ease. Gravel-voiced and sleepy-eyed, Ron was a high school dropout who’d served a hitch in the military—he had a Marine Corps tattoo on his arm—and who presented himself as a self-taught, well-read street fighter. He was terrific at his job but felt a little insecure at a place where a college education had become the norm. He reminded me a lot of my dad: a friendly street guy with savoir
