The Ecstasy, the agony, and the culpability

In January, a young man died and a Birmingham club lost its home. Ten weeks later, it is back in business.

Everyone knew something was wrong. Even at Birmingham's Sundissential, a club famed for its clientele's fondness for fancy dress, no one ever came as a policeman. Or stood stony-faced in the middle of the dancefloor amidst the disco-sweat and dancing light. Then suddenly, long before closing time, the music stopped and the glaring house lights flashed on. The crowd began to realise.

The young man who'd been dancing wildly on the dancefloor, the one who was celebrating his 21st birthday that night, 22 January, was no longer with them. Robert Lowe had collapsed, been carried out and now was dead. From the podium to the grave in a matter of hours - to the majority of the clubbers there that night, it just didn't seem possible.

But it is all too possible. Just five weeks later, Julie Sumner, a 28-year-old mother, died after collapsing at another Birmingham club, Miss Moneypenny's. One local paper, the Birmingham Evening Mail, has got together with BT and the Birmingham Drugs Action Team to launch a "War Against Ecstasy" campaign as a result (they're distributing 5,000 free phonecards bearing a drugs information number). Yet last Saturday, Sundissential reopened. And the crowds were back - perhaps encouraged by a pre-opening press statement that mixed sympathy for the dead with a club promoter's hype. "After suffering the setback and tragedy that took place at the Pulse Club on 22 January, Sundissential is very proud to announce the RE-GATHERING OF THE BIGGEST FAMILY IN THE HISTORY OF WORLD CLUBBING. This event will be very emotionally charged and is not to be missed."

Robert Lowe was a theology and classics student from Bridgend, Wales. He was a shy boy, recalls his mother, Anne. He didn't care much for discos or clubs, preferring more low-key socialising in the local pub. He was a good guitarist, she says; maybe he'd have been in a band one day or perhaps become a DJ - he'd spend hours in his bedroom, headphones on, playing records, mixing tunes and taping them. He also had a long-standing interest in archaeology.

"It's hard to know what he was really like," she says. "He was very quiet. When he went to college it took a while for him to come out of himself. At the beginning, I remember him saying 'if you can't beat them, join them'. We didn't realise he was into the club scene. He'd never been to one of these Sundissential things before. But it was his birthday so he probably wanted to do something special. We didn't realise that he was at risk. Taking a tablet is not the thing to do, you know, to keep you going."

While a post-mortem has revealed that Robert died of a heart attack, there is as yet no medical evidence to suggest he died as a result of taking Ecstasy. The Birmingham coroner is still waiting for toxicology results. Yet every club death raises questions about the club's responsibility. Miss Moneypenny's - where Julie Sumner collapsed - was quick to distance itself from liability. "We have always implemented a strict anti-drugs policy," a statement read. "All measures available to the club were taken to deter the use of drugs within the venue."

Sundissential could make similar claims. One of England's superclubs, it is well-known for its strict door searches that extend to investigating clubbers' cigarette packets. Since the club began three years ago, its promoters have also insisted on having a team present from Birmingham's Mary Street Community Drug Team.

The most vocal of the club's promoters is Paul Madan, 34, known as "Madders" because of his "mad" exploits - such as being taken for dead when found passed out on an Ibizan highway. Shortly before the club reopened, he seemed only too aware of the difficulties of running a corporate entertainment brand on the back of the dance/drug culture. "It's a very fine line," he said. "The finest line you're ever going to get in any bloody industry. If someone offers you a sponsorship deal and things like this [the death of Lowe] happen, you're finished. End of story."

Following Robert's death, the owners of Sundissential's regular venue, The Pulse, brought forward pre-standing closure plans and deprived the club of a hometown base. When it secured another venue, Birmingham's Que Club, Madders was unrepentant. "All I'm guilty of," he said, "is giving my own home town the best bloody club it's ever had. I'm not knocking the deceased, but if the rumours are true that Robert had a bad heart then what the hell was he doing? Why did his friends allow him? Why did he come to the club, for crying out loud? What was he trying to prove to himself?"

Apparently he had planned to dedicate the night to Robert, but was told that Lowe's family was not pleased. "I'm going to make a small speech on Saturday night," he said. "People should know their limitations and, provided we don't forget what happened, Sundissential will march on. It will be very poignant." One wonders what kind of eulogist he made.

The club has its supporters. "Madders is the only club promoter who has ever contacted me directly and asked for some workers to go in," says the Community Drug Team's leader Mandy Miranda. "They are responsible. One of the Sundissential promoters, Danny Kirwan, told me he'd had a call from Moneypenny's, and we're looking at meeting so that we can have a corporate approach."

A corporate approach to illegal drug taking? The irony can be hard to stomach for parents like Anne Lowe. But meanwhile, the show goes on at Sundissential. Not much has changed. On opening night, Birmingham University student Nick Porter was there, having attended the club the night Lowe died. It was the second club-death he'd witnessed after watching a girl collapse in Liverpool last year. And last summer a boy had a fit on the dancefloor at Sheffield's Gatecrasher, right in front of him.

"He was vomiting and had swallowed his tongue. I had to stick my fingers down his throat and pull it out. I was covered in vomit." If his experiences are typical, then what has he learnt from them? "I think that when these people are dying it's because they're generally taking things a stage too far. Even when that bloke died at Sundissential, most people there still had an amazing night. I don't think anyone really thought about it too deeply."