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Earlier that evening, while patrolman Bob Hanson was still cruising the streets near Lincoln High and just more than an hour before his bullets ripped out the life of Toby Barnes, Francine Walters sat down on her living room sofa. She pulled the TV tray closer as the six o'clock Eyewitness News came on. While the lead-in music played, she polished off the scotch at the bottom of her glass.
'Good evening, everyone,' said anchorwoman Chris Donner. 'At the top of our news, investigators continue to probe last night's grisly murder of seventeen-year-old Maxwell Chidi, a student at Lincoln High in the nearby valley community of Bixby. The body of the black youth was discovered in the newly completed Memorial Stadium by . . .
'Mark my words,' Francine said, 'that boy was up to no good. He probably had it coming.'
'Shit,' Lisa muttered.
Francine snapped her head toward the girl. 'What? What did you say?'
Lisa glared at her from the rocking chair. 'I said

 
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