Elliott Smith (person)

Fake concerns is what's the matter, man
and you think I ought to shake your motherfucking hand
well I know how much you care;
don't be cross, it's sick what I want
I've seen the boss blink on and off
Come here by me, I want you here
Nightmares become me, it's so fucking clear

Oh Elliott. My dear one. My love.

Nearly four months have passed since your death, and they still don't know what happened to you. The LA coroner's report was "inconclusive". You didn't have any drugs in your system, apart from "normal" amounts of meds for depression and ADD. A little Ritalin, a little Zoloft. You were fine... clean and sober for months, according to your friends. Recovering. Better than ever.

So how did you end up with two penetrating stab wounds to the chest?

I'm sorry Elliott, but I don't buy your girlfriend's story. Sad boys usually don't stab themselves. They don't stab themselves deeply in the chest, twice, manage to slice both their palms cleanly in the process, and then quietly bleed to death. Boys dealing with severe depression usually spend days or weeks holed up alone, not seeing anyone. If they are suicidal, they plan their deaths with meticulous attention to detail. They generally leave a suicide note, being mindful of the feelings of others. They usually give a signal to everyone just before the end, so that maybe their bodies can be found quickly. I know the M.O. - and your case just doesn't fit.

Fucking hell! Your "suicide note" was written on a Post-It note? It read: "I'm so sorry — love, Elliott. God forgive me." You supposedly wrote this after a heated argument with your girlfriend, concluding with her locking herself in the bathroom. An argument in which your girlfriend emerges from the bathroom to supposedly find you self-impaled with a kitchen knife, which she then proceeds to remove from your chest herself? How did your palms get cut, Elliott? Would you stab yourself in despair, and then try to save yourself by pulling the knife out by the blade instead of the handle? Were you really that stupid and careless? Did you try to stop your girlfriend from pulling the knife out? Were you even conscious at that point? Does this ever happen in real life?

No, it doesn't. People who commit suicide do not have multiple defensive wounds on their bodies, post mortem. They do not have girlfriends who pull the lethal weapon from the body and then refuse to answer police questions for a period of time after reporting the incident. These things do not happen to suicide victims, Steven. Steven Paul Smith, of "Heatmiser" fame. Academy Award nominee. Born in Omaha and drug across Texas as a kid; you managed to escape to Portland for a while. Spent your professional years in Los Angeles. Hung out at Largo, with the other members of LA's misfit music scene. Had some drug problems, but who hasn't? Struggling to get your shit together, and recording a new album that was almost in the can. Clean and sober for months, for the first time in a long time. Finally starting to turn the next corner in your life. You could see it, man. It was right in front of you.

Elliott, what happened on October 21, 2003? If they tell me that you killed yourself, I will laugh in their fucking faces. You knew so much pain, so much grief, and expressed it time and again in song, with a talent that has made many a grown man weep - myself included. I refuse to believe it, Elliott. I know from suicide. You know from suicide. You did not commit fucking suicide. You got in an argument with your "girlfriend", Jennifer Chiba, and that bitch stabbed you. You tried to stop her, and got your palms sliced up nicely in the process. Maybe she waved the weapon around beforehand, cutting you under your right arm prior to the fatal blows. She stabbed you right in the heart, Elliott. Then she scribbled some words on a Post-It note and called 911 as you lay beneath her bleeding to death.

And so all the kiddies dressed in black are lighting candles to commemorate your "suicide", Elliott. The authorities are standing around smoking cigarettes and jerking off, while your "girlfriend" continues to make statements to MTV and the media about how she and your family "know the truth" about your death.

I still love you, E. And I don't believe a word of it.

And oh my
Nothing else could have been done
She made her life a lie so
She might
Never have to know anyone
Made her life the lie, you know

What I used to be will pass away
And then you'll see
That all I want now is happiness
For you and me