He had it coming to him, alright. Everyone in the neighborhood agreed that Marty Polks deserved whatever he got. He yelled at the kids who ran onto his lawn to retrieve stray soccer balls. He harrumphed the neighborhood moms who waved to him when he came out to get his paper every morning. His wife hurried in and out of the house after arguments, ashen face inscribed with abuse and neglect. “I heard he’s been beating his wife for years,” Tilda McHuen said, half-covering her mouth so as to appear concerned with not being perceived a gossip. Mary Holt leaned over the caution tape wrapped around the perimeter to get…