Gene Hackman, 95, and his wife, Betsy Arakawa, 65, were found dead in their Santa Fe home, sparking confusion and grief among their community. Patrons at Jinja restaurant, where they invested, honored them with “Gene’s Mai-Tais” as questions arose regarding their mysterious deaths. Hackman was discovered near his cane, while Arakawa was found in the bathroom with scattered pills. Their bodies had decomposed, complicating the investigation, which has found no signs of foul play or trauma. Friends expressed guilt over not checking in on the couple, highlighting Hackman’s increasing reclusiveness since the pandemic. The community mourns their loss and seeks answers.
While enjoying a drink at Jinja, a Santa Fe, N.M., restaurant in which Gene Hackman and his wife had dined and invested, patrons chose to celebrate the couple by ordering a round of “Gene’s Mai-Tais” from the menu.
However, in the days following the discovery of Mr. Hackman, 95, and his wife, Betsy Arakawa, 65, deceased on the floor of their home, the toasts carried a weight of confusion surrounding the nature of their deaths.
Mr. Hackman was discovered near his cane in the mudroom of their remote residence just outside the city, while Ms. Arakawa was found on the bathroom floor amidst scattered pills. One dog was found deceased in a nearby closet, while two others roamed the property, and data from Mr. Hackman’s pacemaker suggests he passed away nine days prior to the couple being found.
Now, Santa Fe, a city boasting a population of 89,000 that has attracted artists and cultural figures for many years, is left to solve a grim enigma: How did two of its most renowned residents die, and how could no one have been aware for such an extended period?
“You can’t help but feel guilty for not reaching out,” remarked Stuart Ashman, a friend of Mr. Hackman’s who met him on a committee for the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe during the late 1990s. “You assume your friends are where they always are, and everything is normal.”
Amid those who knew Mr. Hackman and those unfamiliar with him, various theories regarding the events surrounding their deaths emerged.
It could take weeks or longer for investigators to reconstruct a timeline, as they reach out to the couple’s acquaintances and await toxicology and autopsy results.
Even then, there’s a possibility that some details may remain undisclosed. The Santa Fe County sheriff’s office, which is handling the investigation, noted that no note was found at the home, and the decomposition of the bodies can hinder pathologists’ efforts.
“It’s crucial to examine the toxicology results, though they won’t be as precise as if conducted promptly after death,” stated Dr. Bruce Goldberger, a forensic pathology professor at the University of Florida.
The police have nearly dismissed several theories, announcing that there were no signs of external trauma, no evidence suggestive of “foul play,” no indications of a gas leak, and no traces of carbon monoxide found in either body.
This has left residents of Santa Fe to ponder and be concerned while they also mourn the city’s loss.
“Everyone is trying to piece it together,” explained Susan Contreras, a Santa Fe artist who knew the couple. “There are countless theories about what may have happened.”
She recounted how Mr. Hackman, a passionate painter, and her late husband, artist Elias Rivera, would spend hours discussing how to “capture the essence of a character” in their portraits. “Many artists will feel his absence,” she added.
Mr. Ashman noted that Mr. Hackman became increasingly reclusive around the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic due to health concerns. Prior to 2020, he often ran into Mr. Hackman during their back-to-back private Pilates sessions.
Mr. Ashman would give his friend eggs from his chickens, and at one point, Mr. Hackman gifted him one of his paintings — an oil depiction of the sun reflecting on a winter stream, with snow-covered land extending into the water.
Once the pandemic started, Mr. Ashman never saw Mr. Hackman again.
The same applied to the staff at Cafe Catron, a downtown Santa Fe eatery that Mr. Hackman and his wife frequented when it was known as New York Deli.
“We rebranded five years ago, and no one remembers them being in since before Covid,” said Lynne Vanderhider, an owner, noting that one dishwashing employee recalled a photo with Mr. Hackman from years ago.
Rodney Hatfield, a friend who met Mr. Hackman at a printmaking workshop many years prior, believed part of what attracted the retired actor to Santa Fe was its relative peace compared to other cultural centers.
“I think he truly appreciated the ability to walk around without being recognized as Gene Hackman,” Mr. Hatfield remarked.
Mr. Hatfield recalled how Mr. Hackman first met Ms. Arakawa in the 1980s when she was working part-time at a fitness center in California. Mr. Hackman arrived to work out but forgot his membership card. True to the rules, she refused him entry, and Mr. Hatfield noted that Mr. Hackman admired her for treating him like an ordinary person.
“She treated him just like anyone else, which I think was something he always valued,” he said.
At Jinja, the Asian fusion restaurant that Mr. Hackman and Ms. Arakawa had invested in, Doug Lanham, a founder, mentioned he hadn’t seen the couple in about five years, even though he had shared a close relationship with Mr. Hackman. The walls were adorned with the retired actor’s paintings, and diners had been discussing his passing while admiring his artwork one afternoon this week.
Mr. Lanham stated that friends had been reaching out recently, sharing their own theories about the couple’s deaths, but he advised them to “just wait” for the actual facts.
Standing at the restaurant’s bar this week, he reminisced about Mr. Hackman’s playful nature. In one memorable episode, Mr. Hackman, known for being a prankster, had owed Mr. Lanham a small sum from some golf bets. After some coaxing, Mr. Hackman finally settled the bill — with a five-gallon jug filled with coins.
He included a note with ragged edges, explaining his completion of the bet, and humorously signed it with a skull and crossbones: “Capt. Hollywood.”