Dope Thief
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Fear of God is bookended by a father and a son in a car.
They search the car with Ray inside and find nothing.
This is what these motherfuckers do, says a battered Bart to his son.
They step on you.
The hard lesson of life that most Americans with even a modicum of privilege will never learn.
The German playwright Bertolt Brecht put it this way: First we feast, then comes morality.
In the meantime, you take the hit, and you keep that mouth shut.
Memories, both fresh and long-held, impinge on the present of our main characters.
Every action has one of tworeactions: fight or flight.
Whats more, the accompanying two-dollar bill that came with the stash has some numbers written on it.
Ray figures its a claim ticket of some kind.
Nice to finally meet one of your fucking informants, she whispers.
Greene and Marin Ireland make an incredible clash of wills, wits, and energies.
Im so far ahead of you, sweetheart.
Once hes in their custody, the feds dont waste any time making him call Ray.
But to what end?
Threads for an episode to tug on.
Tender loving care he hasnt let himself feel in a lifetime.
That is until Ray walked through her door.
Only time will tell.
Brother, my soul, right now, is theonlyemergency.
Hes trying to bring flowers to the graves of the two boys they found killed at the Loebseck house.
But the assassin is foiled by none other than Bart, now under house arrest.
Fuck thats good, Ray moans.
Translation: First we feast, then comes morality.
