On that Sunday morning Ray was meant to be there. By the porch, feeding the pigeons. Away from the lugubrious city. Who had thought that a city like Las Vegas could look like this! Silent, mournful, shaken. This is what the death of a true leader can do. And probably only the death of a true leader can.

Ray, a former 'freelance fighter', 37 years old, a loner.


It is not very easy to weave a web of words. It is difficult to use it to generate fervour in the public. It is impossible to get the public to do something with the only motivation being morality. Jeet had that ability.


Not for a moment the impossibility of the act passed through my mind. This was about her life. The impossible had to be made possible.

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