I read this with great interest, but that ending really made me quite ill.

This guy flooded Harlem with heroin for decades. He is personally responsible for countless deaths and ruined lives.

Somehow, after all this he got off with time served and parole. Somehow. Having lived in New York City for thirty years, I assume it was bribery.

Then he went back and did it again and still only got a light sentence. Only a fool would believe he stopped dealing drugs after that — his wife got caught selling two kilograms of cocaine over twenty years after his last conviction.

Funny that you didn’t talk to any of his victims — people who destroyed their lives on his drugs, people who lost their children to his drugs.

He abused you for a long time, and what do you wish for this guy in the afterlife? “Someone to light your Newports and take orders from you.” In other words, someone else to abuse!

So this ending is sickening. The moral of the story you tell is this: “Crime pays, and if you live long enough, people will write touching stories about you, no matter what an awful person you were, no matter how many lives you ruined.”

This morally bankrupt story is America in a nutshell. No claps from me.