At the bottom of Tampa lies the gates of MacDill Air Force base, home of the United States Central Command where generals drew up plans for Afghanistan and Iraq, committed huge strategic errors, and tried to correct them. In Tampa, they enjoyed lavish dinners and parties hosted by the wealthy community. Four blocks away from MacDill lived the Hartzells: Danny and Ronale, their children Brent and Danielle, Danny’s younger brother Dennis, and their four cats. The Hartzells were too poor to buy or flip houses or even own a car, making them dependent on Hillsborough Area Regional Transit buses. They had few friends, belonged to no church or union, and avoided most of their heavy-drinking relatives.

In March 2008, Danny was laid off from the ten-dollar-an-hour job he had at a small factory called Master Packaging. He applied to the only jobs that were available—retail jobs at Home Depot, Publix, Sam’s Club—but found he was one of dozens of applicants for a single opening at them. He was in his late thirties and thought of himself as a blue-collar guy, and he lacked the look and demeanor to work in retail. Danny and Ronale had depended on charity for Christmas gifts for the kids, which he didn’t like having to do, especially when he knew there were people in worse shape than them.