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Wilson: Echoes of the “Summer Of Violence” dance through Denver’s streets

Drive-by shootings haunted my youth like a paralysis dream I couldn’t wake up from. It was 1993, and my mother shopped for gang-neutral colors, no red and no blue, and dressed me in them like my life depended on it … because it just might. I was no thug, but the bad actors in the community may not know this, and worse yet, may not care.

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