“Hey tío, do you have any change for some food?” The two teenagers—they couldn’t have been more than 15 or 16 years old—seemed polite as they stopped me one evening, two blocks from my São Paulo apartment, on my way to the neighborhood supermarket. Before I could respond, they flashed a weapon and ordered me into a nearby car. Stunned and scared, I followed without another word. All they wanted, they told me calmly, was my money. A few moments later, we pulled up in front of a nearby bank.
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