity. However, in 2016, a former Elan resident named Mark Babbitts revealed that Phil had been forced into a boxing match at the Elan residential school in Poland, Maine, just days before his death.
Witnesses described Phil as visibly unwell—complaining of severe headaches, dizziness, and loss of balance—yet he was still placed in the ring, a practice known to occur at Elan as part of a student-led control system. Multiple former residents reported seeing Phil collapse after the fight, being left in a room, and later being told he had died. Despite these accounts, no official investigation was launched in 1982, and no autopsy was performed.
Records show the state and medical authorities deemed the death a natural cause, though a redacted post-mortem report suggests a witness observed the procedure. There is no record of a criminal or internal review by Maine agencies, nor any medical history review of Phil’s condition. The Elan program, which claimed to rehabilitate troubled teens through accountability, was linked to widespread allegations of abuse, including physical violence, forced humiliation, and lack of medical oversight.
While some former residents praised Elan’s transformational impact, others described a system where youth were punished, isolated, and pressured into violent confrontations. Pam’s journey from grief to re-investigation reflects a broader issue: the persistent failure of institutions to protect vulnerable youth and to investigate deaths in state-run facilities, especially when evidence points to systemic negligence. The case underscores the danger of unchallenged official narratives and the importance of survivor voices in uncovering the truth.
FAQs
The official cause of death was listed as a brain aneurysm that ruptured, described as a ticking time bomb with no prior warning.
A stranger named Mark Babbitts, a former resident of Elan, contacted her in 2016 with information suggesting Phil was forced to box and may have died as a result of trauma.
Mark reported that Phil was repeatedly forced into a boxing match, was left in a room after the fight, and began convulsing, which led to his death shortly afterward.
No, there was no official criminal investigation or autopsy at the time; the Maine Department of Health and Human Services and local authorities did not conduct a forensic review.
Elan's model emphasized student responsibility and peer discipline, but included practices like forced boxing and public humiliation, which may have contributed to Phil's physical suffering and death.
Yes, multiple former residents reported witnessing Phil in a boxing match, with some stating he was placed there multiple times despite complaining of severe headaches and dizziness.
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