A very bad day, Part Deux

 I know what I'm supposed to say now, with the full extent of Sherrone Moore's unraveling becoming clearer. It's right here in my Officially Approved Outrage Script, the one that's routinely handed out when public figures are deemed to have gotten what was coming to them.

The first line is always this: I don't feel a bit sorry for (public figure name here) ...

Let me begin by saying I don't feel especially sorry for Sherrone Moore. He made his bed with a 24-year-old subordinate and willingly climbed into it -- taking advantage of a power dynamic that should never be taken advantage of, and betraying his wife and three children in the process. It cost him his job, and it should have cost him his job.

However ...

However, this doesn't mean there isn't an element of Greek tragedy to this tale, man being brought down by his own hand. And as with all such tales, a measure of sadness goes with it.

In other words, there should be nothing enjoyable in watching a man's life explode before the whole world, self-inflicted or not. And few lives have exploded more spectacularly -- and in a shorter window -- than Moore's did Wednesday.

After he was fired, we know now, Moore went home, was confronted by his wife (as he should have been), and responded by threatening to kill himself -- a last desperate shot, perhaps, at preserving the control he'd so abused and that was now gone. Then, armed with a knife, he reportedly went to his mistress's house, broke in, and threatened to kill both himself and her.

Another last desperate shot.

Eventually, with his wife's help, police tracked him down at a local church, and he was placed under arrest. He's been in jail since, under protective custody.

Perhaps you can turn a cold eye on all of that. I cannot. It just makes me sad.

This is not to say I lay any blame on the shoulders of the 24-year-old subordinate, as more than one internet chowderhead has. She's a kid not long out of college who landed a job at the University of Michigan, did the job well enough to get promoted, and wound up sleeping with her boss.

He had one of the two or three highest profile jobs at a major American university. She, um, did not. It takes no great insight to guess who was driving the bus in that situation.

In any event, her life will never be the same, either. And that you can and should feel sorry about.

As for the rest, there is only that sadness. And amazement at how often, how easily, and how stupidly human beings bring about their own fall.