That very first kill haunted him most. There were many others, to be sure, but long after hed returned to Memphis from three deployments with the Marines, Paul Oliver voiced the greatest pain while recounting his lethal encounter with an Iraqi insurgent who ignored a command to disarm and raised his rifle. It was one of the memories that drove Oliver into seclusion in the back bedroom of his home just off Summer Avenue, where he pulled blankets over the windows and kept his mattress on the floor so he could feel vibrations from any intruders. For days at a time, friends and family members say, he hunkered down there, fighting through fitful sleep and the nightmares that unspooled in his head.
At times like those, Oliver told others, he saw the faces of all the people he had killed. But there was more to the memory of the Iraqi insurgent than just the mans face. It was what Oliver heard the instant after he pulled the trigger. He heard the combined, piercing screams of the insurgents wife and small child. He heard that scream for the rest of his life, said Olivers mother, Nancy Oliver. Paul Olivers life ended Dec. 6, 2013, in that same back bedroom on Lynncrest Street. He was 30 years old. The ruling from the Shelby County Medical Examiners office said he died from an accidental drug overdose, citing a toxic mixture of Xanax and Oxycodone prescription drugs for anxiety and pain.
Marine Lance Cpl. Paul Oliver
But if a drug mixture was the clinical cause of death, the emotional and physical wounds that Oliver brought back from the war zones were contributing factors. Having endured horrific combat during the 2003 invasion of Iraq, and at a forward base in Afghanistan in 2004, he was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and a traumatic brain injury. Those scars earned Oliver a 100 percent disabled rating from the Veterans Benefits Administration. And they seemed only to deepen in the years after he left active duty in 2005. Olivers story told through interviews with family members, friends and fellow Marines, and from text messages, court records and a journal he kept traces a tortuous journey.
It begins with a big-hearted, high-spirited and almost prototypically All-American boy hed been prom king and football captain at Catholic High School going off to war and serving bravely and effectively, probably saving the lives of comrades. It ends with his transformation into a shattered, haunted and sometimes suicidal war veteran who self-medicated with drugs and alcohol, got in trouble with police and struggled, unsuccessfully, to find a purpose and get his life back on track. Mentally, he never came back from the war, said his sister, Mary Frances Oliver.
Violent killings tortured his soul