Prince's death: Superstar didn't know he was taking fentanyl; no one charged with a crime

Maria Puente | USA TODAY

Show Caption Hide Caption Prosecutor won't file charges in Prince's death The prosecutor in the Minnesota county where Prince died said that no criminal charges will be filed in the musician's death, effectively ending the state's two-year investigation into how Prince got the fentanyl that killed him. (April 19)

Music superstar Prince died two years ago because he thought he was taking the common painkiller Vicodin when, unbeknownst to him, it was laced with deadly fentanyl, authorities said Thursday.

"He thought he was taking Vicodin and not fentanyl," said Carver County Attorney Mark Metz at a press conference in Prince's home county.

Just short of two years after Prince's death, Metz announced that no one will be charged with a crime in connection with his death because there's no evidence showing how he got fake Vicodin laced with fentanyl, a synthetic opioid 50 times stronger than heroin, and no evidence he knew that's what it was.

Why no charges are being filed

Metz, the top prosecutor in the suburban Minneapolis county that is home to Prince's studio/home complex Paisley Park, told reporters the results of a "painstaking and thorough" two-year investigation found that Prince did not know he had become addicted to fentanyl and neither did anyone around him.

"To actively charge a crime requires probable cause and a reasonable likelihood of conviction. The bottom line is that we simply do not have sufficient evidence to charge anyone with a crime related to Prince's death," Metz said.

Metz said there was no evidence that the counterfeit pills, laced with fentanyl and found at Prince's home, were prescribed by a doctor.

"There is no reliable evidence showing how Prince got (fentanyl) or who else had a role in delivering it to him," Metz said.

He said Prince had long suffered from "significant" pain and had been prescribed other kinds of opioids but, as an "intensely private person," he did not want anyone to know he was addicted or that narcotics were prescribed in his name. His friends and doctor followed his wishes, Metz said.

Despite the high-profile nature of the case and Prince's worldwide fame, Metz said he could not factor that into a charging decision. As a county attorney, he said, he is obliged to follow certain rules based on evidence sufficient to prove a crime beyond a reasonable doubt. He said he is obliged to seek justice "within the bounds of the law."

"There's no doubt that actions of individuals around (Prince) will be criticized in coming days but suspicion and innuendo are categorically insufficient to support bringing charges," Metz said.

Metz added that because no charges will be filed, most of the case file on the Prince investigation would be made public online in a few days, but not the full autopsy report. which remains sealed under Minnesota law.

His announcement was the first glimpse of clarity in a decidedly murky case. Here's a recap of what we know and don't know, and some of the key players:

The doctors:

Michael Todd Schulenberg: He's a local family doctor who saw Prince twice before his death. Search warrant documents alleged he told authorities he prescribed the opioid painkiller oxycodone to Prince on April 14, 2016, but put it under the name of Kirk Johnson, his patient and Prince's bodyguard and close friend, "for Prince's privacy."

Early Thursday, Schulenberg agreed to pay $30,000 to settle a federal civil claim for knowingly writing a prescription in someone else's name, which violates the Controlled Substances Act. The settlement between the doctor and the U.S. Attorney's Office was outlined in documents made public Thursday.

U.S. Attorney Greg Brooker said in a statement that Schulenberg is not suspected of supplying fentanyl to Prince and is not a target of a criminal investigation.

Metz said he was "pleased" the doctor is "being held accountable" for writing a prescription in Johnson's name. He has also agreed to be monitored by the DEA for two years as part of his settlement.

Schulenberg's attorney, Amy Conners, told the Associated Press that he continues to deny he prescribed opiates to any patient with the intention that they be given to Prince, but he agreed to the settlement and fine to avoid the expense and risk of litigation.

Howard Kornfeld: He's the California doctor who's a specialist in addiction treatment. The day before his death, Prince's staff called him to ask if he could help Prince.

Kornfeld sent his son, Andrew, to Minnesota that night, and the younger Kornfeld was among those who found Prince's body. Andrew Kornfeld was carrying buprenorphine, a medication that can be used to help treat opioid addiction. Neither was found to have done anything wrong.

The friend: Kirk Johnson

Besides being his friend since the 1980s and his bodyguard, Johnson was a sometime drummer for Prince, his best man at his first wedding, and the estate manager at Paisley Park. One of the few people who had unrestricted access to the complex, he was among those who discovered Prince's body.

Six days before Prince's death, Johnson was with Prince on a private plane when the singer suffered what was later determined to be an opioid overdose, according to a search warrant for Johnson’s cell phone. The plane was diverted to Moline, Ill., where Prince was treated at a local hospital for what was described at the time as the flu.

A search warrant said Johnson also told investigators of a previous visit by Prince to a medical center for an unspecified illness in 2014 or 2015. The Minneapolis Star Tribune reported that Johnson recommended Schulenberg, who treated Prince in the weeks before his death.

Johnson's lawyer, F. Clayton Tyler, told USA TODAY his client is "relieved" that no charges were filed against him by state or federal authorities.

"He continues to deny that he had anything to do with the death of his close friend, Prince," he said in a statement. "Prince’s death was a tragedy that few could experience more deeply than Kirk Johnson. Today’s decision affirms his innocence, and he will continue to mourn and honor his friend every day."

How the investigation played out

The what of Prince Rogers Nelson's death — he had what was later described as "exceedingly high levels" of fentanyl in his body — has been known since shortly after he was found unresponsive in an elevator at Paisley Park, his home/studio complex in Chanhassen, Minn., on April 21, 2016. He was 57.

The medical examiner issued a one-page report in June 2016, saying only that he died of an accidental overdose of fentanyl, which has played a role in a national surge in opioid deaths. A toxicology report obtained by the Associated Press in March 2018 revealed startling levels of fentanyl in his system.

Because Prince's full autopsy report remains sealed under Minnesota law and can remain so for another 28 years if his family so desires, it could be three decades before the exact levels are known, as well as whether he had any other illnesses at the time of his death.

The news that the famously clean-living Prince — a vegan who didn't drink or use drugs — had died of a drug overdose was a shock to the music world, to his fans, neighbors and family. Immediately, questions swirled about why he had been taking fentanyl and whether he procured it legally.

Why it happened has been at the center of a two-year-long investigation by the Carver County Sheriff's Office, working in tandem with federal agents of the Drug Enforcement Administration. Was there a crime committed in connection with Prince's death, and if so, who was responsible? Those questions, for which investigators found no satisfactory answers, will remain a mystery even now that the case is closed.

A year after Prince's death, search warrants and affidavits from the investigation were made public, showing that investigators found narcotic medications throughout Paisley Park, most of which he did not have prescriptions for, some in the name of Kirk Johnson, and some hidden in over-the-counter aspirin bottles.

More than 100 white capsules labeled "Watson 853" — like Vicodin, a mixture of acetaminophen and hydrocodone, a prescription drug classified as a narcotic — were hidden in Aleve and Bayer aspirin bottles and found in numerous rooms inside Paisley Park. CVS prescription bottles under Johnson's name were found in the dressing room and mirror room; each bottle contained several different kinds of controlled substances.

But the search warrants shed no light on the mystery of where Prince got the fentanyl-laced pills that killed him.

Where the estate stands today

Prince did not leave a will to control what would happen to his assets after his death. Thus the settlement of his multi-million-dollar estate remains as muddled as the day he died.

The heirs haven't collected a dime: They don't even know how much they're supposed to inherit, let alone when, in part because the estate administrator, Comerica Bank and Trust, and the Internal Revenue Service have not yet agreed on the estate's value when Prince died.

The original estimates of the estate's value suggested it was worth around $200 million before taxes but the actual value could have changed since his death due to updated appraisals and new deals for the use of his music, videos and assets such as his Paisley Park studio.

Thus, the current value of the estate remains buried in two years of redacted probate documents.

Who are his heirs?

After months of effort sorting through dozens of claimants to Prince's millions, the county probate court led by Judge Kevin Eide ruled that Prince's heirs would be, as expected, his six full and half-siblings: His full sister, Tyka Nelson, and his half-siblings, Sharon Nelson, Norrine Nelson, John R. Nelson, Omarr Baker and Alfred Jackson.

These six remain in constant legal conflict with each other and with estate administrators, over such issues as the decision to move the contents of Prince's vault of recordings from Paisley Park to Los Angeles.

Also: The heirs and their lawyers had advance notice of the Prince case file before the public. Prosecutors last month agreed to share the case files with them, under strict guidelines to prevent leaks, because the family had to decide whether to file a lawsuit in Illinois over the diverted plane episode, before a two-year statute of limitations expires.

If the heirs aren't making money off Prince's estate, who is?

According to reporting by The Associated Press, a small army of bankers, lawyers, consultants and tax collectors involved in sorting out the estate mess have collected at least $5.9 million in fees and expenses so far.

This does not include nearly $2.9 million in fees and expenses for Comerica and its lawyers, nor fees for the heirs' lawyers and other attorneys, or fees for the estate's main music adviser, Spotify executive Troy Carter.

Because there was no will, eventually the IRS and the state of Minnesota will be entitled to collect about half the estate's value for taxes — once they determine that value.

And the cost to the public in Carver County — for what has become an interminable probate case — continues to mount.

Contributing: The Associated Press



