Joseph Breen, a 31-year-old White male, spent the evening of June 16, 1969 at the Novelty Bar in Boston’s Combat Zone, drinking with friends before a friendly game of shuffleboard drew him into conversation with another patron, Kenneth Harrison. Breen was a Marine Corps veteran who worked for the Brookline Water Department, the sort of man whose after-hours routine blended camaraderie and habit. When the bar closed, he and Harrison left together, and whatever had felt casual inside curdled on
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