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April 22 - April 28, 2018
He knew there were two kinds of truth in this world. The truth that was the unalterable bedrock of one’s life and mission. And the other, malleable truth of politicians, charlatans, corrupt lawyers, and their clients, bent and molded to serve whatever purpose was at hand.
“Damn Russians,” Siegel muttered. “I hope I live long enough to see that guy impeached.”
The sins of the father, he thought. His life and his world had once again clobbered his daughter. If he vowed to make those who did this pay, didn’t that include himself?
People lie, the president lies, corporations lie and cheat.…The world is ugly and not many people are willing to stand up to it anymore.
Drivers in L.A. seemed resigned to a fate of waiting in traffic without the kind of impotent cacophony of horns that Bosch always seemed to hear in other cities he’d visited.
She had tapped into a need he had to reach out and help someone, whether they welcomed his help or not.
Livingstone had said sympathy was no substitute for action. That was an essential brick in Bosch’s wall.
True justice was the brass ring just out of reach.
