In a world where the passing of loved ones is often shrouded in grief and the unknown, how do we reconcile the horror of recent revelations about the mortuary industry? Joshua Rofé’s recent HBO docuseries, The Mortician, dives deep into an unsettling chapter of American history, exposing practices that are not only unethical but profoundly disturbing.
The series focuses on the Lamb funeral home in Pasadena, California, and its co-proprietor, David Sconce. During the 1980s, Sconce was embroiled in scandal for actions that most would consider beyond comprehension. From carrying out mass cremations in a ceramics kiln to selling jewelry and organs harvested from corpses, the narrative of The Mortician unfolds chilling accounts that leave viewers questioning their trust in those handling our final arrangements.
Reflecting on the series, Rofé shared his personal feelings regarding cremation: “I don’t want to be cremated,” he stated. Given the revelations brought to light, it’s understandable that many would echo this sentiment. The docuseries convolutes Sconce’s downfall with a series of grimly humorous anecdotes and appalling statistics, casting a shadow over an industry that is supposed to provide solace and peace.
The impact of Sconce’s actions was felt not just in Los Angeles. Rofé notes that similar mortuary scandals have surfaced across the country, including cases of improperly stored bodies in Colorado and accusations of corpse abuse in states like Georgia and Texas. It begs the question: is the mortuary industry fundamentally flawed, or are these merely isolated incidents of greed?
Rofé insists that while “people do messed up things in every business in the name of money,” the intersection of death and unethical practices seems particularly grotesque. The fallout from Sconce’s actions resulted in sweeping reforms within the mortuary industry. New laws now enable inspections of crematoriums and deem it a felony to disrespect the sanctity of the deceased by stealing dental gold or other remains.
Despite these reforms, The Mortician reveals not only the dark side of Sconce’s operations but also presents a bleak but enlightening look at the industry. For instance, viewers learn that Sconce had effectively cornered the cremation market by charging a mere $55 per body, significantly undercutting the competition. The sheer volume of cremations he conducted, which skyrocketed from fewer than 200 to over 25,000 in just five years, triggered an investigation that unveiled his shocking practices: randomizing the distribution of ashes to bereaved families who were none the wiser.
The story takes a dark turn when we hear from Louis Quinones, a former employee who retrieved bodies for Sconce. An anecdote he shares reveals the ultimate betrayal of trust—a mother received what she believed to be her baby’s ashes, only for Quinones to discover the infant’s body still in cold storage weeks later. Rofé was understandably appalled by this tale, labeling it “another level of depravity.” Such harrowing accounts only serve to enhance the unsettling atmosphere of The Mortician.
Rofé meticulously recounts how Sconce successfully evaded scrutiny for so long while operating his mortuary under the guise of normalcy. His operations became notorious not only for fraud and deceit but also for the sheer inhumanity displayed—mutilating bodies, selling organs, and disregarding the sanctity that should come with caring for the dead. One could argue that this behavior transcends mere business opportunism, drilling deeply into moral bankruptcy.
The docuseries also features chilling interviews, including Sconce’s first since his parole. In one instance, he nonchalantly dismissed the mixing of ashes, stating, “To me, commingling of ash is not a big deal.” This illustrates not just a lack of respect for the deceased but a profound disconnection from human emotion and empathy.
The sociocultural implications of The Mortician cannot be understated. The industry—poised at the intersection of grief and commerce—often functions under unwritten social contracts. Families who entrust those mourning to funeral homes expect a level of care and respect that, for Sconce, was patently absent.
Rofé, inspired by classic noir films, intertwines the chilling accounts with stylistic elements reminiscent of cinematic depictions of Los Angeles crime. This approach elevates the dramatization but equally serves as a stark reminder of the real-life horrors lurking beneath the surface. The Mortician stands as both a cautionary tale and a gripping exploration of morality and the human condition.
In conclusion, The Mortician shines a light on the unsettling practices that have plagued the mortuary industry. As Rofé articulates, “If you’re shocked watching, do understand that I was shocked having it said to me in person.” With these revelations, viewers are compelled to rethink their own understandings of death, mourning, and the businesses that await at the final crossroads. As societal norms around death and grief evolve, it remains crucial to ensure a more compassionate standard in the care of the deceased—a lesson profoundly illustrated in Rofé’s impactful docuseries.
