At exactly 2 a.m., the third person in the team walked into the
cafe and sat across from Sam Cayhall. This young man’s name was
Rollie Wedge. At the age of twenty-two, Rollie was already
deeply committed to the struggle for white power. His father was
in the construction industry, and had taught his son how to use
explosives. Cayhall knew little about the young man, but they
had done this kind of job together several times now and Rollie
certainly knew what he was doing. They drank coffee together for
half an hour. Sam’s cup shook in his hand, but Rollie’s was steady.