It’s one of those unusually ugly afternoons here in Las Vegas.
Cold. Clouds. Fog. Rain.
It’s depressing.
Given the collective dispirits of many in this city and beyond, the miserable weather is ideally suited for one thing — mourning.
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This is an article I never expected to write.
Gavin Smith died last night.
Wait. Did I just type those words? Gavin Smith died? What the fuck?
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Sometime in early February 1990, on the upper floor of the United States Embassy in Bucharest, a telephone rang.
I was in that room, the office of the Deputy Chief of Mission.
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Prompted by a reader suggestion posted yesterday on social media, I was inspired to compile the following list of monsters and madmen….
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Outlaws have long been the object of a peculiar fascination. Fictional or real, from Robin Hood to Bonnie and Clyde to Joe Valachi to Don Corleone to John Gotti, we’ve obsessed over celebrity-criminals in life and even apotheosized them in death. Many of us know more verses from The Godfather than either the U.S. Constitution or the Bible.
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