Anger and disappointment blinded Joseph ‘Philly’ Morris to the tranquil beauty of the parkland and public gardens alongside the Bourne River. It was 8:15 p.m. And he needed a drink. The few pence he had in his pocket were barely enough to buy him cigarettes. Seeing a bench ahead, he picked up his pace. When he reached it, he stopped and sat down, pulling out the packet containing his last two cigarettes from his shirt pocket. With a well rehearsed jerk of the hand, he popped up one of the cig...