David McAtee had a running joke with a group of young men that would frequent his small barbecue stand.
When the police would show up for a meal, the men would retreat inside the shop to avoid the officers. McAtee, though, would laugh and cut up with the officers, sneaking glances at the men taking cover inside.
Afterwards, McAtee would step into the shop, beaming with a big smile on his face, asking the men why they didn’t like good friends.
“I’d tell him, ‘What you mean, why I don’t like your friends?’” said one of the young men, who goes by Snow. “I don’t like the police.”