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The scene of the murder is my strip mall — the one where my family went to see movies when I was growing up, the one with what used to be my regular pharmacy, the one with the pet store where my sibling got her first job. That doesn't say anything about the murder itself, but when a place you've know your whole life is the site of a crime egregious enough to be an object lesson in an A. R. Moxon essay, it feels like a black mark.

Rest in peace, Hazrat Ali Rohani.

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