Melissa Gira Grant

When Trump talks tough on sex trafficking, Pizzagate conspiracy theorists hear him singing their song.

It was 1994, I was sixteen years old, and I was taking two trains each day to get to the remnants of a neighborhood Bostonians of a certain age still called “the Combat Zone”—the onetime red-light district, the site of my first job. At 29 Temple Place, the cheery managers ...