By Sylvia A. Harvey, Illustration: Christine Ongjoco, The Imprint, January 30, 2023
On a typical day in 1990, Cordell Miller, then 16, would play basketball, dominoes, or hang out with his friends in his Brooklyn neighborhood. When night came and others went to their respective New York City homes, Miller made his rounds in search of a place to sleep: the hallway, steps and sometimes the roof of a building he could easily sneak into. An abandoned car. At times, he’d ride the subway all night long.
Fleeing the home where court documents show he suffered “extreme physical, emotional, and verbal abuse,” a park bench eventually became his base. Those dire circumstances were duly noted by a neighborhood drug dealer who approached him. He had an opportunity to propose: peddling crack cocaine.
It made sense to Miller at the time. “I felt accepted. I felt a different sense of independence. I had pocket money and didn’t have to steal food,” Miller, now 49, recalled in a series of interviews over several months. His youth and desperation gave him little pause. “At no given time, were consequences in the equation.”
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