Wayne Tinkle's relationship with his son changed five summers ago.
On a drive back home from Hoopfest in Spokane, Tres riding shotgun in his father's Chevrolet Avalanche, their conversation turned to women and dating. For more than an hour, they didn't discuss school or sports or family. Their talk went deeper: Wayne remembers Tres, then 14, pledging he would treat girls as he would want his sisters to be treated.
The walls that separate dad and son dissolved somewhere between Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, and the Montana border that 2010 day. For perhaps the first time with Tres, Wayne felt like he was chatting with a younger brother.