For years, he spent long nights trying to sleep in abandoned cars and vacant lots. His father said they were just camping out. Chuck Bacon, his little brother Ryan and his mom and dad would carry blankets into weedy fields around Phoenix, Ariz. They would eat burgers and hot dogs, but there was no campfire under the cloudless desert sky; the food had been microwaved at a convenience store. In the morning, the boys would scrub themselves with liquid soap in a gas-station rest room. In the evening, they would beg for handouts at traffic lights. When Chuck went to school,...
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