“That one right there,” he said, and pointed to a window above the fridge. “I guess the old bars were rusted through, so they pried them off the frame and broke in while I was watching TV. Fucking idiots thought there was a safe in here, like I must be rich because I own the place.” He opened the fridge, cracked a Coors Banquet, and said, “Want one?”

“No thanks.”

When he broke it to them that there was nothing in the house, he thought he’d be executed. His only chance was escape. In one athletic gesture, “the last quick move I’ll ever make,” he threw a bottle at the gunman and yanked the front door open.

“That’s when they clipped me. Three shots, two passed through. I curled up right there in the doorway while they ran out the back. I barely had time to call the ambulance before everything went dark. Check it out.”

In the wall by the front door, Pavel indicated two bullet holes, and when he kicked the doormat aside, I saw a dark stain on the floor. I asked if he would mind showing me the scars, but he said no, they were in an embarrassing spot.

We settled on the white plastic lawn chairs he kept in the living room. Amber pill bottles were scattered on the table between us. Pavel made space for my recorder and then swallowed a few different meds, washing them down with beer. He lit another cigarette and switched on a fan so the smoke crawled up the staircase. A diluted vinegar smell was coming from my armpits.

I asked why he continued living here after the shooting, when all the other houses were abandoned.

“That’s just what they’d like.”

I told him he didn’t need to lean in to the recorder.

“Sorry.”

“Who’s they?” I asked.

“Real estate. If this whole row of houses gets condemned, there’ll be a development here in a couple months, I promise you. See, if you can build a little higher, you’ll get a beautiful view of the canyon, and the noise from the road up there is like nothing. They’re going to make mansions here one day, but they’ll have to buy me out first.”

Transcribing the interview later, I heard the little gasp I made when an ember from Pavel’s cigarette dropped on his tank top and burned a tiny hole. He just swept it to the floor.

“I want to ask about your experience in the trial,” I said. “What do you recall of your time at Legacy General?”