By Andrew Purcell
January 25, 2015
John Pace spent his last day of freedom at the house in West Philadelphia that he shared with his mum, his six brothers and four sisters. It was September 18, 1985 and summer was coming to an end. In the early evening, he set out for his friend’s place, some grass in his pocket and a wine cooler in his hand. Wine mixed with fruit juice and fizzy water was no drink for a man, but that was all right. He was seventeen years old.