Karaoke Hijinks, Tragedy, Mansion House

A fifteen-year old girl who had modeled for a youth magazine gets drunk for the first time. She spends a night out with friends with her phone off, then comes home the next morning dizzy, with blurry vision, and vomiting.

Di [the girl] admitted to being offered drinks of the brand Mansion at a karaoke parlor in Central Bogor. Apparently, Friday afternoon Di and a schoolmate, Me, went there to meet a friend, Den, who works at the parlor. [Di's mother:] "According to Me, Den invited another friend, Dik. Di might have wanted to try drinking because she never had before. Then was forced to keep drinking, who knows why." The Mansion Di drank was mixed with a soft drink. After being forced to drink until four bottles [!] of Mansion were finished, Di said her chest hurt and she was dizzy. When she asked to be taken home, Dik prevented her and suggested they spend the night in a hotel.

By noon the next day, she dies at a hospital.

  Let me say, four (invariably pint) bottles of Mansion House, whether the vodka or whiskey version (both supposedly 80 proof), is a staggering amount in this context. I am a fairly large man by local standards, and at the time definitely not a lightweight drinkwise, yet one and a half of these bottles would usually put me to bed. Even shared with three or four other teen girls, the amount she drank was shocking.
  For a time, I was drinking this firewater quite regularly. I had discovered a local store -- a shack with the dimensions of a kid's treehouse -- that dispensed it. This is tax-free, unregulated, illegal stuff. Either the quality decreased over time or my body stopped being able to filter it, because I developed strange red lesions, no bigger than dimes, all over my body but especially my legs and upper arms. I had two separate biopsies, one here and one in the US, which were frustratingly inconclusive. Convinced a lifetime of psoriasis would be my fate, I recovered completely after I stopped drinking it.
  Incidentally, the Indonesia biopsy led to one of the more comical moments of my time here, as I had to wander around the hospital looking for the correct bank teller-windowed depository carrying a plastic bag of clear liquid with an M&M-size chunk of my flesh floating in it like a goldfish you win at a fair.

[Kompas 3 Mei 2012 p.27, "Minuman Keras Renggut Nyawa Siswi Itu"]