PART 1: Sunday unfolded with the kind of deceptive calm that made Matthew Calloway believe, for a few hours at least, that life was finally giving him a pause. He had promised his mother a walk, not a rushed appearance between meetings or a distracted lunch interrupted by calls, but a real walk, slow and deliberate, through one of Denver’s old public parks where the trees still carried the quiet dignity of having witnessed entire lives pass beneath their branches.
