Here's what I wrote about him in my book:
The return of Daddy Demon
At a high school reunion, I was approached by another old man.
Years earlier, when his hair was darker and greasier, Rick was known as Daddy Demon. In our high school yearbook, for his future, it says “uncertain.”
Rick smiled, said “Hi! Howya been?” and he raised his right hand to shake mine.
I kept my right hand at my side.
I reminded Rick that, in the fall of 1958, when we were both in the seventh grade, he and a couple of other 12-year-old hoods ambushed me for no discernible reason. Rick used a knife to poke holes in both of my bicycle tires and then he snuffed out a cigarette on my head.
And a few months later, Rick’s posse held me down on the ground with my mouth forced open so they could spit into it.
I did not shake Rick’s hand.
I did tell Rick to go fuck himself.
I still remember a lot.