The Man from Nowhere
I. The march in Selma was mud and flags and the sound of ten thousand people walking on a road that had never been meant for them to walk on. David Roth stood at the edge of the crowd with a notepad in his hand and a press pass around his neck that felt, that morning, like the most important piece of plastic in America. He was thirty-two, ambitious in the way journalists are ambitious—hungry...
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