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In a Los Angeles federal courtroom on May 27, 2026, Kenneth Iwamasa heard the words that closed one of Hollywood’s most painful chapters. The 60-year-old man who lived with Matthew Perry, injected him with ketamine up to eight times a day, and found his body floating face-down in a hot tub received 41 months in prison, two years of supervised release, and a $10,000 fine.
This was no rumor. Iwamasa pleaded guilty in August 2024 to conspiracy to distribute ketamine causing death. He became the last of five people sentenced in the case that began with Perry’s death on October 28, 2023.
What Iwamasa Actually Did
Prosecutors laid it out plainly. Iwamasa had no medical training yet acted as Perry’s personal injector, supplier liaison, and enabler. In the weeks before the overdose, he helped procure more than $50,000 worth of ketamine through two doctors. On the day Perry died, Iwamasa gave him at least three injections. Then he tried to destroy evidence and lied to police when they arrived.
Judge Sherilyn Peace Garnett did not mince words: “You were privy to his struggle with addiction. Your conduct was reckless… You made concrete steps to get rid of the evidence and repeatedly lied to police.”
Iwamasa later cooperated after a January 2024 search warrant turned up more proof. His testimony helped secure convictions against the others. Still, the judge handed down the sentence prosecutors requested.
The Courtroom Confrontation
Perry’s family sat feet away. Stepfather Keith Morrison spoke for them. “We really felt that he was part of the family. We trusted him implicitly,” he said. “You did the injections. You could have made the phone call. But you didn’t. Because you were living a dandy life. You were in control of one of the most famous people in the world.”
Perry’s business manager called Iwamasa “the monster that killed him.” His sisters wrote letters that left little room for sympathy. One said she believed Iwamasa was “more culpable” than the main ketamine supplier. Another accused him of abandoning Perry the night he died.
“I’m so sorry to all of you. I’m just so sorry to have done illegal acts that I will forever regret. I will take it to my grave. I hope I’ll be a cautionary tale…”
— Kenneth Iwamasa, addressing Perry’s family in court
Iwamasa’s own attorney argued the power dynamic ran the other way — that Perry directed the injections and Iwamasa simply couldn’t say no. The judge rejected any abuse-of-trust enhancement, finding no clear malicious intent beyond the recklessness itself.
The Five People Who Supplied the Ketamine
| Defendant | Role | Sentence (2026) |
|---|---|---|
| Jasveen Sangha (“Ketamine Queen”) | Main supplier | 15 years |
| Dr. Salvador Plasencia | Doctor who sold ketamine | 30 months |
| Kenneth Iwamasa | Live-in assistant & injector | 41 months |
| Erik Fleming | Drug counselor / middleman | 2 years |
| Dr. Mark Chavez | Doctor who sold ketamine | 8 months home detention + 3 years supervised release |
All five pleaded guilty. Iwamasa’s sentencing on May 27 brought the entire criminal case to a close.
Why This Case Hit So Hard
Perry had been open about his decades-long battle with addiction. He wanted sobriety. He had people around him whose job was to protect that. Instead, the person living in his house became the one delivering the drug that ended his life at 54.
The tragedy exposed a brutal truth in celebrity circles: when someone famous struggles, the people closest to them sometimes choose access and money over hard boundaries. Iwamasa earned a six-figure salary. He controlled the environment. He drove away sober companions. And when Perry asked for another shot, he gave it.
Fans felt it immediately. The same man who once brought laughter to millions through Friends died alone in a hot tub after being pumped full of a drug he should never have had access to in those quantities. The assistant who was supposed to guard him became the final link in the chain.
What Happens Next
Iwamasa must report to prison on July 17, 2026. The supervised release and fine will follow. For Perry’s family, the legal chapter ends, but the grief does not. As Keith Morrison put it: “It doesn’t change the fact that we’ve lost him, that he’s dead, and that my wife is broken.”
Hollywood will keep talking about this case for years. Not because of the headlines, but because it forces an uncomfortable question: when does loyalty become complicity? When does “helping” become enabling? Iwamasa himself called his story a cautionary tale. The industry would do well to treat it that way.
