LEILA . . “Yeah, I got a problem with your friend putting his hands on my girl!” the boyfriend shot back, standing his ground, even though he was clearly outnumbered. The situation escalated fast. The gang started trying to hit the boyfriend, circling him, throwing punches. The girlfriend was screaming, trying to push them away, shielding her boyfriend with her own body, begging them to stop. The sound of the confrontation, the shouts, the grunts, the girl’s cries, cut through the mundane sounds of the gas station, drawing the attention of the few other people around. The guys getting fuel in the trucks turned, watching, some with mild curiosity, others with that familiar look of not wanting to get involved. Gerald was sitting with us, facing away from the pumps, his baseb

