Scott's Last Day

Scott had orientation at Target at 9am.

I took a vacation day and was snowshoeing near Silverthorne with a friend.

The dock job was not a job he wanted, but felt he needed, and it was a desperate source of income until he found something more permanent.
The week before, he showed up at orientation with only his Social Security card and drivers license, not realizing he needed a 2nd photo ID to get started. So Target rescheduled him a week later. So he came in with two photo IDs on March 4th. They turned him away again - this time because he wasn't wearing a Target-red shirt.
At this point, he'd had enough. He'd been at the end of his rope when he quit his job. This 2nd reschedule is when he fell off the end of the rope. He wanted to be a mechanic, but decided from one lousy employer that he couldn't be a mechanic, and there's nothing else in life he wanted to do. Except, maybe, it would be okay if he worked in a used record store. He had tried, and he almost got the job he wanted, but as he called in, he overheard someone else there in-person, getting the job. So he didn't even want this crappy dock job, but was desperate. Yet he felt like he couldn't get anything right!
An other part of it, though, is he hated uniforms, codes, rules, etc. I told him he could have long hair, but to find a good job, he needed to cut it off and look clean-cut. To which he responded that if he has to do that, he doesn't want to work for them. So I also wonder if he wanted to die so bad, he tested Target by purposely wearing the wrong shirt?

From this moment on, he was determined. His mind was made up. He was not asking for help, for anyone to help him. He wasn't going to tell anyone.

He used his phone to search "gun store Denver". The results were "denvergunroom" and "The Gun Room", the same business. It's my son's determination to kill himself that killed him. No one at this store killed him, nor are they responsible. This store has turned away suspicious people before, so they are careful not to sell to shady people. My son knew how to get his gun, how to behave. He made it happen.

9:59am - last personal communication with anyone he knew. His friend, Dio, txt'd him about a car problem. He responded by telling his friend to upload a video to Dropbox so he could look at it - yet at that time, he knew damn well he would be dead and would never look at it. It's an example of how he wouldn't let anyone help him or stop him.
The whole year before, both his parents struggled to get him to go see a therapist. He wouldn't. Twice, he agreed, but then each time, he backed-out.
He wasn't thinking about suicide to garner attention, the way some people do. He really wanted to die, period.

He went home after Target and got online. He transferred $1000 from his savings account to his checking account.

He drove to the gun store in Lakewood, picked out a Glock 19 Gen4 and started a background check. Then he drove further west to the bank and withdrew $600 cash. When he got back, he discovered he still didn't have enough cash, so he had to go back to the bank again (I'm sure this helped solidify in his mind what a fuck-up he was and how necessary his death was.) So he went back and finally took possession of his gun.

He went back to his neighborhood and ate at his favorite restaurant, the original Chipotle, the very first one ever built, near the DU campus, at 1644 E. Evans Ave. He got it to-go and went home.
As he ate, he played with his unloaded new gun (he didn't have any ammo, yet.) He also played online video games.

Just after 1pm, he went to the corner gas station and put in a partial tank of gas, $16.15 on pump #2. So at this point, he knew he wasn't going to drive far enough to use-up a full tank of gas.

He drove way out east to Aurora to buy bullets at Gander Mountain. He bought a box of 1000 Remington jacket hollow points.
He drove around, after that. There's actually no sign of life after that. The sales receipts end at Gander Mountain. He barely used any gas, so he didn't drive a whole lot. But he drove aimlessly enough that he ended up way back west in south Lakewood, at an abandoned Hops Brewery, next to (north of) Johnson Reservoir in Clement Park.
It was a peaceful location. In early March, there was still snow piled up at the edges of the parking lot. There was a nice view of the park. Since the restaurant was out-of-business, only a few park-users were parked there.

He listened to his music for a while - who knows how long. No way to tell. But he didn't eat dinner.
It would take at least 30 minutes to drive to that spot from Gander Mountain, if he had predetermined that spot. So he died no sooner than 2:15pm, March 4th. He loaded four bullets into the magazine, accidentally dropping one. He put his hoody over his head (he loved his Honda Fit and probably didn't want it ruined.) He loaded the Glock, stuck it in his mouth, took time to point it the correct direction, and pulled the trigger.
If you don't like graphic details, stop reading here.

The jacketed hollow point mushroomed, some pieces came off and remained in his head. The main part of the bullet barely had enough energy to punch through his skull and the hoody and make a divot in the ceiling material before falling to the floor behind the driver seat.
More than a gallon of blood gushed from his mouth, nose, and out the back of his head. He died instantly, but heart muscles kind of have a mind of their own and will keep beating for a while. That's why there was so much blood. If someone shoots themselves in the heart, it might not be as bloody.

No one noticed.