It was a typical fresh crisp Monday morning on February 5, 1998, after doing my routinely five-mile run, as I rushed into Starbucks, for my favorite cappuccino, topped with whip cream is a reward to myself, besides I just ran five miles, working off the calories before they are put on. Approaching the exit of Starbucks, glancing over to my right, from my peripheral view, noticing a black Bugatti emerging the store parking lot, watching his suicide...