Editor’s note: This column is the last in a four-part series. Seton Tucker is the reason that I all a’sudden packed a suitcase on Sunday night then said, casually, to Tink, “I’m going to South Carolina for the Murdaugh trial tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Be safe.” He is used to my spontaneous ideas. He never interferers or tries to make sense. He has come to know that when a story is calling my name, I have to answer the siren’s call.
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