So listen to this story. I'm going to tell you a story here. This has to do with how casinos enable

gambling addicts. On the morning of Monday, August 13, 2012, Scott Stevens loaded a brown hunting bag into his Jeep Grand Cherokee, then went to the master bedroom where he hugged Stacy, his wife of 23 years.

I love you, he told her. Stacey thought that her

husband was off to a job interview, followed by an appointment with his therapist. Instead, he drove

22 miles from their home in Steubenville, Ohio, to the Mountaineer Casino, just outside New

Cumberland, West Virginia. He used the casino ATM to check his bank account balance $13,400.

He walked across the casino floor to his favorite slot machine, and it's in the high limit

area, triple stars, a three-wheel game that cost $10 a spin. Maybe this time it would pay out

enough to save him. It didn't. He spent the next four hours

burning through $13,000 from the account, plugging any winnings back into the machine until he had

only $4,000 left. Around noon, he gave up. Stevens, 52, left the casino and wrote a five-page

letter to Stacey, a former chief operating

officer at Lewis Berkman Investment. He gave her careful financial instructions that would

enable her to avoid responsibility for his losses and to keep her credit intact.

She was to deposit the enclosed check for $4,000, move her funds into a new checking account,

declined to pay the money he owed to Bellagio Casino in Las Vegas, disregard his credit card

debt, it was in his name alone, file her tax returns, sign up for Social Security survivor

benefits, he asked that she have him cremated. He wrote that he was crying like a baby, as he thought about how much he loved her and

their three daughters.

Our family only has a chance if I'm not around to bring us down any further, he wrote.

I'm so sorry that I'm putting you through this.

He placed the letter and the check in an envelope, drove to the Steubenville Post Office, and mailed it.

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