In truly sad news, it is looking like Michael Jackson’s death didn’t have to happen. The L.A. corner has released preliminary findings which say the cause of death was an overdose of overdose of propofol, a powerful sedative Jackson was using to sleep.

The 32-page warrant said Dr. Conrad Murray, Jackson’s personal physician, told a detective that he had been treating Jackson for insomnia for six weeks. Murray said each night he gave Jackson 50 mg of propofol, also known as Diprivan, diluted with the anesthetic lidocaine via an intravenous drip.

Worried that Jackson may have been becoming addicted to the drug, the Houston cardiologist said he attempted to wean him from it, putting together combinations of other drugs that succeeded in helping Jackson sleep during the two nights prior to his death.

But on June 25, other drugs failed to do the job, as he recounted to detectives in an hour-by-hour account that was detailed by detective Orlando Martinez of the Los Angeles Police Department:

This is just so sad. The irony in the fact that Jackson “made it” after starting off in desperate poverty–and he still wound up meeting the fate so many of us in the ghetto do–a drug related death. His drugs may have cost more than anything you or I have ever gotten, but they’re still drugs. And presumably, Jackson was taking those drugs for the same reason so many of us are: over work, isolation, depression, and past abuse.

Jackson’s death either shows that you can’t outrun your past–or that racism is a lot more pervasive than we think. And that it is our *culture* and *physical surroundings* that are as sick as we are. That we are living in an unsustainable world.

Or maybe it’s a little of all of it.