When I was in my early 20s I saw a man kill himself on live TV. I was watching the news with my brother, both of us incredibly stoned. The regular news was interrupted for an “Action News Breaking News Story!” about a guy who was holding his ex-wife hostage in a 7-11.
The news went LIVE on the scene to Wendy Howell, bubble-headed blond news reporter. In hushed tones, Wendy was vividly describing the scenario as the police tried to talk the guy into surrendering using a crackling bullhorn. You could see the parking lot and storefront just over Wendy’s shoulder. Suddenly a man walks out, silhouetted against the glaringly lit front of the store, signs for Slurpees and hot dogs at his back. He stands still for a moment as the police shout incoherently over the bullhorn. Wendy’s cameraman zooms in on the man as he calmly raises the gun to his temple. There’s a small pop like a firecracker and the man drops. POP! A human life ends right there on the television. It wasn’t like the movies where the guy crumples to his knees and then sprawls forward in pained slow motion; this poor bastard dropped like a sack of potatoes. Instant. Final.
My bro and I looked at each other, mouths gaping open like bug-eyed perch and ‘did you just see that shit’ expressions. One, maybe both, of us gasped something along the lines of, “Holy fuck…!“
I can still vividly remember the whole thing. It’s burned in my gray matter even after all these years. I’m not sure why; as I mentioned, the man was in silhouette, so there wasn’t any graphic Hollywood facial expression or fountain of gore. I don’t know…it just shocked me how un-Hollywood it actually was seeing this poor schmoe snuff himself…no context to better understand it, no storyline, no illusions, just a sudden snap of encapsulated violence and a heap of something shadowy on the concrete that used to be a person.
I’ll never forget it.
