Until he killed his parents last summer, Harlow Fraden was unable to work out any really satisfactory way of shaping his environment to fit his ego and personality. He tried immersing himself in poetry, but his motherwhom he habitually described to friends as "that hateful paranoid"would have none of it. After he graduated from New York University as a chemistry major last June, she plagued him to get a job "like other boys." Instead, Harlowa tall, thin, languid youth with cropped red hair and heavy hornrimmed glasseslounged about the family's Bronx apartment,...
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