“Ronaldo, I must be clear,” I wait until his eyes meet mine to continue, “this is the second time in as many months you have come into my home with derision and disrespect. My father was fond of you, and because of this, we tolerate you. But you know full well that if he was here, watching you disrespect his legacy, in the home he built with his own hands, he would shoot you where you sit. Uncle.” I add this last part as a reminder. He is where he is because I allow him to be.
