We arrive with the rain. The clouds are lowering themselves onto the mountains that crowd I-64 and shaking fat drops onto the quickly fogging windshield. By the time we park in downtown Charlottesville, words like monsoon, torrential and hurricane are being tossed...
Scott rolls into Ellwood Thompson’s wearing jeans and a white shirt, tucked in, and smiles promptly. He stands around six foot, with short hair and a good stance, a hand on his hip as he extends the other, his grasp firm but not intimidating. As photographers for...