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For Lloyd Swift, the hard part of killing Terry Minyan wasn’t pulling the trigger. It wasn’t watching through the scope as his cousin fell to the forest floor and convulsed for a moment before going utterly still. The hard part was being nice to him for months beforehand. After that, killing him was pure relief. Terry had, in Lloyd’s view, always been useless. In childhood their families lived just down the street from each other, but Terry couldn’t be counted on to fill a spot in a backyard football scrimmage, or swipe cigarettes to smoke behind somebody’s shed, or go