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Three Laotian teenage boys were having trouble adjusting to American society in the small town where their refugee families had been sent to live after the Vietnam war. It was a mountain logging town. The boys had passed their high school courses admirably, but life in this new land just didn’t seem to include them. In the closest thing to a gang, these kids hung together and looked for a way to stand out from the crowd. The decision to own a car seemed like a good start, so they traveled to a nearby town, picked a settled, middle class neighborhood, picked a house with a car in the driveway, and went to work. A few short moments later they were cruising the freeway at breakneck speed, high on the success of their undertaking when a blowout suddenly landed them by the side of road, feverishly trying to get the tire fixed. The local highway patrol, always on duty and ready to help locals with car troubles, stopped to help. But they weren’t expecting to see these three Asian teenagers – not at all! They had just run the license plates – the car was registered to county judge Henry Simpson!