His father, Marvin “Bunk” Nutter, spent much of his son’s childhood in jail on robbery and murder charges. Growing up, Davon’s parents weren’t around much. “I have been watching you,” King said, as they drove around. He asked Davon to get in the back seat and turned on the engine.

King was sitting behind the wheel, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. He got to the mall’s parking lot and saw King’s pickup truck. To snitch on fellow drug dealers was to invite death. Where he came from, there was nothing worse than helping the police. The more Davon dwelled on that possibility, the more panicked he got. What could a city detective possibly want from a small-time drug dealer such as himself? The only answer Davon could think of was that King wanted him to become an informant. As Davon walked to a nearby strip mall where King had arranged to meet, his mind was weighed down by anxiety.