One April night thirteen years ago, a police sharpshooter killed Jake. Jake (I have disguised his name) was my step brother-in-law, husband to one of my wife’s step-sisters. He was a big man who tried to act bigger, but he was a pussycat with his wife and infant daughter. His wife had to monitor his medications for a mood disorder and he was normally compliant. I would never have described him as dangerous; he just talked big. He was a guy struggling to come to terms with his past, trying to do the right thing moving forward. Mostly, I think...
