I LEFT CHRIS FARLEY TO DIE ON THE FLOOR!
SPECIAL INVESTIGATION: PARTY GIRL’S CANDID CONFESSION REVEALED 21 YEARS AFTER TRAGEDY 296-lb. comic collapsed after epic orgy of sex and drugs
ROLY-POLY comic Chris Farley galloped headfirst to an early grave at age 33 binging on booze, drugs and babes, but his friends and family still blame the party girl who admits she was with the funnyman during the last 17 hours of his life.
At the time of his Dec. 18, 1997, death, Chris had rocketed from the cast of Saturday Night Live to big-screen stardom, churning out the hits Tommy Boy, Black Sheep, Beverly Hills Ninja and Almost Heroes.
But the five-foot-eight funnyman’s raunchy private life, substance abuse, compulsive eating and 296-pound weight did him in.
The autopsy found an overdose of cocaine and morphine along with blocked arteries. But pals believe dancer Heidi Hauser may have been able to help prevent Chris’ death.
“Chris was very vulnerable. Everybody knew that he had a weakness for drugs and, that night, she helped enable his addiction,” says a source.
Detectives questioned then 26-year-old Heidi about Chris’ final hours and found no sign of foul play.
Still, the shaken beauty confessed, “I just can’t get poor Chris and the horror of that night out of my mind. I’m haunted by it … I was the last person to see him alive.”
On the morning of Dec. 17, Heidi says an attorney named Tony, who arranged party jobs for her, said she’d get $300 to rush over to a swanky Chicago townhouse with her stripper outfit.
“The party consisted of five guys and two other girls,” she says. “A few guys were in the kitchen doing cocaine.”
One guy talked the five-footone, 100-pound beauty into taking a potent street drug called Liquid G.
Then Chris appeared. “He was HUGE, with this really immense belly,” she recalls. “He was wearing ugly prescription glasses with yellow lenses, a T-shirt ripped in the front with a blue jacket over it and weird blue sweatpants that kept falling mid-thigh so you’d see most of his butt.
“He told me he’d been partying steady for three days without sleep.”
Shortly after 10 a.m., she put on her costume and left the other guests — who were smoking cocaine — and joined Chris, who was fully dressed, in a bedroom.
He plopped down on the mattress on his back and “I straddled him and went into my routine, slowly taking off my clothes,” says Heidi. “He was getting very excited.
“He was so fat ... It was like trying to ride an elephant. While I was pleasuring him, Chris kept saying, ‘Ohhh mamma, mamma. Oh, I love you, I want to marry you. You’re so beautiful.’”
During the next hours, he did more cocaine, went to McDonald’s for Big Macs, fries and Cokes and bought three bottles of vodka, orange juice and cigarettes.
At Heidi’s place, Chris had crack cocaine and heroin delivered by his dealer, did drugs with her buddy Howard and downed vodka cocktails.
“Chris started snorting heroin, saying: ‘I really love this stuff ... used it all the time on Saturday Night Live. I couldn’t do a show without it.’”
They headed to Chris’ pad on the 60th floor of the iconic Hancock building at 10:05 p.m. where “he did two more bags of heroin and about five more vodkas and orange juice, spilling them everywhere.
Chris walked to the hallway and tried to do a comedy pratfall.
“He landed on his back, his feet pointing at the door ... and started snoring.”
At 3 a.m., she left him a note saying, “I had a neat time.”
“I took my camera and took a picture of him lying there. If he did call me, I’d show it to him and we’d have a good laugh,” she says.
“But he never did wake up.” His brother, John, found his body later that afternoon.
But Heidi says when she left him, “he was still breathing. I bent down to kiss him. I’ll never get over it!”