Jeanette Foster is dead by her own hand, and all I have to say is that I saw it coming. I should be a little more shocked, a little more surprised, but I'm not - not because I'm that smart, or that wise, but because I almost couldn't see it any other way. No man is an island and all. In my mind, I'm afraid she'll become some kind of object lesson, about what I could have become, about what happens when you don't try hard enough. I hope she doesn't. And wherever she is now, I hope that she has found her peace.