Cherry Creek lawyer Michael Andre defended Denver's dark side, until he succumbed to his own.
Andre tried to do the same. He loved taking court-appointed defense cases: drugs, prostitution, gangs. He took clients that made even his thoughtful, liberal father say, "How can you defend that person?" Andre's answer was always the same: Everyone deserves a good defense, and he was proud to speak for those without a voice. His voice would be loud enough for everyone.
Still, it got tiring being heard all the time. The newly added cases lengthened his normal 10- to 12- hour days. On top of that, he and his business partners, who owned the building at 11th and Osage, were having a hard time renting the vacant offices. When Andre told Thomerson that all this was driving him toward a nervous breakdown, Thomerson shrugged it off. Andre was always having a nervous breakdown—the man was dramatic. Always had been. It served him well in the courtroom.
Besides, Andre looked better today, like he'd gotten some sleep. Despite the nervous breakdown talk, he didn't seem depressed. He had suffered depression in the past—even taken some medication for it—but the anti-depressants made him feel worse. He'd told Thomerson, "It made me want to open a vein."
But giving up prescription meds didn't make the problem go away. Another close friend would later say his depression "led to destructive behavior, which led to self medicating with drugs—to get himself up and bring himself down, to get work done. Just to feel better."