On the way to the most important job interview of her life, Tiffany Wright took a detour, turning up Trinidad Avenue in Northeast Washington and slowing as a brown brick rowhouse came into view.
She glanced out of her passenger-side window and thought back to the night that shaped her life. It was there — beyond the chain-link fence, up the gray steps — that her father had answered the front door and been shot to death.
Wright was 7.
Now, 26 years later, on April 8, 2015, she had awakened at 4:30 a.m. to a phone alarm labeled in bright white letters: “SCOTUS DAY!” She had put on makeup and fixed her hair, filled a thermos with cold-brew coffee and prepped her navy blue suit. Wright had prayed, too, but for what God wanted instead of what she wanted, because the latter still felt beyond possibility.
It had been three months since she …