I used to know this guy as "Detroit Jerry", a Red Wings/Lions/Wolverines fanatic who usually habituated Sports Harbour in Marina del Rey, but occasionally made forays to my home tavern, Joxer Daly's. He was a bit loud, and could get peevish if his team wasn't winning (which, in the case of the Detroit Lions, was all-too-frequent), but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He usually brought his girlfriend with him, and he always a smart take on the teams he followed. I had no idea that he and I were in the same profession.

Well, I also had no idea that Gerald Scotti was a) a legendary fixture among local defense attorneys; b) a former DEA agent, whose testimony helped exculpate John DeLorean; or c) so emotionally unstable that he would kill his best friend, then commit suicide, after he found out his friend was embezzling hundreds of thousands of dollars from his lawfirm. According to the police, Mr. Scotti left a note indicating that his actions were pre-meditated; for whatever reason, the fact that a friend of his had stolen money from his business was enough to send over the deep end, into criminal activity. There has to be more to this story, right? Battling clinical depression over the course of my life, I have had periods where I genuinely wished I could feel nothing(which may explain my drinking), but I have never honestly hoped for my life to end. Yesterday I asked a friend to call me if she ever wanted to kill herself, and I would do the same to her. Anything beats a total rejection of life.