Juan Romero has spent half a century trying to move on.
He gets up before sunrise, goes to work and paves another road or driveway in the San Jose area, strong as ever at 67.
He likes to have a cold beer or two with his work crew when they punch out at the end of the day, caked in dirt and sweat. He enjoys time with family and friends and doesn't look too far down the road.
But what happened at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles just past midnight on June 5, 1968, is always there, a shadow at the edge of his consciousness, and sometimes he retreats into it.
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