in connection

But Bobby lives in the shadow of a myth. His older brother Matt was Blue Lake High royalty — three-sport athlete, champion wrestler, hometown legend — now reborn as a Green Beret somewhere deep in Vietnam, transformed in family lore into something untouchable. Invincible. Superman. When Coach Morse asks Bobby to join the wrestling team, the question feels less like opportunity than a test he’s already failed. He isn’t Matt. He never will be.

Two years later, America has cracked open.

1969. The Plymouth is rusting, repurposed as a rolling smoke den filled with music, marijuana, and the restless philosophy of Bobby’s new friend Jerry Zimmer — part prophet, part parasite. Rusty is in the Army. Matt is missing in action. The war is no longer a headline; it has moved into Bobby’s living room, splitting his family down the middle.

His father, Mac, clings to patriotism like a life raft. To him, Matt is the son who mattered — the proof that sacrifice means something. Bobby, questioning everything, becomes the enemy under his own roof. Their arguments erupt into violence while Bobby’s mother Dee watches helplessly as her family fractures along the same fault lines tearing apart the country.

Bobby moves out, drifting through junior college only to dodge the draft — until the lottery number comes up: #3 with a bullet. The future narrows overnight. Working in a newspaper mailroom, surrounded by headlines selling a war he doesn’t believe in, Bobby searches desperately for an exit. His girlfriend Ginny tries to hold onto the boy she knew, but Bobby feels himself dissolving into someone harder, angrier, untethered.

Then Rusty comes home.

Alive — technically. But missing his right arm and haunted by something no one else can see. The war follows him back, living behind his eyes. When Jerry pulls the two friends into an LSD-fueled protest and draft card burning, the line between rebellion and collapse disappears. Rusty spirals into a violent flashback and leaps from a highway catwalk, chasing ghosts only he understands, slipping through Bobby’s hands. America eats its own.

At work, Bobby endures constant harassment from Mike Cullen, a vicious anti-hippie coworker who sees long hair as treason. The tension explodes into violence, costing Bobby his job and whatever fragile stability he had left. Options vanish: no money, no direction, no protection from the draft. Canada begins to look less like escape and more like survival.

But the system already has its eyes on him.

Through Jerry’s manipulation — betrayal disguised as friendship — Bobby is quietly pulled into an FBI drug investigation involving a major LSD distribution ring. Surveillance closes in. Files open. Names are written down. Bobby doesn’t even realize he’s being positioned as the fall guy in a war at home mirroring the one overseas.

Then the final blow lands: Matt is dead.

His body comes home in pieces, reduced to ceremony and a flag. Grief finally bridges the silence between Bobby and Mac, two men broken by the same loss but shaped by different truths. Sitting beside Rusty’s hospital bed, Bobby sums up the wreckage of his life with bitter clarity: he’s jobless, broke, abandoned, draft-bound — and his brother has come home “in a hatbox.” The myth of heroism collapses.

When Bobby discovers he’s been set up as a patsy, he refuses to become another casualty — of the war, the government, or the lies binding them together. With the reluctant help of his fractured family, he devises a desperate plan to outmaneuver the FBI, evade the draft, and cross a border that promises neither safety nor certainty — only the possibility of choosing his own conscience.

As America burns behind him, Bobby Gentile runs not just from a war overseas, but from the version of himself his country demands he become.