The dark-haired man was equally deadly and had committed his first murder at the age of 17. In return, he was paid $50. He drank, and he did drugs and he had a wife he never saw, living somewhere in Queens.
This is a true story about friendship that runs deeper than blood. This is my story and that of the only three friends in my life that truly mattered. Two of them were killers who never made it past the age of 30. The other’s a non-practicing attorney living with the pain of his past - too afraid to let it go, never confronting its horror. I’m the only one who can speak for them, and the children we were.