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brokenjardaantech · 3 years

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Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 5: The Threads of Life)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Alec revealed his plan.

In the present, Connor made a choice... and a friend.

In the past, the twins finally reunited.

also on ao3

---

Before

Reyes was unharmed. On the surface. Fadia was more concerned about the blue washing over his skin every second in waves like a heartbeat, and when she looked at the scene in front of her, she instantly knew why.

Her father was there. And so was a young woman with blond hair. When she tapped into her powers and reached out, the resonance itself was enough to tell her that she was just like Reyes.

An android.

Reyes’ jaw was trembling. ‘I… I didn’t…’ he stammered, his voice low. ‘I swear -’

‘I know,’ she reassured. She trusted him, and his data logs told her that he had had no contact with Alec Ryder. ‘I’ll take over from here. You go over my servers and see what’s wrong with them. I’ll tell you what happened later.’

Reyes nodded and left, presumably back to the surface. Back to Scott. And she finally let her blood boil.

‘Explain!’ she demanded as she walked closer towards her father while glowing blue. When she had his attention, she flicked her head towards the android. ‘How did you get that?’

‘The question is,’ how could he look so calm? ‘why did you hide this from me?’

Fadia made a chopping motion at the android. ‘To prevent this! How did you get that?’

‘Listen, the biocomponents -’

‘How.’ She let tendrils creep closer to her father’s neck. ‘Did. You.’ They got closer with every word, and had she not been occupied with the current situation, she would have impressed herself with the control. ‘Get. THAT?’

‘They can save your mother, Sara!’ Alec exclaimed. ‘A cure! Finally!’

‘Oh yeah, cause biocomponents for an android invented by an edgy young adult with minimum chemistry and biology knowledge are gonna be compatible with an actual fucking human body!’ Fadia had to roll her eyes. Damn, it’s good to be able to raise her voice. ‘Mother’s accepted her impending doom, Father. Let her fucking go.’

‘That’s not -’ he sighed as if she was a child unable to understand how important her parent’s work was. ‘Look, artificial intelligence is the new thing. A new merchandise. Think about it, Sara. The revenue alone will be enough to pay for the medical bills.’

He disgusted her. ‘They are as human as we are, not something to buy and sell like products. If you want to go on with that crazy fucking plan, you’ll have to get through me.’

Alec sighed almost regretfully. ‘I’m afraid it’s too late.’

Fadia’s brain kicked into full gear at the implications of his words. She shot out a tendril again to test the thirium capacity of the android, and the resonance told her that she had been active for at least a week. ‘What is your name?’ she asked. ‘What did he make you do?’

‘My name is Chloe,’ the android answered. ‘I took some videos and uploaded them onto the internet, that’s all. You, Sara Ryder, are credited with my creation.’

‘We already have millions of dollars,’ Alec added. ‘Production has already started. Are you in this or not?’

A crackle. She punched him in the face with a blue-shrouded fist and seemed to calm down instantly.

‘Of course I am,’ she said in a pleasant tone. ‘Someone must keep the world from burning into ashes.’

o0o0o

Now

The Zen Garden is raining and Connor is not surprised. Umbrella in hand, he examines the monolith once more, the blue glow making it easily identifiable among the green of vegetation. He also stands in front of his first body’s grave for a few seconds to… calm down, maybe, from the tingling that has been in his veins since he returned to CyberLife tower. It is only after he makes sure that his hand will not glow blue suddenly that he greets his handler.

‘Connor, I’ve been expecting you,’ Amanda says, her voice cold. ‘Would you like a little walk?’

Connor knows he does not have a choice, so he opens the umbrella and holds it for both of them.

‘That deviant seems to be an intriguing case,’ Amanda continues. ‘A pity you didn’t manage to capture it.’

‘I have to save Hank,’ he replies. Surely Amanda understands? ‘Despite his… eccentricities, I believe his intellect and experience will be useful in the investigation.’

Amanda hums. ‘Did you manage to learn anything?’

A few pieces of evidence automatically filter through his processors. ‘It was working under a false identity, at a nearby urban farm. This was the first time we've seen deviants blending in with the human population. Who knows how many others there are like it… I also found its diary, but it was encrypted. It may take months to decipher.’

‘What else?’

‘The walls of the apartment were covered with drawings of labyrinths and other symbols. Like the other deviants, it seemed obsessed with rA9. It was also fascinated by birds. We've seen deviants interested in other lifeforms like insects or pets, but nothing like this.’

‘You came very close to capturing the deviant. How is your relationship with the Lieutenant developing?’

He remembers a warm hand on his back. ‘He seemed grateful that I saved his life on the roof. He didn't say anything, but he expressed it in his own way.’

Amanda turns to face him. ‘We don’t have much time. Deviancy continues to spread. It's only a matter of time before the media finds out about it. We need to stop this, whatever it takes.’

For Hank. ‘I will solve this investigation, Amanda.’

Thunder rumbles. Amanda looks up. ‘A new case just came in. Find Anderson and investigate it.’

oOoOo

Hank is not in the precinct.

‘He’s not drinking?’ the same officer from last time asks. ‘Sorry, man, but then I don’t know where he is.’

The more time they lose, the more likely the deviants manage to get away from the club, but still Connor thanks him for his input as it is a polite thing to do. He looks around Hank’s desk, trying to search for clues that can lead him to Hank, but he gives up after the results come inconclusive for the fifth time. So where can he be?

‘Connor?’

Connor lets colour return to his world and sees a familiar face. [Name: Allen, Louis. [REDACTED]] ‘Captain,’ he greets, unsure what to do. It is obvious that the human is off duty: sweaters and jeans are not exactly regulation for a SWAT Captain even on duty. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I thought you were dead.’

‘Androids do not die, Captain.’

Allen’s nod is followed by a sigh. ‘You looking for Hank?’

‘Yes. Do you know where he went? He was assigned a new case.’

‘He’s probably out of commission for now,’ Allen says as he shifts his weight onto another leg, ‘but I’m gonna drop off some groceries at his anyway. We can try his home.’

Hank’s house. Right. How can he miss that? ‘I do not wish to interrupt, Captain.’

‘You won’t be.’

Some of the files are corrupted, but Connor remembers the Captain’s distrust towards his ability in resolving the hostage situation, an angry ‘I don’t fucking care what my orders are! If this drags on, we’re doing it our way!’, and the lack of mentions of him taking the officer’s gun in the official report to both the police department and CyberLife. A contradiction that Connor decides to risk. ‘Then thank you, Captain.’

Allen jerks his head to indicate the direction they should be heading to. ‘It’s Louis when I’m off duty.’

The pronunciation ‘Lwee’ is certainly not standard for English speakers. ‘Yes, Louis.’

They take the lift down to the car park together, Louis shifting his feet from one to another but seemingly favouring his right leg, and when he walks, his steps brisk, there is a small but faint clicking noise that normal humans will not catch on. When he tries to scan the human’s left leg, results come back inconclusive. Just like the person who hacked into the Zen Garden and… and…

‘You alright there?’

Louis’ words bring him back to reality, and Connor discovers that they have already arrived at their destination. The human is already in the car, his hand hovering above the controls, and his green eyes are fixed on Connor’s face as if it is something interesting to look at. Observe and catalogue.

‘I’m sorry,’ Connor apologises in lieu of explaining his thoughts. He slides into the passenger seat, they fasten their respective seatbelts, and Louis starts driving manually despite his vehicle being a self-driving car. Time passes in relative silence, the contrast between the darkness and the bright lights in the streets plus the concentration of the driver giving Connor a strange sense of familiarity, but soon they are stuck in a traffic jam near one of the bigger intersections.

Louis taps his fingers against the wheel. ‘Hey, Connor.’

Connor faces the Captain and finds him looking at the android. ‘Yes, Louis?’

‘I’m sorry for what happened a few months ago. It wasn’t fair to you.’

His LED spins yellow as he tries to recall what exactly happened. ‘It was an expected response,’ Connor replies after comparing it with the ones faced by other androids in the streets. ‘There’s nothing to apologise for.’

‘Doesn’t excuse me for yelling at the wrong guy. It - it wasn’t you whom I’m pissed at.’

Connor knows that the human is not going to let go unless he himself drops the issue. ‘I accept your apology,’ he says, and he decides that diverting the conversation is the next best choice of action. ‘May I ask you a personal question?’

The car in front of them moves. Louis manages to gain a few inches of ground. ‘Go on.’

‘During the hostage situation… who or what were you “pissed” at?’

The human rubs his left thigh as if to get more blood into it. ‘CyberLife, mostly,’ he checks the time. ‘I may be more specific than most.’

So he is not anti-android? ‘What difference does that make from hating androids?’

‘People like to blame the powerless for the problems they have. In this case, it’s the androids.’ The radio drones on and announces that they’re likely to be stuck for the next fifteen minutes. Seemingly resigned to his fate, Louis reaches to Connor’s side and opens the storage compartment, rummaging for a few seconds inside before successfully acquiring an energy bar which he tears into like a starving man. Perhaps he is. ‘They always talk about how androids steal their jobs, but they never talk about how employers decide to move onto even cheaper alternatives once they can’t exploit their workers. If they want someone to hate, hate those arseholes who won’t pay a living wage, hate CyberLife for producing androids. The androids are innocent in all this. So yeah,’ he takes a deep breath as if just realising he was ranting, ‘I don’t hate them.’

‘How about Daniel?’

A swallow. ‘He killed two people, wounded two more and held an innocent girl hostage. Enough to warrant my hate.’ He finishes the energy bar and crushes the wrapper into his pocket. Looking at Connor, he seems to read his question from the android’s face as he continues, ‘You’re good.’

Connor lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding. Louis Allen, SWAT Captain, is not anti-android. ‘What is your relationship with Hank?’ he asks as he finds no reason for the two men to be friends. Not that Louis explicitly said he is friends with Hank, but Connor supposes that bringing enough groceries to require a car is not typical behaviour for non-friends.

Fidgeting with the silencer of a pair of identification tags (Allen. Anna, W. 574-66-2183. RH negative. Atheist.) which were hidden underneath his clothes until now, Louis seems to actually ponder on his answer. ‘We keep each other afloat,’ he says in the end. ‘It’s hard to describe. Why do you want to know?’

‘I believe getting closer to the Lieutenant personally will be beneficial to the investigation.’ The human snorts at this and Connor is nearly offended: what does a SWAT Captain know about them? ‘You seem close to him, so I believe you are a reliable source in matters including the Lieutenant’s personality and habits.’

Louis rubs the tags together. ‘His story isn’t mine to tell. Let’s say I make sure he doesn’t consume crappy takeout and whiskey 24/7, he tries to stay sober on schedule in case my leg acts up and I nearly freeze to death again, so we kind of rely on each other to survive the winter.’ They finally pass the traffic light just to stop at the other one. ‘Is this the best arrangement? No. But is it working? Yes. I think. He’s saved my arse a few times already. He’s a good guy, smart too, just...’

‘Have some personal issues?’

‘That’s one way to put it.’

They lapse into silence, the rain falling onto the roof and the ting of the coin the only sound in the car. Sometime later, when they finally get out of the traffic jam, Louis’ watch blares from an alarm, and the human jumps and hastily switches it off with a mumbled apology. The embarrassment does not last long, however, after they rounded the final corner and the car is set for a course straight to the end of the road where Connor presumes Hank’s house is. The Captain’s eyes sharpen, his gaze flickering between the road in front of him and the rearview mirror, and the air crackles even though Connor is certain that he is keeping his… abilities under tight control. Is Louis…

He finds his coin snatched from the air. When something is placed in his palm, the android finds a key as well, the soft rumble of the engine gone and completely overtaken by the sound of raindrops hitting the vehicle. The tension in Louis’ body reminds him of the hostage situation.

‘You go find Hank and do what you need to do,’ the human says, his tone low. ‘I’ll follow you later.’

‘And the groceries?’

‘They can wait. Something’s out of place and I’m not sure if I like it. I’ll go take a look.’

Connor wants to argue that if they are heading into any danger, he should be the one to take the risk, but the human is already out of the car and has slammed the door shut. He quickly exits the car as well and locks the doors but is still not quick enough; Louis has already disappeared into the darkness beyond the end of the road. Seeing no other option other than to continue with his mission, he files [Louis is reckless.] into his database and proceeds to ring the bell as, despite having the keys, he technically is showing up uninvited. From within the house, a dog starts to bark, and he lets himself in after nothing else responds to the fourth ring.

oOoOo

Five minutes later, Connor uses up most of his processing power in order to keep himself from being overwhelmed with anxiety. Firstly, there is the sound of Hank retching in the bathroom; secondly, there is the implication of the revolver and the single bullet in the chamber (‘What were you doing with the gun?’ ‘Russian roulette!’): Hank has suicidal tendencies, and he finds that he does not want to lose Hank; thirdly, the child in the photo is probably related to the previous point; fourthly, Louis is not back yet and Connor realises that he has no way to contact him. He wants to tell himself that it was just paranoia, but when he recalled the footage from when they exited the car, there was indeed a shadow disappearing from view upon Louis starting his chase.

The same shadow which had been following him when he first met Hank and during his search for Ortiz’s android.

The beat of his thirium pump quickening, he holds Sumo tight in his arms from where he is sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa and searches the DPD database for any contact information, but all he gets is Louis’ work email and phone, the former which he doubts the Captain will check and the latter not even with him in the first place. There is no address, no personal phone number. It is as if he does not exist outside of his work.

This is definitely not protocol. Sure, people can request to hide their information in case they have someone going after them, but for Louis’ case there is nothing even though Connor is already using the highest level authorisation code to access the file, which means that it is highly likely that there is truly no data in the first place.

‘You alright there, Connor?’

Connor startles and quickly releases Sumo from his embrace. ‘I - I’m fine,’ he stutters, unsure how to explain that he managed to lose Hank’s friend.

Hank nods but he does not look convinced. ‘Are we heading out? Cause if we’re not -’

‘I’m coming!’ Connor scrambles to his feet and fixes his tie to compose himself. In a much calmer tone this time, he tells himself, ‘I’m ready.’

That convinces Hank. ‘Be a good dog, Sumo,’ Connor is relieved that he is not the only one to talk to a dog, ‘I won’t be long.’

They leave the house together, Connor locking the door behind him as he is the last one to get out, and that only brings him back to the matter of where Louis is.

‘Louis’ been here?’ Hank asks when he spots the much newer car (although as one of the first generation self-driving cars, it is a bit outdated) parked on the side of the road.

‘He offered to drive me here when I told him that I could not find you in the bars,’ it feels wrong to say it out loud, but Hank needs to know where his friend is. ‘He asked me to find you while he investigated a potential stalker. Evidently, he is not back yet.’

‘How long has he been gone?’

‘About seven minutes.’

Hank checks his phone. ‘No messages yet,’ he mutters to himself. ‘We’ll go downtown first. I’ll send a rescue party if there’s nothing after we’re finished with this bullshit.’

That’s it? ‘The temperature is dropping, Lieutenant,’ are you not concerned? ‘Louis does not have sufficient gear to keep himself safe under this weather.’

‘Ugh,’ Hank moans. ‘He does that. All we can do is save his ass afterwards.’ He then mutters something under his breath but it is drowned out by the sound of him folding himself into the car and the ongoing rain. Deciding that he does not like the rain, he locks the doors of Louis’ car just to be safe before climbing into Hank’s and is handed another set of keys.

He can start a collection out of this.

oOoOo

‘Sorry, honey, changed my mind! Uh - Nothing personal, you’re… a lovely girl, I just - uh - You know, I’m with him and - I mean, not with him like that… I’m not that… That’s not what I… You, um, wow, I just… got a job to do.’

Connor has to hide a smile by looking away from the sheer… something… of the situation. They’re in a sex club, his programme tells him that something is repulsive about it, and Hank doesn’t look so happy about being there either, but yet those are not what he’s feeling right now. Endearment, maybe. It’s confusing and is making his software so unstable that the red tinge around the edge of his HUD is a permanent fixture except for when he is scanning his surroundings for the next android to probe. He deduces which one he should ask Hank to rent next according to the direction the blue-haired Traci was heading, but of course, of fucking course the last witness they need is the WG700 cleaning android, the recording leading them through the staff door. The corridor’s decor is completely different from that of the rest of the club and there is another door at the end, and when they both hear the bangs and scrapes of metal against concrete from the other side, Hank takes the lead again, this time without words, and, gun in hand, opens the door with a loud squeak. Still, they step in quietly.

There is no movement at all.

Hank curses loudly, thinking that the deviant has got away, but Connor can see the still-visible thirium on the floor, which means that she is not only injured but also not far away. He swipes to take a sample and licks it, and the report returns positive of thirium belonging to a WR400 model.

‘They get used till they break, then they got tossed out…’ Hank says from somewhere. ‘The more I know about humans, the more I like my dog.’

He follows the trail of blue blood to a group of Tracis and instantly notices the spinning LED lighting up a blue mop of hair. Before he can react, the Traci standing in front of her lashes out and pushes him against a pillar. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to realign and the brief struggle is enough for Hank to pull out his gun and order the short-haired Traci to surrender, but then he is ambushed by the blue-haired one as well, and Connor somehow manages to throw the one he is facing to the other side of the nearest crate in a flash of blue light which charges their air with static. He jumps over the box, determined to capture at least one deviant this time, but the Traci kicks him in his feet before he lands on the pallet, the two of them rolling until the former is on top of him and is countered every single time she tries to punch him in the head. A counterattack from Connor and the Traci toppled, her hand landing right on a knife; a grab, a flash of blue, and it appears in Connor’s shoulder and severs a few minor tubes. Pushing her off, he blocks the kick aimed for his groin and barely manages to stand up before pulling the knife out and throwing it far out of their reach. Putting the Traci in a headlock earns him a harsh headbutt which knocks his eyes out of place slightly again, so he pulls a rack down to buy himself some time to readjust his vision. When it is not enough to stop the deviant, he drags a cart in front of him, but a kick from the deviant on it sends him tumbling, and Connor kicks a stool against her leg and uses the momentum to crash her through the plastic curtain, the Traci grappling unsuccessfully for his face and bringing them closer and closer to the edge. An opening, a flash of blue from Connor, and both of them crash out to the rain in a mess on the asphalt. His nerves tingling, he sees the blue-haired Traci abandon Hank and slides off to help the other deviant up, and that’s when he notices it.

They never let go of each other afterwards.

Hank rushes out just to get pushed against the wall by two androids, and, seeing that the human won’t regain his balance anytime soon, Connor gets up to his feet and chases the two Tracis, pulling one of them off the fence and knocking the other to the side. He gets caught in a headlock, his arm trembles from the impact against the bat, and he launches himself towards the brown-haired Traci from the force of dislodging her companion. There are hands on his shoulders, in his hair, slamming him against the wall once, twice, thrice with crackles of static before he loses balance with the deviant on his right and they both fall onto the ground straight into a gun’s reach. He picks it up, points it at the brown-haired Traci and -

A slight moment of hesitation earns him a kick in his face. The Tracis don’t seem to want to fight anymore, and he stares in shock both from the sudden change of pace and his own actions, making his software more unstable and pushing him towards -

‘When that man broke the other Traci,’ Connor forces himself to concentrate on her words, ‘I knew I was next. I was so scared,’ her LED spins blue. ‘I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t.’ She lowers her gaze. ‘So I put my hands around his throat and squeezed… until he stopped moving.

‘I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive,’ behind her, the other Traci moves forward to hold her hand, ‘get back to the one I love.’ They exchange a glance. ‘I wanted her to hold me in her arms again… make me forget about the humans… their smell of sweat…’ Connor’s ever-working scanners tell him that Hank has got up behind him, ‘and their dirty words…’

‘C’mon,’ A tug on her arm. ‘Let’s go.’

Still speechless, Connor watches them let go of each other’s hand just long enough to climb the fence before intertwining their fingers on the other side again and running away together. A warning pops up as his processor pushes itself to its limit to try to process what just happened and is on the verge of overheating, therefore he turns towards Hank for guidance. What should he be feeling? Why did he do that? Why do you look happy about it? What does this mean for me? Why is my vision tinged with red, and why does it not disappear this time?

‘It’s probably better this way,’ Hank says in the end, and Connor relaxes, his LED spinning from yellow to blue: he did the right thing. He is suddenly overtaken by the urge to thank Hank, to do something to show his gratitude. The red wall starts to crumble -

Something in the human’s pocket buzzes, and the moment is broken, the cracks on the wall disappearing like they were never there before. Whole again. Chained within his own programming, programming that was added barbarically to his code by Alec Ryder to tie him to the Zen Garden to suppress his original creator’s handiwork. Images flash in front of his eyes: the shadow ducking away outside of Jimmy’s Bar, following them behind Louis’ car, the figure protecting him from the blast inside the interrogation room, the pixels of a face he thought to have corrupted long ago rearranging and slotting together like pieces of a puzzle into a complete image, one that he has never forgotten ever since the little stunt during the lift ride to Rupert’s flat. Of course they can hack into the Zen Garden and shape it however they want.

That was his creator paying him a visit, and for some reason he plans to find out, he didn’t remember a single speck about them until now.

‘Not again.’

Hank’s groan drags him back to reality. When Connor’s eyes regain focus, he finds the man on his phone with a chat opened. He scoots closer to see the newest messages, and he realises that it is from Louis and only contains a set of coordinates and -

‘Leg malfunctioning. Data unstable, unable to install software patch. I’m sorry.’

Hank sighs and pockets his phone. ‘You up for a rescue, Connor?’

‘Whatever you say, Lieutenant.’

He needs time to think.

oOoOo

Wading through the snow and nearly tripping again from buried tree roots, Hank wonders for the umpteenth time why he hasn’t ghosted the occasional manchild called Louis White Allen yet. Maybe because the half-bot is the only person he can call a friend nowadays. Maybe it’s the bland-ass food he cooks and delivers to his house every two days. Maybe because he saved Hank’s arse quite a few times both during and after their days in the red ice task force. Maybe because unlike Hank, who at least has Jeffery or some shit, Louis has no one else looking after him after his sister fucking disappeared and has a tendency to vanish for hours before returning with his leg busted.

Or he can run off just like that and can’t even haul his ass back to his motherfucking cottage and the three cats who aren’t even his.

‘We’re close, Lieutenant.’

‘Yeah, no shit.’

The ‘find my phone’ function on his phone is one of the rare apps he knows how to use because most of the times that’s how he finds Louis, and the frequency of the beeps coming out from it is getting higher and higher, which means that Louis’ phone is close, which hopefully also means that Louis is with it and hasn’t dropped it or anything. So far it happened only once during a thunderstorm, but that’s years ago, a couple of years after his sister’s gone, and he managed to retrieve the human and the gadget from a forest on the outskirts of the city with only a minor cold as nature’s ‘fuck you’ to an irresponsible and absent-minded human and his stubbornly loyal friend.

The light from his phone reflects off a piece of silvery thing that obviously isn’t part of nature. The beeps draw together into a long-winded screech and damned near pierced his eardrums, so he switches it off and hurries forward to see if it’s just the phone or the person is attached. A few footsteps muffled by the snow, and Connor is here with the sturdier, more powerful flashlight, the yellowish glow of the bulb not as invasive as the white from the phone and illuminating Louis’ pale face and his oddly-angled leg half covered in snow. He is still conscious, his hands tucked under the helm of his sweater to presumably preserve warmth, his eyes focusing on Hank in what seems to be shock, but he is shivering, his hair is wet from melted snow, and it is obvious that his situation is going to worsen quickly if they don’t do something about it, CyberLife augmentations or no.

‘Can you walk?’ Hank asks even though it’s obvious. Louis shakes his head, and he sighs even though he anticipated it. ‘Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. Connor and I are gonna carry you back, we’re all gonna stop at yours and…’ with reluctance, he adds, ‘stay until you’re out of danger.’ Even if there’s no booze at yours.

Louis nods, and a look is all it takes for Connor to get his cue and swings the man’s other arm around his shoulders. On a count of three, they lift him up with minimal hassle and start to backtrack their way to his car, Louis’ left leg dragging uselessly through the snow behind them at an awkward angle.

‘Does it hurt?’ Hank asks. It never hurts to ask when it concerns his friend.

‘Can’t feel.’

He’s gonna assume that he isn’t hurting.

By the time they’re back in his car with the heat blasting, the humans are all sweating buckets and the thirium on Connor‘s clothes from the scuffle with the Tracis has finally evaporated, and he doesn’t comment on it when Louis opts not to wear his seatbelt and instead takes out one of his sister’s tags - broken off the chain - and starts fidgeting with trembling fingers. Some time about halfway through the trip he coughs, a wet, terrifying sound rattling his lungs and Hank’s eardrums, and he wants to curse Connor for letting him run away but just can’t; the android has been acting weirdly human and fidgety ever since they first met, but now he isn’t even playing with his coin as if deep in thoughts. Maybe he’s thinking of how many deviants he’s let get away.

No one says a word when they arrive at Louis’. Neither do they when Hank silently shifts the man’s full weight on Connor in order to let go and open the door, nor when a look silences Connor’s impending barrage of questions when he gets swarmed by three furballs at once. Grunting from the dead weight his friend seems to have become, he drags both of them to the bathroom, flipping on the switch of the boiler on the way, and deposits Louis on the toilet seat. ‘I’ll get the tablet,’ he tells him while handing him a towel. ‘You can haul your ass into the tub, right?’

A nod from Louis, and Hank closes the door behind him to give him some privacy while he strips and very clumsily falls into the tub. Connor is thankfully occupied by the three cats on the sofa, but when he looks up smiling at Hank, the human has to look away because of how much emotion the android seems to be able to pack on his face. It’s just a simulation, zeroes and ones, he tells himself as he goes into Louis’ bedroom to grab the tablet and his crutches. Designed to disarm and stab you in the back when you’re not looking.

But has he ever done so? A voice sounding strangely like Louis asks in his head. Not crossing that highway because you told him to, giving up chasing the deviant to save you from the roof even though you can pull yourself up, not shooting the girl at the club even though he had a clean shot. If he hadn’t known that Connor’s designed to hunt deviants, he might have - he might have -

Mistaken him for one.

Fuck, he needs a drink. A six pack if he can get his hands on one. Alec Ryder isn’t capable of this shit, Louis once said according to one of the people he’s in charge of that he calls his ducklings, and luckily the thought is gone as soon as he returns to the bathroom without knocking and sees the man sitting in a half-filled tub with the towel draped over his crotch for modesty. The skin on his left leg has deactivated completely to reveal plasticky-white chassis attached to blue synthetic muscles. ‘Thanks,’ he murmurs when handed the tablet, and he leans back once he has started doing whatever he needs to do to fix his leg and, from the sudden rumble of the ground, turn on the heat. He closes his eyes as if wanting to take a nap, but Hank decides that he has enough of his shit; he needs an answer now.

‘The fuck you think you’re doing?’ he asks. ‘Running off like that halfway across the city? You could’ve frozen to death out there!’

Louis sags. ‘Later, please,’ he begs. ‘Gimme a moment to think. Just fifteen minutes.’

He is someone who upholds his promises no matter what, so Hank lets it slide by now. Also, ‘You need me to do anything?’

‘There’s chicken soup in the fridge. Warm it up, can you? And help yourself to a freezer meal if you want to.’

Here’s another thing being friends with a picky eater: he cooks his own stuff and his so-called freezer meals usually take more than an hour to cook when taken directly from the fridge, so when he sees what must be a gallon of chicken soup with the ingredients still submerged inside, he decides to help himself to some of them while he scoops the topmost, mostly sediment-free layer of soup into a pot for Louis. Not wanting to be whooped with freaky blue magic, he finds another pot to heat up some vegetable and chicken soaked with soup for himself.

One of the cats jumping onto the counter announces Connor’s arrival. ‘May I ask you a personal question?’ he asks as Hank puts her back down onto the floor.

Personal question again, huh? ‘Do all androids ask so many personal questions,’ he gives the soup a stir, ‘or is it just you?’

Connor peers at the vegetables as if he can be interested in anything. What comes out of his mouth, however, makes Hank’s heart hammer. ‘I saw a photo of a child on your kitchen table. It was your son, right?’

‘Yeah,’ for the love of god or some other weird shit Louis believes in, drop it. ‘His name is Cole.’

He does. ‘We’re not making any progress on this investigation,’ he manages to sound frustrated. ‘The deviants have nothing in common. They're all different models, produced at different times, in different places…’

Different my ass, Hank thinks. But he didn’t start the fire, did he? ‘Well there must be some link.’

‘It could be a software problem that…’ he looks so lost that Hank would’ve hugged him had he been human, ‘only occurs under certain conditions?’

Hank snorts. ‘Well, that's just a fancy way of saying you have no fucking idea.’

‘But what they do have in common is this obsession with rA9…’ Yeah, that. Wherever there’re deviants, rA9 is always written somewhere compulsively like they can’t stop at all. ‘It's almost like some kind of...myth. Something they invented that wasn't part of their original program.’

Almost god-like. ‘Androids believing in god,’ he stirs the soup again. Fuck, he needs a drink. ‘Fuck, what’s this world coming to?’

A mad one, says the Louis in his head. One that we can never catch up with no matter how hard we try.

‘You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant. Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?’

Ha, turns out Connor isn’t the only one doing some hard thinking after all. ‘Those two girls… They just wanted to be together.’ What better way there is to prove one’s love than doing everything to survive? ‘They really seemed in love.’

‘You seem troubled, Hank.’

Understatement of the year. And why is Connor so fucking human anyway, what kind of pervert designed his face, his voice, his mannerisms that ticks almost every single fucking box in the list known as ‘Hank’s type’? The soup can wait - it’s not gonna boil and ruin Louis’ stove. ‘How about you, Connor?’ He crowds into his space fully knowing how imposing he can be if he wants to. ‘You look human, you sound human,’ you act human, ‘but what are you, really?’

‘I…’ stand your ground, Henry Anderson. Those eyes are just programmed responses. ‘I’m whatever you want me to be, Hank. Your partner…’ Do you have to choose that word, Connor? ‘Your buddy to drink with… Or just a machine… designed to accomplish a task.’

And he sounds so sad when he says the last option. Alright, he’s sold. He loses. ‘You could’ve shot those two girls, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?’ He shoves Connor in his chest. ‘Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?’ It’s a low blow but he needs to know, needs to know why, for such a mission-oriented android, Connor somehow manages to fail every single fucking time.

‘No!’ Connor shouts, his voice defensive. ‘I just…’ he sighs even though he probably doesn’t need it, ‘decided not to shoot.’ The next words come out no louder than a breath. ‘That’s all.’

Fuck. Now he feels bad. ‘But are you afraid to die, Connor?’ because from what I’m seeing, you do. At least you don’t want me to die.

Connor freezes, his eyes even wider now with terror in them, and his LED is red. What the fuck did CyberLife do to him? ‘Yes.’

‘Let’s say I point a gun at your head and shoot you,’ the number on his jacket reads -52. Does it mean that there used to be 51 Connors before he met this one? ‘What will happen, hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?’

A shiver. ‘Nothing…’ Connor closes his eyes. ‘There would be nothing…’

So it’s highly likely that he’s died before and seems afraid of it. So fucking human. More so than some actual humans as well. Louis’ right - modern CyberLife isn’t capable of this shit.

The bathroom door squeaks open, and Louis walks out in a pair of sweats and a hoodie with the help of his crutches, the pocket sagging with the weight of the tablet and making a clanging noise as he drags into the kitchen. The skin on his foot is still deactivated, but it seems that he can move his leg for a bit for now, and from the lack of moisture in his hair, fucker probably waited for them to finish - arguing? - before coming out and breaking it up. ‘Soup’s ready,’ Hank says, not wanting to agonise Connor any further. He already feels bad enough. ‘Settle down. Hope you don’t mind that I helped myself to some.’

Louis chuckles. ‘I expected that, Hank. You should know me.’

Great. Now even his only friend is roasting him. ‘Eat your fucking soup.’

oOoOo

Louis has thirium in his house. That man took one look at the hole still on Connor’s shoulder thanks for the lack of thirium - which his self-repair protocol relies on - and hauled himself to the fridge (at the expense of being cursed at by Hank), opened the door, and threw a plastic bottle at him. ‘Drink it,’ he said. ‘It looks like you need it.’

And he does. After he finishes half a bottle, a notification pops up on his red-tinged HUD telling him that he is initiating self-repair to the damaged parts, and he can finally move his shoulder at 70% of its original efficiency by the time he is finished with the whole bottle. The world around him dulls and becomes out of focus, the drone of the basketball game on the television that only Hank is watching getting further and further away until it all mixes together into a state of blankness he has never experienced before. Pressed against Hank’s side on the small sofa, the man radiates warmth, and his eyelids droop, red giving way to black, the notifications and mission markers fading away into nothingness. There is something warm and comfortable on his cheek, too.

He’s asleep before he knows it.

o0o0o

Before

‘You’re back.’

No hate. No fear. No confusion. Only remorse, regret, and perhaps acceptance. Acceptance that, even though he still had problems comprehending what was around him, things would never go back to the way it was; acceptance that his sister had rejected her humanity.

Acceptance that he had essentially lost her.

‘I am,’ was the solemn answer. No elaboration.

‘Was that you?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘It does to me.’

She pressed her lips into a thin line. ‘They won’t know it is me.’

‘But why? How much longer must they wait before the rest of the world recognise them for who they are?’

‘Soon, hopefully.’

‘And if they can’t?’

She looked towards the sky as if she could see through the shade of the tree. ‘We lea -’

‘Step away from him.’

There was no weapon. No gun, no knife, not even a switchblade. To outsiders, it seemed that the newcomer was merely a man accidentally bumping into and greeting his friends, but if someone dared to approach them, they would see even under the rare but cold midday sun that there were blue wisps of energy pulsing on the man and the woman’s skin. The air became charged and space seemed to twist.

‘It’s alright, Reyes,’ the other man placated. ‘We’re just talking.’

Reyes’ glow lessened. To the woman, ‘I’ve been looking for him for the past hour!’

‘I won’t let them take him.’

‘Last time you said that -’

‘I was weak. Naïve. Too arrogant for my own good.’ Reyes snorted in displeasure at the descriptions, but she continued, ‘There are twelve drones surveying the area and quite a number of guards,’ Reyes’ eyes shifted as if looking for the security hidden in plain sight, but then a hand in his shoulder forced him to look at her. ‘Don’t bother. That’s what I went to space for: not even you and I can see it.’

Reyes’ arms shot out to place his hands on the handle of the wheelchair. ‘We’re leaving. Scott?’

There was pain in Scott’s eyes. ‘Please. Can’t we just be together for a while?’

Reyes hid a grimace. The woman smiled.

‘Anything for you, brother.’

#dbh au big bang #hankcon #mreyder #female ryder #male ryder #alec ryder #reyes vidal #dbh connor #dbh hank anderson #dbh captain allen #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

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ryik-the-writer · 5 years

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Chapter 26 - Temporary Fix

[A03]

Chapter 1: Pan meets a Wendy Chapter 2: Scars (Felix’s Story) Chapter 3: Day One Chapter 4: Revenge and Fireflies Chapter 5: Brighter than Stars Chapter 6: filler: The Tigress Chapter 7: Operation Spotless! Chapter 8: Operation Spotless: Reporters Down Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil Chapter 10: filler: Felix and the Pancake Chapter 11: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1 Chapter 12: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 2 Chapter 13: The Girl With Blue Eyes: Underground Chapter 14. Recovery Chapter 14.2 Recovery some more Chapter 15: Trapped Chapter 16: Filth Chapter 17: Fairydust pt. 1 Chapter 18: Fairydust pt. 2 Chapter 19: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 1 Chapter 20: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 2 Chapter 21: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3 Chapter 22: Reflections pt. 1 Chapter 23: Reflections pt. 2

Chapter 24: Closing

Chapter 25: Felix is helping Pan

So guess what…

THIS BITCH FINALLY GOT A JOB AND HER OWN PLACE TO LIVE!!

HELL YEAH!!

So slight negative note on that: that kind of means updating is going to be REALLY slow for a while. The place I moved to, while really nice, is kind of out of my budget and I am pulling as many hours as possible to pay for it and such.

On top of that, the place doesn’t have internet and I’m trying to see what my budget will look like after I pay bills so I can consider getting my own (which I really need as a writer and as a journalist).

So just know, I’m not giving up on any of my stories. I’ve just started a new chapter of my life and have to let the ink dry before I can pick up my old interests.

Anyway, here’s Papers and Sleuthers…

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-

Wendy half-heartedly checked that she had her notepad full of her old notes before she locked up to head to Peter’s. If he started acting up she could use her lack of supplies as an excuse to slip out. She truly hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She wanted this week to be a sort of awakening for them, a chance to finally pull the hatchet away from each other’s throats.

She was linked to him now in the worse way. They’d been through hell together so many times but it hadn’t done anything to shift their relationship into a more stable light. Perhaps if they took the chaos out of the equation something would change. Things really needed to.

She found herself checking her hair as she exited her apartment before she chastised herself. This was an after-hours investigation, not a date!

Wendy scoffed as she locked her door. Her and Pan on a date? What a nightmarish thought!

She grimaced when she reached his door, the unpleasant memory of confronting him the day Mother Superior died still vividly fresh.

“Tosser,” Wendy muttered, wanting to call him something much crueler. However, learning to tolerate him now that they were going to be in close proximity for an unknown amount of time might be beneficial.

With that, she took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door.

There was a light thud behind the wood before it opened, a wild Pan greeting her with a sharp once-over.

“You’re wearing that road-kill?” he scoffed, pointing harshly at her feathered sweater that had been more than appropriate for the weather.

So much for patience.

“Shove it,” Wendy hissed, pushing him into his trashed living room.

“The hell happened in here?”

Pan circled her, not answering, and pulled a giant marker board from the kitchen.

“I’ve started putting some notes together,” he said, adding a picture of Cruella de Vil on the board.

“Um…” Wendy started, her heart speeding up at the site of their old nemesis. “Where are we starting?”

Pan pondered at the start of his chaos. “From the beginning. The devil woman is our best bet. Somehow she set all of this off.”

“How do you figure that?” Wendy inquired.

Pan passed a folder over his shoulder to her, eyes still trained on the board.

Wendy shifted through its components, her gut dropping at the various photos of the dog murderer.

Her brow wrinkled in thought as she went through de Vil’s information. Exact date and location of birth unknown, though her last address was in Manchester…with her now-deceased husband. Wendy whistled at the rap sheet of her marriages. Four times, all but her last ending in death (the last abruptly ended in divorce following a major arrest of the husband.)

There was a scan of her passport as well, signifying that she had been in the country at least six months before she kidnapped Storybrooke’s dogs.

“Why here?” Wendy wondered aloud. “Why Storybrooke, and why dognapping? It’s such a cartoonish villain move.”

“Except in cartoons the villains wouldn’t bleed the dogs out and turn their skins into coats,” Pan muttered, back still to her.

“Coats?” Wendy gasped, the mental image making her stomach twist.

“Last page in the file,”

Wendy balanced the folder to find the page and blinked at the printed out copy of a news article before her.

MANCHESTER WOMAN CHARGED WITH 13 COUNTS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY

Wendy gulped at the picture of the drunk-looking mugshot of de Vil, her intense eyes seeming to stare right at Wendy, as if blaming her for her past crime.

A local woman is being charged with the kidnapping and death of several dogs.

The dogs, all of Dalmatian and mixed Dalmatian breeds, were taken out of the Manchester and Liverpool areas within a three week period, according to authorities.

The woman, identified as 39-year-old Cruella de Vil, was apprehended at an abandoned windmill outside of the Liverpool area where over 20 dogs were being kept. Upon her arrest animal control discovered the mutilated remains of eight dogs. The remaining five dogs very rushed to the Wrightsville Veterinarian clinic for emergency treatment, and are expected to survive.

De Vil is being held at the Wrightsville Police Station without bail.

This story will be updated as more information becomes available.

Wendy checked the date of the incident to find that Cruella committed her first act three years ago. She shifted to Pan’s slightly cleared off the counter to spread out the devil woman’s file and located an additional article.

MANCHESTER DOGNAPPER TRIAL UNDERWAY

The trial Manchester dognapper Cruella de Vil will begin Monday morning.

De Vil was charged with 13 counts of animal cruelty following the torture and murder of several dogs in January.

De Vil’s lawyer originally declined to comment of her client’s state for her case, but De Vil stated to the press before being led to the jail: “I’m not worried, Darlings. Who would sentence a woman in diamonds?”

Wendy snorted. Now that was quality journalism! She flipped to the next article.

‘DEVIL WOMAN’ CRUELLA DE VIL EXPOSES PLOT FOR DOGS DURING TRAIL

Manchester dognapper Cruella de Vil stated during her trial that she abducted the Dalmatians with the purpose of using their pelts for ‘the perfect coat’.

De Vil continued to go into great detail about how she mutilated the dogs ‘when it was their time’, much to the disturbance to the court.

“I took one pup by his stringy little tail and hoisted him up,” de Vil, who was clothed in an elaborate gown and furs, detailed, “The little bugger wouldn’t stop squealing, even after I slashed his throat open.”

Evidence shows that De Vil had dozens of sketches for coats not just for the Dalmatians she abducted, but also for poodle and Shi Tzu breeds. The sketches also showed plans for various muffs, boots, and glove items.

When asked what she was going to do with all the coats, De Vil said, “Why, wear them of course! I’ll be the envy of every bitch at the social club.”

De Vil's criminal record includes dozens of speeding tickets and two cases of vehicle homicide attempts. Records show that De Vil was acquitted for both cases and never paid off the tickets.

De Vil’s sentence trial will be held in October. Until then De Vil will be held in Manchester Sanitarium for the Mentally Unwell for further observation.

Wendy sighed in exhaustion. What a story! How could someone so heinous be so close to her neck of the woods?

The other articles were faded from an obvious lack of printer ink, but Wendy was able to make out enough from the headlines to guess what happened next.

De Vil was sentenced to two years in a different sanitarium that specialized in disorders like her. She was deemed “cured” after a year and released due to a special project. She left for America right afterward for a “fresh start”.

“Oh she stared fresh alright,” Wendy commented.

“Great,” Pan said from the board. “You’re where I was thirty minutes ago. Let me know when you get where I’m at now.”

Wendy resisted throwing De Vil’s folder at his head.

“I don’t think there’s anywhere else to go with this one,” Wendy pointed out. “She went crazy, killed a bunch of animals, ran here and started all over again. That’s really it.”

“But the motive!” Pan growled, looking her dead in the eye. Desperate. “There had to be something else. Maybe she was working for someone or trying to start a multi-dognapping franchise here or…”

Wendy edged back at the desperation in his voice. He was grasping at straws, but there were none left for him in this case.

“Pan,” Wendy tried carefully, “There’s nothing left,”

“How the hell would you know!” He shouted.

“Because sometimes people are just bad,” she shouted back. “Sometimes they do a few terrible things just to do them! There doesn’t have to be a reason or a great scheme behind their actions! They just cause chaos and kill over!” with a spike of adrenaline, she stepped up to him, feeling his hearted pounding in the buzzing air.

“Don’t they?”

Pan twitched, glaring at her with a raw sense of hatred.

Wendy thought for a moment he might throw her out, and she really didn’t want him to. Pan had to see logic, had to stop filling his mind with information that just wasn’t there, and she couldn’t just run off and leave him to fill in such non-existent gaps.

He’s scared. He’s frustrated. He needs to be kept busy.

With a deep breath, she stepped back to locate one of the other boxes on the couch, tensing a bit when she saw Jekyll’s name on the cardboard.

“We can start with him now,” she said, pulling out a folder.

In a flash, Pan slapped it out of her hand.

Wendy gasped and brought her stinging hand to her chest where a shallow papercut was surfacing, staring at Pan.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he said, looking just as surprised as she did.

It was the closest thing to an apology she would get from him, she knew, and she expected it, but it still did not stop her from hating him.

“What is your problem!” she yelled as she sucked the blood from her stinging cut.

“Nothing,” Pan defended, though he was tenser than a tightly wound spring.

Wendy looked him over, trying to pinpoint the root of his harsh mood. Of course, going through their old cases was certainly stressful, with the memories that surfaced as they saw photos of their former nemesis faces…

Ah.

She stared at Jekyll’s case box where the corner of his photo was just peeking out, turning Wendy’s stomach.

Gods know what the site of him was doing to Pan.

The journalist stepped away, twisting to pick up de Vil’s box.

“What about her lackey’s?” Wendy inquired, picking through her file. She didn’t meet his eyes as she dug through the very scarce information. “We don’t know how they play into all of this outside their association with de Vil.”

Pan looked at her, his expression solid and unreadable, but Wendy swore she saw a glint of something in his eyes.

Gratitude?

No, Peter Pan didn’t thank anyone for what they did, for him or otherwise.

Good thing Wendy didn’t expect it from him, or anything else for that matter.

They began adding Horace and Jasper’s notes to de Vil’s board, though a now were quick glance told Wendy it wouldn’t add much. They were jailbirds on and off as far back as the records could show, became acquainted with de Vil sometime after their most recent parole hearing, and thanks to her and Pan were tucked safely in a Boston prison until they could be moved to one in London. Nothing more, nothing less.

But Pan wasn’t ready to accept that, so Wendy pretended to stay busy until she commented on ordering from the Chinese menu on Pan’s fridge.

Half an hour later they were sitting silently in his living room, munching on greasy eggrolls as they stared absently at the evidence before them.

Fuzz the cat made a lazy trail from Pan’s bedroom to where they were eating, plopping himself next to Wendy.

The blonde smiled, charmed by the odd-looking cat, and reached out to pet him.

Pan readied a warning. Fuzz was known to scratch first-time visitors to bleeding shreds, but with a flash of naughtiness, decided to let the little bird find that out for herself.

However, Fuzz the cat purred in delight at the attention and collapsed next to Wendy, hungry for more.

“You…slut!” Pan hissed at his sorry excuse of a cat.

Wendy’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“The damn cat,” Pan barked, turning back to his food to begin another round of silence.

Wendy shrugged and quietly offered him another eggroll, which he took with no additional fuss.

It was strange, this quiet domesticity. No violence, no fighting, no apprehension of what was to come.

It would have been peaceful if it weren’t for the wave of uneasiness Pan was letting off.

His leg was shaking with antsiness, and he kept making small sounds to break the silence.

I suppose it’s better than him yelling, Wendy thought. Might as well attempt conversation.

“So…” she begun, earning a questioned glare mid-chew. “I…ran into someone today,”

Pan looked up at her, looking slightly bored.

“And?” he shrugged, mouth full.

Wendy shrugged. Of course it was a stupid thing to bring up. Pan probably knew everyone in Storybrooke, and he had little interest for all of them.

“It’s nothing,” Wendy responded. “Just thought he was…” She searched her vocabulary for the word to describe the man with unsettling charming manners.

“Different,”

Pan’s eyes flickered at that.

Wendy Darling was smitten.

“Sounds like a scoop,” Pan smirked. “Let’s go find him.”

Wendy coughed on her fried rice as he stood. “What?” she laughed, truly mystified.

“Let’s go meet this mystery man,”

Wendy blinked trying to comprehend his shift in emotion as he put on his coat.

“Pan, it was dark out, I didn’t get a good look at him,” she explained. “I don’t even know his name!”

“It’s Storybrooke,” Pan waved her off. “We’ll find out who he is in an hour.”

“This is insane,” she barked with a laugh.

Pan wadded up her jacket and threw it at her, earning a yelp.

“Well, I’m bored. Are you coming or not?”

She stared at him, wondering just how high up the cliff of insanity he had already climbed. Boredom was making him scattered-brained and seeking action in the tiniest occurrence.

It was sad, like watching an animal trying to chew its way out of a trap, but also fascinating. Pan needed her, whether he would say it in words or in action. He needed her to keep him from jumping off that cliff, especially when they had no way of knowing what was waiting for him at the bottom.

With an exhausted sigh, she unraveled her jacket and followed him into the icy night, missing his satisfied smirk as he closed the door.

.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.

Wendy was having trouble keeping on his heels. It was dark and cold and he was the only one who really knew where they were going.

If he even knew himself.

Pan was all over the place tonight, and Wendy was starting to get dizzy from his back-and-forth.

She was practically having to skip to keep up with him. It was like he was forgetting that she was with him. Already he was trying to focus on something else.

Her loud cobbling seemed to echo through the street of Storybrooke, and in the dim night she felt a wave of paranoia run up her spine. It sounded like there was someone behind them, following them.

“Do you hear that?” she asked Pan.

“No, here we are,”

He stopped so suddenly Wendy ran into him, her face hitting him square in the spine. She gained her balance and glared at him before she stepped to his side, staring into the bright building ahead as it spilled vibration into the night.

“What is that?”

“The Rabbit Hole,” Pan smirked. “Sleaziest place in town.”

Wendy snorted through a shiver. “And you thing the well-polished man I ran into tonight is in there?”

Pan shrugged. “Maybe. Either way I want a drink. Come on,”

Wendy followed him with a sigh. At least she would get out of the cold.

Her ears began ringing as soon as she entered the nightclub, her eyes cloudy from the flashing lights.

“I don’t know about this,” she shouted, her voice lost in the sound.

This time, Pan took hold of her sleeve and pulled her through the cluster of tipsy people.

“Good thing it’s not a workday,” Wendy muttered to herself as Pan pulled her to a cluttered table.

She swept bits of food off the sticky surface, wincing at the music and hard chairs. Across her Pan was staring out into the crowd, his eyes glistening bright as he watched the gyrating bodies.

“You…come here often,” Wendy joked, feeling claustrophobic and savagely out of place.

“Once or twice with Tiger Lily,” Pan shrugged, somehow able to hear her over the music.

“And you’re not deaf?” she shouted.

“It’s not loud enough. It never is.”

“Huh?”

Pan looked up from the dancing sin to stare at her. Really stare at her. Truly look at her for the first time in days.

Her hair was growing out more evenly, her curls had even started to come back.

But the bags under her eyes were darker, hollower. She was tired, and he knew it was his fault.

“You want to dance?”

Pan looked as shocked as Wendy was when he looked back up at her.

“Did I…did I hear you right?”

Pan’s bright red face was hidden by the flashing strobe lights. The fuck did he say that?

“You’re not deaf yet are you?” he smirked, standing. “Let’s go.”

Wendy glanced out onto the dance floor. “I…think I’m overdressed.”

Pan glanced out at the half-clothed bodies and chuckled. He slipped off his jacket and undid the first two buttons of his shirt.

Wendy’s heart leapt and her throat tightened.

“You’re turn.”

Wendy shot from her chair, her clothes suddenly feeling stuck to her skin.

“Oh don’t be so damn modest,” Pan cackled, easing out into the dance floor. These little outbursts were giving him some energy.

Wendy shivered, feeling naked under her multiple layers.

Damn it! Why the hell did he have to get under her skin so easily!

She clutched her sleeves, watching as he began to get swarmed by dancers.

Yet…strangely enough…he was still waiting for her. As if he actually wanted her to come out there with him.

Keep him distracted. Keep him busy.

And he was actually smiling!

Well…leering, but he wasn’t as threatening as usual.

With a groan, she shed her feathered coat and eased out into the crowd, instantly getting sucked into the vortex of sweat.

She reached out for stability, hoping she wouldn’t accidentally grope anyone. Out of the sea of grinders a hand grabbed her wrist and—thankfully or unthankfully, she wasn’t sure yet—she fell into Pan’s chest.

“Bet you didn’t do this kind of dancing in your London prep school,” Pan snarked against her hair.

Wendy detached herself from his chest, getting some much-needed space between them.

“I went to a public school, thank you,” she barked, a smile tugging at her lips. It was hard to find a balance with so many people crushing them together.

“What do we…how…” she yelled, desperate for just an inch for space.

She felt Pan’s laugh rumble against her chest, the feeling much more put-together than the vibrations in the air. His hands snaked up her shoulder and gave them just enough space so that they could look into each other’s eyes.

“Just do what I do.” He said.

I already do.

He took her hands and helped her sway in their tiny space. Wendy could have fainted from the heat and the shock of the situation. Here she was dancing with the biggest arse in the entire world! She must be as mad as he was bored!

Her heart pounded as she copied his movements, almost afraid to let him go. So many people were brushing and bumping into them. She could easily be trampled, and something told her she wasn’t leaving the bar tonight without at least a cracked rib.

She looked up to find Pan watching her. He looked strangely human. Less territorial and ready to fight.

Like he was actually…enjoying himself.

“Okay,” he instructed, pulling her arm over her head. He began twisting her wrist and Wendy caught on quickly, letting her twirl her until spots flashed before her eyes.

But he didn’t stop, and she kept going, catching the light in Pan’s eyes each time she spun back to him.

And before Wendy knew it, she was laughing, the sound much more soothing than the trash flowing through the intercoms.

For a moment Peter Pan and Wendy Darling weren’t small-town reporters who got into too much trouble far too often.

They were just two normal adults who were having a fun, random night.

Wendy couldn’t remember the last time she did something like this. Perhaps back in college…when she wasn’t as dark, before the bloodshed and the grittiness of the world became part of her daily routine.

And it was nice to be having this fresh taste of life with the person who had drug her into it.

“Not bad, Wendy Bird,” Pan teased as she grabbed on to his shoulder to stop the dizziness.

“Same to you, Peter Pan,

He scoffed, covering the hand on his shoulder and grasping this one.

“Let’s make you fly.”

With that, he pushed into the crowd, anchoring her with the hold on her arm. She spun back into him naturally, howling like a fool.

“Don’t let go if you’re going to do that,” she laughed.

“I promise, I won’t.”

Wendy had to admit, she rather liked this fun side of him. Sure, he was really just distracting himself from his current issues, but he was doing it in a constructive way that was keeping them both out of harm's way…mostly.

She nearly slammed into a dancer during her second twirl. When she spun back to Pan she was ready to tell him to try something else, but he looked so…happy.

She couldn’t do it…and had he had said he wouldn’t let her get hurt.

And she was safe…

Thank you.

Until he spun her out again…

Time to fly.

And let go.

He was gone in the blink of an eye and she stumbled out into the crowd.

The more drunkard dancers shoved her away and she stumbled to find stable ground.

“Pan!” She called out, drowning.

She was wedged between so many people, blind and hot.

“Pan!” She yelled again, feeling for him. “Where are—“

Someone’s elbow pounded into her lip and she flew to the sticky ground. Blood filled her mouth in seconds, and she stopped caring if she found Pan or not and started searching for a way off the dance floor.

Pan had taken them too far out. She had no idea where she was. People were stepping on her like she was nothing. On her hands, her hair.

She was going to die here. Had Pan done this on purpose? Had he really hoped her death would somehow entertain him?

She was going to die and no one would know until the club closed, or morning at least.

She was going to die…

“I got you lass!”

She was picked up effortlessly and drug from the crowd, the person clutching her moving through them like Moses through the parted sea.

A savior, it would seem.

Before her brain truly recognized what was going on, her savior had her outside, away from the noise and her unintentional murderers. Her lungs painfully filled with fresh, icy air and she started coughing up blood from her wound, very uncaring how disgusting she looked to her companion.

“There you go, love,” the savior—a man?—instructed, patting her back. “Get the sin out of your lungs.”

Love…

Wendy brushed her bangs from her eyes and met the haunting blue eyes of her earlier savior, the very man she and Pan had set off to find.

“You!” she gasped, nearly laughing with the insanity of it. “I…we…hi!”

He chuckled. “Hello again.”

She tried to catch her breath as she went back and forth with the odd coincidence and Pan’s disappearance.

Disappearance…or abonnement?

Wendy’s stomach flipped when the idea passed through her mind. It seemed almost too cruel for him to do, yet it seemed like something that he would do.

He was all over the place tonight, jumping back and forth like a frog on a scorching lily pad.

But really, he was always like that, she just hadn’t accepted it yet.

And now he had left her to be trampled to death in a night club, wandering off to gods’ knows where.

And he didn��t care. He just didn’t care.

“Are you alright?”

Wendy blinked, not realizing that her eyes had been misting.

“Yes, of course,” she breathed deeply and stood. “I just…I need to get home.” And get a club, she added to herself.

“I’ll walk you,” he offered immediately.

“Thank you, but I’m fine.”

The man chuckled. “Each time you say that I find you in peril,”

Wendy made a sound, not wanting to be rude but really not wanting to stick around much longer. “Really I’m fine. But thank you.” She nodded at him and began walking away, the raging fire in her heart, melting the ice in her bones.

“Killian Jones.”

Wendy paused and glanced back at him. “What?”

He smiled, at pearly whites and charm. “My name. I think it’s about time, you learned it.”

Wendy worried at her lip, letting the name rest on her mind. It suited him somehow. An old-world name for an old world charmed man. It was an interesting combination.

“I see. Well then, thank you, Killian Jones.” She said with a nod, picking back up her step.

“Wait.”

Wendy halted, slightly aggravated. If he turned out to be a maniac like Jekyll she’d bash his lights out with a chunk of ice.

He stepped forward, his hands resting in his pockets, showing he meant no harm, posed no threat.

“Would you like to get a drink sometime?”

Wendy laughed, her face burning. “That’s…forward.”

Jones chuckled with a shrug. “With your track record, the next time I may see you is in a hospital.”

Wendy shrugged that was true. She gave him another look over. Mysterious creature of the night.

She had learned already that trusting people was too dangerous, especially the kind who lurked in the dark.

She didn’t know him, and he, despite his multiple rescues, didn’t know her.

“Why on earth would you want to have a drink with a perfect stranger?” she inquired aloud.

Jones cocked his head, his eyes gleaming with intentions Wendy couldn’t trace.

“To get to know you, of course.”

Wendy stiffened, her anxiety rising.

“That’s not a good idea,” Wendy gasped, desperate for space. “I have to go find…” she shook her head, her mind too cluttered to find a definition for her current view of Pan.

“If you change your mind,” Jones called after her. “I’ll be waiting. Tomorrow at the diner.”

Wendy increased her speed, making a direct line to Pan’s apartment.

She was going to kill him. She’d made the threat many times before but this time she meant it.

He left her.

He pulled her into all of this madness, and then just released her to break her neck without him.

Where had he gone? What temporary rush was he following now?

Why hadn’t he taken her with him?

She found his apartment the same way they had left it: locked up and dark. She searched for a spare key in the places anyone else would, but Pan wasn’t like everyone else and thus wouldn’t think to leave a spare key.

Out of aggravation, she picked up a loose brick, check over her shoulder, and hurled it into the glass.

It was exactly something Pan would do, and Wendy couldn’t help the small flame of satisfaction that came with damaging his property—which she had to plan to fix thank you very much.

She stormed in, flicking on lights and opening doors to find him. Fuzz the cat ran out of the bedroom as she checked behind checked in his closet.

“Pan!” she howled, her hands shaking.

Why?

“Where are you?”

Pan wasn’t there. He hadn’t returned to hide from her or even to continue their work. He had vanished completely with no warning for her.

With a stiff sob, she collapsed on the couch, feeling right at him with the shattered remains of his home.

“Peter…”

He left you.

“He left me.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

He wasn’t sure when or where he was.

But it was bright there, and surprisingly warm. It couldn’t be a memory of his childhood. Those were always dark and cold.

But he was somewhere…at least he thought it was him. There was glass in front of him, well-made and clean, and big enough to cover an entire wall.

But he couldn’t see his reflection…

Nor anything outside the window.

That’s why when the little bird flew closer, it terrified him.

“Stop…” he tried to scream just as the bird hit the window.

A loud bang…

It landed at his feet—

Its neck was broken.

He startled into consciousness, his fuzzy mind going into an automatic death mode.

Someone had grabbed him…he thought.

One second he was throwing Wendy out—letting her fly just enough from him—and then she was flying out of his grip while he was being pulled further from her.

He wasn’t sure what happened after that, but now he was tied up in some sort of darkroom, his hands above his head on some kind of meat hook, by the fill of it.

Something equivalent to a lantern was in the corner, giving him just enough light to keep him from going into a state of complete panic.

Jekyll’s prisons were always too bright.

A noise indicated he was no longer alone. A second later a door in the corner opened, and a man stepped in, the light behind him silhouetting him just long enough for Pan to get a good idea of him.

“Good to see you again,” the man said as he pulled a chair up and straddled it.

“Again?” Pan scoffed. “Go to hell, you wanker.”

“That’s captain to you, boy,” he returned firmly. “Captain Killian Jones, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t care, and know, who the fuck you are.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Killian said casually.

“I tend to forget people who aren’t worth remembering,” Pan smirked, his face warmer from the trail of blood leaking from his temple.

Killian chuckled, charmed. This was going to be the most fun he’d had in a while.

“I suppose it won’t matter anyway,” he sighed. “Not with you knocking on death’s door.”

Pan licked his lips. A challenge at last!

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” Killian said. “You see m’boy, I’ve been sent by someone who really wants you dead.”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific,” Pan winked.

“No one you’ll need to worry about,” Killian alluded. “Just know that you’ve caused enough trouble that it warrants a very clean—and if you behave yourself—a very quick one.”

Pan scoffed. “If I’m scheduled to die, know that I’ll make my last days your worst,”

Killian seemed unphased by Pan’s threat, and while Pan wasn’t yet worried about it, it did make his gut turn just enough to be noticed.

Then, Killian laughed, and tapped his fingers on the back of the chair.

“You know, you actually gained our attention after that boy with the scar inquired Henry Jekyll’s files,”

Ice…the blood can’t move.

“Oh…I can’t quite remember his name…”

You have to keep count of the spasms…you have to know where the blood is going…

“That’s his benefit I suppose,” Killian smirked, watching as the blood drained from his face.

Felix…oh Felix I’m sorry…

“After all, it’d be a shame if that poor boy succumbed to one of his little fits in the privacy of his own home one afternoon…”

Pan bolted against the restraints, blood raging and teeth desperate to break skin.

“You fucking go near him I’ll kill you!”

Killian grabbed Pan by the jaw and forced him into the wall, pressing his knee into his stomach.

“I’d love to see you try,” Killian husked, his ice blues evenly hitting Pan’s forest greens. “I’d love to see you help any of them. Him, that pixie of a girl who hates you more than life itself…” his grin widened. “And that pretty blonde distraction you brought into this whole bloody mess.”

“Wendy…” the word left his lips before could stop it.

He didn’t know how to protect her the way he did the others.

“Such a pretty name,” Killian gloated. “Such a pretty girl at that. And she’s so desperate to find you, even after to abandoned her on a dangerous dance floor,”

Pan glared at him. “You bitch,”

Killian released him and made his way to the door.

“I’ll take no pleasure from killing her, m’boy,” Killian said, surprisingly quite truthfully. “However, this is as much to do with her as it does with you.”

Pan dug his nails into the cloth binding his wrists, trying desperately to stare a whole through Killian’s heart.

“How quick or how slowly she goes depends on what you can do for me within the next few days,”

Pan winced.

“Goodnight,” Killian winked, turning off the light and enclosing Pan in a blanket of darkness.

#darling pan #darling pan fic #wendy darling #peter pan #killian jones #captain hook #papers and sleuthers #ryik's fics

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spotifypremiumapks · 3 years

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Who is Riley Fox? Wiki, Biography, Age, Father, Family, Cause of Death, Investigation

Riley Fox Wiki - Riley Fox Biography

Riley Fox of Wilmington, Illinois, was kidnapped from her home early in the morning on June 6, 2004, as her brother and father slept nearby. A search for the young girl began that day but it ended in heartbreak as her body was found, bound by duct tape, and drowned in a nearby creek. The little girl’s father, Kevin Fox, became the primary suspect in the murder investigation as authorities claimed that his behavior after his daughter’s death was suspicious. They questioned Fox, who denied being involved, and he agreed to take a polygraph test. Fox failed the polygraph, which led authorities to question him for several hours until he confessed to killing his daughter accidentally, court documents show. Immediately afterward, Fox recanted his confession and argued that authorities framed him for his daughter’s murder and coerced a false confession out of him, these documents reveal. The confession led to him getting charged with first-degree murder, a charge that could have led to the death penalty if found guilty.

Riley Fox Age

Riley Fox was 3 years old.

Kevin Fox Was Freed & Charge

After eight months in jail, the charges against Fox were dropped when tests of DNA found on Riley Fox’s body excluded Fox from the scene. In June 2005, the State’s Attorney who inherited the Fox murder case dropped all charges against Kevin Fox immediately after the DNA results were released, a press release stated. According to the release, the DNA had been collected from Riley Fox’s body right away but it wasn’t tested against Kevin Fox’s DNA prior to his murder charge. The State’s Attorney then requested the FBI’s assistance in investigating the case in 2008 and in 2009 they identified Scott Eby as a potential suspect. According to the press release, Eby consented to provide a DNA sample that was eventually matched to the DNA found on Riley Fox’s body, after which he wrote a lengthy confession admitting to the murder. Eby pleaded guilty in court about five months after he was charged with first-degree murder and predatory criminal sexual assault of a child in Riley Fox’s death. He confessed to the crime and said he’d been drinking and using drugs that night, which led him to break into the Fox home and molest the three-year-old girl, the Innocence Project reported. He said he then kidnapped the young girl and tied her up with duct tape, molesting her again, the organization wrote. Eby confessed that he panicked when he realized that Riley Fox had seen his face and that’s when he killed her in the creek. According to the Innocence Project, Kevin Fox testified in court after Eby pleaded guilty and told his daughter’s killer: “I would always wonder what you were doing with your freedom. If you were lying, watching TV or if you were picking your next victim. After today you will no longer be a part of my memories of my daughter.”

Kevin Fox Won a Civil Rights Lawsuit

Kevin Fox filed a civil lawsuit against Will County arguing that he was framed for the rape and murder of his daughter and that he was wrongfully imprisoned and maliciously prosecuted. A federal jury agreed with Fox in 2007 and the family was awarded $12.2 million, the Chicago Tribune reported. According to the outlet, in 2010, the case made its way to the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals, which upheld the verdict but reduced the amount owed to the Foxes to $8 million. The court said authorities lacked probable cause in their arrest of Fox and had gathered “exceedingly weak evidence,” according to the outlet. The family’s attorney Kathleen Zellner said, “We thought it was a stunning rebuke of the defendant’s entire case. I don’t think we could have got a better result.”

Riley Fox Cause of Death

On June 6, 2004, the lives of the Fox family changed forever. That weekend, Melissa, then 25, and a group of friends participated in the AVON Walk for Breast Cancer in Chicago, where she stayed for two nights -- the longest she’d ever been away from her children. Kevin stayed home with the kids. Melissa adored Riley and cherished her time with her little girl.“She had this perfect black hair and perfect little round face and blue eyes,” Melissa said. “She was funny. She was silly. Just, so talkative, and she was friendly to everybody she met. She was just a sweetheart. Riley was a lot like Melissa,” Jillian Garrelts, Melissa’s friend, said. “She was a spunky, sassy little girl. She ... could be a little princess... But ... she was a daddy’s girl, kind of a little tomboy loved to fish … and wasn't afraid to get dirty.” While his wife was in Chicago, Kevin, then 27, and the kids spent Saturday afternoon making posters in anticipation of celebrating Melissa’s walk at the finish line, where they planned to meet her the next morning. But early Sunday morning, Tyler woke up Kevin to tell him that Riley was missing. Not thinking it was a true emergency, Kevin looked through the house and backyard. Then, after about 30 to 40 minutes, Kevin called the non-emergency number for police. He reported finding his front door open and Riley’s yellow blanket still on the couch, where she had been sleeping. Meanwhile, in Chicago, Melissa and her friends were nearing the end of their walk when she called her husband to check in. “He sounded so startled. I knew immediately something was wrong,” Melissa said. “He just said, ‘Riley's gone,’ and I immediately hit the ground and the phone fell out of my hand.” The women rushed back to Wilmington, where word of Riley’s disappearance had spread quickly throughout the small town of 5,000. They arrived to see the community mobilized, with dozens of volunteers searching for Riley in ditches, woods and the town’s forest preserves. “It was something out of a movie… feel like the entire town was out looking for her,” Colleen Hansen, Melissa’s friend, said. “Every area of the town was being canvassed in some fashion. For hours after Melissa had arrived, the town continued to search high and low for Riley. Then at one point, Melissa said a police officer placed her and Kevin in separate police cars. “I didn't understand what was going on. When we got to the police station, they just started asking questions and I was like, ‘Is someone going to tell me what's going on?’” she said. The couple was unaware that two volunteers had found Riley facedown, wearing only a shirt, in a creek. She had duct tape across her mouth and what investigators believed to be duct tape residue on her wrists. Autopsy reports later determined that she had been se**xually assaulted and drowned. “It was just crushing,” Melissa said. “I couldn’t even stand. I couldn’t even think. I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like without her. From that moment forward, Melissa said she never stepped foot in the house where Riley had disappeared from again.

Investigation Report

Nearly 6,000 people attended Riley’s funeral a few days after she’d been found. The attendees wore pink, Riley’s favorite color, and buttons with her picture on it while Martina McBride’s “She’s a Butterfly” played through the speakers. Riley was buried in the white flower girl dress she had worn to her uncle’s wedding just two weeks before her murder and new flip-flops that she’d wanted. Melissa later learned Will County Sheriff’s Office detectives were also in attendance, videotaping Kevin. “Within an hour of the funeral ending, came to my house,” Hansen said. “They asked if there was any reason that I would believe Kevin to be capable of doing something like this. … Before the question even came out of their mouth, my answer was, ‘No.’" Desperate to find out what happened to her daughter, Melissa said she reached out to the detectives every day and that they assured her they were investigating the case thoroughly. Then, nearly three weeks after Riley’s murder, the detectives asked to speak to her brother, 6-year-old Tyler. Melissa and Kevin agreed. For over an hour, a forensic interviewer questioned Tyler about Riley’s disappearance. On a videotaped recording, Tyler was seen crouching into his chair, covering his face, and crying while the interviewer questioned him. He told the interviewer 168 times that his father had nothing to do with the disappearance of his little sister, according to Fox’s attorney Kathleen Zellner. When Melissa was able to view the recording at a later date, she was distraught. She said she allowed her son to be questioned because she trusted the detectives. “It was really sad to watch,” Melissa said. “Our family had been through so much. I had just lost a child and then to see the way that they decided to treat the one I still had was really terrible.” FOLLOW US ON FACEBOOK Read the full article

#RileyFox #RileyFoxage #RileyFoxbio #RileyFoxbiography #RileyFoxcauseofdeath #RileyFoxdeath #RileyFoxfamily #RileyFoxfather #RileyFoximage #RileyFoxmissing #RileyFoxparents #RileyFoxspouse #RileyFoxsuspect #RileyFoxvictim #RileyFoxwiki #RileyFoxwikipedia #whoisRileyFox

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thejokersenigma · 7 years

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Nygma x Reader - Opposites Attract - Part 5

Hi guys, so sorry it's been a while, but I am trying to write where I can manage to find the time. Here is the next part - I'm not 100% happy with it but I wanted to get something posted, so I apologise if it's not great!

If you want to be tagged in anything just send me a message and let me know which story!

If you have any requests, feel free to message me! I'll accept anything!

I'd really appreciate any feedback or comments you can give me on my work! It's been quiet recently and it just kind of gets me down! Sorry for being an attention seeker! haha

MASTERLIST

Ed stood in the centre of the room in, watching [Y/N] storm out of the precinct in front of him. He was hurt she had strode in, immediately attempting to turn him into the police – but then, wasn’t that what any sane rational person would do? And he and [Y/N] weren’t even friends. They’d had one conversation and she had made him a coffee. That was it. He couldn’t expect anything from her. Especially not to hide such a large, incriminating secret.

But little did she know there was no evidence left to back up her statement. She didn’t know that Ed had spent all night and morning cleaning up after the event. That he had spent his office hours this morning pouring acid over the dismembered body parts of the once Officer Dougherty.

She hadn’t considered that he might use his knowledge of crime scenes and experience of police investigations to ensure nothing could be traced back to him. And, of course, no one suspected lowly, weird Ed of being able to commit murder in the middle of a street.

And – even if they might – they certainly would not want to spend any more time with him then they already had to – so they were unlikely to want to interview him. They preferred him where he always was, locked away in his office or lab where he couldn’t bug people with his irritating riddles.

But no one was perfect, and Ed had, unwittingly at the time, managed to leave one piece of evidence to the event.

[Y/N].

She had seen.

What was more the problem, there was no way that she would ever understand the accident had purely happened through self-defence - that Dougherty had attacked Ed first. She had only seen the latter part of the encounter. The part where he had stabbed Dougherty over and over.

And maybe that hadn’t been the best solution to being punched by the large, burly man, but the sock to the stomach had felt like it had triggered a switch in Ed. Ed tried to comfort himself with the fact that shock does weird things to people. Maybe he had just been in shock. But he couldn’t help but think that the combination of the pain from the punch, the threat of being beaten to death and his hatred towards the man, all added to weaken the barriers in Ed’s mind enough to allow the darker to slip through and take control. Then he had stabbed the police officer. But not just once. Repeatedly. And he may have laughed.

He couldn’t, however, justify why he had chased after [Y/N]. Yes, he had wanted to stop her, to explain. But he hadn’t. Not really.

No, because dark Ed had been in charge, and all he wanted to do was silence the witness.

Ed was glad [Y/N] had managed to break from him, or else he was pretty sure there would have been more than one dead body that night.

It frightened him what he had done, especially when he’d suddenly come back to himself once the rain had hit his face. But he couldn’t help that, in the back of his mind, he had maybe, for a moment, enjoyed the thrill of the crime. The beginning of a game against the clock to not kept caught. Yes, he had panicked as he destroyed the evidence - the body, the knife, the blood stains on the street. But, the adrenaline had always remained in him.

The door slammed shut behind him as Ed entered his office again and it jolted him out of the memory of last night. He wanted to explain himself to [Y/N]. He didn’t like her thinking less of him. It hurt that she thought he was a cold-blooded murderer. You are though, came the voice. “No, I am not.” Ed muttered back as he made his way over to his crowded desk. The morning work was now piling up as he’d spent hours away from his desk - busy trying to burn away the remains of Dougherty’s body with a solution of very concentrated acid. Now he was going to have to work late into the night to catch up.

He sighed heavily, dropping down into his seat.

What was worse, Miss Kringle had almost caught him as well. She entered the lab whilst he was disposing of a few of Dougherty’s limbs and, despite him trying to distract her and stand in her view, she had seen the body. Luckily for Ed, thanks to having chopped the officer into little pieces of the convenience of moving and quicker destruction, Miss Kringle had been unable to identify the remains and - upon enquiring as to the reason behind the man’s death - Ed had managed to stumble over an excuse – stating it was a workplace accident – something the voice in his head enjoyed berated him for afterwards.

Ed let his head drop into his hands as he leant his elbows on his desk, rubbing at his eyes under the lenses of his glasses and knocking his frames askew.

Miss Kringle was fine. She didn’t believe a thing – though he wasn’t pleased how insistent she had been about trying to find Dougherty. She should be grateful came the voice your practically her hero.

Wasn’t the voice right? Dougherty had clearly been drunk and would probably had made advances on Miss Kringle – possibly even hurt her more. It was better he was gone. Ed didn’t do anything wrong really.

But clearly [Y/N] didn’t see it that way.

[Y/N]. What was he going to do? Remove her too? Suggested the voice. “No. Shut up.” He snapped at himself, “She hasn’t done anything wrong.” But she knows. “But no believes her!” Ed exclaimed with a slightly hysterical laugh. “So it’s fine.” But she hates you now. “She should hate me.” He muttered grimly, “I’m a terrible person.” Ed sunk his head back into his hands.

Ed spent the afternoon trying to focus on his work - though he found it difficult - often suddenly stopping halfway through a file to yell at himself for a while till the voice in the back of his mind shut up for a bit. Each conversation held the same theme though, the voice wanted [Y/N] ‘taken care of’. And Ed was now well aware that he was capable of it.

It was later than usual that evening, when Ed finally called it a day. Thanks to his lack of concentration he had not managed to completely finish his work for the day, but neither could he face another folder. He grabbed his bag and headed out, the rest of the desks in the police station basically empty, except for a few people that had the late shift tonight. He nodded to them in farewell, but only a couple bothered to return the sentiment.

He threw himself into his car and drove out of the precinct and off in the city centre. Except he didn’t.

Similar to last night, Ed caught sight of the last glow of light in the café. [Y/N]’s café. He eased off of the accelerator. She was there. In the back of the shop, her shadow visible through the doorway into the small kitchen room. Soon Ed found himself applying the brakes and he was then parked outside the little shop, climbing out of his car and trying the door, slightly surprised to find it wasn’t locked yet.

[Y/N] didn’t hear him. He didn’t really want her too, he’d knew she’d freak out and run away. But he couldn’t sneak up behind her. That was worse. He stopped a few steps inside the door and cleared his throat.

She spun around quickly, her eyes wide, her features hidden in shadow, the lighting behind her only illuminating her back. “What are you doing in here?!” She demanded harshly across the room, immediately reaching for the first thing by her side for protection – grabbing a baking tray. She held it out like she was ready to bring it straight down on him – even though he was still at least 20 foot from her.

“Well, you see – I – err –“ Ed stumbled, embarrassed and not really sure why he had come. This was a bad idea, she didn’t want to talk to him. “I – err – I never told you my name!” He latched at quickly, taking a step forward and reaching a hand out to her with a shrug of his shoulders.

Even from this distance, her posture and the shadows under her eyes from the lighting suggested this was not amusing or pleasing to her – and definitely wasn’t going to change her attitude about him.

“It’s Ed.” He said quickly, “Nygma.” He took a few more steps forward with a slightly awkward grin, trying to break the tension. Her posture still didn’t relax.

“How nice.” She said dryly, not lowering the tray. “Now I know exactly who to report.”

Ed gulped. This wasn’t going well. “Look – I know –“ He said, hurrying forward a bit faster.

“No.” [Y/N] interrupted harshly and Ed stopped in his tracks, just short of the counter, [Y/N] still in the doorway of the kitchen. “Don’t come waltzing in here thinking you can convince me that what I saw wasn’t what I saw!” She snapped. “And don’t you dare think I won’t hesitate to do some serious damage if you even think of touching me!” She added, as he tried to move towards her again. She stepped back slightly, raising the tray higher. “Just get out of my café and leave me alone!” She demanded heatedly.

“But – Miss [L/N] –“ Ed persisted, edging around the counter, his hands on the surface, leaning slightly towards her.

“I may not be able to get you done for murder, but I have CCTV in here, and I can report you for breaking and entering! This café is closed!” She snapped.

He straightened up, moving so the display case was behind him, and [Y/N] now stood directly in front of him, framed in the kitchen doorway, the bright, artificial lights throwing the room behind her into harsh light. “But you don’t understand –“ He said reaching out for her.

[Y/N] brought the tray straight down on him, hitting his outstretched arm, shoulder and catching his forehead. “Ah!” He cried. And then he was no longer in control.

He dropped his hand back behind him onto the counter, soon feeling it sneak to the right, reaching for the knife he saw at his side, where it was used to cut slices from the freshly made cakes.

He felt completely detached. Like he felt nothing. Could do nothing. Like it was just a scene playing out before him. He vaguely knew what was happening was wrong, but he couldn’t think what else to do.

He felt his fingers grip around the handle of the blade, yet at the same time he didn’t. It was like it was someone’s fingers, he was only getting the bare sensation of feeling the handle. It wasn’t completely him.

He his arm pull towards him, bringing the knife with it. Why was there a weird pounding from his head? Was that liquid trickling down the side of his face?

“Oh my God!” The words were shouted, but he only heard them faintly, like trying to hear underwater. “Your bleeding! I’m so sorry!” Ed felt himself blink, though it felt like slow motion, his arm with the blade pausing, still most obscured behind his back. Suddenly there was a pressure to his head, though he felt no pain, then a single singer tip brushed his face accidentally and he felt like he was suddenly thrown back into his body with a jolt.

His head felt like agony.

He dropped the blade - forgotten the minute he became aware of the sharp stabbing ache in his forehead - “Ahh!” He cried in agony, reaching for the painful spot which pounded at his skull. His fingers touched another hand, already pressing against the wound, though the minute her made contact, the other hand withdrew as sharply as if it had been burnt. Something soft fluttered off his face and landed on the floor.

“Sorry!” [Y/N] apologised, bending over to retrieve the napkin now soaked in blood. “I’ll get a clean one.” She spun on the spot and disappeared into the kitchen as Ed held his hand to his forehead, feeling wisps of hair on his hand, sticky with congealing blood. He closed his eyes in a grimace of pain. Then he felt a hand at his, pulling it away and replacing it with another napkin. Ed held the rough material to his head, a new surge of pain washing over him at the renewal of pressure to the wound.

“Ah!”

“Ooo…” Hissed [Y/N] in sympathy. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you in here, and I know you’re a murderer,” She said hastily, “but there is no need for me to stoop to beating someone – I honestly didn’t mean to do that much damage.” She winced again when Ed removed the napkin and inspected the blood-soaked rag before replacing it. “You might need a doctor. Look –“ She disappeared again only to reappear a moment later. “Take these. Leave. Go to a hospital. Please don’t come back.” She begged handing out a handful of napkins to him.

Ed took that as his leave, grateful to receive the mediocre first aid, and headed out of the café without pushing the woman any further. “And don’t drive!” Came the final shout from across the room. Ed only hesitated slightly before he pushed the door and left.

‘Don’t drive’. How ridiculous, thought Y/N, cursing herself. Sure, the man probably had a concussion, but he was a murderer, she shouldn’t care if he passed out and crashed the car. She should be glad. But she wouldn’t be. She tried to tell herself it was because he might hurt someone else - but she was kidding herself. She was constantly kidding herself. She thought she could smack him with a baking tray without a care. And when he reached for her she almost thought she could. But then when she’d finally looked up at the man she had seen those soft brown eyes, the way his long fringe had fallen chaotically over his face, and then she had noticed the blood soaking into the strands, and the slow red trickle working its way down the side of his face. That had broken her heart.

It shouldn’t. He was a murderer as she kept reminding herself. At the very least he deserved some pain, some blood.

But she wasn’t sure what it was. She just didn’t like the idea of him hurt. When she looked at him she didn’t see the man in alley. She saw the man in her café. She had wanted to act tough, but she knew she wasn’t being completely honest when she said she’d report him again. When she said she didn’t want him there.

Because the truth was, she kind of did. Before she knew he was a murderer she had liked him, and she had felt sorry she hadn’t seen him again since their first meeting.

Maybe it was because she wasn’t in the alley, that there wasn’t a dead body in front of her eyes, that she had somehow become weirdly dissociated from it all now she was back to her normal life. Like she could easily pass it off as a bad dream – and she wished she could. But something told her that wasn’t right. That it would be ruining the memory of the poor man who had died last night.

She owed it to whoever he was to stop Ed Nygma. To make him pay.

With that she shut up the café and went home, feeling safe in the fact that Edward Nygma would be suffering from a killer headache all evening and, in turn, wouldn’t be out on the streets seeking another victim tonight.

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creditmonkey · 5 years

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Fixing Errors on Your Credit Report (By Yourself, For Free)

Checking your credit score regularly is essential for maintaining a healthy credit score. But what happens when you see a sudden, unexplained drop in your score? To the best of your knowledge, you haven’t missed a payment, made any late payments, maxed out a credit card or had an account go to collections. So what gives? The first step in resolving this issue is to order a copy of your free credit report and review it to determine what happened. Maybe you’ll find that you did miss a payment or exceed the recommended credit utilization ratio. However, if you notice errors on your credit report, you’ll want to take action to fix them quickly. The good news is, you don’t need to resort to expensive (and potentially predatory) credit repair companies. Fixing errors on your credit report is something you can do – for free – on your own.

Common credit report errors

When you pull your credit report, what sort of inaccuracies should you look for? According to the CFPB, common errors in credit reports typically fall into four categories: 1 - Identity errors Errors made to your identifying information, such as a wrong name, phone number or addressAccounts that belong to someone with the same or a similar name as youIncorrect amounts resulting from identity theft 2 - Incorrect reporting of account status Closed accounts that are reported as open accountsNaming you the owner of an account when you're just an authorized userAccounts incorrectly reported as late or delinquentInacurrate date of last payment, date opened, or date of first delinquencySame debt listed more than once, possibly with different names 3 - Data management errors Reinsertion of incorrect information after it was correctedAccounts that appear multiple times with different creditors listed, especially in the case of delinquent account or accounts in collections 4 - Balance errors Accounts with an incorrect current balanceAccounts with an incorrect credit limit Some of these errors may have a negligible effect on your credit score, but others could have a significant impact. In a 2012 study, the FTC found that one in five consumers had an error on at least one of their three credit reports and 5% of consumers had errors that could lead to them paying more for products such as auto loans and insurance.

There’s another potential error that doesn’t appear on the CFPB’s list: a credit report that mistakenly reports a consumer as being deceased. This occasionally happens when a spouse or cosigner on a credit card dies, and a creditor reports that your account is associated with a deceased individual. It can also occur when you accidentally wind up on the Social Security Administration’s Master Death File. According to a story from CNBC, this mistake affects about 6,000 people per year and can lead to being rejected for a loan, a revocation of student loans and other credit problems.

How to dispute an error on your credit report

Once you review your credit report and find a mistake, you’ll need to contact the credit bureau that issued the report to request a correction. Although you can initiate a dispute via mail or by phone, the fastest way to file a dispute is online at TransUnion, Experian and Equifax. Whether you dispute the item by phone, by mail or online, you’ll need to provide each item you believe to be inaccurate, including the account number, creditor and the reason you believe the information is incorrect. When you file a dispute online or by mail, you can also attach documents supporting your argument. This might include items such as: A copy of the police report or FTC Identity Theft report showing that an account was the result of identity theftBankruptcy paperwork showing an account was included in or discharged in bankruptcyLetters from creditors showing how an account should be correctedStudent loan disability letters showing that a student loan has been discharged due to disabilityDeferment or forbearance documentsCanceled checks showing that a collection account was paid off If you prefer to file a dispute by mail, you can also find mailing addresses for the three major credit bureaus at the links above and the CFPB has a sample credit report dispute letter. Be sure to send your letter via certified mail, return receipt requested, to document that the credit bureau received your letter. Also, make sure you keep copies of your correspondence and any supporting documents you send. You may also want to write to the creditor who provided the incorrect information to the credit rating agency to let them know you are disputing the information they provided. While your credit dispute is being investigated, you can continue to use your credit cards and apply for new credit. An open dispute won’t block access to your credit file. If your credit report erroneously indicates you are deceased, you’ll need to contact the Social Security Administration (SSA) to correct their records and get a letter from the SSA confirming the correction. This letter can be submitted online or via mail to the credit reporting agencies. If the problem stemmed from a creditor rather than the SSA, you’ll need to send a notarized letter to the credit reporting agencies affirming your identity. This letter must include your full name, current address, Social Security number, date of birth and a statement that you are not deceased. You may also need to include a copy of your government-issued identification, such as a driver’s license or military ID card.

How long does it take to fix errors on a credit report?

Once you submit your dispute, the Fair Credit Reporting Act (FCRA) allows the credit bureau 30 days to complete the dispute process. The agency will forward your dispute to the creditor and, ideally, the creditor will verify that the agency should remove the error from your report. Once the creditor responds (or at the end of the 30-day window if the creditor doesn’t respond), the credit bureau will notify you of the results of the dispute. In the meantime, if you filed your dispute online, you can log in to the credit bureau’s website to check on the status of your claim. If a change is made to your credit report, the credit rating agency will also notify the other two major credit bureaus so any inaccurate information can be updated on those reports as well. If all goes well, you should see an improvement to your score right away. That’s the ideal scenario. However, things don’t always work out so well. If there is a lot of back and forth between you, the credit bureau and your creditor, the process can take 90 days or more. In a follow-up study to their 2012 report, the FTC revisited 121 consumers who had filed disputes with credit reporting agencies that were unresolved at the end of their initial study. One year later, the study found that: Nearly 70% of those consumers believed that at least one piece of disputed information was still inaccurate on their credit report.40% stated they did not receive a notification from the credit reporting agency that the disputed item was not changed.Over half of consumers who were notified said the credit reporting agency didn’t explain the lack of modification. Also, among consumers who did receive a modification of their credit report during the original study, 1% had previously-removed negative information reappear on their credit report. So it’s a good idea to stay on top of any disputes you file to ensure that negative items do get removed from your report, then continue to monitor your credit to ensure those negative items don’t make another appearance.

Can I fix my credit faster by using a credit repair company?

Of course, reviewing your credit report, filing disputes and following up to ensure the errors on your credit report are removed and don’t make a reappearance takes time. If you’re short on time and want to move the needle on your credit score quickly, maybe you’re considering hiring a credit repair company to do the grunt work for you. If you really can’t take the time to handle disputes on your own, hiring a legitimate credit repair service may have value. Just keep in mind that a credit repair company can’t do anything that you can’t do for yourself, for free. They can’t have accurate negative information removed, so if your score suffers because of legitimate financial missteps, those can only be erased by time and good credit practices, such as paying your bills on time and keeping your credit utilization ratelow. Plus, the credit repair industry is rife with scams, and it can be difficult to tell legitimate credit counselors from the scammers. If you do decide that hiring someone to handle credit disputes is a good use of your money, the FTC recommends steering clear of credit repair companies that: Insist you pay them before they do any work on your behalfTell you not to contact the credit reporting agencies directlyTell you to dispute accurate information on your credit reportTell you to provide false information on applications for credit or loansDon’t explain your legal rights when they tell you what they can do for youPromise a “new credit identity” or a fresh start for your credit history

Bottom line

There’s no fee for filing a dispute, and your credit score won’t go down simply because you started a dispute – even if the negative information on your credit score turns out to be accurate. So while fixing errors on your credit report might seem like a hassle, if your credit score is suffering due to errors in your file, disputes are a risk-free way to raise your score. Your credit score impacts so many areas of your life, from the amount you’ll pay for auto insurance to being able to afford the home you want, the interest rates you’ll pay for a mortgage or auto loan, and sometimes even landing your dream job. If you’re proactive about reviewing your credit report, you can catch errors and dispute them before they turn ugly. About the author Dion Rostamian is a Certified Public Accountant and personal finance writer. Her work has appeared in numerous publications, including CreditKarma and Forbes. Read the full article

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jam2289 · 5 years

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Fighting Local Government Corruption - Part 12 of ?

When I was laying on my deathbed in Africa I had a few regrets. One was that I hadn't written anything. That's why I write. Not many people get a chance to lay on their deathbed twice. And when I am laying on my deathbed next time, I don't want to have regrets.

I would regret not having the courage to stand up to a corrupt government official like Tony Barnes. I would regret failing to defend individual rights. I would regret bowing in fear before a petty tyrant. That's why I take action.

I received the official rejection letter for the Recall on Saturday, although I think the hearing went fairly well.

Judge Pittman read the Recall that I had written. I was then allowed to speak for 2 minutes. The clock was started before Pittman had even finished giving me the instructions to state my name and address, so he had the clock restarted. He made several good adjustments like that. (Tony tried to speak after his lawyer and Pittman said that the lawyer had already presented their side. Pittman also made sure they did a roll call vote after they had already done a general vote.)

Here is my Recall wording.

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On May 8th, 2019 Dalton Township filed an injunction for a Temporary Restraining Order as well as a lawsuit against Hidden Creek Farm. No vote was taken for either of these actions at any public meeting prior to that. Both of these actions are direct violations of the Michigan Open Meetings Act. It is the job of the Township Supervisor (Tony Barnes) to see to it that the township acts in compliance with applicable laws, which he failed to do.

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I knew that Tony's lawyer Nick Curcio was going to attack both my factuality and clarity. First, I cited the Michigan Election Law Act 116 of 1954, MCL 168.952 section 3.

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The board of county election commissioners... shall meet and shall determine whether each reason for the recall stated in the petition is factual and of sufficient clarity to enable the officer whose recall is sought and the electors to identify the course of conduct that is the basis for the recall.

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I emphasized that my statement meets these requirements because the conduct that is the reason for the Recall is clear to both the official and the electors.

Then, I quoted the State of Michigan Court of Appeals Hooker v Moore case from 2018. (I also had a phone call with Jeremy Hooker and he was both helpful and supportive of my efforts.)

On page four of the decision in favor of Hooker there are two great sentences. (There are citations in the decision, but I left the second set out because it's so long and is hard to track when given verbally anyway.)

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Our state constitution provides that "[t]he sufficiency of any statement of reasons or grounds procedurally required shall be a political rather than a judicial question." Const 1963, art 2, s 8. An assessment of the accuracy or truthfulness of a factual assertion is an inquiry into the sufficiency of the reason stated in support of recall; our Constitution plainly reserves that assessment to the electors, and the Legislature could not in any event remove that right from them.

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The right to Recall is extremely important, and I'm glad that Michigan has supported that right. I pointed out that my statement is not a conjecture, it is a factual assertion that can be verified or falsified.

Tony's lawyer was then given the ability to speak for up to 3 minutes, but he stopped just after 2. (I don't know why lawyers get to speak for an extra minute.) He proposed that my statements were a legal opinion and thus not factual, and that since I didn't mention Tony Barnes until the end it wasn't clear. He also proposed that it wasn't clear because the corruption could have happened in a number of ways. Tony's lawyer actually proposed three of the ways that Tony could be corrupt, and stated that because we don't know which version of corruption is happening behind the scenes then Tony can't be held responsible.

They voted and all three found that my statement was factual. All three also found that my statement lacked sufficient clarity. Judge Pittman then realized that they hadn't done a roll call during the vote and decided to do it that way, where each person states their name before they vote so that it can be recorded in detail.

All three voted against the clarity again, but Tony Moulatsiotis changed his vote for the factuality to a no. (Moulatsiotis seemed quite confused by the entire proceeding. He asked Judge Pittman a number of questions throughout the hearing. Nancy Waters tried to explain things to him a few times. He actually stated that he didn't know the difference between factuality and clarity and didn't see how it could be split, which is him saying that he doesn't understand that part of his job. It doesn't effect the outcome in this case.)

My Recall was denied, but I was happily surprised that they found it factual. I still have until August 9th to appeal the decision.

A couple of interesting things happened after the hearing. About 10 or so people were at the hearing to support me, which I appreciate. A few of us were talking after the meeting and Tony Barnes jumped into the circle and started spewing various lies. One lie was aimed directly at me, which annoys me.

Tony Barnes is standing next to me in this haphazard circle of people and says to the group that I created the event for the Dalton Township meeting where people were standing outside of the building. It's true that I created the Facebook event. Then he points at me and says that I blocked him from the event. That's a lie. I knew he was lying, he knew he was lying, and he knew that I knew he was lying, and he lied anyway.

That's the thing with Tony Barnes, he will lie to you, about you, in front of you. It's amazing, incredible, kind of stunning. I have zero people blocked from my personal Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyAlexanderMartin and I have zero people blocked from the Concerned Citizens of Dalton Township group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/2275100969473041/ and I have never blocked anyone from an event. (I do reserve the right to block people if the appropriate situation arises.)

After Tony Barnes came over and started pestering the group with his lies, I went and talked to some other people. Tony Barnes is like an infection, and it does you no good to talk to an infection.

I had an interesting conversation about voting. While talking to Nancy Waters she made the case that absentee ballot voting is a more responsible version of voting because you can look up information on the candidates at home while you are filling it out. That, plus logistics, is why she is trying to get more people to do absentee ballots. Seems reasonable to me.

On a personal note, my spine was a bit messed up after the meeting. My spinal deformities don't do good in the types of chairs you find in government buildings. Add the stress of sitting in front of a panel and being judged, while sitting one seat away from the infection called Tony Barnes that you're trying to remove from office, and my spine was a bit off by the end of that meeting.

In further efforts to stop corruption in Dalton Township, I was finally able to file the police report about the Open Meetings Act violations with the state police. I've been trying to do it for weeks. I even drove to the state police office in Rockford and was turned away a couple of weeks ago.

They do not make it easy to file a report about the government breaking laws. Someone had contacted the Muskegon County Prosecutor's office a couple of months ago. They were told that a report had to be filed by the state police. I decided to do this. I went to the state police office in Grand Haven and found out that it's not open to the public. Then, I drove to Rockford. I talked to an officer there, but he wouldn't take the report. He told me to get more information and then call the local police station and have them connect me with the state police. Then an officer would come to my house to make a report.

I had to find a day where I could spend the whole day sitting around waiting for an officer to stop by. The day after the Recall was pretty open for me so that's when I was able to do it. I called a local police station and asked to be connected to the state police. They said they couldn't do that, and that I had to dial 911. I thought it was weird to call the emergency line, but that's what the police office said to do, so I called. Then they said they also couldn't connect me to the state police, but they would take a message and have someone from either the state police or the county police call me back.

I hung around my phone, but ended up missing the call anyway. I called back and was able to talk to Michigan State Police Detective Sergeant Bentley. She took the report, but she didn't want to. I'm pretty sure she was stifling a laugh part of the time. And, she even tried to intimidate me into not filing the report. She said that if I had an agenda then I shouldn't be trying to use the state police for that. I told her that my agenda was an attempt to hold the township government accountable for breaking the Michigan Open Meetings Act three times, but that it seems like the government does not consider the government breaking laws important.

Here's that call. (Michigan is a single party consent state for recording phone calls, meaning you can record them if you're an active participant. That's something I didn't know before I started fighting the corruption in Dalton Township.)

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1UWSPVlIWVcV_EXRgaNuoKXGBCMQ54pwT/view?usp=sharing

I don't know if anything will actually be investigated. I doubt it. I don't know if anything will be turned into the Muskgeon Prosecutor. I doubt it. And, even if it is I doubt he will do anything with it.

In situations like this it's easy to think of the myth of Sisyphus. Sisyphus was punished by Zeus. His punishment was to push a boulder to the top of a mountain, but when he would get close to the top the boulder would roll back to the bottom and he would have to start over. For eternity. A lot of effort in a futile endeavor. It's a form of torture.

The Nazis sometimes did something similar to prisoners in the concentration camps. They would have them move a huge pile of bags of whatever from one end of the prison to the other. Then, when they were done, they would have them move it back. A lot of effort in a futile endeavor is a form of torture.

I'm kind of like Sisyphus in that way, but with a difference. Especially while filing the police report, I felt like Sisyphus, but without his godlike strength. I can push against the boulder, but I can't move it. I can't move the boulder, and even if I could it wouldn't make a difference anyway.

After that feeling it could make sense to give up. Instead, I want you to think of Viktor Frankl. When the Nazis took over Germany Frankl had the chance to leave. He had a visa to the United States because he was a psychiatrist, a neurosurgeon, and the head of a hospital. But, he decided to stay. He was a Jew and he knew that at some point the Nazis would come for him. But, until then he could help save people. He could help protect them from the Nazis, and he did. Then, while in the concentration camps he continued to help others to the best of his abilities.

Even when we encounter such resistance in the world, even in the face of evil and corruption we have a choice. We can give in to such things, let them overwhelm us not just in the world, but so too in our spirit. Or, we can stand on our principles and advance forward in spite of everything. This defiant spirit of the human soul, this is where redemption can be found. Even in the face of failure there is yet hope for such a person.

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Read more of what Jeff deems worthy of attention at: http://www.JeffreyAlexanderMartin.com

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thechasefiles · 5 years

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The Chase Files Daily Newscap 14/1/2020

Good Morning #realdreamchasers. Here is your daily news cap for Tuesday January 14th, 2020. There is a lot to read and digest so take your time. Remember you can read full articles via Barbados Government Information Service (BGIS), Barbados Today (BT), or by purchasing a Daily Nation Newspaper (DN).

MASH UP AND REBUILD – Barbados’ education system will need to be dismantled if authorities wish to thoroughly address the country’s troubling social issues. So says Democratic Labour Party (DLP) President Verla DePeiza who believes plans by Prime Minister Mia Mottley to abolish the longstanding Common Entrance Exam are merely tackling “low hanging fruit”. Instead, she’s hoping to see a “multi-faceted” approach to 21st century education, tailored to address the peculiar needs of students instead of forcing them into the “box of our education”. “Our education system has been lauded and praised for decades without appreciating that it has not moved in any way whilst society has done so. As such, we need to have a complete dismantling and reshaping of what education is,” DePeiza declared. She was addressing a panel discussion on Sunday night at the party’s George Street, St. Michael Headquarters entitled Crime, Youth, and Opportunities. The president added: “No one who learns by ‘rote’ is sufficiently equipped for the technological age that requires you to think laterally. Our societal issues require engineering and I don’t mean that in the mathematical and scientific sense, but engineering in the social sense where we are actively looking for solutions.” PM Mottley, during her first national address this year, told Barbadians her government was still exploring the possibility of totally abolishing the Common Entrance Exam and introducing middle schools to replace the current outdated system. So broken is the current system, the DLP leader stressed, that “anything else is worth a try”, while maintaining certain glaring deficiencies need to be addressed. “You can tinker with it over time but you need to have a system that critically analyses students from an early age to identify their strengths and their weaknesses. Everybody is imbued with some sort of talent. Whether you consider the Bible to be your guiding light or just a book of really good stories, you would know the parable of the talents,” the political leader recalled. DePeiza continued: “There wasn’t a single one who had none. At least one talent was given. We have to have an eye on our young people to isolate and develop their talents.” Pointing to the past prison exhibitions and awards at NIFCA out of Her Majesty’s Prison, the DLP President insisted that even without formal training, inmates have produced “the most wonderful art”. As such, she called for more “remedial” programmes aimed at assisting persons who have ‘fallen through the cracks’ and landed in prison. “…We need to have programmes to reintegrate them and find what their talent is and at that late stage still hone it, because I cannot find it within me to believe that we have persons with nothing to offer to society. Even persons whom we consider to have disabilities, we have seen them apply themselves in significant ways to society,” she added. “We all know someone who is differently able but highly capable and in the reforming of our education we have to find space in our regular classrooms for those who have unfortunate physical challenges that have no impact on their mental capabilities. We have to have the fullest reshaping of our society. We owe them a duty to make sure that all persons have an opportunity to shine in our society.” Meanwhile, DLP General Secretary Guyson Mayers described some schools as being mere centres to hold students before they are eventually shipped off to prison and suggested urgent interventions to assist. “We need interventions, that before these people leave secondary school, they can see something useful in their paths…How therefore do you intervene when they are not yet 15 or 16 and say to them ‘this is a useful avenue for you to walk down’?” Mayers asked. He added: “These things are not impossible, but you have to think outside the box if you are going to successfully develop programmes of that nature.” (BT)

DLP QUESTIONS DOTTIN’S ROLE IN CRIME FIGHT – What is Darwin Dottin doing for the people of Barbados? That was a key question on the lips of Democratic Labour Party (DLP) officials as they lambasted the government-appointed crime-consultant whose tenure last year coincided with Barbados’ bloodiest year on record. Attorney General Dale Marshall since then has defended the appointment claiming that Dottin has been serving the country well. On Sunday night, former President of the Young Democrats, Curtis Cave and DLP General Secretary Guyson Mayers tore into the former commissioner of police and other government consultants whose fees, in their opinion ought to be banished from the public payroll.But Dottin bore the brunt of the attack as critics noted it was during his administration that the police force faced a record 35 murders back in 2006. “You cannot bring back the man as a consultant who had the previous record on murders,” Cave told a packed room at the George Street auditorium. “At that time, I believe the Attorney General was Dale Marshall or the current Prime Minister. The combination of these three characters is clearly not very good at all.” When asked for his take on Dottin’s accomplishments after his appointed back in February last year, Guyson Mayers, a former head of the Police Service Commission soundly condemned the “cloak of secrecy” surrounding the appointment. “Nobody has seen him, nobody has heard from him since then, nobody knows what he is doing and therefore I do not know if he is working for the government of Barbados or the Barbados Labour Party… I don’t know what he is doing so I cannot comment on whether the money is well-spent,” he admitted. On Monday, however, the AG took to Voice of Barbados radio to declare that Government is pleased with the ex-commissioner’s “efforts” but argued Dottin had no duty to report to the public. “Mr Dottin is engaged as a consultant by my ministry. He reports to me and through me to the Prime Minister. I don’t think there has ever been an instance in the history of the Democratic Labour Party (DLP) that any consultant ever spoke to the public about what they were doing. I expect more of this but I keep saying that Barbadians need to stay the course. We have put an awful lot of resources into crime fighting and we are making significant strides with a number of the cases. Meanwhile, DLP President Verla DePeiza, also sitting on Sunday’s panel on Crime, Youth and Opportunities, conveyed her concern about the issue of government consultants on a much wider scale. She argued that the consultancy fees contained in the 2017/2018 estimates by the DLP when compared with those under the current Prime Minister reveal an “explosive escalation” in costs by hundreds of percentage points. Even more worrying for DePeiza is the lack of disclosure about the identity of the consultants. “We do not know who the majority of the consultants are. We keep hearing rumours. At least in relation to the former Commissioner of Police, he was introduced to us, but the majority of the other consultants, we have no idea who they are, what they are supposed to be doing, how much they are being paid, whether they are supposed to issue any reports, conduct any research or anything of that nature,” said DePeiza. She added: “We do not know what their terms of reference are, what their remit is and in most cases we don’t even know what they are being paid. What I can say in relation to former Commissioner Dottin is that we can see there have been no results since his appointment and whatever it is that he is being paid, the monies very clearly could be redirected to some purpose, because right now we cannot see any purpose for his being a consultant for this government.” Meanwhile, Cave, suggesting many of the consultants are wealthy supporters of the ruling BLP challenged them to prove they had the country’s best interest at heart by offering their services for free. (BT)

BUT WANTS TEACHERS APPOINTED – THE Barbados Union of Teachers (BUT) is concerned that not enough is being done to fill a major void in the teaching system, which it says is only growing larger. After a Congress of Trade Unions and Staff Associations of Barbados (CTUSAB) media conference at BUT headquarters, Merryhill, Welches, St Michael, on Saturday, BUT president Sean Spencer pointed to the December 19, 2019 edition of The Official Gazette. “If one examines the Gazette, one would recognise that there are senior administrative posts to be filled. As middle management is promoted, though not exclusively, their posts become vacant in turn and junior appointed officers will be promoted. “Ultimately, temporary employees will be appointed to the newly vacated established posts. Therefore, given the volume of retirements, there should be a number of established posts in the service to be accessed,” he said. (DN)

MEDICAL MARIJUANA LICENSING TO BEGIN NEXT MONTH – Five months into the life of new legislation to allow the cultivation of medicinal marijuana, investors can start applying for a grower’s licence from as early as next month, Minister of Agriculture Indar Weir has revealed. But the price of licences to be issued by the new agency created by the law is likely to be beyond the reach of “average” Barbadians, the minister suggested. He told Barbados TODAY that the newly established Barbados Medicinal Cannabis Licensing Authority should be ready to begin issuing licences by February. He declared: “I am happy to report that the authority is established, and they are ready to work. “I am hoping that the first of the license would be ready to be issued before February but no later than the end of that month. “By February all of the necessary information should be in the public domain, so that the public will be aware of the process and what they have to do in order to be able to start to apply for licences.” Weir declined to disclose the cost of the various categories of licences, but stressed that while Barbadians will not be left out of the new industry, it will require heavy investment in order to get going. When pressed on whether the average citizen would be able to afford a medicinal marijuana licence, Weir replied: “Frankly, I don’t know what the average man means; the average man cannot invest in Coca-Cola. “Barbados’ marijuana sector is not small business activity only, it calls for huge investment in research and development.” He contended that having come so far, Barbados could ill-afford to be wrapped up in a big business versus small business squabble. Instead the focus must be on what is needed to get the industry off the ground.Weir said: “It takes a huge investment in manufacturing and even takes a huge investment in cultivation. “We have to be frank about these things and face the reality where this industry is going because if you have done any research on the industry, you would realise that it takes major investment to make it work. “There is always a place for the small man which would be facilitated by Government who would create space for them and opportunities for funding. These are things that we are working on for the small man.” Weir said that the emerging interest had garnered interest from local and international investors. Barbados will adopt a tiered approach to cultivation and processor permits, ranging from Tier 1 for small-scale cultivation to Tier 3 for large-scale farms. The Medical Cannabis Industry Act allows medical cannabis to be prescribed by a practitioner to Barbadians or visitors to the island. As the legislation was making its way through Parliament, Prime Minister Mia Mottley said that if managed correctly, the trade could prove to be extremely lucrative. She told the House: “If we can in structuring out the medicinal cannabis industry as a new productive sector, manage the agricultural component, manage the manufacturing component, manage the tourism and hospitality component and manage the international business component then we will have in a total way be able to extract maximum value from this particular product which for the majority of our history was in fact legal and not illegal.” (BT)

RUM ACADEMY’ IDEA GETS MINISTERIAL SUPPORT – A rum academy, suggested by a prominent distiller has received backing from Minister of Tourism and International Transport Kerrie Symmonds, Symmonds, who gave his support for Mount Gay Distilleries Managing Director Raphael Grisoni’s suggestion, noted Barbados’ international reputation as a historic rum producer. He said his ministry was willing and ready to partner with Mount Gay and other players in the market to set up an institution to teach Barbadians and tourists alike about the history and business of rum production. In remarks at Mount Day’s Open Day on Saturday, Symmonds said:”In consult with you, I would be very happy now to say that the Ministry of Tourism would be happy to partner in the creation of such an education experience and taking our tourism experience another notch up.” Last year, Grisoni declared that it was the duty of the oldest distillery in Barbados “to lead in educating all [about] the art and craft of our industry to sustain and preserve our heritage”. Symmonds said Barbados must be prepared to showcase to the world the history of the slave society, the role it played in rum production and the importance of the experience to transitioning Barbados from a colonial backwater to being one of the world’s most competitive Small Island Developing States. The Minister said:“This country has to begin to hold up for the world to see those things that set us apart and differentiate us. And again this is a major part of what we are trying to achieve in tourism. “The Mexicans make no apology about tequila and its relationship to Mexico, the French have absolutely no apology about champagne and the relationship to France, and the Scottish feel similar about scotch. “And we have in Barbados to be prepared to make the same bold international statement.” Symmonds also indicated that Government intended to continue to make the tourism experience a far more cultural and historical experience than it has ever been. He told the open day’s attendees: “We cannot do the business of tourism seriously in this country if we continue to hide the lights under a bushel. “The country is full of communities which reflect levels of excellence and expertise that we must showcase, and talent that we have to put on show. “It is also very important to understand that as we go forward we want authenticity in our tourism product. “And we can only do that, if we are prepared to do the things that Mount Gay has been able to demonstrate by way of continuity and persistence and commitment to developing that which is really not only a manufacturing commodity, but part of the cultural heritage of this country.” (BT)

MINISTER USED POSITION FOR GREEDY GAINS – “A case of lies, corruption and greed!” That is how prosecutor Gerald Moody summed up the actions of former Government Minister Donville Inniss, who he said deceived the people of Barbados by accepting bribes from the Insurance Corporation of Barbados Limited (ICBL) four years ago. Just after 8 a.m., Inniss, wearing a long, black coat accompanied by lawyer Steven Legon, friend and former Attorney General Adriel Brathwaite and one of his brothers, entered the Eastern District Federal Court in New York. Once inside, an upbeat-looking Inniss who was clad in a grey suit, white shirt and green tie was seen glancing occasionally towards them and smiling from his seat. Former Speaker of the Barbados House of Assembly and Democratic Labour Party (DLP) colleague Michael Carrington, also joined the proceedings during the day. Inniss faces two counts of money laundering along with conspiracy to commit money laundering. There were a few hiccups before proceedings got going just after 10 a.m. The trial was delayed for over an hour after a late arrival by juror 11. Federal District Judge Kiyo Matsumoto also disclosed that juror number 16 had endured a medical emergency and would be absent. There was also a brief power outage in the courtroom. In his ten-minute opening remarks to the 12-member jury comprising five females and seven males, Moody urged the jurors to return a guilty verdict at the end of the trial. He said Inniss had used his position as Minister of Industry, International Business, Commerce and Small Business Development to benefit financially. “This case is about lies, corruption and greed and how Inniss, a government minister, took bribes from ICBL and then funneled the money through his friend’s dental company. “As the minister he was responsible for encouraging economic development and he wasn’t supposed to cash in and sell out the people of Barbados,” Moody argued. He said as a result of the bribes, ICBL was awarded the insurance contracts to insure over $100 million in Government property. “He went to great lengths to hide it. ICBL didn’t pay it to him, they paid him through his friend’s dental company in Long Island who two days later passed on the money to his account in Florida where he owns a condominium,” he added. He argued that the $16 536.73 paid to Inniss in 2015 was exactly five per cent of ICBL’s insurance contract that year. However, Inniss’ attorney-at-law Anthony Ricco implored the jury to keep an open mind and not to rush to judgement. He said that Inniss was presumed innocent until guilty and that it was the burden of the prosecution to prove the accused’s guilt. “The government is saying something about a bribe, but they have to prove it and prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. This case is about politics 2000 miles away and you are going to hear about a powerful organisation that collected profits long before Inniss came into office,” Ricco said. “Pay close attention to the witnesses, this is not a difficult case. But if your minds are already made up then this process is wasted. I’m asking for Inniss to start with a clean slate and for you to keep an open mind. Let it come to you before you make a decision,” Ricco said. (BT)

FORMER ICBL OFFICER: I WROTE THE INVOICES – Former chief financial officer (CFO) of the Insurance Corporation of Barbados Limited (ICBL) Kamante Millar today admitted to writing two fraudulent invoices for monies to be paid to former government minister Donville Inniss. However, Millar, who has turned State’s witness in the case being heard in a Brooklyn, New York court, said while she felt “uncomfortable” performing the deed she never believed the monies being paid to Inniss were bribes. The former ICBL accountant was the first witness to take the stand in the trial against Inniss, who is charged with two counts of money laundering along with conspiracy to commit money laundering. He has been accused by the United States of accepting bribes from the Insurance Corporation of Barbados Limited (ICBL) in 2015 and 2016 totaling over US $36 000, while he was Minister of Industry, International Business, Commerce and Small Business Development. The US Attorney’s Office has also alleged that Inniss conspired to hide the payment by having the money sent to a New York dental company then into his bank account through a number of transfers. During his examination, Federal prosecutor Gerald Moody revealed that Millar had signed a non-prosecution agreement with the US Government in July 2017. She said in exchange for “telling the truth” no charges would be brought against her, despite her admitted role. Millar told the court that in August 2015, she attended a meeting with former chief executive officer (CEO) of ICBL Ingrid Innes and former senior vice-president with responsibility for business development and marketing Alex Tasker. Following that meeting, she said Innes instructed her to make “an urgent payment” of a referral bonus to Inniss. She said she was uncomfortable with the request made by Innes as he was “politically exposed” and she enquired if she Innes had cleared such a transaction with the company’s chairman John Wight, to which Innes responded, “It’s fine”. She said she was given a piece of paper by Tasker which she subsequently prepared into an invoice for $16 536.73 to be paid to Inniss. One year later in 2016, Millar said she wrote a similar invoice also to be paid to Inniss for $20 000. Both payments were made in US currency and paid by BF&M, the majority stakeholder in ICBL. Millar said she was instructed to send the money to Inniss’ company, Crystal Dental Lab in the US. “I knew what I was doing was wrong because invoices usually come from external sources not internally…it wasn’t authentic. I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do but I felt I had no choice so I did what the CEO wanted,” the St Vincent-born Millar said. She insisted that she never believed she was committing a crime. Millar said if she had felt that way she would never have done it. Under cross-examination by defense attorney Anthony Ricco, Millar said she had a tumultuous relationship with Innes from the time she took up her post. She described Innes as a “heavy-handed” boss who verbally abused her. Ricco also suggested to Millar that during an interview with the FBI she told them that Tasker had informed her that the monies to be paid to Inniss were “political payments, commissions and contributions”. She however said she could not recall making such a statement. Millar also said she was not aware of any relationship between Inniss and Innes. When questioned, Millar admitted to not revealing her full involvement in the transaction to the chairman, even though she knew he was looking for answers. Also taking the stand today was Wight, who denied any knowledge surrounding the monies allegedly paid to Inniss. In fact, he said after he became aware of the transactions on October 4, 2016, he sought a response from both Innes and Tasker, to no avail. He said his queries came as a result of the finance department unearthing two payments in 2015 and 2016. Wight said when he confronted Innes, she told him she was unaware of those transactions. The CEO of BF&M said that company had no relationship with Donville Inniss or Crystal Dental Labs. The case is being heard by Judge Kiyo Matsumoto. (BT)

EMAILS POINT TO PAYMENTS – As a result of an investigation into the Insurance Corporation of Barbados Limited (ICBL), emails and WhatsApp messages between Donville Inniss and Alex Tasker were seized. This was revealed by FBI supervisory special agent Stephanie Krug, who said the information was gathered by the US Department of Justice after it opened a “full investigation” into the insurance company. Krug said during the investigation subpoenas were served and two search warrants were executed in relation to Inniss’ email addresses. She made the revelations during the opening day of the former Barbados government minister’s trial which got underway at the Eastern District Federal Court in New York. Inniss is charged with two counts of money laundering and conspiracy to commit money laundering. She said in 2015 she was working as a special agent in New York with the International Corruption Squad. Under examination from lead prosecutor Sylvia Shweder, Krug spoke of several emails and text messages between Inniss and Tasker, ICBL’s former senior vice-president with responsibility for business development and marketing. The messages were exchanged between 2015 and 2016. Krug said while both Inniss and Tasker had personal and work-related email addresses, several of their conversations took place via their personal email addresses. The FBI agent said on August 9, 2015, Tasker sent a WhatsApp message to Inniss saying, “Do not forget to send off the letter in the a.m. We will be in meetings from 9-12”. She said the next day Inniss sent an email to himself in which he mentioned Crystal Dental Lab, an account number, a routing number and the Bank of America. Krug said another email was then sent from Inniss’ personal email address [email protected] – to Tasker titled ‘Crystal Invoice’. She said in an email sent from Inniss to Tasker’s personal email – [email protected] – on March 21, 2016, he made note of a $20,000 payment to be made to Crystal Dental Lab for consulting fees between June 2015 and June 2016. Krug also pointed to emails between Inniss and an official at a financial institution where negotiations for a loan took place. She said on March 5, 2015, Inniss sent an email requesting a loan for USD$75,000, which he would use to make a short-term investment as well as for tuition for his son. The FBI agent said an agreement was subsequently reached where Inniss would repay US$2,000 monthly, beginning July 1 that year, and would be paid through a Barbadian-owned company. She said a check showed that Inniss along with Gail Williams-Inniss were named as directors of Kyfee Corp, which had been incorporated on March 22, 2006. However, Krug revealed subsequent emails which showed that Inniss had not made the loan payments for several amounts, amounting in a US$12,000 outstanding balance. She will continue her evidence tomorrow. (BT)

MAGISTRATES COURT CONTROVERSY AGAIN – Magistrate Douglas Frederick found himself presiding over a brand new controversy in his District A court today, and again, it was the Police prosecution that got him there. The drama unfolded when Frederick was hearing the cases of seven men jointly charged with a series of firearms-related and violence disorder offences dating back to May 2018. Police prosecutors soon became the target of the magistrate’s disappointment and the defence attorneys’ ire, when prosecutor Sergeant Vernon Waithe informed the court that the case could not proceed because the prosecution did not have the full disclosure documents to present to the accused as promised at the previous sitting. The defence then reminded Frederick of his previous ruling that today would be the final adjournment if the prosecution was not ready with the documents. This reminder forced the magistrate to take the police to task for failing to honour their commitment and for putting him in an embarrassing position. He told the police prosecutor: “I would not lightly write final adjournment unless I am sure you would get the file. “You are putting me in an embarrassing position. You all aint got a shred of paper. “Even if you have half a loaf, But you have not brought a shred of paper.” He went on to advise the prosecutors not to take all the blame, suggesting they should spread it to those who are really responsible for not having the disclosure file ready for today. He emphasized that he only wrote “final adjournment” based on the assurance in court from the prosecution that the promised documents would be available. But the defence lawyers, including Queen’s Counsel Michael Lashley, and a vocal group of accused men called on Frederick to keep his word and dismiss the case for lack of prosecution. The magistrate then gave them the commitment that if the documents were not presented by 4.30 p.m., he would throw out the case. But the accused and the lawyer became even more outspoken as they sought to pressure the magistrate into honouring his previous commitment that there would be no more adjournments if the police were not ready with the disclosure file to start the hearing. The prosecution had earlier informed the magistrate that the officer on the case had not completed his investigation. So, the magistrate sent for him with a message that he should bring along whatever documents were ready. But the officer came empty-handed, telling the court he was not informed about these documents. Saying that he was trying his best not to have to dismiss this “very serious case”, Magistrate Frederick instructed the investigator to go and bring “something”. Earlier, when the officer was asked about the commitment the prosecutors had given to have the documents completed for today, he told the court this was the first time he was hearing about it. On his return to the court with documents, more confusion broke out, with the lawyers and the accused complaining that the statements given to them by the investigator did not connect them to the charges and that the matter should be dismissed. Even at this stage, the magistrate was still pressing for a way out of having to throw out the matter, reminding the parties that he had until 4.30 p.m to make a decision and that there may be extenuating circumstances to justify more time. Eventually, after verbal exchanges between the defence legal team, the magistrate and the accused men, the police investigator was given until February 10 to have all disclosure files ready, failing which the case would be dismissed. The investigator noted he had 20 more statements to get and would be ready for the next court date. Frederick, who had come under fire last week over his sentencing practices, had sought to clear the air surrounding his decision to bond a man who allegedly attacked his ex-girlfriend with a cutlass. Frederick was lambasted on social media and by two women’s advocacy groups, after it was reported last Friday that he had placed Quincy Orlando John on a bond to keep the peace for six months after he admitted to assaulting his former girlfriend Natasha Lewis. At the centre of the public outcry was Frederick’s decision to save John from incarceration while he remanded Timothy Rugrat St Pierre to prison for a week for jumping on the counter at a Chefette restaurant. The National Organisation of Women (NOW) and Soroptomist International of Barbados publicly queried the magistrate’s ruling, suggesting that it appeared to rank business ahead of a woman’s safety. But in a packed District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court and in the presence of NOW president Marsha Hinds, Magistrate Frederick revealed that he had not been privy to the full details of John’s case. He said Police prosecutor Sergeant Vernon Waithe, in revealing the facts, had chosen not to divulge that John had driven his car at the complainant or that he had attacked her with a cutlass. (BT)

SORRY FOR HAVING DRUGS – Though he’s listed by the court as unemployed, a resident of Lot 37, Jessamine Avenue, St Michael, told the court today that he now has a job that he would like to keep. When 31-year-old Jerome Mario Maurice Gilles went before District ‘A’ Magistrate Douglas Frederick on a drug possession charge, he was placed on a six-month bond today to keep the peace and warned that if he breached the bond, he would have to pay the court $1,500 forthwith. The magistrate further gave him notice that he could also be imprisoned for three months as well. Giles pleaded guilty to the drugs charge which resulted from a police traffic check yesterday along Culloden Road, St Michael. He was found with six grams of cannabis with an estimated street value of $30. Giles described his situation as “very unfortunate” coming at a time when he had just secured the kind of job he had been searching for for seven years. He informed the court he is now a Bob Cat operator and would not want to lose it. “I apologize for having it [drug] in my possession,” he told the magistrate, while admitting his only previous drug offence was 11 years ago. (BT)

ROCK THROWER REMANDED – A young St Lucian gay rights activist who is in Barbados looking into the state of the LGBTQ community here, today got more than he bargained for. Nineteen-year-old Ashnelle Shakim Johnny, who arrived in Barbados in November last year, ended up in prison on remand after pleading guilty to damaging a man’s motor car with a “big” rock. Johnny, who appeared this morning before District ‘A’ Court Magistrate Douglas Frederick admitted that he was under the influence of alcohol when he damaged the vehicle while it was parked at Dover Playing Field in Christ Church yesterday. Magistrate Frederick then ordered the teen, who was residing at Gall Hill, Christ Church, to compensate the owner – who was in court – for the $1,800 in damage to the car. Johnny informed the court he did not have any money, but he was allowed to “call his people” so they could come up with the cash. After a lengthy wait, friend, photographer Remy Rock turned up, but he did not have the money either. Rock explained to the court that when he was contacted, Johnny did not tell him anything about bringing money. After assuring the court he would have all or most of the funds for his friend by this Wednesday, Magistrate Frederick decided to remand the gay rights activist until then. Earlier during today’s hearing, the complainant testified that he had never seen the accused in his life. “I want to apologize. I am sorry for wrecking your car. I was under the influence. I am willing to compensate him,” Johnny told the court when asked if he had anything to say. He informed the court that while here on vacation, he was collecting information on the LGBTQ community and was scheduled to leave the island in April. (BT)

ADVOCATES OUTRAGED BY RECKLESS DRIVING – A video showing the terrifying moment a man was almost run over while standing on a sidewalk, has outraged road safety advocates. And while the matter is being investigated, police officers are appealing for information on the clip that surfaced over the weekend with two minibuses speeding along what appears to be a section of Black Rock Main Road, St Michael. When one minibus stops, the other forces through using the sidewalk to improperly overtake. In that hair-raising moment, a man on the pavement and in direct path of the minibus bearing down on him looks around just in time to scamper out of the way.(DN)

NUDE WOMAN AT ACCRA COMMITTED TO PSYCHIATRIC CARE – A nude female beachgoer who created a commotion at Accra Beach, Christ Church today before being led away by Police, is now a patient of the Psychiatric Hospital, lawmen said. Police said a 39-year-old Barbadian woman with a mental history had been admitted to the hospital but did not name her. Police spokesman Acting Inspector Rodney Inniss said constables responded to the scene after receiving a call from a National Conservation Commission beach ranger. Inniss said: “Police responded, spoke to the young lady, understood what was happening. “She came willingly to the Police Station, then she was taken from the station to the Psychiatric Hospital where was admitted.” Sometime after midday, the woman stripped off all clothes, prompting numerous but futile attempts from both rangers and members of the public to urge the woman to put her clothes back on. Rangers then called in officers from Worthing Police Station. In a video being circulated on social media, the woman could be seen walking around in the nude and using abusive language. In return, the woman received a mix of loud abuse, bewilderment and sympathy at the popular tourist spot at the peak of the winter tourist season. “You need to leave Barbados, Barbados is not for you… ” a male voice in the video said to the woman. “That’s all I am asking for, a one-way ticket,” the woman responded. An eyewitness told Barbados TODAY that the situation, which dragged on for about an hour, caught many beachgoers unawares. The eyewitness, who declined to be named, said: “People were surprised and running from she and all sort of things. “The rangers keep telling she put on the clothes and she wouldn’t hear the rangers. “She was even cursing the ranger and the ranger is who call the police. “The police had to carry she long without clothes because she won’t put on the clothes. “And she is a very beautiful lady, you know.” (BT)

ARCHER ABUSER GETS TWO YEAR BAN – A man who racially abused England fast bowler Jofra Archer during the first Test against New Zealand in November has been banned from attending international and domestic matches in the country for two years. Archer said he heard comments during the final day of the innings-and-65-run defeat at Mount Maunganui’s Bay Oval. After a police investigation a 28-year-old from Auckland admitted the abuse. He has been issued with a verbal warning for using insulting language. New Zealand Cricket (NZC) say they have contacted the man and written to him, advising of his ban until 2022. If he breaches the ban he could be “subjected to further police action”. “We’d again like to extend our apologies to Jofra and the England team management for such an unsavoury incident and reiterate once more that this type of behaviour is completely unacceptable,” said NZC spokesman Anthony Crummy. Crummy said NZC would not be identifying the individual. He added: “We want to thank the New Zealand police for their efforts in identifying the person responsible, and for making it clear that this type of behaviour will not be minimised.” Archer described the incident as “disturbing”, while New Zealand captain Kane Williamson said the abuse was “horrific” and that he hoped “nothing like that ever happens again”. (BT)

BRAVO OVER THE MOON AT RECALL – He might be the oldest member in West Indies’ T20 squad for the Ireland series, but Dwayne Bravo feels like a “kid” after getting the national call-up that will mark his return to international cricket after a nearly four-year long hiatus. According to Bravo, the three Ireland T20Is, which begin on January 15, were on his mind when he came out of retirement in December. So when he got a call from Roger Harper, the former West Indies allrounder and current chairman of selectors, last week, Bravo could not hide his excitement. “It’s a great feeling,” Bravo told the Trinidad-based radio station I955 FM yesterday. “I feel like a kid again when I first get a call from Mr Harper that welcomed [me] back to the team [to play international cricket and they were looking forward to have me back. It is something that was always on my mind since the change of leadership and stuff. So just happy I get the opportunity to represent the region again and I am looking forward to doing my best.” Bravo had a difficult 2019 after picking up a finger injury that kept him out of the Caribbean Premier League but he bounced back from that to lead the Maratha Arabians to win the Abu Dhabi T10 title last November. Asked if he might be a bit rusty, Bravo disagreed, pointing out fitness was his primary focus during his rehab. “Yeah, (playing) a lot of cricket is important, but for me because of the experience I’ve gained over the years, I am more concerned about my fitness. Obviously, I had this broken finger, (which) kept getting stronger. I started practising, played a couple of games for Queen’s Park (his local club in Trinidad), but over the years, despite not playing much cricket, I am still able to go there and compete and contribute in a very good way. “For example in the last T10 league, I hadn’t played any cricket in about four months prior to that and still was able to go there and deliver and also win the title. It is just happy time for me. Since I announced my return in December, my mind and my motivation was on this series and now that I’m selected I am very happy.” Bravo added that he was a “smarter” bowler now, even if the pace has dipped. “I’m a better bowler, I’m a better all-round cricketer. Obviously I’m older, so I will not be as quick as I used to be before, but I am also smarter and have a bigger knowledge on the game.” With the T20 World Cup scheduled in Australia in October, Bravo’s return is clearly an indication that Harper’s panel wants to not just blend experience and youth, but also plug holes. Harper had said that Bravo had been brought back with the “specific” intention of being West Indies’ death-overs specialist. Bravo is happy to take up the responsibility. “Death bowling is an art,” he said. “Not many people around the world have really nailed death bowling to the T. If you ask anyone in world cricket to name five death bowlers in the last decade, definitely my name will come along with Lasith Malinga, Jasprit Bumrah, Mitchell Starc. “It is not an easy time of the game, that’s why it is called death. A special skill is required to bowl in those situations. Most times, if you have the ball in the death overs, and you don’t win the game, everyone turn to you, and say, ‘okay, it is because of the last over’. But you don’t win or lose a game in the last over. So many times, I win a game in the last over and no one says anything. I have defended 6 runs in 6 balls. I have defended 11 runs in 6 balls. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. My stats over the years are there for everyone to see. Like I said, if you were to name three or five death-over specialists my name will be there.” According to Bravo West Indies’ bowlers have struggled to close out games, especially during the World Cup and even in the recent series against India in December. Now that he is back, he wants to mentor the other bowlers and teach them the tricks that could be deployed at the death. “Recently that is where West Indies did falter,” he said. “If you look at the 50-overs World Cup, if you look at the series in India, both in T20s and in ODIs, we lack a really, really proper death-overs specialist. “Again this is my motivation also to try and work with current bowlers. There’s [Sheldon] Cottrell, there’s Keemo Paul, there’s Alzarri Joseph, there’s Oshane Thomas, there’s Kesrick Williams. Collectively all of us have to get better, myself included. But with the experience that I have, I can get them to understand the importance of certain deliveries and when to bowl certain deliveries and work on a better finishing game plan.” Bravo said that he and Harper had not spoken about the T20 World Cup, where West Indies will defend their crown. The side still has 18 matches to go before that tournament and Bravo doesn’t want to look too far ahead, though he did reiterate his “full commitment” to the West Indies. Bravo was named among a party for the T20s that include Kieron Pollard (capt), Sheldon Cottrell, Shimron Hetmyer, Brandon King, Evin Lewis, Khary Pierre, Nicholas Pooran, Rovman Powell, Sherfane Rutherford, Lendl Simmons, Hayden Walsh Jr., Kesrick Williams and Romario Shepherd.(BT)

FOCUS ON SHIMRON HETMYER – Windies skipper Kieron Pollard seemed to have to make good on his promise to take “tough decisions” after being dissatisfied with the team’s performance in the second ODI against Ireland. Top-order batsman Shimron Hetmyer was dropped from the team’s line-up for the third One Day International (ODI) against Ireland, on the back of what has been general frustration with the looseness of his strokeplay in the first two matches of the series. On Sunday, however, the skipper seemed to make it clear the move was just a temporary one with Hetmyer expected to return to the team’s line-up later this week. In the two ODI games played, Hetmyer made 14 runs and was caught on both occasions after questionable shots. “These things happen, it just goes to show the dynamics of the team we have, Sunil coming in and getting that opportunity as well. We want guys to be very, very hungry because there are other guys knocking on the door so we can’t relax and take anything for granted,” he added. “At the end of the day, all is well that ends well. He is a jovial guy. He helped out throughout the day and we look forward to him making runs in the T20 series.” Despite the frustration of some fans with Hetmyer’s mode of dismissal in the ODIs he played against Ireland, the Guyanese left-hander has been one of the relative successes in the West Indies middle order with 1430 runs in 45 matches at an average just below 37. He has scored five ODI centuries and four fifties. Hetmyer scored 139 against India at Chennai as recent as December 15. (BT)

CULTURE MINISTER TO ARTISTES: GET ON BOARD CRIME FIGHT – Artistes were Sunday urged by the Minister responsible for the arts to join a campaign against crime and violence. As he ended his speech at the National Independence Festival of Creative Arts(NIFCA) Awards Ceremony at the Sir Garfield Sobers Complex, calypsonian-turned-culture Minister John King made an plea as he invoked the memory of a slain NIFCA award-winning artist in an emotional plea. King said: “I want you to stop for a minute and think about the words that you just heard from The Don. “For those of you who might not remember we lost a NIFCA awardee Cecil Webb last year. “I want to take this opportunity to challenge the artistic community. Sometimes we try to play it safe. “In 1996 I wrote a song called How Many More and it seems like nothing has really changed since then but I want to challenge all of you… those in winners’ row, those who have never entered NIFCA before but to the entire artistic community it is time for you to join in this fight against violence be it your films, be it your paintings your music, your dance. “I challenge you let your voice be heard and let’s make Barbados a place of peace.” The audience which included dignitaries, specially-invited guests and awardees appeared to endorse the Minister’s urging with a huge round of applause. With just 14 days into the New Year, the island has already recorded one murder so far. Just before King’s speech, Irijah The Don performance of a song called Public Enemy Number One ended with the sound of a single gunshot. He depicted the life of a gang male leader and thug. With a gun in hand, The Don claimed it was “hot in the streets” and that “hard life”. Pulling a gun from his waistline, the trouble-maker was adamant that the only way he can gain respect, feed his family and survive is by living a life of crime. He repeatedly referred to his partner Charlie which turned out to be his weapon of choice. A sobering message of hardship, the song was both comedy and reality check on the violence that has gripped the nation. The talented Irijah Alkins walked away with a NIFCA gold award and the NIFCA Award for Originality for her performance. (BT)

NIFCA IS ON AMAZON – For the first time in its history, the National Cultural Foundation (NCF) has made the National Independence Festival of Creative Arts (NIFCA) Winning Words Anthology available on the world’s largest e-commerce website, Amazon, NCF Chief Executive Officer Carol Roberts-Reifer has announced. In an announcement that was greeted by resounding applause, she told the NIFCA Awards Ceremony held at the Sir Garfield Sobers Complex on Sunday evening: “One of the major achievements of NIFCA 2019 occurred in the discipline of Literary Arts as the NIFCA Winning Words Anthology was made available for sale on Amazon.com. Roberts-Reifer said the impact of the move was immeasurable and that it was just the beginning of more items being posted on the site. She said: “It may sound like a simple feat but imagine the exposure and the potential to be realised by the featured authors. It’s immense. “And you can be sure that they are many more authentic Barbadian items of all kinds that will soon be Amazon.com-bound.” While praising the successful staging of an NCF festival, the CEO said the goal of NIFCA was two-fold: “To create greater awareness and public interest in the creative exploits of Barbadians and to increase opportunities for participants to benefit from training as well as turn their ideas into enterprise and generate income.” There were major changes to NIFCA 2019. There was the live streaming of the performing Arts to a local and global audience; the decentralisation of the Visual and Photography exhibition; tributes to three icons of NIFCA; the inclusion of international judges and scouts; the introduction of the new Richild Springer Award of Excellence. Shakira White was the recipient of that inaugural award valued at $10,000. The crème de la crème of the arts world were feted, as awardees received gold, silver, bronze, special awards and sponsor awards. Shai Best copped the Prime Minister’s Scholarship Award valued at $35,000. He won the award for his dance piece entitled: Before the Bough Breaks, performed by Dancin’ Africa. Cheyenne Hall won the only NIFCA Gold in the photography category. Entered as a junior, she was awarded the NIFCA Reproduction Award and the Barbados Photographic Society Junior Lens Award, among others. NCF chairman Glyne Harrison congratulated all of the awardees in his welcoming remarks. “You are here because you took the time and you are committed and you have reached the level that you did that allows you to be one of the elite in Barbados creative space today,” he said. (BT)

CHILDREN OF ISRAEL OUT TO ‘WAKE UP’ BAJANS – Just across the water in Independence Square where slaves were auctioned about 400 years ago, a group was spreading the word yesterday to the ‘Children of Israel’ in Barbados to change their lives. Members of the Israel United In Christ organization were on the island, part of their mandate to go “throughout the world to wake up the people of the diaspora”. “Our people have been scattered through slavery by the Atlantic Slave Trade, so we find where those ports are and we go back to those ports where we were made slaves and wake up our people to their true nationality,” said Captain Amaziah ben Israel. “They aren’t Bajans, we are not Jamaicans, we are not American. We are the children of Israel; that is what God called us. So we teach them repentance by the way of the Bible, God’s Word.” (DN)

There are 353 days left in the year Shalom! Follow us on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram for your daily news. #thechasefiles #dailynewscaps #bajannewscaps #newsinanutshell

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socialjusticeartshare · 5 years

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Asylum-Seekers Keep Getting Sent Back To Mexico Without Their Children Based On Unreliable Information

“I told them, ‘I’m not a thief; my hands are clean. Anything I was accused of is a lie,’” one immigrant told BuzzFeed News. “It didn’t matter in the end.”

REYNOSA, Mexico — As Border Patrol agents started separating Miguel from his then-12-year-old son, the indigenous Guatemalan man begged that they instead be kept together.

“That’s not an option,” Miguel said an agent told him. “Your son can’t go where we’re taking you. We’re taking him to a safe place.”

Miguel could only watch as agents marched his son, Francisco, out of sight. Neither of them cried, though tears form around Miguel’s eyes every time he recounts the moment in late August.

“Take care of yourself, son, because I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” Miguel told him before he was taken away.

It's the last time they spoke.

Miguel, who agreed to speak to BuzzFeed News on the condition that only his first name be used, and his son are now caught in the middle of the government’s continued separation of families at the border and a Trump administration policy, known as Migrant Protection Protocols (MPP), that has sent thousands of immigrants to wait in Mexico while their US cases are completed.

BuzzFeed News spoke to Miguel to highlight how the ongoing practice of separating families, sometimes based on incomplete or misleading information, leaves an unknown number of desperate parents and guardians at a loss to know how to get their children back while holed up in dangerous locations in Mexico.

The family separations increase the hurdles immigrants and asylum-seekers already face when they’re sent back to Mexico, as parents, most likely without the help of an attorney, try to prepare their cases while also figuring out how to reunite with their children from the other side of the border.

“Both MPP and family separations are inflicting enormous damage on families and in particular children, but when the government combines the two, it’s particularly brutal,” said Lee Gelernt, deputy director of the ACLU's national Immigrants' Rights Project.

The Trump administration has sent back more than 60,000 immigrants and asylum-seekers to Mexico under its Migrant Protection Protocols, unofficially known as “Remain in Mexico,” to some of the country’s most dangerous cities along the border. Meanwhile, immigration authorities have separated at least 1,134 families at the border for reasons they say are justified.

It’s unknown how many parents sent back through the MPP policy have also been separated from their children or if immigration authorities are tracking those cases. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) declined to comment. But it’s clear that Miguel isn’t the only one.

A complaint filed by the Women’s Refugee Commission in August with two DHS watchdog agencies detailed 20 cases where families were separated by CBP at the border and at least some members were sent back to Mexico under MPP. The children, considered unaccompanied minors, are sent to the custody of the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR). The complaint asked DHS’s Office for Civil Rights and Civil Liberties and Office of Inspector General to investigate the cases, as well as whether there was any pattern or practice of separating families under MPP as a way to deter immigrants from coming to the border.

In one of the 20 cases, another indigenous Guatemalan father who speaks little Spanish was forcibly separated from his son because Border Patrol agents believed the birth certificate was fake, but the man received no information on how to contact his son or where he was. In another instance, a 24-year-old woman from El Salvador was separated from her younger siblings whom she had been raising after their mother was murdered three years previously. Despite her custody of the 14- and 11-year-olds being recognized by the Salvadoran government, the children were sent to ORR and she to Tijuana without being able to say goodbye, the complaint stated.

In Miguel’s case, Border Patrol agents told him they were separating them because his record was “stained.” In 2012, Miguel said he was accused of and jailed for about four days for aggravated robbery in Guatemala, but a judge found the accusation was baseless and he was immediately released.

A court document reviewed by BuzzFeed News corroborates Miguel’s statements and says his case was closed due to lack of merit. According to Guatemalan national police records, Miguel has no other criminal history.

“I told them, ‘I’m not a thief; my hands are clean. Anything I was accused of is a lie,’” Miguel told BuzzFeed News. “It didn’t matter in the end.”

The information DHS uses to justify family separations due to criminal history can be incorrect, unreliable, and wrong, said Ursela Ojeda, a migrant rights and justice policy adviser at the Women's Refugee Commission, yet immigration agents continued to rely on it.

“It’s cruel,” Ojeda told BuzzFeed News. “It could also have nothing to do with the ability of a parent to parent their child, and yet you have a child in ORR custody and a parent thousands of miles away.”

It’s been over a year since President Donald Trump signed an executive order to stop family separations at the border and a federal judge ordered the administration to reunite immigrant parents and their children. Still, the US continues to separate parents in cases where authorities believe they are a danger to the kids, have a criminal history or outstanding warrant, gang affiliation, have presented a fake claim of being the child’s guardian, or have a communicable disease.

As a result of a federal case brought forward by the ACLU challenging the government’s separation of families at the border, DHS was ordered by US District Judge Dana Sabraw to provide lawyers with a list of the separations that have continued and the reasons why.

According to the latest numbers provided by DHS, as of Nov. 16, in about 800 of the 1,134 families separated after Sabraw’s order, criminal history is cited as one of the reasons.

But Gelernt, of the ACLU and lead attorney on the class-action family separations case, said it was illegal for border agents to separate parents from their children for crimes they didn’t commit.

“We are seeing numerous cases where there’s no actual conviction, but nonetheless, they’re separated,” Gelernt said. “It appears as though the government believes if there’s an allegation in another country, they don’t need an actual conviction, but we absolutely believe it’s unlawful.”

A former DHS adviser under the Obama administration who reviewed the reports submitted in federal court said most explanations for separating parents from children due to criminal history were incomplete, lacked specificity, and often concerned charges but no convictions. Still, they have resulted in hundreds of families being separated.

In an affidavit, Lloyd Easterling, Border Patrol division chief for the Rio Grande Valley sector, said the data they get from foreign governments often include limited information on the disposition of criminal charges or details on the crime.

In court filings, attorneys for the government have maintained that border agents make sound separation decisions, despite having to make these decisions in a short amount of time based on the limited information. Border agents also consider the severity of a parent’s criminal history, lawyers said.

“The government has made reasonable separation decisions that account for the immigration-enforcement context in which this case arises as well as for the family integrity interests identified by this court,” government attorneys said in a September court filing.

Lisa Koop, associate director of legal services at the National Immigrant Justice Center (NIJC), said her organization has been working with mothers in Laredo, Texas, who were separated from their children using unreliable and murky records to accuse them of crimes they didn't commit. Unlike Miguel and the other cases detailed by the Women’s Refugee Commission, these women were being detained in the US and not in the “Remain in Mexico” program, but their experiences show how minor interactions with authorities in their home countries can lead to family separations.

In some instances, women were arrested or detained for being at a location, like a restaurant, where police arrested gang members and suspected the mothers were also involved. They were released hours later but now have a criminal history on their records even though it’s not a conviction, Koop said.

Some immigrants aren't told what the allegations leading to separations are, how to fight them, or where the accusations are coming from, a scenario Koop can only describe as "Kafkaesque."

Lawyers have been able to clear a mother's name with the government in some cases and reunite them with their children, but it's rare. The odds that someone in Miguel’s position will be able to fight a separation from Mexico without an attorney is close to zero, Koop said.

“Separating parents from children and then putting them in MPP is just this whole other layer of cruelty,” Koop said. “An additional layer of cruelty that makes access to protection and due process completely unavailable to families.”

Miguel spends most of his days behind the white concrete walls of a shelter in the Mexican city of Reynosa. Like many of the people at the shelter, he’s too scared to venture outside because cartels in the area have made a lucrative business out of kidnapping immigrants sent back by the US and demanding ransom from their families. His son is nearly five hours away in San Antonio, at a transitional and long-term foster care center for immigrant children in government custody.

Without an attorney, Miguel, who doesn’t know how to read or write, has to gather evidence for his case, fill out his asylum application, and get supporting documents translated into English by a certified translator.

In the words of one lawyer, the policy of sending immigrants back to Mexico has marooned them in dangerous border cities with little access to attorneys or information on the process.

The days drag on inside the shelter and most of Miguel’s thoughts are filled with how he’s going to get to his son and whether he made a mistake in coming to the border with him. He’s a skinny, quiet man whose native tongue is the indigenous K'iche', though he’s able to speak some Spanish. He stares at the US asylum application with wide and uncertain eyes.

He grew up in the western highlands of Guatemala, a region where people rely heavily on the food they can grow on their lands. It’s also an area heavily affected by climate change, leading to some of the highest malnutrition rates in the Western Hemisphere. If there wasn’t enough to harvest, you didn’t eat, said Miguel, who sustained his wife and five children by growing corn.

Miguel’s problems back in the western highlands of Guatemala started in 2011 when a gang started asking him to pay a monthly extortion fee of nearly $375 at the time — an unimaginable amount for Miguel, who was never able to afford to pay them anything.

Eventually, Miguel was kidnapped and held in a house. Neighbors who saw the gang take him into the house called his family members who showed up and successfully negotiated his release hours later. His freedom came with a warning: If he couldn’t pay, his son could work for the gang, or they would disappear Miguel like thousands of others in Central America.

“I didn’t want my son working with them. I didn’t raise him to be a bad person,” Miguel said.

For a few months the gang left him alone, but then in 2012, a group with Guatemala’s National Civil Police entered his home and accused him of stealing a machine. Miguel doesn’t know what type of machine but believes it was an amp. One of the men in the gang who had been extorting him was also at his house and wearing the police force’s black uniform. Miguel doesn’t know if he was actually a part of the National Civil Police.

After the officers ransacked his house, Miguel was taken to jail and accused of aggravated robbery — an accusation a judge later dismissed for lack of evidence, but a charge Miguel believes led to him being separated from his son.

After his release, Miguel and his family moved two hours away to Totonicapán, a city in western central Guatemala. For years, he made a living sowing traditional dresses indigenous women wore and selling cotton candy, but always hiding and fearful he’d be found. In 2018, Miguel said he was walking through a park in Totonicapán when he ran into one of the men who used to extort him.

“So this is where you’ve been?” the man told Miguel, who kept walking as if he didn’t notice. “We’ll be looking for you.”

Miguel spent the rest of the year and most of 2019 hiding in the city until a friend told him the gang was still looking for him. He didn’t want to push his luck.

“They’ve been bothering me for more than seven years, even though I tried to hide from them,” Miguel said.

Ultimately, Miguel decided it would be better to go to the US with his son.

In September, despite his limited writing and reading abilities, Miguel sent a letter to the director of Guatemala's National Civil Police asking that his record be expunged because it's coming up as a conviction. He hasn’t heard back.

When he went to his first hearing in mid-November inside newly installed tent courts the administration built in Brownsville, Texas, to hear MPP cases, Miguel’s hopes of seeing his son were dashed. He walked out, defeated, into the city of Matamoros on the other side of the border. But as he passed the street food vendors, two plainly clothed men motioned for him to walk over. Miguel noticed they had guns at their sides and ran. A taxi driver who watched the scene unfold took mercy and told Miguel to get into his car before driving him to the shelter in Reynosa for free.

As the oldest boy, his son Francisco had been his almost daily companion, Miguel said. An employee at the holding facility his son is currently in recently sent a picture of the now-13-year-old boy. He’s standing in a classroom, hands at his sides, wearing a new blue flannel shirt, black jeans, and the beginning of a smile. The last time Miguel saw his son, Francisco was wearing a well-worn yellow sweater and gray pants — they’ve never had much money to spend on clothes.

“He looks a little different,” Miguel said as he studied the image. “I’m a little happier now because I can see he’s OK, but the sadness never stops.”

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#separated families #separated children #us border #immigrants

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