Not exactly. He had been living in a nursing center in Franklinton, Louisiana. From what they were able to share (HIPPA Laws), he was found unresponsive in his nursing home bed, and his blood pressure was really low. He was taken to Our Lady of the Lake in Baton Rouge, where he was placed on a ventilator for a couple of days, but he never recovered.
Somehow, someone, somewhere was told, “If anything happens, call this number.” That number belonged to his long-time friend, Jack, who got a call at 1:30 in the morning on September 23, 2025 with news of Pete's passing.
The hospital, coroner's office, and Louisiana State Police searched unsuccessfully for any relatives of Pete, and so, given that fact, they said he would be considered abandoned. Jack and other friends of Pete knew that wasn't true—he had lots of friends, thousands probably, and they would see to it that he got a proper burial and was treated with the dignity and respect he deserved. He was a friend, he was a human being, and there were many, many people who cared about him.
After searching for several weeks for his family, Pete was finally allowed to be released to his friend, Jack, in order to begin coordinating funeral arrangements. That was just a bit ago (mid-October). We got to work on this site and then started reaching out to anyone and everyone who might have known him. And here we are.