The late summer heat bakes the windshield of a dull sedan. Tucked beneath the wiper, a single pink ticket flutters. In the heart of New York City, a traffic clerk sifts through a mountain of identical slips, her fingers smudged with carbon. She pauses. One ticket, issued for an illegally parked car near a late-night shooting, feels different. For weeks, detectives had chased ghosts and rumors, ...
