“After Chela left for school, he told me he’d asked Marcela not to come in until the afternoon. He sat with a small black satchel in his lap that he’d always used as a briefcase, his father’s medical bag from the 1930s. Dad was shaved and dressed in a formal light blue shirt, black sweater vest, and slacks, as if he were ready for church. “What’s the occasion?” I said. “You…working…today?” I was planning to drive to Pomona to talk to Miguel Salvador, T.D.’s brother-in-law, and then to Ojai to fi...nd Randolph Dwyer, the high school football coach who played with Donald Hankins and Judge Jackson in the 1960s. Both were more obscure leads, but I had already burned too much energy on Carlyle. I had to make sure I wasn’t overlooking anything. “Why?” I asked him. He shrugged. “Thought I’d…ride, too,” he said. “Fresh air.” Saturday had been a milestone for us, but I groaned inside. It was hard enough to drive to interviews between Los Angeles and Ventura Counties on a weekday, but Dad would need tending, and I wanted to be focused on T.D.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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