Thirteen-year-old Tim Neisler was behind the wheel of his dad’s ’76 Chevy Monza watching the scam go down with false calm. His dad’s junkie friend, Ricky, was in the passenger seat leaning out the window and holding what was supposed to look like a wad of twenties, but was actually 20 one-dollar bills wrapped in one 20-dollar bill. The target was Rafa, the heroin lord, sitting in the driver’s side of his brand new white Trans Am, his girlfriend next to him. Rafa was supposed