White Boy Rick (2018) and the privilege of narrative

What we find ourselves believing of the world today depends on whose story we're listening to. Climate change matters... or it doesn't, Trump Derangement Syndrome or the Dumbest Fucking Criminal President That There Will Ever Be, Brexit or Bust and Colonialism Was A Good Thing... etc. etc.
The debate about who gets to tells these stories is as old as time itself and there has been a tradition of dissemination of alternative histories that have had an emphatic effect on the identity and personal historiography of myriad niche audiences made up of those most affected by the telling.
As related to 'White Boy Rick' (2018), I must admit I was bemused at my lack of emotional response to the sad travails of the main character, a disadvantaged white American boy caught up in the drug war of 1980s America, and found myself much more interested in the narrative arc of the black characters on show. For most of my life these kinds of characters (both, white and black) existed in a realm removed from any lived experience, and parallels, if there existed any at all, related only to a comparable lack of agency. Having had an occupational experience now of disadvantage in a mixed-race highly urbanised setting in a 'western' city, I wonder if we are doomed to a non-convergence of real-life expectations of the outcomes of personal journeys we are directly invested in seeing through in our day-to-day lives today. I see what I want to see in a movie, irrespective of the direction the story-teller is trying their hardest to lead me towards, and as in life, I have now the agency to resist their point-of-view in a way that I couldn't when I was younger.
How that relates to the way the world is today is in the inevitability of a shared journey that we now seem to be increasingly unable to accept. International and inter-continental trade, OPEC, embargoes and boycotts, Hollywood, even, are mere manifestations of a fragile transnational cooperative structure that has existed in some shape or form through every age of mankind. And the repercussions of not following the script has always been existential and based on prevailing agency and power. Where we begin to unravel today is in the false choice we are presented with - of not following the basic script of a 'human', not Western or Soviet or Capitalist or Socialist or Allied or Axis, complicity.
It seems like such an irony; to live at that point in human history when a majority of us can touch, see, hear, smell and feel the experiences of those far removed from our immediate scope of experience via the tools of the modern age, and yet, feel so capable of dissociating ourselves from the experience of an all-encompassing togetherness and empathy, if not communion, with our fellow human beings wherever they live and whatever their own experiences of life.
I am at that point, myself, of dissociation right now - from a job, a community, a way of life. It feels surreal that I can actually do this because there really was never a choice in the past - just a decision to be made. Perhaps this is what adulthood looks like - to have the consequences of a journey made manifest in the time and effort it takes to stop it.
I wish White Boy Rick didn't have to go to prison, sure, but neither did his black friend, Boo, and nobody got to tell his story.