Adolphus Chandler is a sixth generation Atlantan who grew up in Buttermilk Bottom, a former Old Fourth Ward community rife with poverty, unemployment, bootleg houses, and juke joints. In the 1960s, the city razed the neighborhood to make way for the Atlanta Civic Center. But by that time, Adolphus, not even 10, had already succumbed to the Bottom’s prevalent vices, chiefly drugs, that would shadow and shame him for decades to come. At only 9 years old, he was a child of the streets. For the next half-century, drugs, crime, and homelessness confined his world to a five-block area around Boulevard, where he spent his days roaming, stealing, and manipulating in order to feed his addiction—and to survive. Consumed by that addiction and arrested 95 times as a result, Adolphus counted the next 50 years either on the street or in a prison cell, the former always leading back to the latter. Wherever he found himself, Adolphus lived with his addiction, homelessness, and the lack of a support network to lean on for help.