How did it ever get to this point? I had entered the mansion grounds, taking in the beautiful landscape and the ornate pillars that graced the facade of this ancestral home. Who would have known that it would end in death and destruction?
When I had entered the home for the interview, I was greeted by the butler. He knew his position in life, and he expected me to know mine. His protective nature was apparent from the moment I crossed the threshold of Gatsby's stylish mansion. I knew where his loyalties lay, and beware if I tarnished the golden reputation of his master.
I conducted the interview at the top of the stairs in the man's private study. The lavish decorations and priceless works of art dominated the room. I listened to his reminiscences as I swept the room with my camera for future posterity. Little did I know it would become part of the crime scene photos by the end of the day.
Upon the conclusion of the interview, he wished me well and bade me farewell. He was going to be expecting a phone call at any moment, and he planned on being by the pool when the phone rang. The mysterious caller was someone he had to talk to, and there was nothing that would stand in his way.
I heard later that the assailant entered through the yard and completed his mission of murder suicide with precision. The taped outline of Gatsby's body depicted where he fell as the killer avenged himself and his wife's killer. We later found out the true story, but by then, it was too late.
I had heard my story from the horse's mouth, and that was what I printed the next day.