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When America received the news — the reminder that some of its darker-hued citizens are in deadly jeopardy when interacting with officers paid to protect them — I was sipping coffee, buttering toast, safe in my quiet hamlet in Yokohama. I decided I would put off scanning any Internet news outlets for a few more minutes.

A day earlier the media had warned that it was coming, this decision, this confirmation of the value placed on a young man’s life. I just didn’t want to hear it. Not again. Not yet. Not before breakfast, anyway.

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