Consumer Reports reporter Gian Trotta is dead after being struck by a train near Goldens Bridge station, reports the Journal News, which says the Westchester Medical Examiner has called his death a suicide.
I met this guy years ago. We were with our children at Chappaqua Library. Little G was playing with Gian Trotta’s little girl in the kiddie corner at the library–a playhouse, some puzzles, a bunch of blocks–and Gian and I got talking.
We were both reporters. He’d said he’d been a beat reporter for Newsday, covering a pro team, I can’t remember which. He’d been at MSNBC. He mentioned a handful of prestigious publications he’d written for, but not in a braggy way. He mentioned working at Consumer Reports in Yonkers, covering home and garden stuff.
We spoke for over an hour; he was friendly and engaging. We exchanged business cards. The economy was in the tank at the time, and media companies were downsizing bigtime. I figured he’d be a good guy to know in case my employer downsized me.
He said he organized parent-kid get-togethers now and then: museums, playgrounds, the city, that sort of thing. I said me and Little G would love to take part. (I don’t even remember if Little Miss C had arrived in this world yet.)
After I got home, I googled him, because that’s what reporters do after they meet each other. I hadn’t read his card and assumed his name was spelled John. Not much came up in terms of the various publications he’d claimed to be published in.
I studied his card and noted the odd spelling: GIAN. I googled him again and a bunch of bylines came up at the publications he’d said he worked at.
Gian invited me on one of those excursions–I think it was some children’s museum in Connecticut–but we weren’t able to go. We lost touch.
I saw the headline on lohud.com today about a Consumer Reports reporter who’d been killed. I clicked on it only because I thought of that guy I’d met at Chappaqua Library.
I hoped it wasn’t the guy I’d met–I mean, how many dozens of reporters are there at Consumer Reports?