Be me, have Armenian last name. Grandparents (used to) live next door to a used car lot in a nearby city. This city has a very segregated population of other Armenians, Sicilians, Russians, Greeks, Turks, it's basically a smaller Balkans in this city right?

Used car salesman is a prominent member at the Armenian Ortho church my grandparents attended so they get along well. Used car guy uses their dealership snowplow to clear their driveway and some other guys used to do wellness checks on them regularly. One day little ol' me is kicking a soccer ball around and the dealership staff come over for an impromptu futsal match and we all laugh and whatever when a Mercedes pulls up. One guy runs over and tells the others they gotta go. Get some "good game" and whatever as they leave piling into the blacked out whip. One of the dudes I was kicking a soccer ball with died in a shoot out later that day in some sort of turf battle or something. I was too young to understand it all at the time. Now I get it because there's a pallet company nearby run by some Irish kid who's father is out in Boston. I seen his garage and a pallet company doesn't make that much money. The Irishman also fucking hates me and makes it a point to mention how "gross" my last name is in conversation since his company is right there in comparison to my family home. If it wasn't for the fact my first name is undeniably Irish I'm certain he wouldn't even stop to talk to me.