About Kurt Reeg

The Survivors’ Club

July 22, 1986, was a beautiful day in St. Louis. I was 32, working at my first law firm, in an office with a view of the Gateway Arch. I got to the office at about 7 a.m. The phone rang at 7:30. It was my mother, who told me that my twin brother, Brett, had committed suicide. It happened in our parents’ house, where Brett was living; in his bedroom in the basement, with my mom and grandma upstairs. My little brother, a cop on duty that morning, heard on his cruiser radio that there had been a …