EDITOR'S NOTE: This story was originally published in 2005, but was resurfaced this morning by Redditors and other Internet users sharing it.

It's cold at Fort Baker. The water is frigid and the breeze chilly. It's quiet, except for the lapping of waves along the muddy shoreline.

Every time a person jumps from the Golden Gate Bridge, his or her broken corpse is brought to Fort Baker by solemn sailors of the U.S. Coast Guard. There, the dead are met by an investigator from the Marin County coroner's office, which is responsible for tying up the loose ends of the jumper's life. Identification, notification, autopsy and death notice.

The Coast Guard dock at Fort Baker berths two 47-foot motor lifeboats. When someone jumps from the Golden Gate Bridge, one of those boats races to the scene with sailors who retrieve the jumper and perform lifesaving measures. The bodies of the jumpers are brought to shore in a long, shallow container, almost like a long yellow tray with handles. The bodies are covered by a yellow tarp, with any belongings on top or alongside. The container is set on the dock until the coroner's investigator arrives.

Suicide by bridge is gruesome, and death is almost certain. People have survived the fall, but not many. You might survive if you hit the water feet first and come in at a slight angle.

RELATED: The little-known history of the Golden Gate Bridge (story continues below)

The impact is tremendous. The body goes from roughly 75 to 80 mph to nearly zero in a nanosecond. The physics of inertia being what they are, internal organs tend to keep going. The force of impact causes them to tear loose. Autopsy reports typically indicate that the jumpers have lacerated aortas, livers, spleens and hearts. Ribs are often broken, and the impact shoves them into the heart or lungs. Jumpers have broken sternums, clavicles, pelvises and necks. Skull fractures are common.

Which means you die one of two ways, or a combination of both. One, you hit the water and the impact kills you. Sometimes the jumper is knocked unconscious. Other times, the jumper survives for a time. The person can be seen flailing about in the water, trying to stay afloat, only to succumb to the extensive internal bleeding. Death can take seconds or minutes. Two, you drown. You hit the water going fast, and your body plunges in deep. Conscious or otherwise, you breathe in saltwater and asphyxiate.

You can usually tell which bridge jumpers drowned: Frothy mucus bubbles from the nose.

"Some people seem to think that jumping off the bridge is a light, airy way to end your life, like going to join the angels," said Marin County Coroner Ken Holmes, talking in the reception area of the coroner's office in San Rafael. "I'd like to dispel that myth. When you jump off the bridge, you hit the water hard. It's not a pretty death."

One of Holmes' investigators, Darrell Harris, walks by at that moment and overhears. "Yup," he says. "Multiple blunt-force trauma."

In other words, you die the same way as someone hit by a car.

Timing is critical

Holmes says he was born without a "nasty" gene. That is to say, he is not bothered by things most people would consider nasty. Holmes is a man of medium build, with a salt-and-pepper beard. He has a deep, soothing voice, that of an airline pilot or funeral home director, which he once was. He has worked in the coroner's office as an investigator or coroner for 35 years. He likes the sleuthing, the search for answers.

Holmes' office investigates nearly every bridge jumper. It works like this: The Coast Guard responds to reports of jumpers. The Coast Guard returns to Fort Baker with the body. International maritime law says wherever a body first touches land, that jurisdiction is responsible.

The number of jumpers varies year to year. In the past three years, the bodies of 19 known jumpers have gone to Marin. Occasionally, a body will wash out to sea or come to land on the San Francisco side, so the number of bodies at Marin doesn't necessarily reflect the total number of suicides off the bridge.

There are people who are seen jumping but whose bodies are not found. It's also thought that some people manage to slip over the side undetected despite surveillance cameras.

The waters roil with the incoming and outgoing tides. A body can quickly drift to sea if no one knows the person jumped. When a jump is witnessed, an officer drops a smoke flare into the water to mark the spot. The Coast Guard can usually get there within four or five minutes. Spotting a body can be difficult, even in those circumstances.

For finding and retrieving bodies, time is of the essence. The sea reclaims bodies quickly. Fish eat them. Not just sharks, but little fish. They eat the eyes and other tender parts. As the body decays and opens up, all manner of sea creatures move in to feed. Eventually, the body comes apart.

A body floats because decay causes gases to form within its cavity. If that cavity is breached for any reason, the gas escapes and the body sinks.

And no one will ever know what happened.

Investigators' checklist

The 27-year-old man, who is not named at his family's request, had a history of suicide attempts. He had tried to jump off a cliff. He tried to walk into the ocean and drown himself. He tried to drive a car into oncoming traffic.

On March 31, around 5:30 p.m., he arrived at the Golden Gate Bridge. No one knows how he got there. Probably by bus or taxi. His driver's license had been suspended. He apparently had no car.

He walked onto the pedestrian walkway. This was no cry for help. He didn't say anything to anyone, nor did he hesitate or stand in deep thought.

A witness reported seeing the slightly built young man walk to the part of the sidewalk nearest the traffic lane, turn and face the bridge railing. He ran across the walkway, leaped over the top and performed "a swan dive," according to the incident report.

The California Highway Patrol responded. One of the officers looked over the railing. He saw a body floating about 100 yards east of the bridge and dropped a flare.

A Coast Guard boat raced to the scene, and sailors plucked him out of the water. The drill is the same every time, no matter what. Medics perform CPR until they return to the dock. There, usually, the jumper is declared dead. The body is covered and guarded until the coroner arrives.

This was David Foehner's first jumper. He'd recently joined the Marin coroner's office after transferring from the same job in Alameda County.

There is no special protocol for bridge jumpers, but there is a checklist so that investigators look for certain things and perform certain functions. While suicide may be obvious, investigators still check for wounds or evidence that might suggest an accident or even homicide.

Foehner pulled on light-blue rubber gloves, snapping them against his wrist, and got to work. He pulled back the tarp and the man stared back, his eyes slightly open.

In the damp chill, under a single bare lightbulb outside the Coast Guard boathouse, Foehner turned the body sideways. The man wore a black T-shirt and olive-colored trousers. His shirt was up around his chest, and his pants were pulled up around his knees. He probably hit feet first.

There were scrapes along his midsection. Holmes said later that they probably occurred when the Coast Guard pulled him from the water. The only other sign of trauma was a purple discoloration covering most of his abdomen and midsection. He'd suffered massive internal hemorrhaging.

As the minutes crept by, the sky darkened. Coast Guard sailors stood nearby and watched the investigator work through his routine.

The Coast Guard does not like to discuss this part of its mission. Despite The Chronicle's repeated pleas to interview the men and women who work out of Fort Baker, the Coast Guard consistently and firmly said no.

"It's a very touchy thing," said Coast Guard spokesman Roger Gayman. "These people see a lot of death, and it's not easy for them to talk about."

On the dock, the Coast Guard sailors said little at first, watching as Foehner went about his work with a reporter present. Later, the mood lightened and they opened up a bit.

"I didn't sign up for this," said one young petty officer. "I joined the Coast Guard to save lives."

An interesting decorum prevails among the coroner's investigators and the CHP officers who investigate cases from the bridge. They meet on the road in front of the Coast Guard docks before every investigation. The CHP tells the coroner's investigator what is known about the jumper, whether the jump was witnessed and whether the person left a suicide note. They discuss whether a car was left in the parking lot, and when and where it would be checked for other evidence, such as suicide notes.

These people speak in hushed tones, but it is a common chore for them. So it is not uncommon for them to chat or gossip about the Giants, mutual friends, whatever. The casualness comes easily to people who see death regularly, but it never degenerates into disrespect.

Foehner went through the man's pockets. There was a nearly empty pack of Black Djarum cigarettes, a lighter, a dollar bill. He pulled out a wallet. Inside was his driver's license, which was a relief -- some people jump with no identification. Figuring out who they are can be difficult.

Inside the wallet, black with a skull and the word "zero" stitched on the outside, Foehner found a Social Security card, a Bank of America Visa card and a medical marijuana card.

The entire process took about a half hour. Soon afterward, Anthony Villeggiante showed up in his Mercedes station wagon. Villeggiante owns Abby Chapel of the Redwoods Mortuary in Rohnert Park, and has a contract with Marin County for body removal service.

Villeggiante pulled on gloves. He and Foehner unfolded a body bag and wrestled the man into it. The zipper came up over his face. They picked him up and put him on a gurney. Villeggiante rolled the gurney to the back of the Mercedes and slid it into the back of the car.

It's not a hearse. A Mercedes station wagon is perfectly suited for transporting gurneys.

Foehner followed Villeggiante's vehicle to the Russell and Gooch Funeral Chapel in Mill Valley. Russell and Gooch has a contract with the county, too. Marin has no morgue, so bodies go to Russell and Gooch for holding. A pathologist, also under contract with the county, performs autopsies there. And loved ones contact the mortuary to arrange for transportation or burial services.

It's a dark and foreboding place after hours. Villeggiante and Foehner wheeled the body through the doorway and parked the gurney in a room. Nearby was the embalming room, where another body lay.

Crosses and Stars of David hung from the wall. Foehner completed the paperwork for the pathologist, who would examine the body the next morning. As an afterthought, Foehner rechecked the body for needle marks or other signs of drug use. There were none.

And then they left. Villeggiante went home to await another body call. Foehner went to dinner, and to start the notification process. The man had a San Francisco address, so Foehner called San Francisco police to ask if an officer could go to the home.

An hour later, he got a call back. An officer had gone to the address and found the door open. No one was inside.

Later, it was determined that he was from a town in Illinois. Police there were contacted, and they had the unpleasant task of telling his family that he had died.

Foehner is 32, single and lives in San Ramon. He started in law enforcement in Santa Barbara as a deputy sheriff. He later read that Alameda County had the highest pay for coroner's investigators and applied on a whim.

"It was better than I imagined," he said. "I went into it just out of curiosity, but it turned out to be the best job I ever had."

Foehner spent about five years in Alameda before switching to Marin.

"I think what I like about this job is you get to deal with people," he said. "I have to talk to family members all the time and in that you see the capacity people have, that no one ever talks about. You know, the worst day of these people's lives, I'm involved in it. That's pretty heavy."

History of attempts

Pam Carter is the senior coroner's investigator in Marin, and she works with cool efficiency. She's in her 40s and has been investigating dead bodies for the county for about five years.

A day before taxes were due this year, she went to Fort Baker to investigate the death of Theodore Henry Milikin.

Milikin was a big guy, 6 feet and more than 200 pounds. He was 53 when he slipped over the Golden Gate Bridge railing and dropped to his death.

Milikin also had a history of suicide attempts. He had gone to the bridge several times before, only to be stopped before he'd taken the plunge. He'd been held for psychiatric evaluation. There's a name for people like that: 5150. That's the state's Welfare and Institutions code for holding someone against his or her will.

On April 14, though, Milikin was finally successful.

Milikin appeared to be deliberating. A Golden Gate Bridge patrol officer spotted Milikin near the bridge's south anchorage at about 7 p.m. He was leaning on a railing looking into the water, according to the officer's report. The officer called the bridge office and asked that a camera be put on Milikin, then the officer continued his patrol. Soon afterward, he got a call from the office. The man was moving and appeared to be OK.

At 7:21 p.m., the officer got another call from the office. The man had called from an emergency phone and said, "Call the Coast Guard because I'm going to jump."

The officer sped to the scene and found Milikin up on the railing. He got out of his patrol car and said, "Don't do it."

Milikin replied, "I'm going."

And he jumped.

Milikin's family would later tell Carter that Milikin had a history of depression and that he had refused treatment.

Carter deduced much of this before she talked to anyone. It became clear from the long, rambling suicide note stuffed inside a black backpack that was now in the tray next to Milikin's cold body. The Coast Guard retrieved it when Milikin's body was pulled from the water.

The note was wet and folded, a page from a student-size notebook. The note was handwritten, single-spaced and covered the front and back.

The note spoke of depression and Milikin's "ongoing crisis." He said he was suffering "mental torture with no end."

Milikin, a never-married taxi driver, wrote of politics and conspiracies. "LH Oswald was innocent!" he wrote. He complained about the Bush administration, the loss of civil liberties and the rise of fascism in the United States.

Milikin wore black pants with a multicolored belt, white tennis shoes and a green jacket. Carter took pictures and then inspected Milikin's body -- pushing clothing up and down and to the side. He had an abrasion along his back, but no other external signs of trauma.

Carter took digital photos under the harsh glare of the dock light as Villeggiante drove up in the Mercedes body-mobile.

Like just about everyone who works in the coroner's office, Carter seems immune to the physical horrors of death. She's been dealing with life and death since she was 16, when she got a job at Marin General Hospital. Later, she became an emergency medical technician and then a paramedic. Eventually, she got a nursing degree and worked in the emergency room at Marin General.

She's divorced and has a daughter who's married to a police officer and three grandchildren.

She likes motorcycles.

"I've always been a little different," she said. "Just talking about it makes me realize I'm not as normal as everyone else is." For most of her adult life, Carter has hung out with police, nurses, medics and others loosely affiliated with law enforcement or medicine.

Every investigator has stories.

Carter has worked 29 bridge suicides. She remembers the man who jumped off the bridge but landed on the rocks under the north end of the span. His body just came apart. That was probably the ugliest.

She remembers the woman who jumped off the bridge and took a gun with her. She shot herself in the head on the way down. "As I recall, she left a note saying she didn't want to feel the impact when she hit the water," Carter said.

The strangest had to be in April 1998, when two suicidal women walked onto the bridge at the same time, with the same intention. Apparently, one said something to the other, and they realized they were both there to end their lives. The women sat on the edge of the span, on the other side of the railing, chatting. A Golden Gate Bridge patrol officer saw them and said something to the effect of, "You two ought to come off there. It's not safe." He never thought they were there to jump.

After more conversation, one woman stood up and stepped backward off the bridge. A moment later, the other one joined her.

The worst was the child. It was perhaps the ugliest moment on the bridge. In 1993, a man killed his wife at their home, took their daughter to the bridge and tossed her over the side. Then he jumped in after her.

Carter was working as a nurse in the emergency room that day. The girl was still alive when she came in. The ER staff worked on her for an hour and a half. She didn't make it. Carter had the task of taking the lifeless little body to the hospital morgue. She couldn't bring herself to leave the child lying on a cold slab. She went to pediatrics and borrowed a crib and took it to the morgue. She laid the child in it and said goodbye.

"That had to be the worst," she said. "This little thing, taken like that by her father, the person she loved and looked up to. It was awful."

Rarity among jumpers

Lois Anne Houston went down hard. A heavy-set 75-year-old, she jumped from the bridge and apparently hit the water face first. The impact opened up her face from nose to chin, leaving a gaping red wound and a grotesque death mask.

Her death was investigated by Harris, a 34-year-old who also had come to Marin from Alameda County.

Houston was somewhat of a rarity; bridge jumpers are seldom elderly women.

"There must be something pretty outrageous in her life that made her do this," Harris said. "You just don't see this hardly ever."

That would turn out to be true.

Houston chose a cloudy Sunday morning, April 24, to end her life. She drove north onto the bridge, in her blue Ford Taurus, put the emergency flashers on and climbed over the divider to the pedestrian walkway. A CHP officer spotted the car and went to investigate. He saw that the vehicle was empty and then saw Houston on top of the bridge railing, according to the report.

She glanced at him and then hopped off.

There was nothing in the car but her purse. No suicide note.

Harris found Houston's body in the familiar spot, on the long tray under a tarp on the dock. He pulled back the tarp and went through the routine of checking the body and looking for identification. The CHP had given him her purse.

It was tough to see Houston on the pallet. The impact had shredded her clothing. Her black pants and floral print blouse were in tatters, barely clinging to her arms and legs. Her panties and bra were in pieces.

There was bruising everywhere. Thighs, chest, back, face. She wore a gold watch and a ring that was twisted around on her finger. She wore black socks and was missing one shoe.

Her wallet had photos. Some might have been of her, but it was hard to tell. One photo was black and white, and showed a good-looking young woman who was probably Houston.

Once again, Villeggiante showed up and took the body to Russell and Gooch. Harris went back to his office to try to notify Houston's family.

This is Harris' favorite part of the job: the investigating. He likes to search through databases and other records to find people, and he does it well. Harris recently figured out the identity of a man who washed ashore more than 20 years ago.

Like Carter, Harris started off in medicine, first as a medic and later as an ER nurse. He worked at the Alameda County Jail as a nurse. Then he came upon an ad for a job as coroner's investigator. The job appealed to him because he could go straight to investigator without spending years on the street, as a police officer would do on his way to detective.

Harris has investigated about 20 bridge jumpers in his two years with Marin County. They are not the worst cases, he said. A coroner's investigator basically wants to know two things: who died and how.

"When someone commits suicide off the bridge, we have to check for signs of foul play, just in case," he said. "But most of the time, it's pretty obviously a suicide, so half our job is done right away. The rest is identifying the individual and making sure the family is notified. So, no, there's no real dread when I get a call to investigate a bridge jumper."

Harris doesn't have an opinion on whether the bridge should have a suicide barrier. But most of the jumpers he investigated have had significant histories of suicidal behavior.

"I don't know that a barrier would do much good," he said. "I think people will find other ways to kill themselves, and it might mean they do something that puts someone else in danger, like jumping off a building or intentionally driving their car into traffic."

Meanwhile, back in the office, Harris' cell phone rang. The ring tone was "Bad Boys" from the show "Cops." Only because he couldn't get "Who Are You?" by the Who.

It was Houston's sister, calling from Florida. She had just gotten the news from a police officer.

The sister said Houston had no family out West. She had lived with another woman for 40 years, and her partner had died last summer. In the meantime, Houston was diagnosed with colon cancer.

She'd recently been told the cancer had spread to her liver.

The pathologist report said she died of multiple blunt-force injuries, due to "jump from height."

Lethal Beauty: Trauma of Impact

When a person jumps from the Golden Gate Bridge, his body plummets 240 to 250 feet in four seconds, traveling about 75 mph, and hits the water with immense force. Here are the most common injuries jumpers can suffer, depending on the angle of entry into the water.

TORSO INJURIES

BROKEN RIBS

Most ribs break, and their jagged edges puncture internal organs.

HEART

Lacerated by broken ribs.

LUNGS

Punctured or torn by broken ribs.

LACERATED LIVER

TORN AORTA

Leads to extensive internal bleeding. Most commonly, the impact fractures the sternum, which compresses the heart and causes it to tear away from the aorta.

FRACTURED PELVIS

SPLEEN

Lacerated by broken ribs or ruptured by force of impact.

KIDNEYS

Ripped or torn upon impact.

LIMBS

Bones in arms and legs are seldom broken, but significant injury can occur to the femur (thighbone) or humerus (upper arm bone).

HUMERUS FRACTURE

SPINAL COLUMN INJURIES

BROKEN NECK

Rupture of cervical disks, most commonly disks 3, 4 and 5, causes paralysis. Less common is a broken neck at the base of the head.

LOWER BACK

Impact causes rupture of lumbar disks 3, 4 and 5.

Source: Marin County Coroner Ken Holmes