LOUISVILLE — Steve Nunn had lost a dream job, was drinking hard and trolling the Internet for women as his life spiraled downward in the months before it crashed when the former Kentucky lawmaker ambushed his ex-fiancee outside her Lexington townhouse.

Family and friends fretted about his decline, and his two daughters talked to a family confidant about having him committed.

Then the unspeakable happened. Nunn’s former fiancee, Amanda Ross, was fatally shot on Sept. 11, 2009.

Nunn, the son of a former governor who ran for Kentucky’s top office himself, was arrested later that day at the cemetery in southern Kentucky where his parents are buried. He had wounds to his wrist and was pointing a gun to his abdomen.

The man who once mingled among Kentucky’s political elite pleaded guilty to first-degree murder in June and was sentenced to life without parole. The former state representative had faced a potential death penalty if his case had gone to trial.

In documents released by Lexington officials, those closest to Nunn painted a portrait of a tormented man. The Lexington Herald-Leader requested the case file under the Kentucky Open Records Act. The first volume was released last week.

Nunn’s daughters, Mary Elizabeth Nunn and Katharine Courtney Nunn, told police their father’s drinking became worse after Ross had obtained an emergency protective order against him. He had lost a plum job as deputy secretary of the state Cabinet for Health and Family Services after being charged with domestic violence against his former fiancee.

They told police that their father had been depressed for months, his health had declined and he had told them to be strong if anything happened to him. They didn’t consider him suicidal but had talked to their father’s friend, Dr. Phillip Bale, about having him committed.

Bale replied that no judge would commit their father based on the behavior he observed when he had dinner with Nunn the night before Ross’ death, the documents showed.

Nunn friend Johnny Hutchison told investigators that Nunn had talked about revenge soon after the domestic incident with Ross, and had made suicidal comments such as “his time was short.”

In another conversation three days before the shooting, Nunn accused Ross of ruining his life, Nunn friend Danny Gibson recounted. Gibson bluntly responded that Nunn had ruined his own life.

He said Nunn was “bitter and emotionless” during the conversation.

Hutchison told police that Nunn had sought out women through an online dating service, spending between $500 and $1,000 a week on women. He thought Nunn was broke and had taken out a $20,000 loan to pay his attorney.

Alex Redgefield, a longtime friend of Ross’, considered Nunn a “complete sociopath who was completely different and mild mannered when around other people,” according to his interview with detectives.

He told police that Ross was scared of Nunn “all of the time” and even showered with a gun close by.

In another ominous excerpt, Redgefield mentioned a walkway beside Ross’ townhouse that she had referred to as “O.J. Alley” because Nunn had allegedly used it on at least two occasions to peek into her home.

Carol Jordan, a prominent advocate for victims of domestic violence, said she has known Nunn since the early 1990s, and the two dated for about a year. She said they had an amicable breakup and remained friends.

She described Nunn as having two sides in her interview with police. She described a public side that was “friendly, outgoing and charming.” But there was a tormented side as well, she thought.

In the summer before Ross’ death, after the domestic violence charges had surfaced and he lost his high-level state job, Nunn talked about how his friends were “kind of pulling away from him,” Jordan told police.

Nunn, the son of former Kentucky Gov. Louie B. Nunn, had carved out his own political career as a leading advocate in the legislature for the mentally disabled. Nunn spent some 15 years in the legislature. He failed to win re-election to the state House in 2006. In 2003, he made an unsuccessful bid for the Republican gubernatorial nomination.

Others saw a different side of Nunn in the days and months before Ross’ death.

Jim Host, who served in Louie Nunn’s administration, said he had seen Steve Nunn in April 2009 at Keeneland racetrack in Lexington. The two chatted for about 15 minutes. Nunn told Host, the well-known founder of a leading sports-marketing business, that he “was going to resurrect his life” and make Host proud of him.