It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, Issac was happy, Issac was miserable, Issac loved his wife, Issac hated his wife, Issac was murdered, Issac killed himself. Only this was certain: Issac was dead. On June 1, 1897, at 6:45 p.m., a night watchman found Issac Hoffman lying on the floor of his San Francisco office with three bullet wounds in his head. Another bullet hole was in the wall.
