How I tamed the MIT Computer Science course. A way to learn faster

Scott Young

Newbie hockey players

Hearing his father's voice downstairs in the hallway, Pete threw away the book and quickly ran down the stairs. Running past his sister’s room, he looked into the slightly open door - Sarah was sitting, bending over her textbooks. In the evening she wanted to go to the cinema and was in a hurry to prepare her homework. Jumping two steps, Pete rushed down, but when he saw his father, he stopped halfway.

“It’s sad, son, but we were finally refused,” said Mr. Gordon. - It's nothing you can do. You'll have to say goodbye to our school.

Pete walked slowly down into the hallway. Mrs. Gordon, a dark-haired, pretty woman, hung her husband's coat and hat in the wardrobe and turned to them. How she sympathized with them! She understood what it was like for her son now. But what could she tell him? Pete sat down on a chair and looked at his father expectantly.

Michael Gordon looked like his son - fit, slender, well-built. The rigors of an extensive legal practice had left tired wrinkles around his eyes. Usually they were barely noticeable, but now, as he took off his boots, silently glancing at Pete, they were clearly visible.

“I tried to persuade them, son,” Mr. Gordon continued. – The Ministry of Education understands everything, but they cannot make an exception for you, so as not to give others a reason. - He sighed: - This was our last chance, Pete. You'll have to study at Northwestern School.

“Father did everything possible,” Mrs. Gordon shook her head. She really wanted to bring her son out of his state of stupor.

“I know,” Pete said, staring at the toes of his shoes. - Thank you dad.

He stood up and walked dejectedly towards the stairs. His sister was standing on the second floor landing. Pete could tell from her face that she had heard everything.

He walked past Sarah and up the steep stairs to his room under the very roof, which was equipped for him when he grew up. Closing the door behind him, he stood still for a minute, looking around. Everything here reminded him of Daniel McIntyre School, or Daniel Mack as it was called for short, and his throat tightened at the thought of never going back there. And it just so happened that their house turned out to be right on the border of the area that the newly opened school was supposed to serve. And he was so looking forward to the start of the school year! After all, how great it would be to win the championship among provincial school teams for the second time in a row! How much they talked about it, dreamed, hoped, made plans, and now...

Pete sat down at the table and turned on the radio. However, lost in his thoughts, he hardly heard the music or the words of the song. Without looking at the walls of his room, he mentally went through everything that was hung there: the pennant for the victory in the 100-meter last fall; a photo of his hockey team after beating the top-ranked Brandon High School team in a game played in Manitoba last year; a photograph of himself scoring the decisive goal in the final game of the Schools Championship. This photograph was even published in the newspaper; my father got it from the editorial office. There were other pennants, and hockey sticks, and helmets, and old photographs of his father from the days when he honorably defended the colors of the Daniel Mack School.

Someone knocked softly on the door. Sarah came in. She was a year younger than her brother and had only attended Daniel Mack School for one year. Pretty, slender, sociable, she was considered one of the most attractive girls there. She was also upset by the transfer to another school, but tried to console her brother.

“It can’t be helped,” she said. - Keep your nose up.

Pete was silent.

– Will you play on a team?

- Don't know. The coach already asked me, and I said that dad is trying to get us back to the old school. And now they have already conducted five training sessions.

– But there will be one more before the first match. And anyway, why are you worried? They will be happy to see you.

He grinned. Still would! Oddly enough, at the new school Pete was the only hockey player with an established reputation. Of the rest of the boys, some were only in their first year of high school, and some had never played real hockey before.

“They’ll lay out a mile-long carpet for you if you agree,” Sarah continued. – One boy from my class plays defense. His name is Vic DeGruchy. He asked why you didn't come to training.

- And what did you say?

– I explained everything to him.

Pete fell silent again.

“He asked again later,” Sarah continued, watching her brother. “He was very offended that you didn’t want to play on the team.” It seems like you're betraying your school.

“Okay, Sarah, go,” Pete said. - No offense. I want to be alone.

She approached her brother. They had always been good friends, but this change in life was not as difficult for her as it was for him. "And why?" - Pete suddenly caught himself thinking, but did not have time to think it through to the end, as other worries overwhelmed him.

“I overheard DeGruchi tell Bill Spoonsky, a newbie who really wants to learn to play hockey, that the next practice is tomorrow evening. I should go and show them the real game!

“Maybe I’ll go,” Pete responded gloomily. - Damn it all!

The next day, Pete came to the Olympic winter stadium, the old building of which was now used for training and hockey meetings of school teams. Pete stopped in the aisle and thoughtfully began to scrape the shabby, scarred wooden flooring with his skates. On the ice, a few feet away from him, the boys from the Daniel McIntyre School team were running around in uniforms so familiar to him, hurrying to use the last minutes given to them for training. Confident, well-equipped hockey players, each with the stamp of a champion on their foreheads. Pete felt awkward in his brand new Northwestern High team uniform.

For some reason, Pete's new partners avoided him. He noticed this, although there was nothing special about it - Pete came to training for the first time and was barely familiar with them. He sat down on a bench, looking at the old skating rink. The bright December sun of Manitoba barely made its way into the hall through the dirty high windows. Even with the light from the few electric lamps, the room was a bit dark. The stadium was built in the shape of a bowl. From the side that surrounded the ice field to the rafters under the roof, stands with three thousand seats rose up. A siren sounded. Four o'clock. The training time for the Danielmak team has expired. The door at the side opened, skates clattered loudly on the wooden flooring, and the out of breath hockey players headed into the locker room past a silent group of Northwestern School players. Suddenly Ron McLean, the best defender of the Daniel McIntyre school team, shouted:

- Hey guys, look - Pete!

They crowded around Pete, almost all of them taller than him, although he himself was five feet eight inches tall. Pete ran his hand and hockey glove through his hair and smiled at them. He felt a pain in his heart when he saw the friendly group of his former comrades. Everyone wanted to say a few words to him, because he was one of the main “culprits” of their victories last year, first in the Winnipeg school championship games, and then in the decisive meeting with the Brandonians for the provincial championship.

- How funny you are in this uniform! – Ron laughed.

“Pete, will you never be able to come back?” - asked another.

- Well, how do you like your new school?

Question after question. He couldn't keep up with the answers, and he didn't even try.

“I have to go, guys,” he just said. - Skip it.

He wanted to say something provocative to them, to offer them to stay and watch his new team practice, but his tongue seemed stuck to his larynx and he could not squeeze out a word. He had no idea how much these guys meant to him...

Old friends did not understand anything. They followed him with their eyes, saw how he jumped over the boards, picked up the puck and rushed with it across the ice, and went home, shaking their heads sympathetically - the guy was unlucky!

Two men watched this scene. One sat on the side, the other on the players' bench. The man on the side, a large man with square shoulders and a broad chest, lowered his feet onto the ice. He was wearing old flannel pants and a faded jersey with the logo of the Toronto Maple Leafs. He saw Pete, deftly wielding his stick, throw the puck into the top corner of the goal and then, as if reluctantly, roll across the court. A short, blond man on the bench, Lee Vincent, a sports columnist from the Telegram newspaper, remarked:

- Anyway, Red, you're lucky at least in that you have Pete Gordon.

“We’ll wait and see,” Red shrugged.

“But he’s the best center in Manitoba’s high school teams!” How to understand your skepticism?

“He’s apparently not too happy with the new uniform,” Red responded. – Came to training for the first time. Everyone hoped to return to the old school.

Scott Young

My idol is hockey

Chapter 1

With Father's old brown suitcase in hand, Bill Spoonsky stepped off the bus and stood hesitant, not knowing which way to go. He did not often have to visit large bus stations with their bustle, the smell of gasoline burning, noise and confusion. Announcements about the departure of the next flight were heard every now and then from the loudspeaker, and people hurried to take their seats on the buses.

The letter, which arrived from Toronto, asked Bill to report to Peterborough on Sunday evening for the Maple Leafs' training camp, which opened the season on Monday morning. From here it was a good fifteen hundred miles to home, and Bill suddenly felt very lonely.

At the sight of his stocky, tall figure, skates over his shoulder, a light raincoat and a suitcase, one could unmistakably determine who he was and where he was going.

Do you want Leafs training camp? - an elderly woman called out to him from a tobacco kiosk. Bill came closer.

Yes, he answered. - Could you tell me how to get to the Empress Hotel?

You walk along this street, the first turn to the left, then to the right, and you’re there,” the woman explained, looking at Bill in surprise. -Have you never been here?

He shook his head.

That's what I thought. I know everyone who comes to the training camp. I haven't missed a single match yet. Who will you play for?

For the Leaves, I hope,” Bill muttered.

She smiled incredulously. Peterborough was famous for its junior team, one of the best in the province of Ontario. The newswoman, of course, understood what a huge leap a teenager of his age must make, unless he was a famous junior, to immediately get into the National Hockey League team.

But Bill knew that he had never played on any junior team and his greatest sporting success was on the high school team.

Well, God doesn't like pessimists! - she muttered and turned to the approaching buyer.

Bill went in the indicated direction.

It was a warm September evening and the streets of Peterborough were bustling with traffic, one after another. People were returning from a weekend spent outdoors in Peterborough, and perhaps in Toronto or other cities. Bill looked with interest at the store windows - jewelry, stationery, music stores, numerous cafes and pizzerias. I couldn’t get the smile of the woman from the tobacco kiosk out of my head. But was it necessary to tell her that perhaps he would return back to school or, at best, play on one of the junior teams in Winnipeg? And this is not excluded. In the invitation letter he received in the Gardens, where he worked all summer, there was a note from Witty Jackson. Just two words: “I wish you good luck!” Oh, how he needed her now!

Bill never ceased to be amazed that the Maple Leafs chose him. Usually, none of the candidates knew about this until the very last moment, that is, before the call to training camp, but an exception was made for him. Thanks to Jackson. After all, he had not yet graduated from school and no club would risk recruiting him, as they say, to bet on a dark horse. But Jackson managed to convince the owner of the Maple Leafs that Spoonsky could not be missed. Jackson also knew that Bill needed to learn to skate. , he was aware of both the Spoonskys' financial difficulties and Bill's intention to work full time at Desmond's warehouse during the summer holidays to help the family get out of debt, which is why Jackson sent Bill to the Maple Leaf Skating School in the Gardens and placed him there. to work. Bill worked in the park there, cleaning the gyms after performances of rock ensembles, wrestling matches, all kinds of meetings and rallies. He lived in a small boarding house, trained during the day, and then worked until late. He didn't even have time to feel homesick.

Of course, he would like to go to university after school, but this was a pipe dream, and professional hockey seemed to him the only way out of the current situation.

Bill turned the corner and walked out onto the main street.

It was even busier here. After walking another block, he turned right and saw glowing neon letters opposite: “Hotel Empress.”

Bill entered the hall timidly through the revolving door and looked around. Several people sat in deep armchairs, smoking and reading newspapers and magazines. They raised their heads and looked at Bill indifferently, but when they saw his skates over his shoulder, they began to talk in low voices about something. Bill grinned. The day will come when everyone will know who he is. At least that's what he hoped.

In the far corner, behind the desk of the duty administrator, sat a young red-haired girl, carefully watching Bill.

Have you arrived at the Maple Leafs' training camp? - she asked as Bill approached.

Bill called. She ran her small finger over some typewritten list.

Room 309, third floor,” the girl said and handed him the key. - Read the announcement by the elevator.

As Bill walked toward the elevator, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that she was carefully studying the list that included his name, as if trying to remember if she had ever met her before. He couldn't help but smile.

At the elevator, above the call button, there was a piece of paper pinned up that said the following:

“Medical screening of all players will take place in the hotel ballroom at 9am on Monday. There are four doctors. Everyone arriving at the training camp - I repeat Everyone - must undergo a medical examination.

Schedule for Monday: 7.30 - first breakfast; 9.00 - medical examination; 11.45 - second breakfast; at 13.00 at the skating rink - equipment is handed out. Those arriving with their own transport leave their cars in the hotel parking lot. To and from the skating rink on foot.” Signed - Wares.

Each line of the announcement at the elevator exuded efficiency.

Anxious, Bill pressed the button and waited for the elevator. Last year he read a lot about Pokesey Wares, head coach of the Toronto Leafs, and saw him often on television. Somewhere I even read his description, expressed in three words: “knows his business.” When Wares took over the Leafs, they were almost in last place, but with his arrival they began to at least reach the semi-finals.

The elevator had not yet descended when a girl called out to him from behind the desk:

Mr. Spoonsky! Bill turned around.

I forgot to say that you share a room with Tim Merrill, but he won't arrive until tomorrow. And a request to you: if you meet Benny Moore upstairs, ask him to call his sister.

He almost didn't hear the last words. Tim Myrill!.. One of the best hockey players of the Maple Leafs!.. And he will live with him... What did she say about Benny Moore?.. Also a familiar name...

Bill came out on the third floor and immediately plunged into the noise and bustle. Once upon a time, tossing and turning awake in bed, thinking about the future, this is exactly how he imagined the atmosphere of the annual gathering, and he was not mistaken. Loud voices, laughter, music from transistor radios, and the dull noise of water flowing in the bathrooms could be heard from all the doors.

A young man stood at one of the doors. Seeing Bill, he said deliberately loudly to the entire corridor:

Good evening, Mr. Wares!

Immediately everything became quiet. Heads poked their heads out of the doors. Not seeing Pokesy Wares, someone shouted:

False alarm! This is not a coach!

Bill couldn't help but smile at this joke. With his father's old suitcase and raincoat in one hand, with skates in the other, he walked along the corridor, looking at the doors in search of his number.

Which room do you want? - asked a young man with a crew cut.

Some doors were wide open. Bill glanced at them in passing. Young people in tracksuits were settling into a new place.

In central London, 52-year-old multimillionaire Scot Young fell from the window of his luxury fourth-floor apartment. Metropolitan police say they do not see anything suspicious in the death of the bankrupt tycoon, who made his fortune through real estate deals, and the possibility of suicide, according to police, is quite obvious. Meanwhile, law enforcement officials have not yet provided answers to numerous questions. So, they didn't even explain whether Young left any kind of suicide note.

[fapnews.ru, 12/11/14, “Berezovsky’s friend died on the fence of the London house where the Beatles lived”: His body was found on the fence of the house in which the apartment belonged to Beatles drummer Ringo Starr was located, and where they lived in the 60s John Lennon, Paul McCartney and Jimi Hendrix.
According to investigators, the deceased fell from the balcony of his penthouse on the fourth floor and fell from a height of more than 30 meters onto the metal bars of the fence. Neighbors who witnessed the tragedy told the Evening Standard that it was a terrible sight. “The body hung there for some time. The police built an awning over it as soon as they arrived, but quite a few people managed to see it,” says the neighbor. The fence bars had to be cut with special tools to free the unfortunate man’s body. - Insert K.ru]

[RuToday.com, 12/12/2014, “The British press: Berezovsky’s friend and the trace of the Russian mafia”: As friends of the deceased told the Daily Mail, Berezovsky’s relationship with Young was quite close: the entrepreneurs regularly dined together, Berezovsky was also involved in Project Moscow and even bought Young's house at one time.
The company of rich people, which included Young and Berezovsky, numbered five people. The newspaper notes that all these people died under strange circumstances over the past four years.
So, in November of this year, financial adviser Johnny Elichaoff died - he fell from the roof of a shopping center in London and fell to his death.
In 2010, another member of the company, entrepreneur Paul Castle, also involved in real estate, was hit by a London Underground train.
Millionaire Robert Curtis suffered a similar death two years ago when he was hit by a train in north-west London.
As for Boris Berezovsky, the Daily Mail reminds him, found dead in the bathroom at his home in Berkshire in March of this year.
The Daily Telegraph, citing Young's friends, claims that "he owes millions to the Russian and Turkish mafia." [...]
At the same time, people who knew the bankrupt entrepreneur well are sure that he could not commit suicide. Their main theory is that Young could have been killed for debt.
Two years ago, continues the Daily Telegraph, some representatives of the Russian mafia, according to acquaintances of the deceased, demanded that Young pay his debt in an unusual way for Britain: they hung him from the balcony of the luxurious Dorchester Hotel in central London, threatening to throw him down. - Insert K.ru]

Scot Young, one of Britain's richest men, has been at the center of a high-profile divorce case for six years. In 2006, Scott Young divorced his wife of 11 years, Michelle. Mrs Young demanded from her husband half of his assets, which, according to her, he had at least two billion pounds.

The court agreed with the millionaire's wife and, according to the decision, every month he had to pay his ex-wife 27,500 pounds for rent and education of their two daughters. But Scott Young argued that he could not bear such a burden. He said that a certain deal involving the purchase of real estate in Moscow for 2 billion pounds left him penniless.

In 2009, Mr Young received a six-month suspended sentence for failing to disclose details of his condition to the court.

He allegedly continued to lead a luxurious lifestyle with his new girlfriend, 31-year-old model Noelle Renault, lived in a mansion, dined in the most expensive restaurants, but did not give his ex-wife a pound.

In 2010, Scot Young declared bankruptcy. At the same time, he did not give up a rich life. The ex-wife did not believe Young and hired private detectives to follow Mr. Young, who became impoverished in an instant. She was sure that her ex-husband hid his property with the help of partners - for example, such as Boris Berezovsky, who died mysteriously last year.

In turn, in 2013, The Guardian, together with the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists project, conducted investigation to identify offshore owners. Scot Young was also on this list.

In 2005, his fortune totaled $400 million. But he, according to him, invested in one of the projects and three months later became the owner of a debt of 28 million pounds.

According to an investigation by The Guardian, Scot Young teamed up with a former business partner of Boris Berezovsky in 2005. Ruslan Fomichev to invest in a deal to develop a former paint factory in Moscow. It was planned to create shops and offices on the territory. Fomichev sold him a half share in the offshore Cyprus company Parasol Participations Ltd, which controlled this transaction. Young later claimed that Project Moscow collapsed and he did not receive any shares.

However, according to the investigation, Young's shares were not burned, but are stored offshore.

According to The Guardian documents, Young signed a power of attorney giving attorney Stephen Jones control over his stake in Parasol Participations. Young's interest was transferred to Solar Breeze Ltd and five other entities in the British Virgin Islands.

Jones then set up another trust in Nevis, the SY Refinance Foundation, to "transform" Young's financial affairs.

After years of litigation, the court gave its estimate of Young's fortune - 40 million pounds. But due to the fact that Young probably kept the funds offshore, his ex-wife never received the second part of this fortune due to her.

In January 2013, according to the decision of the Supreme Court of London, Scot Young was jailed for six months for refusing to disclose details of his wealth. After his release, he returned to his usual lifestyle with his model girlfriend.

True, according to the testimony of some of Young’s acquaintances, this year was not at all easy for him. He was supposed to repay a debt of 28 million pounds, but did not do so, although there was a specific deadline.

“I hope this (Young’s death. - Gazeta.Ru) will now make people understand that he did not have any money,” British publications quote the partner of the deceased, who wished to remain anonymous. “It’s very unpleasant.”

The opinions of Young's acquaintances and friends regarding the reasons for his death were divided.

And some of Scott Young's friends were skeptical about the suicide version.

“He was a great man and a good father,” one acquaintance noted. “But he was let down by the British legal system.” We don't know if it was actually suicide."

Another friend pointed out to the police a connection with the mysterious death of Boris Berezovsky, with whom he was probably connected by the mysterious “Project Moscow”.

Young's ex-wife now hopes to inherit the deceased's fortune, unless the secret of his complicated financial affairs went with him to the grave or remained in the hands of lawyer Stephen Jones. And detectives, under public pressure, will have to conduct an investigation and try to establish the true causes of Young’s death.

Scott Young is a Canadian journalist, writer, and sports commentator. Over the course of his career, Young wrote 45 books, including novels and non-fiction books for adult and young adult audiences.

Born in Cypress River, Manitoba, Young grew up in nearby Glenborough, where his father, Percy Young, ran a pharmacy. After their father went bankrupt in 1926, the Young family moved to Winnipeg, but could not afford to stay there. His parents divorced in 1930, and Young began living with an aunt and uncle in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan for a year and then returned to Winnipeg to live with his mother. He left school at 16 and began working in a tobacco shop.

Young began writing in his youth, submitting his stories to various publishing houses, most of which were rejected. At the age of 18, in 1936, he was hired as a delivery boy for the Winnipeq Free Press, where he soon became a sports reporter.

In 1941, Scott Young moved to Toronto, where he became a news and sports columnist for the Canadian Press news agency. In 1942, Young was sent to England to review the progress of World War II. He returned a year later and joined the Royal Canadian Navy, where he served until the end of the war in 1945. Young returned to the Canadian Press, and soon moved to Maclean's magazine as an assistant editor. In 1948, Scott left his job at the magazine and switched entirely to writing short stories. In 1949, he accepted an offer from Sports Illustrated. The first novel, The Flood, was published in 1956.
Subsequently, Young worked as a sports columnist and editor at the Telegram agency, and worked on the autobiography of former owner of the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team Conn Smythe, which he published in 1980 after Smythe's death.
In December 1968, well-known journalist and writer in the Canadian sports world, Scott Young, visited Moscow, where he was filming a film about Soviet hockey players. Returning home, he spoke on the pages of the Globe and Mail about our team’s readiness to meet in a match or series of matches with one of the leading teams in the NHL’s Eastern subgroup.
In 1988, Young received the Elmer Ferguson Memorial Award from the Hockey Hall of Fame, as chosen by the Professional Hockey Writers Association, and was also inducted into the Manitoba Hockey Hall of Fame.

In 1990, Young received an honorary doctorate from Trent University, to whose archives he donated many of his papers.
His autobiography, A Writer's Life, was published in 1994.
Scott Young has died at the age of 87.

London police are investigating the mysterious death of a millionaire...
yesterday
gazeta.ru›social/2014/12/11/6338365.shtml

The British millionaire did not survive the Russian crisis. London police are investigating the mysterious death of a millionaire British oligarch.

In the capital of Great Britain, one of the richest people in the country, businessman Scot Young, who was friends with Boris Berezovsky, fell from the window of his apartment. The police exclude the possibility of murder, and friends and colleagues of the deceased do not believe in suicide. According to them, Scott Young went broke buying real estate in Moscow and was mired in multimillion-dollar debts. However, according to some reports, Young did not go bankrupt at all, and his fortune is kept in an offshore zone.

In central London, 52-year-old multimillionaire Scot Young fell from the window of his luxury fourth-floor apartment. Metropolitan police say there is nothing suspicious in the death of the bankrupt tycoon, who made his fortune through real estate deals, and they say suicide is a clear possibility. Meanwhile, law enforcement officials have not yet provided answers to numerous questions. So, they didn't even explain whether Young left any kind of suicide note.

According to one version, the cause of suicide could have been millions in debt due to a mysterious deal in Russia and a legal battle with his ex-wife.

Scot Young, one of Britain's richest men, has been at the center of a high-profile divorce case for six years. In 2006, Scott Young divorced his wife of 11 years, Michelle. Mrs Young demanded from her husband half of his assets, which, according to her, he had no less than two billion pounds.

The court agreed with the millionaire's wife and, according to the decision, every month he had to pay his ex-wife 27,500 pounds a month for rent and education of their two daughters. But Scott Young argued that he could not bear such a burden. He said that a certain deal involving the purchase of real estate in Moscow for 2 billion pounds left him penniless.

In 2009, Mr Young received a six-month suspended sentence for failing to disclose details of his condition to the court.

He allegedly continued to lead a luxurious lifestyle with his new girlfriend, 31-year-old model Noelle Renault, lived in a mansion, dined in the most expensive restaurants, but did not give his ex-wife a pound.

In 2010, Scot Young declared bankruptcy. At the same time, he did not give up a rich life. The ex-wife did not believe Young and hired private detectives to follow Mr. Young, who became impoverished in an instant. She was sure that her ex-husband hid his property with the help of partners, such as Boris Berezovsky, who died mysteriously last year.

In turn, in 2013, The Guardian, together with the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists project, conducted an investigation to identify the owners of offshore companies. Scot Young was also on this list.

In 2005, his fortune totaled $400 million. But he, according to him, invested in one of the projects, and after three months he became the owner of a debt of 28 million pounds.

According to an investigation by The Guardian, in 2005 Scott Young teamed up with Boris Berezovsky's former business partner Ruslan Fomichev to invest in a deal to develop a former paint factory in Moscow. It was planned to create shops and offices on the territory. Fomichev sold him a half share in the offshore Cyprus company Parasol Participations Ltd, which controlled this transaction. Young later claimed that Project Moscow collapsed and he did not receive any shares.

However, according to the investigation, Young's shares were not burned, but are stored offshore.

According to The Guardian documents, Young signed a power of attorney giving attorney Stephen Jones control over his interest in Parasol Participations. Young's interest was transferred to Solar Breeze Ltd and five other entities in the British Virgin Islands.

Jones then set up another trust in Nevis, the SY Refinance Foundation, to "transform" Young's financial affairs.

After years of litigation, the court gave its estimate of Young's fortune - 40 million pounds. But due to the fact that Young probably kept the funds offshore, his ex-wife never received the second part of this fortune due to her.

In January 2013, according to the decision of the Supreme Court of London, Scot Young was jailed for six months for refusing to disclose details of his wealth. After his release, he returned to his usual lifestyle with his model girlfriend.

True, according to the testimony of some of Young’s acquaintances, this year was not at all easy for him. He was supposed to repay a debt of 28 million pounds, but he did not do this, although there was a specific deadline.

“I hope this (Young’s death - Gazeta.Ru) will now make people understand that he didn’t have any money,” British publications quote the partner of the deceased, who wished to remain anonymous. “It’s very unpleasant.”

The opinions of Young's acquaintances and friends regarding the reasons for his death were divided.

And some of Scott Young's friends were skeptical about the suicide version.

“He was a great man and a good father,” one acquaintance noted. “But he was let down by the British legal system.” We don't know if it was actually suicide."

Another friend pointed out to the police a connection with the mysterious death of Boris Berezovsky, with whom he was probably connected by the mysterious “Project Moscow”.

Scott Young was found impaled on bars outside the windows of his home in December 2014.

Young's ex-wife now hopes to inherit the man's fortune, unless the secret of his entanglement goes with him to the grave or remains in the hands of lawyer Stephen Jones. And detectives, under public pressure, will have to conduct an investigation and try to establish the true causes of Young’s death.

The purpose of this article is to quickly find out what happened to businessman SCOTT YOUNG using his FULL NAME code.

Watch "Logicology - about the fate of man" in advance.

Let's look at the FULL NAME code tables. \If there is a shift in numbers and letters on your screen, adjust the image scale\.

Take the double code of the FULL NAME:

18 29 44 63 95 109 113 131 142 157 176 208 222 226
S C O T Y N G + S C O T Y N G
226 208 197 182 163 131 117 113 95 84 69 50 18 4

32 46 50 68 79 94 113 145 159 163 181 192 207 226
I N G S K O T + I N G S K O T
226 194 180 176 158 147 132 113 81 67 63 45 34 19

YOUNG SCOTT = 113.

(despair)YAN(s) + (pry)G(zero) + (fia)SK(o) + OT(despair)

113 = ,YAN, + ,G, +,SK, + OT,.

226 = 79-FELL OUT OF + 147-APARTMENT WINDOW.

226 = 131-JUMP DOWN + 95-JUMP.

131 - 95 = 36 = DOWN.

3 18 36 65 78 93 99 104 110 121 122 124 141 173
EIGHT DEC ABR
173 170 155 137 108 95 80 74 69 63 52 51 49 32

"Deep" decryption offers the following option, in which all columns match:

(villainy) VO (committed) Sb + (uncontrollable) MY ACTION (action) + (from jumping) KA (pogi) B + R (asbils) I

173 = ,VO,SJ + ,MY DE, + ,KA,B + R,YA.

226 = 173-8TH DECEMBER + 53-FALL.

173 - 53 = 120 = END OF LIFE.

Code for the number of full YEARS OF LIFE: 176-FIFTY + 9-TWO = 185.

16 48 67 96 101 107 125 157 176 181 184 185
FIFTY TWO
185 169 137 118 89 84 78 60 28 9 4 1

185 = LIFE TERMINATED = 96-SUDDEN + 89-DEATH.

226 = 185-FIFTY-TWO + 41-LIFE\b terminated\.

185-FIFTY-TWO - 41 = 144 = SUICIDE.

"Deep" decryption offers the following option, in which all columns match:

(c)PY(til)+(death)Т+(pa)DE(nie)+(broken)SY+(ak)T (evil)D(eist)VA

185 = ,ПЯ, + ,Ть + ,ДЭ, + ,СЯ + ,T,D,VA.

Look at the column in the lower table of the FULL NAME code:

181 = FIFTY D(va)
________________________
63 = DEATH

181 - 63 = 118 = ACT OF SUICIDE = BREAKING.