When I was 18, I got a summer job working on a surveying crew. The site was out in the middle of nowhere, so we would leave from the head office Monday mornings, stay in cabins during the week, and return Friday evenings. One Monday morning, our crew chief didn’t show up at the head office with the company van, so an older crew member and I were told to drive to his house. When we arrived, we found the van parked out front with the door open; there was an empty vodka bottle in the front. The other crew member told me to go wake up the chief. I walked up to the front and peered into the screen door. Our crew chief was sitting slumped over in the living room, dead. He had shot himself in the head.
In the 20 years since, a friend and a work colleague have also both shot and killed themselves.