Minutes into this rollicking good story, the central figure, Lee Chagra, comes alive: '[Lee] washed his morning cocaine down with strong coffee and remembered the time he had met Sinatra, how genuine he appeared.' Everything you'll need to know and remember about Chagra—the son of Syrian immigrants to Mexico and an attorney who spun the world of dope-running, border-crossing, high-living outlaws along the El Paso–Juarez border around his finger like the gaudy rings he favored—can be neatly summarized in that one sentence. Chagra dies not long after, yet he haunts the rest of this cautionary tale like a high-rolling specter.