#lawyers for domestic violence denver

[mbslaw]

Understanding the Bail System: How a Defense Attorney Can Help Secure Release

Navigating the legal system can be overwhelming, especially when faced with criminal charges. One critical aspect is understanding the bail system and how a defense attorney can assist in securing your release. In Denver, if you're dealing with charges such as DUI, domestic violence, or drug-related offenses, the expertise of a skilled defense attorney can make a significant difference.

What is Bail?

Bail is a financial arrangement that allows a defendant to be released from jail while awaiting trial. It serves as a guarantee that the accused will return for their court hearings. The bail amount is set by a judge and can vary based on the severity of the crime and the defendant's criminal history.

How a DUI Defense Attorney in Denver Can Assist

If you're charged with a DUI, whether it's a routine offense or a felony DUI, having a dedicated DUI defense attorney in Denver is crucial. These attorneys, like those from a prominent DUI law firm in Denver, understand the intricacies of DUI laws and can work to ensure your rights are protected. They can negotiate bail terms and advocate on your behalf, which may result in a reduced bail amount or even bail being granted if initially denied.

The Role of a Domestic Violence Attorney

Domestic violence charges can be particularly challenging. A domestic violence attorney in Denver can help navigate the complex legal landscape associated with domestic assault and abuse. These attorneys are well-versed in the specific laws and procedures related to domestic violence and can argue for fair bail conditions. Their goal is to secure a release while also addressing any protective orders that might be in place.

Drug Crime and DWI Defense

For those facing drug-related charges or a DWI, securing the right legal representation is essential. A drug crime defense lawyer or a Denver DWI lawyer can assist in many ways. They can challenge the evidence against you, negotiate bail terms, and provide a solid defense strategy. Whether it's a case of drug possession or a serious drug crime, having a knowledgeable attorney can influence the outcome significantly.

Why Choose Mastro, Barnes & Stazzone, P.C.?

For anyone in need of expert legal representation in Denver, Mastro, Barnes & Stazzone, P.C. (MBS Law) stands out as a premier choice. As the best Denver criminal defense attorney, MBS Law offers unparalleled expertise in handling a wide range of criminal cases. Whether you need a DUI defense attorney, a domestic violence lawyer, or a drug crime attorney, MBS Law provides comprehensive legal services across Colorado. Their experienced team is dedicated to securing the best possible outcome for their clients.

In summary, understanding the bail system and securing a release from jail involves complex legal considerations. With the help of a skilled defense attorney, such as those at Mastro, Barnes & Stazzone, P.C., you can navigate these challenges effectively and ensure that your rights are upheld throughout the legal process.

[safarigirlsp]

The Case of the Colorado Cannibal

The Case of the Colorado Cannibal

Flip Zimmerman x Lawyer Reader

Word Count: 18.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Horror. Action. Violence. Gore. Graphic Violence. Lots of everything aforementioned. Very Horror and Action Oriented. 

AO3 Link

To kickstart Halloween, please enjoy this horror story for Monster Monday inspired by The Descent! 🍂🍁🍂

Edits by the wonderful @kyloremus

Detective Flip Zimmerman leaned against the back wall of the courtroom. Although he was in a perfectly fine mood, a fine mood for a Monday morning anyway, he donned his best scowl as he looked out over the defendants seated in the courtroom. Some of the bastards would be getting out today or have their charges dismissed, so Flip liked to make their courtroom experience as terrifying as possible in the chance it might deter future criminal enterprises. It usually didn’t, but Flip enjoyed himself nonetheless when some nervous defendant glanced back over his shoulder, saw Flip, and immediately faced about front and sat up straighter.

From a distance, Flip cut a dark and imposing figure in his standard court attire of slim black pants and fitted charcoal shirt. He added the badge he usually pocketed to his belt for the occasion. A closer look would reveal that his pants were actually jeans in denim so dark they were nearly but not quite black, and his charcoal shirt was a flannel with military style breast pockets and epaulets at the shoulders. He and the Chief disagreed that dry cleaning bills should be an on-the-job expense when Flip had to attend court, so as his own form of protest, he refused to wear suit clothes unless he was testifying in a jury trial.

The judge took the bench and opened court with a sentencing hearing and Flip watched as several women walked down the aisle, herding some sniffling kids along with them, to take a seat closer to the podium before they were called to speak. It was a widow and her remaining children and, presumably, some of the woman’s friends along for moral support, who would speak as to why the defendant should be given the maximum sentence. The defendant was a drunk who had plowed his truck into her husband’s car when the unlucky husband was driving their older sons home from football practice a few months ago. It was Ron’s case and Flip had heard all about it. There was about to be a lot of crying. Flip didn’t care to watch women and kids cry, so he slipped back out through the double doors of the courtroom.

Other than days with jury trial settings, Mondays were the busiest court days of the week. They were the docket days when the judges had a veritable cattle call of cases ranging from pretrial conferences and status updates to pleas to conditions of release hearings to sentencings. On an average Monday, around one hundred defendants would come and go for their day in court along with the witnesses and victims associated with their case.

Of course, all the lawyers and law enforcement involved in all those cases were present, too. For them, those faction of people who came to court as a matter of routine for work, it was just another Monday. It was normal protocol for cops and lawyers. Hurry up and wait. Punctual arrival to court was mandated even when one wouldn’t be getting down to their own business for hours. It rendered the hallways ripe for cops and lawyers to shoot the breeze together and gossip, their relationships mostly friendly until it was showtime in the courtroom.

Colorado Springs was a sleepy little town, criminally speaking, that is. Big crime and hard criminals were rare. Denver saw most of the heavy action. Most local cases were DWI’s, bar fights, domestic violence, thefts, and drugs. But today, there was a big fish in the small pond of petty criminals, and he was the word on every mouth in the courthouse. Flip even saw some reporters trying to weasel out information from rookie officers and junior public defenders. Reporters were even fuckin’ worse than lawyers. The reporters had labeled the man “The Colorado Cannibal” for the gruesome way he had begun eating his victim while the poor young man was still alive. Not that Flip needed to be informed of that detail by the papers, he was the lead detective on the case.

Hikers went missing in the mountains. It wasn’t uncommon. Nine times out of ten, they were just lost in the woods and turned up a few days later a little worse for wear. Sometimes they got themselves good and lost and their bodies were found in the spring. On rare occasions, there was a bear or a lion attack. This was the first case of Flip’s career where the missing hiker turned up the victim of murder.

The body had been found down an abandoned mine shaft by a couple high school kids who had driven out there under the guise of hiking to find a place to hook up without getting caught. The boy didn’t mind the smell of carrion that wafted out of the mine and into the cracked windows of his jeep, but it ruined the mood for the girl so much that the boy was forced to investigate. Flip doubted the high school kids would be using that particular spot again for romantic purposes, but he suspected that now the mine would gain even more popularity as a spot for the juvenile idiots to have bonfires and do all the other stupid shit kids do, especially with Halloween coming up. It made his temples throb just thinking about it.

Flip had caught the murderer himself, red handed. So red handed that he was coated up to his elbows in the victim’s blood. But even Flip had to admit that the loony old hermit who was pushing seventy-five and weighed the same as an average woman sure didn’t look like a match for the big fit lacrosse-playing college kid he had murdered. Flip had handled more murders than he cared to count, but he had never seen anything like the brutality of this murder before. The victim had been beaten so severely that his knees were both broken in backwards so they were buckled the wrong way like the hind legs of a deer. Marks on the body indicated the poor kid had tried to drag himself on his crippled legs over rocks and through mud as he tried to escape his murderer. Flip thought it looked like the kid had fallen down the mineshaft, or even off a cliff, and hit bottom, but the medical examiner said otherwise and it was his opinion that mattered. The murderer had begun eating on the kid while he was still alive, taking chunks out of him the way a wolf does to its prey while the prey stands crippled and dying. The body had been found completely naked and so mutilated and disfigured by bites, lacerations, and broken bones that he was only identifiable through dental records.

Speak of the Devil and She appears.

As though he had summoned her by thinking of the case, Flip heard the laughter of the cannibal’s defense lawyer from down the hallway. Flip frowned when he spotted her, less from the sight of her than from the way his treacherous body responded, his pulse jumping a beat faster and an unmistakable stirring further down south. She was a beautiful woman, the most striking he had ever seen in person. She was an easy nine on any man’s scale, but Flip reasoned that being a lawyer dropped her a solid five notches. That’s what he tried to tell himself when he felt his palms moisten when she spoke to him. He had never been so disarmed by a woman since he had been as much of a fumbling idiot as those high school punks who had found the body. Since he couldn’t bring himself as a self-respecting Detective to make a move on a defense lawyer, he took it upon himself to rile her and throw her off her game. He was pretty damn good at it.

She was standing near one of the witness rooms talking to one of the newest prosecutors, Sheldon something or other, a four-eyed blonde goober who looked like he had a Ralph Lauren Polo in every color of the rainbow for when he wanted to impress the ladies at the country club, but who hadn’t seen the inside of a gym since he graduated his last PE class in high school. Flip watched as the defense lawyer flashed her dazzling smile and touched Sheldon’s arm in a gesture that looked innocent and impulsive. Flip knew it was a calculated attack, a jab right through the prosecutor’s guard. Sheldon giggle-snorted and blushed.

What a fuckin’ idiot. Flip shook his head and went to the goober’s rescue. The lawyer’s unnervingly beautiful eyes locked onto Flip as soon as he began walking toward her, and he couldn’t tell if he was the predator or the prey.

“Well, I guess I can give your client a break,” Sheldon cooed, leaning toward the lawyer, thinking he had just won a great victory on his way to getting into her pants. “I’ll dismiss his charges, but just this once.”

“Oh, thank you, Sheldon,” you said in your most honeyed tone, batting your eyes at the nerdy little troll who wouldn’t have a chance with you if his last name was Gates. “That’s really so sweet of you. I owe you one.” You reached out and touched his arm again, this time you looked over his shoulder to the Detective who had stopped to glare at you with disapproval. “You don’t mind filling out the dismissal, do you, Sheldon? I really can’t thank you enough.”

“Sure, I uh,” Sheldon stammered when he noticed Flip behind him. Sheldon cleared his throat and tried to appear businesslike. “I’ll go file that dismissal right now. Maybe we can get some coffee after?”

“Detective Zimmerman won’t let me, I’m afraid.” You cocked your eyebrow at Flip and saw the way he stiffened and swallowed thickly at your statement. He shook his head more at himself than at you when you added, “He’s the Detective on my big cannibal case. I’m sure we’ll be stuck here all morning.”

Sheldon sneered at Flip as though Flip was the reason the poor idiot had been denied a coffee date with the woman of his dreams. He stomped petulantly away to file the agreed dismissal, leaving Flip standing face to face with you.

“Smooth, Counselor,” Flip addressed you. “Was that Valdez you just flirted off the hook? He’s one of my cases too. I have him dead to rights for selling meth to highschoolers.”

“Had.” You grinned up at Flip. “You had him dead to rights. That’s why I had to get creative.” You smirked at him before adding, “But you screwed up, Detective. Valdez didn’t understand your Miranda warning before he confessed. No habla ingles. Granted, I think the jury would believe your testimony over his, which is why I batted my eyelashes instead of filing a motion to suppress, but you were sloppy.”

“I’m gonna be arrestin’ that punk again before the end of the month,” Flip grumbled, crossing his arms over his impossibly broad chest.

“Please do,” you exulted with sarcastic pleasantness. “I’ll get hired again on his next case. Job security.”

Flip huffed, fighting back a nasty retort, and jerked his chin in the direction of the Senior Prosecutor down the hall. “You think your silky smooth touch will work on Fat Freddy? Your hand might get greasy if you’re rubbin’ up on him like a cat in heat.”

Fat Freddy was one of the three senior prosecutors in the DA Office who handled all the big cases, the rapes and murders. Fred Mathews was as many feet around as he was tall and balding to boot. He had a notoriously miserable marriage and he made up for his impotence in all other ways by winning cases. At that, he was formidable. He was the prosecutor assigned to the Colorado Cannibal case.

“I don’t think I could flirt with Fat Freddy even for a murder dismissal,” you laughed quietly. “Do you think he’d settle for a tub of KFC? When I tell clients that Fat Freddy eats defendants for breakfast, I wonder how close to the truth I really am.”

Flip would love to get you in some hot water by ratting on you for calling the prosecutor Fat Freddy, but Flip was hamstrung. He had coined the nickname himself. He didn’t answer you, but he followed your gaze over to the fat disheveled man who was now yelling at Sheldon as he snatched the court-stamped dismissal on Valdez from his hand and shook it back in his face. Someone was in trouble.

“Do you think Fat Freddy got laid this weekend?” you asked Flip in a conspiratorial tone. That was always the joke every Monday. If Fat Freddy got some action over the weekend, he was in a slightly less hostile mood the following week.

“Nope.” Now it was Flip’s turn to grin.

“It’s a sad state of affairs when you’re the most temperate man I can deal with on a case,” you teased Flip in a sultry tone, enjoying the way he shifted on his feet at the change in your demeanor.

“Your Mata Hari tactics won’t work on me, Counselor.” Flip composed himself at once. “I’m not cuttin’ you any breaks on your pet murderer.”

“Alleged murderer,” you corrected, using that lawyer word Flip hated so much. Alleged. You looked at him squarely, narrowing your eyes at him in a challenge. “Come on, Zimmerman. I’ve seen a lot of murders and murderers, and you’ve seen a lot more than I have. This guy isn’t the Colorado Cannibal, and you know it.”

“Now you’re a mind reader?” Flip enjoyed poking you even if you were even prettier when you were angry. “Do your clients have to pay extra for that?”

“My client says he didn’t do it.” You ignored Flip’s snarky questions and pressed on. “I’m not in the habit of believing my clients, any more than I’m in the habit of believing victims, witnesses, or cops. Everyone lies. But I believe this guy. He’s not a murderer.”

“Yeah?” Flip raised his eyebrows as though this was a great revelation. “Who’s he say killed the hiker?”

“Demons.” You shrugged with a self-deprecating smile, knowing how absurd your client’s story was. “But that’s beside the point. It’s not my job to say who killed him. That’s your job, Detective.” You patted Flip on the arm. “It’s only my job to prove that my client didn’t. My client may be crazy, but he’s not a murderer. Being a crazy hermit isn’t a crime the last time I checked.” You smiled slyly at Flip. “You should be sympathetic to that lifestyle, Detective. Given how well you get along with people, I can see you going that route in a couple decades.”

“Funny.” Flip chewed his lip to keep from grinning despite himself. “I only tracked him down and made the arrest. It’s not my job to say he’s guilty, as you would say. That’s the jury’s job. The medical examiner thinks he’s our guy, though.”

“The medical examiner,” you said with unveiled distaste, waving your hand dismissively. “A nerdy shut-in who’s probably younger than Sheldon and only leaves his mom’s basement to trundle off to the morgue every day. He’s never seen a crime scene. He’s never talked to a witness, or a real murderer, for that matter.” You fixed Flip with your most penetrating gaze. “You and I have both done those things plenty of times. You know as well as I do that you can’t get a feel for the real facts of a case from inside a sterile lab.”

“This wasn’t much of a crime scene,” Flip told you. “Not much to see at the bottom of a mine shaft that saw its last visitor a century ago.”

Flip’s remark gave you an idea. Shuffling thick file folders in your hand awkwardly, you placed the cannibal’s file on top of your stack, opened it, and thumbed through the pages of the police report that Flip had typed. Unlike most officers, he actually typed his reports fresh each time instead of copying and pasting almost every word from older reports, a technique that often gave lawyers ammunition to pick them apart. Tracing the typed lines, your finger came to rest under the location where the body was found. “Sawyer Mine. I’ve never heard of it?”

“Neither had I,” Flip replied, his eyes drawn down to where you pointed. “That was the man who recorded the claim in 1895. I tracked it down in case I needed to inform some yuppy millionaire that a body had been found out on his vacation property, but it’s National Forest now.”

“Thorough, Detective, but you should have included a map,” you teased with genuine appreciation. “What’s the closest access point?”

“The Vista Bonita trailhead is the closest you can find on any map.” Flip paused, recalling his trip out to the mine. “From there, you have to take an old mining road up and around the mountain. I almost got my truck stuck three times even in four-wheel drive.”

“That’s actually helpful, Flip.” You saw the effect using his name for the first time had on him and you couldn’t resist teasing him more, “I’ve come not to expect that from you.”

“Wait.” Flip shook his head as if coming out of a daze. “Hold on just a damn minute. You’re not thinkin’ about goin’ up there to that mine, are you?”

“I’m thinking exactly that.” You smiled triumphantly. “I need to see the crime scene for myself if I’m going to have a good defense. And I intend to win this case.”

“Of all the stupid ass things I’ve heard come out of a lawyer’s mouth, that has to be the blue-ribbon winner!” Flip scoffed at you openly. “That crime scene is three-hundred yards down a mine shaft! Besides that, you can’t go up there alone, especially not this time of year. It’s October, for Christ sakes! You could get caught in a thunderstorm or a blizzard out there and the next body I get to quiz the medical examiner about is gonna be yours!”

“Look, I enjoy the whole big tough alpha male chest-pounding thing as much as the next girl, but if you think I’m going to be bossed around by a big flannel barbarian, you have another thing coming.” You snapped your file closed and stuck out your chin defiantly.

“And what if you’re right, huh? Which I’m not conceding.” Flip took a step closer to you until you could feel the heat radiating off his massive body. “But if you are right, then there’s a violent killer out there, a real psycho.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll still be camped up on the mountainside waiting for another victim to walk into his grasp,” you laughed. After a moment, you caught yourself and raised an appraising eyebrow at Flip. “Why do you care what happens to me, anyway?” You smiled wickedly and prodded him cruelly, “I’m flattered to know you care, Flip.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, girlie,” Flip growled angrily, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching after you as you walked away from him and out of the courthouse, denying him further argument.

*******************************************************************************************

Saturday morning was perfectly pristine without a cloud in the sky, which was the unique shade aptly called Colorado Blue. An unseasonably cold October chill greeted you when you walked outside from the front door of your house to your SUV and tossed your light backpack onto your passenger seat. Living in Colorado, you naturally had all the gear necessary for a day in the mountains, even if you hadn’t indulged in a day spent outdoors in some time. You didn’t notice the truck that had been parked under a bushy pine tree on your road. You didn’t even notice when the same truck pulled out behind you and followed you down your road and on out of town at an innocuous distance.

By the time you stopped for gas at the last station on your way into the mountains, you were very well aware of the truck that was following you. You and the big truck were the only vehicles on the lonely winding stretch of highway this time of morning on a weekend. By that time, you also knew full well who the driver was.

“Are you stalking me?” you accused Flip hotly as soon as he pulled in behind you at the pumps and stepped out of his truck, clad in his favorite red and black flannel shirt and jeans.

“Stalkin?’” he asked, all too pleased with himself, as he inserted the gas nozzle into his tank. “It’s called a stakeout. You’re not the first unscrupulous character I’ve had to stakeout to catch in the act.”

“Catch in the act?” You stomped toward him, angered even more by the way his chest swelled and his smirk bloomed at your approach. “You’re about to catch me in the act of battering a bastard police officer!”

“I knew you’d go out to have a look at that damn mine this weekend. I know how criminals think.” He smirked even broader at the way you bristled. “If I can’t stop you from doin’ stupid things, at least I can babysit you and make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Is it too urbane for you to simply ask to join me?” you asked sarcastically, trying not to see the way the wind rustled his thick black hair. You hadn’t even noticed the wind had picked up.

“If I’d asked you, you would have given me a little laugh and a little remark to rile me up.” Flip ran his hand through his hair to smooth it back into place as if deliberately making things more difficult for you. “Then, just to bust my balls, you would have told me no. Am I right, Counselor?”

“And just what would you tell another man who decided to stake out a woman’s house and chase her down, all because she told him no?” you leaned forward until your chest was close to his, making him shift on his feet.

“I’m not just another man.” He deepened his voice and met your challenge, leaning down closer to you.

Your breath caught at his closeness. You could smell the masculine scent of him on the wind. Before you could retort, he stepped by you and walked to your SUV. Without asking for permission, he went to the passenger side, retrieved your pack, opened it, and began rummaging through its contents.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” you snapped at him, fighting the urge to shove him when you came to stand beside him.

“This is the last outpost before we get up in the mountains,” Flip answered without looking at you as he went through your pack. “If you need any supplies, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“I’m not going on a great adventure,” you huffed indignantly. “I’ll only be gone a few hours.”

“Famous last words. I used to work search n’ rescue. I did that for a few years as a college job after I was discharged from the military and before I joined the force.” Flip pulled out a jacket from your pack, frowning as he evaluated it. “I can’t tell you the number of bodies I had to drag out of the mountains of folks who were just gonna be gone a few hours.”

“All I want to do is hike down to the crime scene, look around a little, do my due diligence, and head back out,” you explained, trying to keep your voice even. “Easy.”

“Uh huh.” Flip flicked on the flashlight you had in your pack, shaking his head as he examined the strength of its beam. He lifted the small box of tampons from your backpack and just to anger you he asked, “Is it shark week?”

“A girl should be prepared.” You gritted your teeth but didn’t let him get to you more than he already had.

“Yeah, a girl should be.” He tossed a handful of items he didn’t approve of into your back seat and stuffed all of your remaining things back into your pack. “And your pack is about thirty pounds short of everything you need to be prepared.” He sighed in frustration and looked at the small gas station and general store. “We’ll get what we can here, but they won’t have everything you need. We should go back, get your supplies in order, and then try this again tomorrow.”

“I will do no such thing.” You deliberately used the singular pronoun instead of the plural Flip had adopted. “You can do whatever you like. Maybe you’ll find another woman to stalk by tomorrow.”

“Stalkin’ women is new for me.” He grinned at you. “I have a pretty good selection of girls chasin’ after me at any given time.”

“Poor things,” you quipped.

Flip smirked at you and walked into the paltry store while you quickly and annoyedly inventoried the items he had thrown into your backseat. Your cosmetics, your wallet, a large tube of hand lotion, and a paperback book you had left over from a camping trip were all among the items he deemed unworthy of taking up space in your pack. When he emerged from the store, he carried three full bags of supplies. He all but pushed you aside and began shoving items into your pack. Three new flashlights, two packs of batteries, a handful of cheap Bic lighters, a keychain compass, a handful of meal bars, a pair of workman’s Carhart gloves, a huge bottle of water, and a knit cap in garish hunter orange. The last item he packed was a newspaper, explaining how in a damp mine kindling was scarce if you needed to start a fire.

“My pack weighs fifty pounds now!” you exaggerated, glaring at him.

“Best I could do at a gas station.” He smirked, enjoying your irritation.

“My knight in shining armor,” you replied in your most sarcastic tone.

“Is this the heaviest jacket you have?” He held up the offending garment that he had pulled out of your bag.

“I’m not climbing Mount Everest.” You snatched it out of his hands and shoved it back inside your nearly full pack.

“No, but you need a guide just as badly as if you were,” he assured you.

“So, you want to be Tenzing Norgay to my Edmund Hillary, do you?” you asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“I’ve never been much into roleplayin,’ but I’m not one to turn down a pretty girl like you.” He winked at you and smirked at the slight fluster he gave you.

Finally satisfied that your pack was adequate for a few hours exploring a mine, Flip allowed you to leave the gas station. He followed you until the pavement ended and on down a dirt road that took you both to the Vista Bonita trailhead. This was as far as any map could lead you.

Deep in the mountains, the scenery was even more beautiful. This was the most picturesque season when the forest and mountainsides were colored as though on fire; a canvas painted in reds, oranges, and yellows. More than half of the ground on the mountainside was covered with snow. It was knee deep in the shadowy places but only patches remained in the areas that saw sunlight. Higher in elevation it was much colder, and the snow could deepen to thirty feet on the peaks by autumn. The alpine air bit into your exposed skin when you exited your SUV. You were parked in a mountain bowl with snowcapped peaks surrounding you on three sides like great kings holding court to judge your sins. The sky was blue no longer. Grey and carbon clouds swirled above you like monochrome ice cream. The clouds were drawn to the peaks of the mountains, congregating there densely and whirling around them. Any attempt to summit a peak would have to be canceled today, but you were going inside the mountain, not to the top of it.

Now, Flip could actually prove useful and save you the time of having to blunder around until you found the mining road. You took his offer of driving you up from there, happy to leave your SUV parked at the trailhead and save it from the rough road and getting scraped by brush. Seated in Flip’s truck, you bumped along the old mining road that looked less navigable than two scant parallel game trails. Classic rock boomed through the truck’s speakers and Flip tapped his hand on the steering wheel to the tune of Bad Moon Risin.’ Your pack rested on the floor between your feet and Flip’s took up the middle front seat. You took the same liberty with his pack that he had taken with yours, opening it without his permission, and rummaging through its contents.

Flip’s pack was enormous and nearly every cubic inch was filled to the brim. You tested the weight of it. His pack exceeded one hundred pounds if it was an ounce. Inside you saw a cornucopia of supplies ranging from food and water to extreme cold weather gear to mountain climbing gear such as rope, carabiners, and pitons. He had packed two pairs of the largest sized gloves you had ever seen, extra socks in heavy wool, a hat with deer-hunter-style ear flaps, and a thick gray wool sweater.

“You sure like wool,” you teased. “It’s sad to think of all the sheep out there who are now running around naked because of you.”

“Wool is the only material that will still keep you warm after it gets wet,” he explained.

It was slow going up the mountain on the narrow track and it took the better part of two hours to reach the abandoned mine. Flip offered you surprisingly good conversation, and you had to admit it was easy to see the ladies’ man peek out from his sideways grin. Above the mine’s entrance damp tendrils of brush hung down over the old wooden frame of the opening giving it the appearance of the ominous black mouth of a gargoyle, eager for the chance to swallow you whole. The entrance was barely larger than a doorway, only slightly taller than Flip and just wide enough for the two of you to walk abreast.

“I’ll tell you what.” Flip drummed his knuckles on the steering wheel as he looked through his windshield at the forbiddingly dark hole in the mountainside. “How about if I tell Fat Freddy that I think we should let your cannibal out of jail on heavy conditions of release? Can we call it a day and head back to town?”

“And waste the chance to use all my lovely new gas station wilderness survival gear?” You laughed and got out of Flip’s truck.

Hefting your too-heavy pack onto your back, you started out toward the mine. Flip took a few jogging steps to catch up to you, his footfalls heavy from the extra hundred-plus pounds he carried. From behind you, he unzipped your pack and shoved another last-minute addition inside, a spare wool sweater he scavenged from his back seat. He now had a climber’s ice axe tucked into his belt and his armed shoulder holsters on under his pack. When you reached the mine, you felt an icy drop land on your cheek and melt instantly. Flip looked up at the sky along with you, watching a light haze of snowflakes slowly drift down from the clouds.

“The weather is only gonna get worse today.” He glared up at the sky as if he could intimidate the snow out of falling. “We should get out while that poor excuse for a road is still passable.” He looked at you with his most wolfish grin. “Unless you like the idea of bein’ snowed in with me and havin’ to get nice n’ close to stay warm.”

“I hear freezing isn’t the worst death.” You rolled your eyes at him. “If there is a big snow, this could be my last chance of the season to see that crime scene and anything I might learn from it before it gets buried until spring. By that time, the trial will be over and done.” You looked at him squarely. “I’m going. But I understand if you’re scared…” you let your voice trail away, leaving the challenge hanging in the thin alpine air.

“Sugar,” he lowered his voice and leaned closer to you. “There ain’t a damn thing in these mountains that scares me.”

“Happy to hear it because that makes two of us!” you said brightly and walked to the mine entrance.

Although the surrounding mountainside was beautiful and serene, the light snowfall giving it a dreamlike quality, the mine menaced at you portentously. You pulled your flashlight out and flicked on its beam, then you took a deep breath and stepped into the darkness with Flip at your side.

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The mineshaft dropped steeply downward. You could keep your footing and walk down its descent, but you kept a hand on the wet wall of rock beside you to help keep your balance. The inside of the mine was damp, your boots slipped and slogged in ankle deep mud and frigid drops of water dripped down on your head every few steps with the frequency of a leaky faucet. You felt even colder inside from the elevated humidity. It only took you a few seconds to leave all light behind, your path ahead illuminated only by the twin yellow beams of yours and Flip’s flashlights while the lighted exit back to the mountainside dwindled behind you until it was nothing more than a tiny square of light like a star in an otherwise black night sky. Above you, the ceiling of the mine was reinforced by ancient wooden tresses, soggy and dripping with mud and water. Beside you, the walls of the shaft were a mix of stretches of rock that gave way to firmly packed mud, also reinforced with wooden beams where needed. Some Colorado mines had been revamped in order to make them safer and preserve them, but the last improvements this mine had seen were made by its owner sometime before the old miner met his lonely death deep inside back in 1927.

“Now I know how Dante felt,” you joked more to fill the deep silence of the mineshaft.

“If we’re roleplayin,’ I need to know if I’m Virgil or Tenzing Norgay.” Flip grinned, his teeth gleaming white in his darkened face. “Get your story straight, Counselor.”

The mineshaft took a ninety degree turn and you were plunged into the total consummate darkness that can only be found in deep caves and sealed sepulchers. The darkness surrounded you like a funerary veil, claustrophobic in its completeness. Without the small beams of your flashlights, you wouldn’t have been able to see Flip or even his silhouette right beside you. Distracted by the thought, your foot slipped out from under you but Flip’s arm shot out to catch you around the waist, as strong as iron and as comforting as a warm embrace. When you regained your footing Flip released his hold on you, but he remained close enough that his arm brushed yours as you walked on. The feel of his large body next to yours was reassuring, and welcome in the cold darkness.

“We’re comin’ up on the crime scene.” Flip pointed ahead with the beam of his flashlight to illuminate an antique wooden mining cart. “The body was found crammed inside.”

Two of the cart’s wheels had long ago broken off, leaving it canted on one side and leaning against the wall of the shaft. The wood shone glossy wet black, pieces of its side were broken away giving it the look of a wrecked ghost ship at the bottom of the ocean. Death seemed to hang in the musty air around the cart, as if the lonely hiker’s spirit watched you morosely from the underworld. The beam of your light shook as you walked forward to study the cart.

“I told you there wasn’t much to see.” Flip’s voice sounded unnaturally loud in the cloistered mineshaft.

“It was too wet to get prints or blood spatter?” you asked, knowing the answer.

“Yep.” Flip nodded, frowning as he stepped up to the cart beside you. He mumbled distractedly, “But the kid was killed somewhere else and moved here, shoved into that cart.”

“And you think my feeble old client was strong enough to do that?” you asked as you looked at the ground for any drag marks. There were none.

Flip didn’t answer you. He was studying the wall ahead of the cart, his flashlight focused on a patch of wall eight feet away. His voice was a low growl when he said, “Well, that’s fuckin’ new.”

Following his gaze, you saw in his light a mark on the mud wall. It was a pattern that had been crudely scratched into the mud with a pointed implement, a sharp stick maybe. It looked like a glyph from an ancient language or a mandala from an Eastern religion, a whorl with points and patterns.

“That wasn’t here when you examined the crime scene?” You should have been excited by new evidence, but your skin crawled when you looked at the unnatural design.

“No, it sure as hell wasn’t.” Flip chewed his lip as he shone his light around the tunnel. “Ron and I came back down here again after I arrested your guy to take a second look. This wasn’t here.”

“So, we agree my client couldn’t have done this?” You grabbed his arm with nervous excitement, for a moment forgetting the pervasive feeling of unease.

“Yeah, we agree. But your client isn’t what we should be thinkin’ about right now.” Flip stepped cautiously ahead, drawn in by the prospect of what more he might find deeper inside the mine, the same as the long-dead miner hunting for gold. He unconsciously pushed you behind him, keeping his body between you and what might lie ahead in the darkness beyond the beams of your lights.

“We can head back now. I’ve seen what I need to see,” you said quietly to Flip’s broad back as you walked behind him.

“Give me a few minutes, I wanna see what else might be down here.” Flip drew his revolver and rested his right hand over his left wrist, pointing both his barrel and his flashlight down the mine, focused intently ahead along its sights.

“You don’t actually think the murderer is hiding down here?” you asked incredulously. “He couldn’t be.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he gruffed without looking back at you. “But I’m damn sure gonna be ready if he is.”

Several long minutes walking ahead into the darkness yielded nothing but a sense of dread that increased with every step. You grabbed Flip’s shoulder firmly, digging your nails into him and imbuing your voice with as much authority as you could. “You can have your manhunt later. Get me the hell out of here, Flip.”

You felt Flip’s body stiffen from your touch and your words, then he sighed heavily and he relaxed as he lowered his gun and turned to face you. You saw the grin on his lips as he prepared a sarcastic retort, but he never spoke it.

Around you, the mineshaft shuddered violently like the throat of a coughing giant. Mud slid down the walls in watery rivulets and dropped down from the ceiling in globs that splattered on your shoulders and splashed in the soupy ground at your feet. A boom resounded from somewhere far above you, reverberating through the mineshaft like heavy bass through the thin walls of a nightclub. Flip hunched his shoulders like he had taken a punch and looked up at the trembling ceiling of the mine so close above his head. He shoved his gun back into its holster, grabbed your hand, and ran back toward the mine entrance.

Running hard, Flip’s light bounced wildly ahead down the shaft as he pumped his arms. Your feet barely touched the ground as he dragged you along with him in his powerful long-legged stride. You slipped sideways in the slick mud as Flip pulled you back around the ninety-degree turn in the mine, but he again kept you from falling and charged ahead fast and hard. The mineshaft now shook with near earthquake force, debris fell all around you both and struck your bodies as you ran. The light of the exit grew larger with every sprinted pace, but it was no longer blue and welcoming. Outside the mine, the air was churning white and gray and the wind howled like a freight train.

Flip slid to a stop fifteen feet before the exit, pulling you roughly to a stop beside him. His voice was hoarse from exertion and fear when he voiced what you already knew, “It’s a fuckin’ avalanche. The snow from the peak is gonna bury us in.” He looked at you and added something that was lost in the roar of the avalanche as a wall of snow belched inside the mine, stinging your faces.

Before the body of debris sluicing into the mine reached you, Flip shoved you harshly down into the mud and dove on top of you, covering you with his body. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck and wrapped his arms over both your heads. You felt him flinch and heard him grunt in time with the dull slaps of rubble that struck his body as the avalanche passed by outside the mine entrance and flooded its wreckage inside and down upon you both.

Icy cold enveloped you like the breath of the Grim Reaper, then everything was dark and deathly silent.

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Gruff cursing that sounded very far away reached your ears accompanied by the feeling of your body being jostled and roughly tugged. You were trapped in that restless disconcerting place between oblivion and consciousness, but as incapable of opening your eyes as if a sleep paralysis demon was perched heavily on your chest. Cold surrounded you and your limbs couldn’t have felt less lifeless and heavy if they had been packed with sand. The profane voice grew louder and you felt light but insistent slapping against your cheeks. The irritation it roused in you was enough to pull you fully into full alertness and even sent your hand striking out at your attacker in a retaliatory smack of your own.

Flip flinched from the sting of your slap against his cheek and blinked several times in surprise before grinning at you. The large hand that had been patting your cheek to rouse you now caressed your skin gently.

“I guess that means you’ll live,” he told you softly. “But humor me and follow my light.” Kneeling beside you, he shone his flashlight into your eyes and slowly moved the beam from side to side. You squinted your eyes against the bright light but followed it easily. “Well, I’m not a doctor but at least I wouldn’t be able to arrest you for DWI.”

Only after your eyes re-adjusted to the darkness after Flip’s light did you notice that Flip’s face was covered in mud and blood. A deep cut sliced across his cheekbone and blood dripped down from his hairline. Looking around, you saw that muddy snow had been blown into the mine and that you sat on the ground at the head of a trail the size of your body, realizing Flip had dragged you out of the snow drift that had filled the mine. Flip had stopped with you fifteen feet before the entrance when the avalanche hit and now you were another ten feet deeper down the shaft. The avalanche had buried you both with at least twenty-five feet of snow between you and exit, with no telling how much deeper the snow was piled outside the mine.

“Are you alright?” You reached to his hairline, feeling the hot blood that oozed from a cut on his scalp.

“I’m just peachy.” Flip smiled sardonically. “Other than bein’ buried in a mineshaft.” He took your hand from his face and held it tightly. “Does anyone know you’re out here?”

“Not unless I have some other stalkers I don’t know about.” You shook your head.

“I didn’t tell anyone either. I knew I’d get a helluva lot of shit for comin’ back out here with a lawyer, even one as pretty as you.” He looked at his watch perfunctorily. “When I don’t show up for work Monday mornin,’ Ron will know somethin’ happened to me. I haven’t been a no-show since he joined the force. Not without tellin’ him anyway. Even on the days I called in sick or wanted to sleep in late with a hot date, I gave him a head’s up. When your car is found at the trailhead, he’ll be smart enough to put two and two together and figure that we came out to this mine.”

“That’s two days from now!” The direness of your situation was beginning to dawn on you. “Not to mention how long it will take to find the entrance to the mine under the snow and then dig us out. How long will that take?”

“Do you want the truth?” Flip glared at the wall of snow.

“Nevermind, I don’t want more bad news.” You sat up straighter and set your jaw. “Just tell me what we need to do.”

“That’s my girl.” Flip smiled and squeezed your hand. He pushed himself up to his feet and pulled you up with him. He kept his hold on your hand. “In a situation like this, the general rule of thumb is to stay put, but we don’t have the supplies to wait it out for long enough. No sleepin’ bag, not much food, and only one heavy coat between us. We’re not equipped for a long stakeout.” He lifted his hands to your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Our best chance is to see if we can find another way out. A lot of old mines tie into cave systems, and cave systems have outlets. We have some time to kill before anyone can get to us, to say the least, and movin’ around will keep us warm.”

You nodded your agreement as a rush of shivers raked your body, the first of many. You had gotten wet from snow and mud, which had quickly chilled you through to your bones. Flip retrieved his own wool sweater from your pack and then lifted your pack off your shoulders so you could put his sweater on. It hung down past your hips, but you were instantly warmer by the time he had your pack back in place. He pulled the climbing axe from his belt and handed it to you, telling you, “Just in case.”

Walking side by side you both retraced your steps back down the mineshaft. The only light was from Flip’s flashlight; you conserved yours, rationing light like food for what could be a long dark wait. When you passed the crime scene a second time, the strange markings in the mud wall now seemed like an ominous warning, a signal that you were trespassing into hostile territory. Flip felt it too and made a point of keeping his beam off the glyphs so as not to fuel the fear growing inside you. On ahead in the edges of the light, he caught glimpses of other markings on the walls; glyphs, crude etchings, and places with scratch marks that had the same appearance of a tree trunk sheared to rags by a bear marking his territory with his claws. Flip didn’t let his light illuminate them, nor did he allow himself to react to the sinister markings. There was no reason to worry you.

For over two hours you followed the twists and turns of the mineshaft until you came to where the tunnel had collapsed decades ago. The shaft was nearly blocked by a pile of muddy rocky rubble. There was just enough space between the top of the debris and the ceiling of the shaft for a large person to squeeze through. Flip told you to wait while he scrambled up and over the pile of debris. It only took a minute for his shaggy head to pop back through the opening and call to you to join him.

On the other side of the collapse was a natural formation in the rock, a crevasse that had been revealed when the mine had collapsed and taken part of the mountain with it. The walls of the crevasse glinted with gold, so much gold that veins of it spiderwebbed across the rock walls. The gold was so plentiful that a pure gold nugget sat on the ground dead center at the entrance to the crevasse. You picked it up, it was the size of a walnut and deceptively heavy.

“This is a nice souvenir.” You slipped the nugget into your pocket.

“That poor old bastard miner missed the mother lode by feet.” Flip shook his head and held his lighter up to the crevasse opening. The flame flickered on a breeze too light for you to feel. Flip smiled, broad and toothy, for the first time since you both had entered the mine. “Airflow means an outlet.”

The crevasse was narrow, forcing you to walk single file. Flip had to carry his backpack because he was too broad to walk straight and had to twist his shoulders sideways to squeeze through. He bent to retrieve another gold nugget from the ground, just as large as yours and pocketed it as you had done. Another twenty steps brought him to another nugget, then another and another, like golden breadcrumbs laid out by Hansel and Gretel. Flip glared at the next nugget he saw, stooping almost reluctantly to pluck it from the ground. He stared at it a long time before adding it to his pocket. His features were darker than they had been at any other point that day as he pressed on.

Abruptly, the crevasse emptied into a natural cavern as large as an amphitheater. The ceiling of the chamber was high and domed, a stone cathedral formed eons ago in the cave system. Shining his flashlight upward, its yellow beam barely illuminated the ceiling. Spears of stalactites hung down from the roof of the dome like a forest of viper fangs. At the far reach of Flip’s light, another piece of gold lay on the ground, beckoning you forward.

“Something’s not right, Flip.” You grabbed his arm and stood beside him. “This feels like a trap.”

“It is.” He didn’t look at you. Keeping his voice low and his eyes focused ahead, he strained to see anything at all in the darkness that surrounded you. “That gold was a bait trail.”

“A bait trail?!” you whisper-yelled. “Why the hell didn’t you turn around?”

“It was too late once we were inside that crevasse. It’s a squeeze shoot like you use to herd cattle into the butcher box.” His jaw clenched. “We’re bein’ hunted.”

“Hunted?” You looked around the cavern, seeing nothing but rock formations and darkness. “By whom? Or what?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” He stepped forward into the chamber.

Flip inhaled deeply through his nose, testing the air. You smelled something now too. As soon as Flip had mentioned a butcher, you thought you could detect the distinct scent of the inside of a slaughterhouse or a meat freezer. Flip smelled it too.

A few steps more and Flip’s light illuminated an unexpected swatch of color. Across the cavern floor it looked like brightly colored bags were littered haphazardly. Curiosity pulled you both closer.

“Don’t look,” Flip warned you when he realized what lay scattered across the ground, but of course you looked anyway.

The brightly colored bags were dead bodies, six of them. Slain hikers in their cheerfully bright mountaineering parkas lay butchered in a way that would put Jack the Ripper to shame. You saw that two bodies were women, which was only apparent because their clothing had been ripped open to expose their bodies in the process of disembowelment. One of the men was missing both legs, having been tore away at the hip joint like the drumsticks on a Thanksgiving turkey. Another man lay on his stomach with his broken ribs protruding backwards through the flesh of his back like gruesome butterfly wings. The faces of every person had been clawed away the same as a scorned woman would do to faces of her ex in photographs. Their features were gone, left to grimace in slashes of hamburgered meat. Each corpse had the unmistakable marks of cannibalism, patches of flesh ripped away by human shaped mouths and ragged bite marks in bloody U-shaped signatures.

“I guess that kid wasn’t alone,” Flip observed, speaking about the victim in the Colorado Cannibal case to distract you.

Morbid curiosity drew you closer, the same compulsion that makes people slow down when they drive by car crashes. You had seen crime scenes and murders before, but nothing like this. Neither had Flip, not in all his years overseas in the military or the decade-plus since he’d joined the force.

Flip made a quick circle of the bodies without looking at them at all. He looked as deep into the darkness as he could with his feeble light, making sure there was nothing and no one watching over their kill. Satisfied there were no hostiles in the immediate vicinity, Flip turned his attention to the bodies. The detective part of him wanted to look for clues, for similarities between the modus operandi of the killings, for the calling card of the lone serial killer or the ritual behind a cult killing. He ignored that impulse for now. Now, all that mattered was keeping you safe and getting you both the hell out. Live to fight another day.

A quick pat-down of the bodies yielded a pocketknife, a few more granola bars, a pair of relatively clean gloves that would fit you, and a handful of glowsticks, but the group had burned through all their lighters and flashlight batteries before they met their horrific fate. He slipped the pocketknife into the front pocket of his jeans and packed the rest away. One of the women was close to your size and she wore the least offensively colored parka in the group, a shade of royal purple. Kneeling beside the butchered woman, Flip struggled to peel the parka off her body, fighting against her rigid limbs that were stiffened from rigor mortis and stuck out at ninety-degree angles like a scarecrow.

“Oh, Flip, I really couldn’t.” A wave of squeamishness hit you when you realized he was solving the problem of you lacking a heavy coat.

“Oh, you can, sweetheart.” With a final yank so rough that Flip fell back onto his ass and the dead woman’s stiff limbs crackled like dry twigs, he freed the coat from the body of its former owner. “You can and you will if I see you shiver again. You’re not gettin’ hypothermia on my watch.”

Flip sneakily avoided shining his light on the parka when he stuffed it into your pack, but you saw the copious bloodstains on the purple Gortex. The blood had dried almost black, giving it the appearance of an urban camouflage pattern. You fought back a shudder, but you knew Flip was right. You hugged his voluminous wool sweater around you tighter, willing more warmth out of it to stave off having to wear your new second-hand coat.

“Stay behind me,” Flip commanded in a low growl. He pulled the knife from his pocket and opened the blade with his thumb.

You had been so distracted thinking about the coat that you hadn’t noticed the small noise that sounded like slowly tearing a paper towel apart. Flip had heard it at once and was instantly alert. He stepped ahead, keeping his bootsteps as silent as a panther. There was only darkness before you, all around you. Then, at the edge of Flip’s light, something shot across the beam on the cavern floor.

Training on it with the eyes of a sniper, Flip followed the small scurrying animal with his flashlight. The creature was a hominid the size of a large racoon, squatting on the floor and covering its eyes with its clawed hands. It was hairless with albinoid white skin that was almost translucent. It held a chunk of hiker meat, a hand by the looks of it, and it kept chewing, making more sounds like tearing paper, while it covered its eyes from the binding light.

“What the fuck…” Flip muttered, his voice trailing away.

“Whatever it is, it looks like a juvenile,” you observed, noting the short pudgy arms and legs, the fat belly, the bulbous head, and the way it sat on the ground like a toddler with a bottle.

“Yeah. Keep your light on it.” Flip shone his light around. “They say the most dangerous bear you can find out in the woods is a cub, because it means his mama is out there watchin’ you.” He spun to look behind you. “And she ain’t happy.”

On your right, something rushed at you with unnatural speed. You didn’t see it, so much as you felt its attack spring from the shadows. Flip reacted with predatory speed, spinning to meet the attack. In the same motion, he slashed the pocketknife out in a backhanded swing. The knife met the animal before the light, slicing clean through the white skin of its throat. Blood splattered against your face, hot and viscous, but it barely registered.

As the first creature dropped, a second charged from the darkness behind it. Flip swung his light to meet it. When he caught the creature in his beam it stopped, frozen for an instant like a deer in the headlights, then the animal shrieked, an unnatural sound from the depths of Hell and ran away as if its skin had been scalded by the light. That one was much much larger, the mate of the female Flip had just killed. It looked like a large male, heavily muscled and nearly as big as Flip himself. It had enormous black eyes and devilishly pointed ears. Those features stood out stark in your mind from the brief glimpse, but engraved deeper yet upon your memory were its teeth, rows of razed fangs like the gaping mouth of a piranha.

From the darkness beyond the reach of the flashlight, the creature howled. You and Flip knew at once what it was doing, but it was Flip who voiced it, “He’s callin’ for reinforcements. That’s our cue to get the hell outta here.”

“Get your gun!” you shouted as he dragged you through the cavern at a sprint, the two beams of your flashlights bouncing crazily ahead of you.

“I only have the six shots that are in it. I better make ‘em count,” he huffed as he ran hard. “Besides that, a gunshot in here is gonna be just like ringin’ the dinner bell. We’ll have every one of whatever the hell these things are on us once they hear me shootin.’”

The end of the cavern was honeycombed with tunnels snaking away into deeper darkness. There was no time to assess or reason which was best, not that either of you had any information to reason with. Flip pulled you into the left-most tunnel and pressed you flat against the wall. He crowded against you, putting himself between the tunnel entrance and you. He retrieved one of the hikers’ glowsticks, cracked it open, and threw it as far as he could down a neighboring tunnel.

Switching off your flashlights, you both waited, statue still, utterly silent, and blind save for the faint green glow of the glowstick some thirty yards away. The sounds of the creatures pursuing you echoed through the cavern. Nails scraping on stone, sniffing breaths to catch your scent, guttural snarls that had the lilt of rudimentary language. You thought that surely every living creature in the cave system must be able to hear your heart for as loud as it thundered in your ears. You clung to Flip like a life raft in a stormy sea, trying to draw strength from him.

The creatures passed you, three of them now. They hunted the light of the glowstick, prowling low on the ground in leopard-crawls. They had the vague shape of humans, but they didn’t move like humans. Their movements were almost reptilian, jerky and shuffling. At the tops of their naked asses they had vestigial tails that twitched like spaniels and two of them had small spinal ridges like crocodiles. One of them sniffed at the glowstick then warily prodded it with a clawed hand. With a triumphant howl, the ghastly animals charged ahead down the glowstick tunnel and away from you.

Slowly and with infinite caution, you and Flip crept down the tunnel he had chosen. He didn’t risk a light again until he had put several bends in the tunnel between you and the cavern, and he was sure the light wouldn’t reach back to the creatures that hunted you. You were shaking slightly from cold and nerves, mostly the latter. You took a deep breath to compose yourself. Flip could feel you shivering beside him. Grabbing your shoulder, he turned you to face him.

“You’re gonna be just fine.” His voice was strong and sure, and he looked into your eyes with fierce resolve shining in his own. “I’m gonna get you outta here. I promise.”

“Well, if you promise.” You tried to smile, tried to make light, but your voice trembled.

“Are you religious?” he asked, taking you aback by his non sequitur.

“No, and I don’t think we’re descending into Hell if that’s your next question.” You tightened your grip on the ice axe. It helped your nerves.

“It wasn’t. I’m not religious either, but I’ll tell you my favorite passage.” He gripped your shoulder tight and his voice rumbled into you as he grinned wickedly. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, because I am the baddest motherfucker in the valley.”

“You damn well better be.” When you smiled back at him now, it was genuine.

The tunnel you were in was only wide enough for the two of you to walk single file. You walked back to back with you walking forward and Flip backing his way down the tunnel in case the creatures caught on to his ruse and came after you. Although you both moved as silently as you could, every scrape of your boots on stone and brush of your pack against rock sounded as grating as nails on a chalkboard. Even the quiet drips of water that ran down the cave walls around you sounded like gongs. With your nerves on edge, your senses were heightened. Every scent filled your nose, every sound rang in your ears, every sight that met your eyes was sharpened and clear.

You felt it before you heard it, heard it before you saw it. The feel of a body rushing toward you through the narrow tunnel. The creature erupted out of the darkness ahead of you, already in mid-air as it lunged at you with its claws slicing and razored mouth open wide and aimed for your throat. Before your conscious mind could assimilate the attack, you were swinging the ice axe like a baseball bat. The tip of the axe caught the creature just below its temple at the hinge of its wide-open jaw with enough force to knock it to the ground. It howled with pain and anger, thrashing at your feet like a white fish out of water. Flip couldn’t move ahead of you in the tight space, unable to help you. Fear turned to rage. You stomped your boot down on the creature’s head and yanked as hard as you could on the axe handle, pulling it free with a spurt of blood. Raising it high, you bludgeoned the creature again and again and again, its blood spurting up into your face and chest with each strike, until the squeal it made died along with it and only the wet smack of your axe into meat filled the tunnel.

“Good girl,” Flip rumbled near your ear. “Now keep movin,’ and move faster. We’re gonna have company after that ruckus.”

With renewed vigor you walked ahead more quickly, holding your bloody ice axe at the ready. Killing the creature gave you more confidence. They could be killed. You could kill them. If you hadn’t been prepared and your bloodstream flooded with adrenaline, you never would have been fast enough, but you had been and you knew you could do it again.

After several more gradual turns, the tunnel abruptly straightened and widened. You felt a whisper of air caress your cheek, so faint you would have missed it if you were not in a state of heightened awareness. It was wide enough for Flip to come beside you. He slowed to a creep as he came to the edge of a crevasse that the tunnel emptied into. The end of the tunnel was a sheer drop into bottomless darkness. His flashlight glinted off veins of gold lacing the rock for hundreds of feet down the crevasse until darkness devoured the beam of light. It was twenty feet across the crevasse, far too far to jump, and there were no ledges around it. Your tunnel had dead-ended, and you were very likely being hunted from its entrance. 

Across the gorge, you could faintly see the shadowed entrance of the continuation of the tunnel just peeking around the rock wall on the other side. The ceiling of rock hung just a few feet over your heads, but the drop down might as well be infinite because if you fell into you, all you would find is oblivion. 

“We have to go back.” Your heart sank at the realization. 

“Somethin’ tells me that’s not a great idea.” Flip frowned as he eyed the crevasse and the continuation of the tunnel across it. He then looked up at the ceiling and ran his hand up the rock wall, feeling its ridges. The ceiling hung a foot above his hand when he stretched to his full height and reached as high as he could. “We’ll cross here.” 

“Are you insane?” The black gorge looked utterly impassible. 

“Jury’s out.” He grinned at you as he shrugged out of his pack and quickly rummaged through its contents. 

Flip pulled out a coiled length of rope and slung it over his shoulder like a cowboy with a lariat. Next, he retrieved a handful of metal items you recognized as climbing gear and stuffed them into the pockets of his jeans. When he straightened, he put his hands on your shoulders. 

“I’ll run a line across.” He rubbed your arms like he was rubbing heat into you, but his touch was more affectionate than that alone. “But you’ll have to man the fort here while I’m out over the drop. If any of those sonsabitches come through that tunnel, you give ‘em hell.” 

“I’d love to.” You hefted your axe and smiled at him. You were both aware of the extreme danger for each of you. There was no reason to voice it or let emotions run rampant when keeping your mind clear and focused was the best weapon you had. 

Before Flip could move away from you, you grabbed his lapels and pulled him down into a hard hungry kiss. His hands flew to your waist and he pulled you tight against him, kissing you ravenously. It was only a few quick seconds, you couldn’t waste more, but you were breathless when he drew back. 

“For luck,” you told him huskily. 

“I’d rather be lucky than good.” He winked at you and stepped to the edge. 

Flip secured one end of the rope the best he could on an outcrop on the ledge near where you stood. It wasn’t a great hold, but hopefully it would be good enough just to get you both across. He tied the other end of the rope around his waist and returned the remaining coil to his shoulder, then he pulled three cams from his pocket and put them between his teeth. Just as you wondered how in the hell Flip was going to run a line across the chasm, he bent at the knees and jumped as high as he could. With one hand he caught a horizontal fin of rock on the ceiling that was too small for you to see in the darkness, his feet dangling at the very edge of the ledge before it dropped away. With his free hand, he felt ahead on the ceiling, using touch instead of sight, until he found an adequate crack. Retrieving a cam from his lips, he jammed the device hard into the small crack and secured his rope to it. All this was done while he hung from one hand on his scant hold. 

One down, twenty feet across the deadly chasm to go. 

Grabbing hold of the cam, Flip searched ahead for another crack to wedge the next cam. He repeated this again and again, using the cams and cracks like they were monkey bars to cross the gorge and run the line for you. If the rock gave way or if his strong grip failed and he fell, there would be nothing to stop him until he hit bottom. By the time he was only halfway across, his hands and fingers felt as though they had been bludgeoned by sledgehammers and his forearms were twitching and spasming, the precursor to cramps that could freeze muscle into inoperable knots. He found himself swinging his lower body and using momentum to push himself forward rather than the steady strength in his hands and arms. That sort of sloppiness made a slip and a fall even more likely. Flip was out of condition for this kind of extreme free climbing, he hadn’t done anything of this caliber in nearly twenty years. He thought that over the years he had gotten smarter than to risk his neck in stupid ass ways like this, but here he was again. 

Helpless, you watched Flip’s large body hanging precariously from one one-hand grip to the next as he ran the line. Despite his obvious attempts to keep his body controlled, he still twisted and canted dangerously with each swing forward. It seemed impossible that he had gotten so far, it defied your expectations of the capabilities of the human body. He was three-fourths of the way across when you heard chuffing breath behind you, like a dog scenting a trail. 

Without taking the fraction of a second to look behind you first, you spun, swinging the ice axe sideways as hard as you could. It struck the palm of a creature, outstretching and clawing for your neck. The animal howled, trying to wrench its hand free. In the time it was distracted by pain, you yanked forward on your axe handle and stepped out of the creature’s path. You were so close to the edge, the yank forward sent the pale ghoul catapulting over the ledge to its death an untold distance below. Your axe popped free of its hand as it fell, leaving your weapon in hand. 

Flip could hear everything, from your sharp frightened intake of breath to your axe striking flesh to the scramble of claws on rock as the monster went over the edge, but he couldn’t turn to look without losing his grip and plummeting to his own death. He could barely spare the breath to call out your name in a frantic entreat. 

“I’m ok,” you assured him. “I can do this all day.” 

“That makes one of us,” Flip grunted under his breath as a bead of salty stinging sweat ran into his eye. His left hand was cramping now, growing stubborn when he tried to clench it around a hold and slow to open his fingers when he needed to release. He drove another cam. He didn’t have a choice but to ignore it and keep going. 

He was almost there. Almost. 

Several feet from the opposite ledge, he tried to shimmy another cam into a tight crack. It slipped free when he put some weight on it, and Flip slipped on his hold, twisting dangerously. He rammed the cam into the crack with all his might and it held. He secured the rope and reached ahead, groaning with the pain it caused him. And his grip gave out. 

Time seemed to stop as Flip’s fingers failed him and his hand slipped off the feeble hold he clung to. He felt the tug of gravity taking him, winning over his own strength. With the very last of his might, he swung his body as powerfully as he could toward the edge as his hand slipped free. His feet fell just short of the ledge, but his flailing arms caught it. Flip’s chest hit the lip of the ledge hard enough to knock the breath out of him and his numb fingers caught in fissures on the rock. His legs kicked free over nothingness as he hauled himself up, grunting and growling with effort. Crawling onto the ledge to safety on his hands and knees, he heaved for breath and let the blood flow back into his aching fingers. 

Once he felt in command of his body again, Flip anchored the end of the rope. He didn’t have a climbing harness but he fashioned a crude but workable one from a section of rope, his belt, and some carabiners. Again, he had to jump up to grab the line and use all his strength to lift his entire body enough to hook the carabiners and harness to the line, but once he did it was comparatively easy for him to shimmy his way back across to you like a like a crude pulley. 

“See, there’s nothin’ to it.” He flashed you a dashing smile when he rejoined you on the ledge. 

He rigged a makeshift climbing harness for you with straps of rope running around your waist and under your thighs to come up between your legs, and he affixed the straps of the two backpacks with carabiners and hooked them on the line. He would go back again first, dragging the packs behind him and checking the hold of the cams as he did, then you would come last. 

Flip made it look easy the second time, but you hardly needed his encouragement when you heard a faint snarl from the tunnel at your back. Doing as Flip had shown you, you clipped the carabiner on your harness to the rope and grabbed the line with both hands to pull yourself across the chasm to the other side. You tried not to think of the abyss below you or of the creatures that hunted you, and to focus solely on putting one hand in front of the other as you pulleyed yourself along. An excited squeal sounded behind you, the elated sound of the hunter spotting its prey. The line jerked in your hands, shaking your body wildly, as the creatures on the ledge tugged on the rope, as curious as cats with a string. 

“Keep comin,’ gorgeous. Slow n’ easy,” Flip encouraged you, his voice steadying. “Don’t look back. Don’t look down. Keep lookin’ at me, sugar.”

More creatures shrieked from behind you, a whole troupe of them now gathered on the ledge, hooting like evil baboons as they tried to figure out how to prevent their meal from escaping. You pulled yourself faster along the line. As you closed in on the ledge, Flip reached out, grabbed your collar, and yanked you roughly to him. You wanted him to hold you, but he shoved you behind him further away from the edge.

Three of the white demons had figured out they too could use the rope to cross the chasm and continue their pursuit of you. They were better climbers than monkeys and crossed the line twice as fast as Flip had done. The lead creature was already halfway across.

Flip drew his gun and aimed. He steadied his breath as he focused on the small target in the dim light from his flashlight. Flip was a deadly shot and he didn’t miss when he squeezed the trigger. His bullet hit the rope dead center, one inch ahead of the leading creature’s clawed hand. The gunshot was deafening in the rock chamber, making your ears ring painfully. The rope sheared apart, whipping away into the abyss and taking the three squealing demons with it. Their terrified screams echoed off the rock for many long seconds until they ended abruptly far below.

It wasn’t from shock, but with relief that your legs gave way and you collapsed to the ground, finally able to catch your breath. You laughed in joy that bordered on the hysterical and Flip sank down to his knees beside you.

“Fuck, I haven’t done somethin’ like that since I was in my twenties.” He ran a hand through his damp hair and grinned like an idiot. “Back when I was young, dumb, and full of cum.”

“I’d say you did alright.” You smiled up at him from the ground. 

“Well, I still have two outta three goin’ for me,” he replied, still grinning. “I’m not young anymore, but I’m still dumb and full of –” 

“I get the idea.” You patted his arm as you sat up. “Maybe I’ll let you give me a demonstration of the latter sometime, but you have to take me someplace nicer than this.” 

“With that as a reward, sugar…” He took your hand and you pulled up to your feet as he stood and then fully into his arms again. He kissed you desperately before reluctantly breaking away. You had to keep moving. 

Flip pulled the remaining rope back, re-coiling it as he drew it in, and returned it to his pack. You both shouldered your packs again and Flip took the lead down the new stretch of tunnel. He was armed with his flashlight and knife, and you held your axe at the ready. 

******************************************************************************************* 

It was impossible to tell distance in the cave system. With all the twists and turns, ups and downs, five mile’s worth of walking could only advance you one mile as the crow flies. However, both the chintzy keychain compass Flip had forced upon you and his own military grade tool indicated that you had maintained a steady heading as you cut through the mountain. Flip’s hope was to find an outlet on another face of the mountain that hadn’t sustained the avalanche. Bring on the other dangers of the forest, the bears, the lions, the elements, he would take them all on at once over this hell in which he found himself.

The tunnel bifurcated, two equally dark paths twisting deeper into the mountain. Flip again held his lighter up to the entrance to each, watching the flame dance in front of them both.

“They each have air flow.” He looked at you. “You got a coin to flip?”

“I like to take the left-hand path in life.” You pointed into the darkness of the tunnel.

“That doesn’t surprise me one bit.” Flip grinned and started down the left branch.

“Do you think we’ve lost them?” you whispered as a chill shuddered down your spine. You were cold and wet, but you shivered from something else entirely.

“Nope.” Flip shook his head. “I think we’re in their house now. Whatever they are.”

“I bet you won’t be so quick to scoff at the next defendant who tells you demons did it, Detective,” you teased quietly.

“I’m gonna arrest ‘em on sight.” He bumped you with his shoulder as he walked beside you. “Maybe he’ll hire a pretty lawyer for me to piss off.” He smirked at you. “But after seein’ how deadly you are with that axe, maybe I won’t try to piss you off too too much.”

“I might be able to think of a few ways you could make me happy instead.” You stopped suddenly, sobered instantly, when you felt Flip go rigid beside you, his arm flexing in anticipation.

Now quiet, you felt what Flip had sensed. That creeping sense of unease that warned you of the presence of something malevolent washed over you like ice water, pinpricks of dread crawling up your spine like horrible ants. Flip pushed you behind him as he walked ahead. With every step forward you looked back over your shoulder, your senses piqued for any sight, scent, or sound. You expected, as did Flip, an attack to come at you from down the tunnel, whether ahead or behind.

As if springing from the darkness itself, Flip was struck with a blow so heavy that it knocked him down to the ground. The creature had dropped down from the ceiling of the tunnel fifteen feet above you where it had crept unseen and unheard like a pale spider. Flip struggled on his back with the demon on his chest, slashing its claws against his raised arms and his chest, gnashing its teeth in his face. You raised your ice axe to strike, but Flip and the demon rolled together one over the other in a macabre parody of a lover’s embrace. Pinning the creature to the ground with a hand on its throat as it thrashed wildly, Flip pushed up on one knee as the beast sliced its clawed fingers at his throat, tearing his skin open from his neck down to his chest in four ragged bloody lines. Growling ferociously, Flip thrust his pocketknife into its open screeching mouth, driving it up through the roof and into its brain.

Flip was bleeding more than the dead creature when he shoved himself up to his feet, wiping his sleeve across the sweat on his brow. You rushed to him, your hands flying to the wound on his neck and shoulder, to the tatters of his blood-soaked shirt. Blood trickled down his neck and chest in rivulets like the water that seeped down the cave walls, but thankfully it was only a flesh wound that didn’t penetrate deep enough sever veins or arteries.

“Don’t worry, sugar,” he told you with his best cocky grin, placing his hand over yours where you examined his wound. “I’ve had worse scratches from a night in bed with loose women.”

“Do you want me to knock you around even more than that creature did?” you asked, but before he could answer you kissed him tenderly, inadvertently smearing his own blood on his cheek when you caressed him.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Flip broke your kiss, groaning in pain as he straightened to his full height. “The sooner we get outta here, the sooner you can thank me properly.” He didn’t say that he knew if he stopped for long, his injuries would stiffen, making him slow and cumbersome. That would be a death sentence. He only hoped that he could find a way out before one or both of you succumbed to exhaustion and had to stop for rest.

The tunnel you followed twisted like the gnarled branches of a tree, forking off in some places and converging with another trail in others. The cave system was as honeycombed as an underground beehive, making it impossible to keep your path straight and directions were impossible to know. Whenever possible, Flip took the lefthand path in the hope that should he need to backtrack he wouldn’t be desperately lost. Minutes passed as slow as hours and hours like days as you trudged. Your flashlight was the first to die and Flip’s had begun to flicker ominously, giving the tunnel the dizzy effect of a strobe. Maybe it was your subconscious clinging to hope, but you thought you felt a slight upward slant to the tunnel you were in now.

It had to be because fatigue was setting in, dulling Flip’s senses. He should have heard the sound of chewing, of ripping flesh off bone. He should have smelled the sickly sweet tang of carrion. He should have sensed the presence of the creatures in such close proximity when the tunnel widened into another bulbous cavern.

Rounding a curve, Flip’s light landed on a mass of white bodies clustered over an elk carcass like writhing maggots, tearing its flesh apart and swallowing clumps of meat, tinged with the oil green shine of rancidity. When the light illuminated them, the monsters froze for just long enough for you to see blood drizzle from their jaws before they shrieked and exploded away from the kill like a flock of birds taking flight. Others scattered from the periphery, more creatures who had been waiting for their turn at the elk. There were a dozen or more, males, females, and juveniles, all of which now snarled and howled at you from just outside the beam of light.

“Well, fuck me,” Flip grumbled and roughly pulled you behind him. The pair of you had little chance of fighting off such a large group of the monsters. They had recovered from their initial fright and were now slashing their claws at you from the periphery of the light, thinking you a superior meal to rotting elk meat.

The largest creature lunged at Flip out of the darkness, light be damned, its jaws open to tear into Flip’s throat. Flip raised his arm into a block on reflex but instead of using his forearm to block, he shoved his open hand into the demon’s open mouth, clamping his hand down on its lower jaw and wrenching viciously across. Flip ripped the jagged jawbone right off its hinges with no more effort that tearing a drumstick off a chicken, leaving the demon staring in wide-eyed shock while blood gurgled down its throat and its tongue flailed errantly in the bloody cavern of its mouth. Flip followed with a violent elbow to the creature’s temple with the full force of his body behind it, caving its skull in sideways as easily as taking a sledgehammer to a jack-o-lantern. For an instant, the others watched as the large male collapsed in a broken heap, its body convulsing with the shivers of death.

Choosing the nearest fork in the tunnel, Flip grabbed your hand, yanked you down it with him, and ran like hell with all the strength he had left. Another creature bolted ahead of you, trying to block your path. Flip didn’t slow his pace. Lowering his head, he barreled headlong into it like football player, knocking it harshly into the side of the tunnel wall. The crack of its ribs when they snapped against Flip’s shoulder was loud in the tight space and you could hear its wheezing breath as you dodged around it to follow Flip.

Those creatures that remained of the dozen gave chase. Their eldritch cries echoed around as they called out to their comrades that they were on the hunt for fresh meat. The scrapes of their claws and the shuffling of many bodies in the small tunnel was even louder than yours and Flip’s running bootsteps. His light bounced wildly down the path ahead of you, but it hardly mattered. There was no turning back, your only hope was in pushing forward and staying ahead of the ravening pack of demons nipping at your heels.

Ahead, the tunnel bifurcated, two dark paths snaking away, equally bleak. Flip moved toward the lefthand branch as he had down at every turn, but something stopped him. “I felt a breeze!” he barked and hauled you down the right fork.

The delay was just enough for the nearest creature to hazard a slash at you. Its nails tore through your clothing like tissue paper and the flesh of your shoulder beneath like butter. You felt the burn of its four razored claws and the warm flood of blood down your arm, but knew it was only a flesh wound. Enraged at the bastard, you whirled to face it, swinging your axe in a backhand that would have made any ninja proud. The point of your axe sunk into one of its huge black eyes, rupturing it like a juicy fig. Following Flip’s example, you jerked the axe sideways, catching the tip in the eye socket and ripping the side of the creature’s head apart. The rest of its companions had to scramble over its body in their pursuit of you, some of them pausing to take a bite of fresh meat.

While the tunnel remained narrow, the creatures could only chase you but not surround you. That stroke of luck was short lived. The tunnel widened until its walls faded into darkness outside the flashlight’s beam. The demons filled the space around you, encircling you as they snapped and scratched at you, kept at bay only by the feeble flickering beam of light. Trying to fend off all the grasping fingers, Flip spun in a tight circle, keeping you shielded by his massive body. He had little chance of fighting them all off, but he’d damn sure go down swinging.

As Flip turned around, taking the beam of his flashlight with him, you realized that the cavern wasn’t pitch black anymore. You could see the rock walls ahead of you in deep shadow, but not complete darkness. The light came from around a corner, a faint glow in the darkness. You would never have seen it with the flashlight shining ahead, dimming your night vision. Without sparing a second, you grabbed Flip’s arm, your nails digging brutally into his flesh as you spun him forcibly back around to bring his attention to the light. He saw it at once and pushed you ahead of him as you both sprinted toward the beacon of hope.

Rounding the corner where the light shone, there was indeed a spire of bright sunlight that shone down into the cave from far above, but your heart sank when you saw it was a dead end. The light illuminated a small alcove in the cavern the size of a dining room, but there was no exit from it. You both stood, panting for breath inside the light, safe for the moment, but unable to run further.

You were surrounded. On all sides of you, the pale demons crowded just outside the single beam of light. A creature would swipe its claws at you both, trying to hook in your clothing or your backpacks to drag you back into the darkness, then another would bark and snarl, trying to make you jump away from it toward the clutches of another still. The two of you barely had space to cling to each other inside the safety of the light, and there were legions too many creatures to fight off now.

Looking over his shoulder, Flip studied the only feature in the vertical rockface at your backs. There was a single crack in the face the width of a football that ran from the cave floor up to the small opening far above. Through it, the sunlight shone down like an angel’s smile.

“Unless you have any bright ideas, we better get movin’ on up,” Flip told you with a crooked smirk. He was being cavalier for you, but the sentiment didn’t reach his eyes.

“We’re going to climb up the vertical face, are we?” your laugh was tinged with just a hint of hysteria.

“That or we’re gonna be somebody’s lunch.” Flip chewed his lip and pulled you with him when he turned to face the rock. He had your body pressed to the rock as he examined it, keeping you both pressed close and just outside the grasping reach of the creatures.

Flip flexed his hands a few times, priming them for some heavy work. Reaching his right hand over your shoulder, he put his open hand in the crevasse as far as he could. When he was elbow deep the rock was tight on his hand. He clenched a tight fist and leaned his weight back, testing the anchor he created. His knuckles scraped against stone, but his clenched fist was far too big to pull back out from the crevasse that could barely admit his open hand. His arm would have to be cut off for him to fall free from his improvised hold.

Nodding his approval, Flip relaxed his fist and withdrew his hand. He shrugged out of his hundred-pound pack and quickly pulled out the most essential items that he could stuff into his pockets. He turned to face out toward the monsters and hefted his pack in his hand. Like an Olympian swinging a discus, Flip drew back and swung his boulder of a pack at the nearest rank of the creatures, mowing through four of them and sending them flying and rolling like pins broken apart by a bowling ball. He released his hold on his pack when it was aimed at the head of a large creature, hurling it straight into its pointed teeth inside its leering snarl. The pack was heavy enough to crush its skull on impact, snapping its head backward and knocking its body to the ground like a shell from a Howitzer.

“That felt good.” He turned back to you with a grin, stripped you of your own pack and dropping it to the ground. He again wedged his right fist into the crevasse at the height of his shoulder then propped his knee against the rock and looked at you pointedly. “Start climbin.’”

“You can’t hold my weight and yours.” You looked at him incredulously and then up at the sunny opening eighty feet above you, your unattainable salvation.

“You watch me, sugar.” Flip winked at you. “I’ll bet you a good time on it. Now move your pretty little ass.”

At least falling to your deaths seemed less awful than being torn apart by the cave creatures. You stepped your boot onto Flip’s thigh and used a hold on his shoulder to pull yourself up. Your next step was onto his forearm and you wedged your opposite boot into the crevasse as far as you could for balance. Flip hoisted himself up using his fist anchor and a scant foothold until he could jam his left fist into the crevasse at the level of your hip. That was your cue to step onto that forearm and climb another few feet higher. The going was slow but steady as you both ascended with Flip using his fists to ladder you up and haul himself up the crevasse. Below you, the demons shrieked and squalled in ravenous anger as they watched their prey climb away from them in the narrow beam of sunlight where they could not follow.

One industrious demon scrambled its way up the rock just outside the light. It paralleled you, hissing and gnashing its jaws like a piranha at chum, taking a razored swipe at you or Flip whenever it could get close enough to your bodies. So far, the light kept it just out of reach. It climbed up the rock as easily as a spider, except that spiders don’t froth at the mouth and snarl, and their claws don’t rake across stone like broken fingernails through gravel.

The effort required for Flip to support both your weights while climbing vertically was monumental. Sweat and blood dripped down his face and ran stinging into his eyes, his brow was knotted and his jaw clenched as tight as his fists. His arms and powerful shoulders tremored with fatigue by the halfway point in the climb, but he didn’t slow his pace.

“You need to rest, Flip,” you said breathily as you stepped a rung higher on the ladder of his arm.

“I haven’t even begun to defile myself, sugar,” he grunted between pants, tasting salty sweat and coppery blood in his mouth. He knew that if he stopped now, starting up again would be exponentially more difficult, and his great strength was dwindling fast. Beside him, the demon slashed its slender crooked hand at his face. He felt the air and smelled the stink of carrion on its claws. There was nothing he could do about it, his arms were so fatigued that he probably couldn’t throw a punch even if he were able, so he settled for glaring at the little bastard. Instead of addressing any of these points with you, he lied, “I’ll stop in ten more feet. Count ‘em out for me.”

You counted aloud every time he lifted you both higher, fist over fist, as the light above you grew slowly brighter and more hopeful. “You passed ten feet. Time for a break.”

“Ten already?” Flip’s face was a rictus of strain now and he didn’t even try to smirk. Beneath your boot his arm shook with seizure force and his knuckles were torn and bloody from scraping against the rock. If he wasn’t so haggardly spent, it would have amused him that the creature beside you was now climbing off-balance and weak from exertion. Fifty feet below you the demons howled and clawed at the walls. “That was nothin.’ Count me out ten more.”

The light above you was almost blinding after the darkness of the caves as you neared the top. Only ten feet now separated you from the safety of the sunlight. It was a cruel circumstance that in those last ten feet the rockface bowed outward like the obscene beer gut on fat balding uncle Jack, who everyone shunned from holiday parties because of his proclivity to grope the women and leer at the girls. Also like uncle Jack’s beer gut, the convex rock glistened with a sheen of sweat, water that dripped down from the vegetation and mud of the opening. It was too small to be recognized as a cave from the outside, more like a sinkhole, but it would be enough for you both to crawl through if you could reach it.

Flip’s arms were now shaking tremulously and his fists were cramped and unresponsive. But he damned sure wasn’t giving up or quitting now. Growling with determination, he hoisted himself higher, pushing you up with him, using every last reserve of strength to keep his body close to the convex rockface when he felt gravity try to wrench him away. Another notch higher and you couldn’t keep your own grip without toppling over backward, Flip could lock his meaty fists inside the crack but your hands were too slight. Flip crawled over you, pinning your body to the crevasse with his own covering you. You had no choice but to lean back against his quivering chest as you both crawled higher. He was at the very end of his strength, and you knew it just as well as he did.

Beside you, the demon who had tried to climb the outward bulge of rock slipped. It scratched and scrambled for a hold, its black eyes blowing wide with fear when it found none. As if plucked away from the rock by marionette strings, it floated away from the wall seemingly in slow motion, and fell down to be swallowed in the pool of darkness below you. It screamed with human-like terror as it fell, cut off by the dull thud of its body hitting the rock ground and the surprised cacophony of the other creatures below.

Three feet from the top, Flip’s hold failed. His right hand slipped and he dropped dangerously, crushing you to the rock when he regained a hold. Bloody and cramped, his hand wouldn’t hold a grip again and he had no way to rest it.

“Brace against me and climb up,” he rasped painfully. “I can hold out that long if you hurry.”

There wasn’t time to argue or question. You crawled higher, grabbing at anything that could gain you an extra few inches in height. When your ass was at the level of Flip’s chest, he shifted his shoulder beneath you and with the last of his reserves, bumped you up just enough for you to hook your arm out into the cold fresh mountain air and onto the secure rocky lip of the opening. You felt Flip’s hold weaken at the same instant, knowing he had saved you.

“Hold on to me now!” you commanded as you struggled upward.

“I’m too heavy for you, sugar,” he groaned, his voice sounded weaker and further away.

“Do what I say, damnit!” you hissed at him. “I’m the one who gets paid to argue.”

It was like an immovable anchor when Flip locked his arms around your legs, but with the same burst of feral emergency strength that mothers have used to roll overturned cars off their trapped children, you pulled yourself and Flip up and out of the cave, belly-crawling out like a soldier through a minefield.

When you were completely out and Flip could manage the rest of the crawl himself, you flopped down on the ground and rolled onto your back. Nothing had ever felt as good as those frigid wet leaves under your back and the icy sleet that pelted your upturned face. Flip was recovering fast if his sense of humor was any indication. He continued crawling until he was positioned over your body, his arms still trembling as he acted like he was lowering himself in for a kiss. Instead, he plopped down on you, playfully crushing you beneath him and groaned theatrically like a man dying on stage.

“Sugar.” He let out a heavy breath, settling even more of his weight on you. “This little excursion better damn well count for several dates.”

“I’ll waive the Three Date Rule, if that’s what you’re asking.” You tried to laugh but found it difficult with well over two-hundred-thirty-pounds of man on you. “But you better not ever ask me to go hiking, climbing, or caving with you again after this.”

“Deal.” He did kiss you now, soft and grateful. “I only wanna hike as far as a hot shower and a soft bed.”

*******************************************************************************************

There would be no speaking of the events in the mine, not outside your own private company. You and Flip got caught in an avalanche and had to hike out, and that was that. Being involved in the legal system, you both knew well that if you emerged after an avalanche and a collapsed mineshaft, raving about monsters and demons, without a shred of supporting evidence, the best case scenario was that you would both be sent away to a nice retreat in a padded room and be discredited as a detective and a lawyer. The worst case was if you were actually believed, only to be locked away in Area 51 or its equivalent along with all the other nasty dark secrets the government doesn’t want out in the open frightening the populace. No, you and Flip agreed that someone else would have to be unlucky enough to have the macabre honor of officially discovering the demonic cave creatures. 

After escaping the infernal cave system, nothing sounded better than Flip’s offer of going home with him to his cabin for a hot shower, a soft bed, and good company. Not to mention that neither of you wanted to be apart from each other. His cabin didn’t disappoint, it was beautiful. It was hidden from view until the final curve in the dirt driveway. nestled in a small clearing in the forested mountains with a creek trickling idly through the horse pasture. 

Showering together was an erotic admiration of each other’s bodies that washed away your exhaustion along with all the mud and blood that covered you both. By the end of it, you were hot and dripping from the feel of his enormous hands caressing you, and he was hard and eager when he backed you out of the shower with his lips on yours, guiding you backward to his bed. 

His lips were so soft as he kissed you, plush and caressing, mis-paired with his insistent erection that pressed into your belly. His searing kiss burned hotter than the fire that roared in the hearth when your mouth parted, allowing his hot tongue to lick into you. Your hand flew up to grab the back of his neck, pulling him harder against you, clawing at his skin and twisting into his dense wet hair. Flip’s hand trailed down your side, following the curve of your waist and hip, then back upward as he pulled you harder against him. His coarse broad palm smoothed against the skin of your back, and he kissed you with all the passion he had. A groan rumbled low through his chest when you slid your hand down the ridged planes of his body to grip his massive cock, your fingers unable to meet around his incredible girth. Flip’s head dropped to kiss at your neck, licking and nipping at your skin. 

Flip pushed you gently back onto the bed. You allowed yourself to fall backward, exaggerating the bounce of your tits as you bobbed on his mattress. He stood admiring you for a moment, taking in every detail of the beautiful sight of you laying before him. The mattress dipped with his weight when he placed his hands on either side of your hips, lowering his weight onto the bed. Instead of crawling over you, as you expected, he dropped his head to kiss at your belly. His mouth traveled lower until he kissed the top of your pussy. 

“I’ve wanted a taste of you since the first day I ever saw you in court. You were wearin’ a pretty blue dress,” he growled, placing his next kiss to the lips of your pussy. “Too pretty for a fuckin’ lawyer.” 

You writhed, moaning his name, when his prominent nose parted your folds, followed by his tongue licking through your pussy. He kissed you again once you were open for him, his lips working your pussy as passionately as he would your mouth. 

“I knew you’d taste so fuckin’ sweet.” His deep voice vibrated into you, raising goosebumps along your spine. 

You could already feel heat pooling in your core from his lips and eager tongue alone, but you wanted more. 

“I want the first time I cum with you to be all over that big cock of yours, Flip,” you told him huskily. 

“Demanding, aren’t you?” Flip grinned up at you from between your thighs. He trailed his lips up the center of your body as he crawled over you, leaving kisses in his wake. 

Planting his left forearm outside your shoulder, his fingers reached to lightly stroke your cheek. Gripping his cock in his free hand, he ran his fat tip through your folds, collecting your arousal. His heavy breath blended with your sigh when he pushed into you, feeling you stretch around him. Returning his lips to yours, he kissed you deeply, almost soothingly, as he rocked his cock into you, sinking in inch by delicious inch. 

“Your little pussy feels so fuckin’ good, sugar. So wet. So fuckin’ tight on my cock,” Flip groaned when his cock filled you completely, his hips flush against you. 

Your nails digging into his back told him to start thrusting into you. You felt every thick vein and ridge of cock rubbing against you, as he slowly thrust into you. Raising your legs higher up his waist, allowing him to slide in even deeper, you met his thrusts with your own motions. Flip’s angle was perfect, each drag of his cock sending a current of pleasure coursing through you. Your hands moved to twist into his thick hair, tugging harshly, as your pleasure quickly built. Flip felt you tighten around him, wanting to suck him in further, and your thighs squeezing him harder, your hands gripping him desperately. Everything about your body wanted to consume as much of him as possible, and Flip felt it all. 

You moaned his name as you came, pulses of ecstasy shooting through you in time with his rough thrusts. Flip groaned through gritted teeth, his eyebrows pinched together, straining to drag out your pleasure until he felt your body go limp beneath him. He allowed his rhythm to falter, pounding into you while his own orgasm crested and he emptied into you. You shivered at the delicious feeling of his warmth spreading through you and his weight relaxing down on top of you. 

Still throbbing inside you, Flip returned his lips to yours. His kisses were less expert now, his lips pulled into a smile instead of kissing you properly. Wrapping your arms tight around his neck, you pulled him down harder against you, making your kiss even worse, as your smiles crashed together. Flip rolled onto his back, pulling you with him and trapping you inside his arms against his massive chest. Gazing down at him, you brushed his wild hair back from his forehead. 

“I like the view from here,” you told him, tracing the aquiline line of his nose with your fingertip. 

“Me too, sugar.” Adoration gleamed in his eyes as he looked up at you. 

After kissing him again, you lowered yourself to lay against him, resting your cheek on his chest. Feeling his hands rub and caress you and his lips kiss your skin, you marveled at how such a rough and powerful man could be so loving and gentle with you. 

“I never want to spend another night away from you, Flip,” you whispered against his skin. “I want to stay just like this.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing that’s not somethin’ we need to argue about,” Flip purred, his chest rumbling beneath you. “Because those are my thoughts exactly.” 

*******************************************************************************************

© safarigirlsp 2022

[toastedkiwi]

Books Kiwi Has Read

Notes: I might accidentally reveal spoilers on the books. A majority of the books I’ve read are happy endings because I don’t want my heart broken. Also, I don’t read smut parts in books- i automatically act scandalized (as if I haven’t read smutty fanfics) and skip them. This’ll be constantly updated and these all are on Kindle Unlimited. There’s also no method to my color coding.

How To Honeymoon Alone by Olivia Hayle

It’s a somewhat grumpy x sunshine romance. It’s like two worlds colliding— he’s a corporate lawyer who doesn’t go to court and she’s a kindergarten teacher. There is some smut but it’s quite mild and to be honest I skipped those parts and there weren’t many. It’s very sweet and fluffy.

The Temporary Roomie by Sarah Adams

Loved it. It’s enemies to lovers. It’s very comedic and there’s a lot of silliness. There’s some fake dating thrown in too. He’s an ob/gyn and she’s pregnant (not his patient though). There’s no smut (unless I completely forgot that there was). Would 10/10 recommend to those who love my series Roomies or Small Assistant!Reader and like that type of banter.

What Heals Us by Maggie Gates

It’s an age gap romance. He’s like 38 and she’s 22. It’s a nicely written one. It’s not the sole focus but it is talked about. Smut is in there and he’s her first for a lot of things. Btw he’s a firefighter and she’s a kindergarten teacher. She does struggle a bit with lupus and he’s stuck constantly in the friendzone.

Keeping Denver by Sandy Alvarez, Crystal Daniels

It’s a bit angsty but there is of course a happy ending. It’s boss x assistant. He’s a lawyer. I feel like the stud muffin in the story jumped the gun a bit when getting into a relationship with Denver and was a little too possessive over his employee. I personally thought that he should’ve gone a lot slower with her.

Limits by Susie Tate

It’s a good angst with a happy ending. He’s very cocky- he’s a peacock. It’s a little overbearing at times but the Greek means well. There is some mental health stuff— I originally thought she was autistic or has Asperger’s or some form but she’s got OCD. It’s not clearly stated in the book until later but it’s also in the proper Amazon summary which I clearly didn’t pay attention to. Also, her family sucks. (It’s based in the UK- I think Tate is British and often sets her stories there but I read the characters with American accents- it’s a little weird).

Unperfect by Susie Tate

It’s a lot like Keeping Denver but architect x assistant/IT and set in the UK. She got out of a domestic violence situation and is homeless. Tate writes it very tastefully.

[lboogie1906]

Attorney Michelle Denise Bernard (July 30, 1963) is the President and CEO of the Bernard Center for Women, Politics, and Public Policy. Born in DC, she is a graduate of Howard University, earning a BA in Philosophy and a minor in Political Science, and Georgetown University Law Center, earning her JD. She has been married twice and has two children with her first husband. She is a political and policy analyst, media commentator, social critic, author, columnist, public speaker, and lawyer.

She became a partner at the lobbyist and law firm Patton Boggs in DC. She became the President and CEO of the Independent Women’s Forum and Independent Women’s Voice. She served on the Bush-Cheney Presidential Inaugural Committee. She was the chair of the DC’s Redevelopment Land Agency and a member of the journalism advisory board of the news magazine, The 74. She was a member of the Board of Trustees of Hampton University and the Board of Directors of the Coalition for Opportunity in Education.

She has appeared in several publications, including US News and World Report, The Hill, The Huffington Post, and The Root. Examples of her work are “Naming the Sin: Are Churches Helping to Stop Domestic Violence or Enabling It” and “Moving America Toward Justice: The Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights Under Law, 1963-2013.” She has appeared on HBO, CNN, MSNBC, and TV One. She co-created and hosted “About the Children.”

She is an outspoken advocate of human rights for people of color, women, and religious minorities globally. She has supported the Black Lives Matter Movement and the #SayHerName campaign of the African American Policy Forum.

She has received numerous awards including the Anvil of Freedom Award for journalism and democracy from the University of Denver’s Edward W. and Charlotte A. Estlow International Center for Journalism and New Media. She was named the Mary Louise Smith Chair in Women and Politics at Iowa State University. She was awarded a distinguished alumni achievement award from Howard University for outstanding post-graduate achievement in the fields of media, journalism, and public policy. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[joltcollective]

Understanding Domestic Violence Charges in Denver - MBS Law

Protect Your Rights with Our Denver Domestic Violence Attorneys

At MBS Law (Mastro, Barnes & Stazzone, P.C.), our team of domestic violence attorneys in Denver is here to defend your rights and navigate the complexities of domestic violence charges in Colorado. Whether you're facing allegations in Denver or anywhere else in the state, we offer compassionate support and expert guidance tailored to your unique situation. Schedule a free consultation with our experienced domestic violence lawyers today. Count on us to vigorously fight for your rights and provide exceptional legal representation. Contact us now to begin addressing your legal concerns with confidence.

[artsuniverse247]

Navigating the Complex Terrain of Divorce: Denver Divorce Attorneys Guide

Divorce is a challenging and emotional process that requires careful navigation through legal complexities. In the vibrant city of Denver, individuals facing the difficult decision to end their marriage often turn to experienced professionals for guidance. Divorce attorney denver play a crucial role in helping clients navigate the legal landscape, ensuring their rights are protected and facilitating a smoother transition during this challenging time.

Understanding the Legal Landscape: Divorce laws can vary significantly from state to state, and Colorado is no exception. Denver divorce attorneys are well-versed in the local legal intricacies, ensuring that their clients are informed about their rights and obligations. From property division and alimony to child custody and support, these legal experts guide their clients through the entire process, advocating for their best interests.

Expertise in Family Law: Best divorce lawyer denver specialize in family law, a field that encompasses a wide range of issues related to domestic relations. Their expertise extends beyond the dissolution of marriages to include matters such as prenuptial agreements, legal separation, spousal and child support, and domestic violence issues. This comprehensive understanding allows them to provide holistic advice tailored to each client's unique situation.

Navigating Emotional Challenges: Divorce is emotionally taxing, and Denver divorce attorneys are not just legal professionals but also empathetic counselors. They understand the emotional toll that the process can take on individuals and families. By providing a supportive environment and practical advice, they help clients make informed decisions during a time of emotional distress.

Mediation and Alternative Dispute Resolution: While litigation is an option, many Denver divorce attorneys also specialize in mediation and alternative dispute resolution methods. Mediation offers couples a more amicable and cost-effective way to resolve their differences, with the guidance of a neutral third party. Denver divorce attorneys skilled in mediation can facilitate constructive conversations, helping couples reach mutually agreeable solutions.

Child Custody Advocacy: For couples with children, one of the most challenging aspects of divorce is determining child custody arrangements. Best divorce attorney denver prioritize the best interests of the child, advocating for fair and workable custody agreements. They help clients understand the factors considered by the court in making custody decisions and work towards solutions that foster the child's well-being.

Financial Expertise: Division of assets and financial considerations are integral parts of divorce proceedings. Denver divorce attorneys possess financial acumen, ensuring that their clients' economic interests are protected. They navigate the complexities of property division, alimony, and other financial aspects, aiming for equitable solutions that set the stage for a stable post-divorce future.

Denver divorce attorneys play a vital role in guiding individuals through the challenging process of divorce. With a deep understanding of Colorado's legal landscape and a commitment to serving their clients' best interests, these professionals provide invaluable support during a tumultuous time. Whether through litigation, mediation, or alternative dispute resolution, Denver divorce attorneys offer the expertise needed to navigate the complexities of divorce and emerge with a fair and equitable resolution for all parties involved.

[masterofd1saster]

CJ current events 14dec23

Navy, Navy, I'm in doubt

Gregory Edward McLean, 39, of Jacksonville, Florida, today pleaded guilty to one count of distributing videos depicting the sexual assault of children and one count of unlawful retention of classified national defense information. According to the plea agreement, state law enforcement in Rhode Island received a cyber tipline report that a user of a particular messaging application had shared videos depicting the sexual abuse of young children. The investigation identified the user as McLean, who was at that time an active-duty officer in the U.S. Navy, with the rank of Lieutenant Commander and serving as the Executive Officer of a ship stationed aboard a Naval Station Mayport in Florida. The Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS) continued the investigation and identified additional instances where McLean had distributed child sexual abuse material. On Nov. 4, 2021, agents executed a federal search warrant at McLean’s residence, during which they seized numerous electronic devices and storage media. A forensic review revealed that several of these items contained files depicting the sexual abuse of minors.  The forensic review also identified a flash drive – which had been recovered from McLean’s kitchen counter – that contained approximately 150 documents containing national defense information classified at the Secret level and 50 documents containing national defense information classified at the Confidential level. An investigation by NCIS and the FBI revealed that throughout his service as a naval officer, McLean had access to classified information and held a Top-Secret security clearance. McLean had entered into various agreements with the United States regarding the protection and proper handling of classified information and was aware that his home was not an authorized location to store classified national defense information. In particular, the criminal information and plea agreement identify two documents McLean unlawfully retained which contained national defense information related to foreign governments and their combat aircraft and naval capabilities. Disclosure of this information could reasonably be expected to cause damage and, in some instances, serious damage to the national security of the United States.*** https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/naval-commander-pleads-guilty-distributing-child-sexual-abuse-material-and-retaining

***

Crime at a pot shop? I'm shocked.

Burglaries at over 40 Denver-area marijuana dispensaries lead to charges for members of two organized crime groups About $780,000 of cash and property were stolen, and the members of two organized crime groups also now face charges of aggravated robbery, kidnapping, illegal possession of firearms and violating the Colorado Organized Crime Control Act.

***

BB -

and

Actually, the case is

***

***

***

Be careful what you put in e-mail or online

Just weeks ahead of the Army’s legislatively-required shift in how it prosecutes major crimes, the Army has relieved the man tapped to lead the all-new office. According to the Army, they have re-assigned Brig. Gen. Warren L. Wells after a "loss of trust and confidence" in his ability to lead the Army Office of Special Trial Counsel. The move comes after an email Wells sent in 2013 resurfaced, where he complained about what he called false allegations by victims. "You and your teams are now the ONLY line of defense against false allegations and sobriety regrets," he wrote to his staff, according to an email obtained by the Associated Press. An executive order signed in Aug. 2023, changed how some crimes—including sexual assault, domestic violence, child abuse and murder—would be handled within the military justice system. The change would take control outside the chain of command, and put independent prosecutors over the decision-making on filing charges.*** https://www.fox13seattle.com/news/armys-top-lawyer-for-sex-assault-cases-relieved-of-duties-over-loss-of-trust-and-confidence

Gen Patton once said that corps commanders - ordinarily 3-star generals - should be able to approve capital punishment b/c they would surely know how to handle one poltroon - a coward. Somehow, the President and Congress think it takes a general officer to prosecute one rapist.

***

Boondocks case

A Catholic priest from a small Nebraska city was fatally knifed by a suspect who broke into the church’s rectory early Sunday morning, according to authorities and church officials. Sheriff deputies found Father Stephen Gutgsell with stab wounds around 5 a.m. after he was allegedly attacked by Kierre Williams inside St. John the Baptist Catholic Church, the Washington County Sheriff’s Office said.*** Law enforcement were initially called to the scene for an attempted break-in at the church located in Fort Calhoun, a city of about 1,000 that is 20 miles north of Omaha.*** More than a decade ago, Gutgsell pleaded guilty to theft by deception in 2007 for embezzling $127,000 from an area church and was sentenced to probation and restitution. He was reassigned to another church after church leaders said then he learned his lesson and sought forgiveness.*** https://nypost.com/2023/12/10/news/fr-stephen-gutgsell-fatally-stabbed-in-st-john-the-baptist-catholic-church-rectory/

***

Church statement makes a statement

A longtime youth pastor in New Hampshire killed himself just two days after he was fired from his church over “credible allegations” he was sexually assaulting children he was tasked with leading.

Jarrett Booker, 37, had served as the Pastor of Worship and Youth Ministry at Nashua Baptist Church for nearly a decade when his alleged victims came forward last month.

“Regrettably, on the evening of November 27, Jarrett Booker took his own life, refusing to face the consequences of his actions,” the church’s elders and deacons said in a statement.

“This event has added immeasurably to the complexity and pain of the situation.”

Officials at Nashua Baptist Church said they became aware of a criminal investigation into the alleged sexual assault just five days before Booker’s suicide.*** https://nypost.com/2023/12/08/news/new-hampshire-youth-pastor-commits-suicide-amid-child-sex-assault-probe/

***

Either the dead bro was a ninja or your weapon retention stinks

UPPER MARLBORO, Md. (AP) — A Maryland police officer was acquitted by a jury of murder and other charges Wednesday from the fatal shooting a handcuffed man. The jury acquitted Michael Owen Jr. of all four charges, including second-degree murder, first-degree assault, voluntary manslaughter and misconduct in office. It took the jury less than two hours of deliberations to deliver the not guilty verdict. Owen had served on the police force for 10 years when he became the first officer in the county’s history to be charged with murder in an on-duty killing. Owen fatally shot William Green, 43, while the handcuffed man was sitting in the front seat of the officer’s police cruiser in 2020. Owen’s attorneys claimed at trial that he acted in self defense during a struggle in which Green tried to grab his gun. After the gun went off, he shot Green six times.*** https://apnews.com/article/maryland-police-officer-trial-shooting-handcuffed-man-ab5e63d8b00ccbb7a7ea2da88e902891

Sad

Decades-old rule pushes mentally ill Coloradans out of hospitals too soon. Legislators may finally change it.

There are 300 to 400 low-income Coloradans with severe mental illnesses who need longer hospital stays but don’t get them because Medicaid caps inpatient treatment at many psychiatric hospitals to 15 days per month, a requirement that advocates say is harming vulnerable patients and straining the broader public safety net. The patients, many of whom are homeless and are discharged before they’re fully stabilized, are left to tumble through jails and psychiatric evaluations, shelters and city streets, emergency rooms and nonprofit groups. The details are maddening, providers and advocates said: If a patient stays at one facility for 10 days and another for six, neither hospital gets paid. Because the 15-day limit is based on a monthly clock, a patient’s length of stay is partially determined by when they are admitted. A patient admitted on Dec. 8 is likely to be out before Christmas, for instance. But a patient hospitalized on Dec. 18 can stay the rest of the month and then remain in the hospital when the countdown restarts on Jan. 1. As Seth Klamann reports, as the state broadly re-assesses its mental health system, a group of legislators, mental health advocates and parents are working to change the Medicaid mental health rule and provide 30 days of inpatient treatment to patients who need it. That requires a waiver from the federal government, plus $7.2 million in annual funding, according to projections provided to the Colorado Department of Health Care Policy and Financing earlier this year. Nineteen other states have secured or are awaiting a final answer on similar waiver applications, according to KFF, a health policy think-tank. https://www.denverpost.com/2023/12/11/colorado-medicaid-mental-health/

***

Some of those manatees are pretty hot

Drunk tourist sexually molests manatee statue at Florida restaurant after being asked to leave, deputies say Dani Medina Tue, December 12, 2023 at 4:13 PM EST ST. PETE BEACH, Fla. - A tourist found himself behind bars after he drunkenly threw gator nuggets into a restaurant and "sexually molested" a manatee statue when staff asked him to leave, according to deputies. Anthony Lessa, 23, was arrested and charged with disorderly intoxication after the incident***

***

Raiders move to town; pervert crime skyrockets

LAS VEGAS (KLAS) — The 8 News Now Investigators obtained information on seven of the 70-plus men arrested during a sex trafficking operation run by Metro police’s vice squad during the week of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. Those seven men, according to Captain Hector Cintron of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department’s vice unit, were arrested for “luring a child or soliciting a minor.” All seven thought they were meeting a teenage girl, the police reports said. Those records indicate the oldest man arrested is 64, the youngest is 22.*** Most men agreed to pay their decoys somewhere in the range of $100-$120, while one of the men arrested initially offered his decoy $120 and lowered his offer to $100.00. Most had cash on their person and some brought protection. Others negotiated sex without protection, the reports said.***

And I didn't even mention Henry Ruggs III nor homicide.

***

Organized shoplifting

Federal investigators have tracked major retail theft incidents back to criminal organizations in Europe and South America that send non-U.S. citizens into the United States with the sole objective of stealing. These foreign crime rings are flying operatives into the country to do as much damage as possible at major stores, and the thefts contributed to the $112 billion total in retail losses in 2022, up from $94 billion in 2021, according to the FBI and Department of Homeland Security officials who briefed House lawmakers Tuesday. Investigations launched by DHS's U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement's Homeland Security Investigations arm focus on the head honchos behind organized crime rings and have uncovered several such foreign-based groups that have targeted and continue to focus their efforts on hurting U.S. retailers. "One such example is the South American Theft Groups (SATGs), which include organizations based in Colombia, Chile, and other countries," said Michael J. Krol, special agent in charge for HSI, in written testimony. "These groups recruit members and facilitate travel into the United States for individuals who then commit strategic thefts of high-value electronic devices. Items are stolen, consolidated, shipped to another location in the United States, and ultimately illicitly exported to foreign countries." Krol pointed to another crime ring in which Romanian organized theft groups, or ROTG, based out of Eastern Europe recruit people to travel to the U.S. to commit various types of crimes, including retail theft. "A recent HSI investigation in Missouri revealed an ROTG, comprised of previously deported individuals, that wired illicit proceeds to Romania and other international destinations," Krol said.*** https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/news/crime/organized-retail-crime-rings-testimony-congress

***

Untreated mental illness with drug abuse is like gasoline vapor with matches

Sen. Kevin Cramer (R-ND) has a 42-year-old son, Ian. He recently led police on a high speed chase "that resulted in the death of 53-year-old North Dakota deputy Paul Martin... on Dec. 6."

Cramer was reportedly driven to a hospital by his mother over concerns about his mental health when he claimed he wanted to see his brother Ike, who died in 2018. When the senator's wife, Kris, got out of her vehicle at the hospital, Ian Cramer allegedly got into the driver's seat and drove through a door to get out of the enclosed ambulance bay at the hospital’s emergency department, according to Bismarck police. The younger Cramer allegedly hit speeds of 100 mph during the chase and kept driving even after an officer from Beulah used a spiked device to flatten two of the vehicle's tires, authorities said. About 5 miles outside of Hazen, North Dakota, Ian Cramer swerved after the Beulah police chief and Martin laid out more tire deflation devices and crashed into Martin’s squad car, launching him about 100 feet, according to charging documents obtained by the Associated Press.*** https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/news/crime/kevin-cramers-sons-charges-manslaughter-murder-north-dakota-judge

Ian has been charged with homicide.

***

Sounds like quid pro quo that she didn't find harassing or abusive

FULTON COUNTY, Ga. - Opening statements were presented Thursday in the trial of former Fulton County District Attorney Paul Howard, who faces accusations of sexual harassment and abuse of power by a former county employee, Cathy Carter. The trial commenced with a jury comprised of eight men and four women listening to statements from Mario Williams, representing the prosecution. Williams argued that Howard, who served as the district attorney for approximately 24 years, should have upheld integrity and public trust. The prosecution alleges that Howard engaged in what they termed "pressure and punishment," claiming that Carter felt compelled to comply. The defense countered by asserting that, over the 18 years Carter worked under Howard, she had ample opportunities to file complaints but chose not to. They also noted her retirement in 2011, only to return years later, during which time she continued to communicate with Howard.*** The defense argued Carter was fired because of two gun-related arrests within a six-month period. The defense claimed chronic tardiness and absences were also the cause for her termination.***

[surolawfirm]

Unveiling Domestic Violence Dynamics: Seeking Legal Aid in Denver | Suro Law Firm

Domestic violence, a harrowing reality for many, manifests in various forms, including physical, emotional, and financial abuse, inflicted by intimate partners or family members. Recognizing the gravity of this issue, residents of Denver, Colorado, can seek recourse through legal avenues facilitated by professionals like a Denver domestic violence attorney or a Colorado domestic violence lawyer.

Understanding the dynamics of domestic violence is crucial. Domestic violence enhancers, such as substance abuse, financial strain, or a history of violence within the family, can exacerbate the severity of abuse. Awareness of these factors enables tailored interventions and comprehensive support for survivors.

In cases where individuals are accused of domestic violence, engaging a Denver criminal defense attorney is imperative. These legal experts possess the acumen to navigate complex legal proceedings, ensuring the protection of the accused's rights. A skilled Denver criminal lawyer can explore alternatives to conventional punitive measures, such as rehabilitation programs, aiming at addressing root causes and preventing recidivism.

The role of a Denver domestic violence attorney or a Colorado domestic violence lawyer extends beyond legal representation. They serve as advocates for survivors, offering guidance, support, and empowerment throughout the legal process. By collaborating with law enforcement and community resources, these professionals strive to secure justice and safety for survivors of domestic violence.

Moreover, legal professionals play a pivotal role in raising awareness and fostering a culture of accountability. By holding perpetrators responsible for their actions and advocating for systemic changes, they contribute to the broader effort of combating domestic violence.

In Denver, as in any community, confronting domestic violence demands a concerted effort from all sectors of society. By amplifying survivor voices, providing legal assistance, and promoting prevention initiatives, we can work towards eradicating domestic violence and creating safer, more equitable communities for all.

Suro Law Firm specializes in defending individuals accused of domestic violence with skill and empathy. Led by attorney David Suro, our team offers comprehensive legal support tailored to each client's needs. From defining domestic violence to navigating the legal system, we're dedicated to protecting your rights and ensuring fair treatment. With our experienced representation, you can trust that your case is in capable hands

[idlnmclean]

Abolish Colonial Law Enforcement

The Police are Not Required to Protect You

“To Protect and to Serve[1]”  – the ubiquitous creed emblazoned across millions of police cars  throughout Los Angeles and indeed the United States. This motto is  consistent with the common belief that police officers as well as other  law enforcement officers are here to protect us. After all, we are all  taught to dial 9-1-1 when we need help. Subject to narrow exceptions[2],  the United States Constitution does not require law enforcement  officers to protect you from other people, according to the U.S. Supreme  Court. This notion contradicts our engrained perceptions, but it’s  still the law today.

In the 1989 landmark case of DeShaney v. Winnebago County Department of Social Services,  the U.S. Supreme Court held that the failure by government workers to  protect someone (even 4-year-old Joshua DeShaney) from physical violence  or harm from another person (his father) did not breach any substantive  constitutional duty.[3]   In this case, Joshua’s mother sued the Winnebago County Department of  Social Services, alleging it deprived Joshua of his “liberty interest in  bodily integrity, in violation of his rights under the substantive  component of the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause, by failing  to intervene to protect him against his father’s violence.”[4]  While the Department took various steps to protect Joshua after  receiving numerous complaints of the abuse, the Department took no  actions to remove Joshua from his father’s custody.[5]  Joshua became comatose and extremely retarded due to traumatic head  injuries inflicted by his father who physically beat him over a long  period of time.[6]

Nevertheless, the Court found that the government had no affirmative  duty to protect any person, even a child, from harm by another person.  “Nothing in the language of the Due Process Clause itself requires the  State to protect the life, liberty, and property of its citizens against  invasion by private actors,” stated Chief Justice Rehnquist for the  majority, “even where such aid may be necessary to secure life, liberty,  or property interests of which the government itself may not deprive  the individual” without “due process of the law.”[7]

The DeShaney decision has been cited by many courts across the nation and reaffirmed by the U.S. Supreme Court. Namely—on June 27, 2005, in Castle Rock v. Gonzales, the U.S. Supreme Court again ruled that the police did not have a constitutional duty to protect a person from harm.[8]   The decision overturned a federal appeals court ruling which permitted a  lawsuit against the town of Castle Rock for the police’s failure to  respond after Jessica Gonzales tried to get the police to arrest her  estranged husband Simon Gonzales for kidnapping their three daughters  (ages 7, 8, and 10) while they were playing outside, in violation of a  court-issued protective order.[9]   After Simon called to tell Jessica where they were at (in Denver at an  amusement park), for hours she pleaded for the police to arrest Simon.[10]  But, the police failed to act before Simon showed up at the police  department and started shooting inside, and with the bodies of the 3  children in the trunk of his car.[11]

In her suit against the town, Jessica argued that the protective  order stating “you shall arrest” or issue a warrant for arrest of a  violator and that it gave her a “property interest” within the meaning  of the 14th Amendment’s Due Process guarantees, which prohibits the  deprivation of property without due process.[12]  By framing their case as one of procedural Due Process and not of  substance, Jessica and her lawyers had hoped to get around the 1989 DeShaney precedent. To no avail, the U.S. Supreme Court saw little difference between this case and the DeShaney case.[13]  Justice Antonin Scalia, writing for the majority, stated that Ms.  Gonzales did not have a “property interest” in enforcing the restraining  order and that “such a right would not, of course, resemble any  traditional conception of property.”[14] [15] The Court went on to reaffirm the DeShaney ruling  that there is no affirmative right to aid by the government or the  police found in the U.S. Constitution, and thus no legal recourse could  be brought thereunder.[16] The “no duty to protect” rule remains unwavering and the law today.

Needless to say, the stories of Joshua DeShaney and Jessica Gonzales’  three daughters (and countless similar stories) are saddening, and the  rulings seem to be at odds with our common and fundamental understanding  that the police are here to ensure our safety and provide protection.  One need only look to the door of a Los Angeles police cruiser to find  those reassuring words. However, those words are misleading in light of  these Supreme Court rulings.

Though alarming, we simply have no affirmative right to police aid,  even when a person, including a helpless child, faces imminent danger.  We are all responsible for our own personal safety, whether we like it  or not.

— By Keobopha Keopong, Esq., Barnes Law

https://www.barneslawllp.com/blog/police-not-required-protect

Cops are statistically more likely to murder you, rape you, sexually assault you, steal from you, break your things, damage your property, destroy your communities, imprison you, traffick you, or torture you than just about any other criminal class.

People upon hearing “abolish police” often counter about who will deal with domestic abuse calls or rape or murders or some other heinous crime? 40% of cops are reported domestic abusers, and we can infer that the number is significantly higher than what is reported. Most human trafficking in the US is through prisons or through industries adjacent to law enforcement, prisons, or their organized criminal networks. A significant chunk of the serial rapists turn out to be cops, and they operate for decades because they are protected by other cops who basically routinely engage in obstruction of justice for their cop buddies and for their friends and families.

Almost no rapes that are reported are properly investigated from report to conviction.

You are more likely to die of a cop attacking you than of any terrorist attack including mass shootings by white supremacists. Cops are more likely to be white supremacists than the average person.

Cops are not required to know or even necessarily obey the law. The legal expectation is that you will somehow drag them before a court with a qualified lawyer, and you will argue the finer points of a legal case before a judge. Cops are defaulted to be assumed to be following the law until and unless someone can adequately document it to the satisfaction of the court system.

Cops generally have some form of qualified immunity.

Qualified immunity is a legal doctrine in United States federal law that shields government officials from being sued for discretionary actions performed within their official capacity, unless their actions violated "clearly established" federal law or constitutional rights.[1] It is intended to protect officials who "make reasonable but mistaken judgments about open legal questions",[2] extending to "all [officials] but the plainly incompetent or those who knowingly violate the law".[3] Qualified immunity applies only to government officials, and does not protect the government itself from suits arising from officials’ actions.[4]

The U.S. Supreme Court first introduced the qualified immunity doctrine in 1967, originally with the rationale of protecting law enforcement officials from frivolous lawsuits and financial liability in cases where they acted in good faith in unclear legal situations.[5][6] Starting around 2005, courts increasingly applied the doctrine to cases involving the use of excessive or deadly force by police, leading to widespread criticism that it, in the words of a 2020 Reuters report, "has become a nearly failsafe tool to let police brutality go unpunished and deny victims their constitutional rights".[6]

The courts generally favor the police and range from grossly corrupt to grossly incompetent.

[swimmingnewsie]

Of Coffee and Cookies (Chapter 12)

Hey guys, major trigger warnings for gun violence and domestic violence in this chapter. Take care of yourself first, I promise I won’t be upset. Your mental health takes priority to this angst fest.

Major props to @writetheniteaway for helping with the legal aspects and previous chapters. Give her work a look sometime. She’s one of my best friends and favorite writers. If you like the angst I write, she gives me a run for my money so please check her out!

On with the show

Link to AO3 

---

Anna felt as though she were going to crawl out of her skin. They had only been in the courtroom for fifteen minutes but she felt Hans’ glaring eyes on her the whole time. Even in her dress pants and long shirt, she felt exposed. She wanted to cry, but to cry would be to show weakness.

She closed her eyes tight for a second, wishing her sister had been allowed to sit with her instead of behind her in the gallery. Her attorney was giving their opening statement, including as many of the criminal related facts he could. It was hard to hear about that night, no matter how many times she had been forced to tell the tale or how many times the attorney said it out loud. Her therapist said it would get a little easier each time, and that in telling her story, she would gain a sense of agency.

Anna thought her therapist was full of shit.

Because no matter how many times she spoke of it, she still felt the pounding in her heart. She still felt the way he touched her. Felt the cold metal against her back and the fear that she wouldn’t see the next morning. 

“I saw the way you acted with him! You stupid fucking slut!”

“You will not ruin the Westerguard family name!”

“I know you’re hiding in here. Come out come out wherever you are!”

“I’m all you’ve got left, sweetheart. No one’s coming to save you tonight.”

“You are nothing.”

His words rang in her head no matter how much she tried. At any other time she would distract herself, put in earbuds to block the hurtful words. But the hearing required her full attention- or at least as much of it as she could bear to give. 

She really did try to listen. It was important, and she would be asked to speak at some point. She needed to pay attention, but her fear held her hostage.

And if listening to her side of the story again hurt, then listening to his side was absolute tourture. 

“Your honor, my client Officer Westerguard did not perform the acts proposed by the opposing side. The only evidence of gun violence is a single shot into a wall, a wall in their guest bedroom to be more specific. Additionally, there is no proof that the injuries caused in the photographs were in fact caused by Officer Westerguard. 

“Has this young man not suffered enough? Spending almost a year in which he had to feel as if he were a criminal in his own town? There is no purpose in continuing the protection order, for not only is Officer Westerguard innocent, but Ms. Arendelle has not been seen anywhere near the Denver metropolitan area in months. For what purpose does a protection order have if there is no opportunity of interaction on a regular basis?”

Anna could feel her blood boiling. No evidence? She had specifically taken pictures of the gun and her face with date and time stamps, just like she had read online. But when looking at the pictures on the screen, those stamps were suspiciously missing. Not to mention the fact that multiple 911 calls were made- the 911 calls that had helped her earn the temporary protection order. But now those calls were considered “unimportant”?

The statement about Hans suffering threatened to push her over the edge. Hans had been the one to suffer? She was the one who had to start a whole new life. The one who cried herself to sleep for months because she couldn’t feel anything besides fear.

But sure, Hans was the one who was suffering, being seen as a criminal to people he had no care or interest in. His law enforcement friends certainly didn’t see him as a criminal, sitting behind him in the courtroom with a little too happy of grins. 

“For these reasons, I argue that the protection order between Ms. Arendelle and Officer Westerguard need not be made permanent.”

"Thank you, Mr. Peterson. You may be seated. Ms. Arendelle, if you would come to the stand please?" 

Elsa gave her a reassuring look from where she was seated behind, giving Anna one last boost of courage. She could do this. Her heart felt about ready to explode, but she could do this.

"Ms. Anna Arendelle, do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?"

"I do."

This was it. Anna squared her shoulders, looking dead ahead at the judge. In ten minutes this would be over. She just had to survive those next ten minutes, one breath at a time.

"Can you tell me what happened on the evening of April 20th this past year?"

It took everything in her not to get stuck in the fog of her brain. She tried to listen to the tiny voice in her mind, telling her that it was okay. It was okay to talk about it. There was someone listening to her, someone who could help her.

Anna’s heart felt as though it were going to jump out of her chest when she heard the door open. Their earlier fight had been replaying in her head. It was stupid. Why was it such a big deal that she had gone out to the game night at the coffee shop? She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

But it had made Hans mad, and it was all her fault. She knew better than to think going out would actually help him cool down. She knew that his anger would only escalated in proportion to the number of shots he had at the bar. By the sound of the door slam, she could tell it had been more than usual. If she was lucky, she could get him to bed before anything could happen.

His mumblings grew louder and louder. Things about how the house wasn’t clean enough, why did he even keep her around if she wasn’t going to fucking clean? 

She greeted him, knowing that ignoring him would only make things worse. 

He had that wavering look in his eyes, mirroring his unsteady feet. He was shouting about the house. Shouting about how she was whoring herself around, how horrible of a human she was, how no one loved her but him. She braced herself for his hand, straight faced. She had stopped wincing a long time ago. 

She made an excuse some time later, getting herself back in their bedroom. A fire lit inside herself. She couldn’t live like this anymore. She snapped a quick photograph of her injured face and sent it with a message to her sister. It was her only hope of outside help, a slim hope at that. She hadn’t been allowed to talk to her sister in so long.

She heard him coming, deleting the text messages, pulling it up to a random contact.

That was her mistake. He saw it, a friend from the shop, a male friend.

He shouted again, saying how he was going to teach her a lesson. He was gone and then back again, stumbling with his gun. In an instant, the cold metal was pressed against her back Tears streamed from her eyes. This was it. This was how she was going to die. 

“We fought for a while, until he shot the gun aimed at me. But our wall was the one to take the hit. I dislodged the gun and ran outside as fast as I could. And that’s when Officer Baker from Arapahoe showed up.”

The judge nodded at her. “Thank you, Ms. Arendelle. Please be seated.”

She had done it. The wave of relief passed through her. Someone who could do something heard her. Now Anna just hoped it had been enough.

She couldn’t bear listening to Hans’ side of the story. It wasn’t so much his side as it was twisting her words and fabricating a tale in which he was the victim. He said that she had been cheating on him, and that he only went to drink to forget his troubles. He spoke of how she was particularly clumsy and had fallen earlier in the week, that those bruises were not his fault. 

He spoke of how because he was the man in this case, no judge would take him or his pain seriously. He had only shot to defend himself from her rage. He had been the victim in this. He didn’t care for a restraining order, finding that he could protect himself from her. She was the one who needed to be locked up and away.

It made Anna’s blood boil. This was all wrong, so so wrong. There was no way in hell that anyone would be able to believe that bullshit.

But she was wrong.

How could she be wrong?

Why was she wrong?

She couldn’t help the scream that echoed through the courtroom. Elsa ran to her, holding her tightly and rocking her back and forth. Her lawyers were speaking, saying they would make this right. But in reality, they all knew this decision was final. Hans was a free man, free to do what he chose to whom he chose.

And in that freedom he was bold enough to walk over to her.

Elsa blocked her vision, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She was thankful, she couldn’t bear this on her own. But beyond the whispers, she heard Maren shout at him.

“Don’t you fucking touch her, I swear to God! Go talk to your stupid friends about how you rigged this trial in your favor! You are no victim here. Justice weeps at your presence.”

Hans could only laugh. 

“Perhaps, but the law stands by me. While the law could send you back to wherever you came from in a heartbeat.”

“Fuck you, you racist bastard,” she growled, fire in her eyes. “This land has been mine and my people’s far before yours. Now get out of here. Now.”

“You don’t scare me, sweetheart. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.” And as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone. 

Anna sobbed. Everything she had worked so hard for was gone. How could she ever feel safe again?

---

Elsa was miraculously stoic. Ever since the judge uttered his fateful words, she was a rock. Anna hadn’t stopped crying for more than a few minutes at a time, but Elsa was there to catch them. But regardless of how much she masked it, Maren could see right through it. Today had been hard on all of them, and Elsa was no exception.

Maren was just coming back in their hotel room from calling Ryder. The boys were just as outraged as they had been. But the judge’s word was final: he had believed Hans and to try him again would violate his constitutional rights. All there was now was damage control. 

Elsa was sitting on the bed further from the door, softly stroking her sleeping sister’s hair. As Maren watched, she noticed the small tears falling from Elsa’s eyes. How many times had they had nightmares over this very outcome, only for it to come true?

Maren breathed deeply, loud enough as not to startle Elsa. Slowly, she stood behind her, wrapping warm arms around Elsa. “Hi,” she whispered with a light kiss to the neck.

“Hi,” she breathed. Even with just one word, Maren could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “How were the boys?”

Maren sighed to herself. “Angry. I had to convince Kristoff not to get on a plane right this minute. I think they’re going out to the batting cages, let some of it out before we come home tomorrow.” The sooner they were all out of this blasted city, the better, Maren figured. 

Elsa nodded, leaning her head back into Maren’s chest. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.” 

Maren hummed in agreement, holding tight. “How long has she been asleep?”

“Not long.”

“Then how about we do the same?” Maren suggested, leading Elsa towards their bed. “You’re exhausted.”

Elsa sighed rubbing at her eyes. “I wanna be there when she wakes up.”

“You will be. You’re only a few feet away, love. I promise it’s okay to take a break. Come here.” Maren left no room for argument, pulling her towards the soft sanctuary of the hotel bed. Surprisingly, Elsa didn’t resist, instead curling up into a ball. She was silent for a long time, long enough that Maren thought she had fallen asleep herself. 

“How did it go so wrong, bumblebee?” Elsa asked quietly, her voice wet with tears. It crushed Maren’s heart. “He should be rotting in a cell a million miles away, not walking the streets, working his patrol like nothing’s wrong.”

Maren shook her head, willing away her own tears. “I don’t know, snowflake.” She pulled Elsa closer to her. “I don’t know why or how. But it isn’t right.” Her eyes betrayed her, wet tears dripping down her face. “And we aren’t allowed to do a damn thing about it.” 

“And the way he talked to you! Even off duty, what kind of officer talks to his citizens like that?” Elsa’s face scrunched in distress. “He’s a racist, bigoted asshole and how can he just run free saying things like that?”

Maren looked down sadly, playing absentmindedly with the sheets. “More do it than you think, love. He’s no isolated case.” 

Elsa clenched her eyes tight. “It’s not right. None of this is right. Why? Why did it have to end like this?” she cried. Maren could only hold her for there were no words. 

They laid there for a long time, tears falling freely. There was no reason to be brave now. Sleep pulled at their eyes as the setting sun outside mirrored the pain in their hearts. Their darkest night was here, and all they could do was wait for the sun to rise again. 

What else could they do?

[ao3feed-jeffxannie]

by Kervia

Jeff Winger is one of the most sought after defense lawyers in the Denver/Greendale, Colorado area. He's spent years cultivating his reputation as one of the most compassionate, understanding lawyers around, one who can get anyone a Not Guilty verdict, and who fights tooth and nail for his clients. Which is why he gets a call from one of his coworkers, early in the morning, when he has been arrested for domestic abuse and domestic rape. Jeff jumps into action, but when it's time for court Jeff is surprised at who the victim is. Annie Edison. The girl he met months before at his gym and hooked up with in the steam room after she told him about leaving her ex. Recusing himself due to his conflict of interest (he's never been able to forget her), Jeff's need to protect and take care of Annie-who just may be pregnant with his child-leads him to take her to his mother's home where they both befriend a group of misfits, and love slowly, oh so slowly begins to bloom. But Annie's ex hasn't forgotten what he sees as her betrayal, and when he has the chance he's coming for her, Jeff, and the rest of their family.

Words: 2441, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Community (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M

Characters: Annie Edison, Abed Nadir, Britta Perry, Troy Barnes, Pierce Hawthorne, Dean Craig Pelton, Ben Chang, Ian Duncan, Frankie Dart, Doreen Fitzgerald Winger, Shirley Bennett, Buzz Hickey, Andre Bennett, Garrett Lambert, Jordan Bennett, Elijah Bennett, Michelle Slater, Jeff Winger, Officer Craig Cackowski, Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Original Child Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Original Animal Character(s)

Relationships: Shirley Bennett/Detective Butcher, Ian Duncan/Britta Perry, Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir, Annie Edison & Jeff Winger, Annie Edison & Britta Perry, Annie Edison & Pierce Hawthorne, Annie Edison/Original Male Character(s), Jeff Winger/Original Female Character(s), Annie Edison/Jeff Winger, Shirley Bennett & Annie Edison & Abed Nadir & Britta Perry & Jeff Winger, Annie Edison/Jeff Winger (eventually), Dean Craig Pelton & Frankie Dart, Frankie Dart & Annie Edison & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir

Additional Tags: Domestic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Romantic Fluff, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Slow Dancing, Alternate Universe - Babies, Babies, Baby Fic, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Nurse - Freeform, Lawyer, Romance, Drama, Eventual Romance, Drama & Romance, Angst and Drama, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jeff Winger Has Issues, Annie Edison is a badass, Long

[illicitdeeds]

17-Year-Old Killed By Her Step Father

Vernetta Cockerham on November 19, 2002, feeling at peace for the first time since she could remember. After months of living in terror of her estranged husband's violence, knowing he would kill her if he could, she'd gone to sleep the night before relieved beyond words by the thought of his finally being arrested. Today she could fully focus on her children. Her oldest, Candice, had an appointment with an army recruiter. Cockerham was so proud of her daughter, the way she made friends easily even though she was one of the few African-American students in her rural North Carolina high school. And now, at 17, Candice wanted to serve her country.

Cockerham loaded her three kids into the Explorer and dropped off 6-year-old Rashieq at school, just down the street from where they lived. Their home, an old yellow farmhouse, had belonged to her grandmother and stood right in the center of Jonesville, within plain view of the town hall and the police station.

She drove the baby, Dominiq, almost 9 months old, to daycare, then left Candice at the library to copy a few documents for her interview. Cockerham had one more stop that morning. She needed to call the department of social services because someone—and she was sure it was her husband—had filed an anonymous child-neglect complaint against her. That man would stop at nothing. But at least now that he was in jail, he wouldn't be showing up everywhere she went to slam her around and threaten her, or digging holes near the house and telling her they would be the family's graves. She made the call from a friend's place and went back to the library. But Candice had already headed home.

As Cockerham pulled up to the house, she noticed the front door—it wasn't like her daughter to leave it ajar that way, especially with all that had been going on.

And then in a horrifying instant she saw them: her husband's keys, dangling in the lock.

She was barely through the door when he lunged at her with a knife.

"I killed her," she heard him say as if in slow motion. "And I'm going to kill you."

She reached for the knife, grabbing it by the blade.

There was no pain. Only terror.

"Candice!" she screamed. "Candice!"

He lunged again and Cockerham took cover behind a heavy three-tiered plant stand. It toppled, the glass shelves crashing and knocking the knife from her husband's hand. She felt a shard of glass slice into her head and the warmth of her blood dripping down her back. Just before she blacked out, she felt his hands around her throat.

When Cockerham came to, she thought she heard Candice's voice calling for her, as if rousing her from a deep sleep.

"Ma, get up. Get up."

But she didn't see her daughter anywhere. The front door was closed now, and as Cockerham struggled with the dead bolt, she caught sight of her fingers—cut so badly, bone showed through the flesh. The lock gave and Cockerham ran, stumbling in the morning chill, across the street and through the vacant lot facing her house to the police station. There she collapsed in the doorway, her throat slashed and bleeding heavily. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she pleaded for someone to help her daughter. Chief Robbie Coe held a towel to her neck, trying to stanch the bleeding. "I know who did it, but you need to tell me who did it," he told her. But Cockerham had only one thing on her mind: Where are my kids?

Coe sent two officers, Scotty Vestal and Tim Lee Gwyn, to the house, where they waited for backup. Another officer found Candice's body in the downstairs bedroom. Heavy duct tape covered her mouth and nose. She'd been beaten and suffocated; an electrical cord was tied around her neck and reinforced with a layer of tape. Her hands and feet had been bound. And her jeans were pulled down around her knees, leaving her half naked.

The police had not arrested Cockerham's husband, Richard Ellerbee. And despite everything she'd done to protect herself and her family from a crime like this, the unbearable tragedy had happened anyway. "It was absolute torture what he did," she says.

Like every state, North Carolina has stringent laws to protect women and their children from domestic violence. The process often begins with a woman filing for an emergency protective order, which can be obtained without a lawyer from a local court (it requires filling out paperwork and is usually issued by a judge on the strength of the complaint). Protective orders (also called restraining orders) vary from state to state but typically forbid an abusive partner to come within a certain distance of the victim and may make other restrictions, like prohibiting phone calls or e-mail. In North Carolina, the emergency order remains in effect until a hearing takes place (usually within ten days), at which time both sides are allowed to present evidence. The judge then decides whether to grant a final order, which lasts up to a year.

If police find probable cause that an order has been violated—even something as simple as driving past the victim's house—most states have laws that call for an arrest. However, a study published in 2000 in Criminal Justice and Behavior, based on Massachusetts records and studies in other states, suggests that as many as 60 to 80 percent of restraining orders are not enforced. Furthermore, a 2000 U.S. Department of Justice study found that officers made arrests in only 47 percent of cases in which the victim reported being raped—even fewer when the complaint was assault (36 percent) or stalking (29 percent). In California a 2005 report by the state attorney general's office found widespread hesitation among police and prosecutors to enforce restraining orders—with dangerous consequences. "For the victim," the report concluded, "there is a loss of faith in the system and reluctance to report new violations, even as these violations grow in seriousness. For the batterer, there is a sense of empowerment to commit new violations and more violent crimes." When the rules call for mandatory arrest, says Kristian Miccio, an associate professor of criminal law and procedure at the University of Denver's Sturm College of Law, "and they don't enforce it, you have the illusion of protection, which is worse than not having it at all."

Vernetta Cockerham is living that painful truth. When she took out a protective order against her husband in October 2002, she believed fully in the power of the law to keep her safe. And repeatedly she reported Ellerbee's violations to the police. But even when they arrested him, he was released on bond. "I go over it every day," she says, "and every day I say to myself, You did everything you were supposed to do by law."

Now she's trying to change the system. On November 18, 2004, almost exactly two years after Candice's murder and her own near death, Cockerham sued the town of Jonesville and its police department for failing to enforce the restraining order that was in place to protect them. It's been an exhausting five-year legal battle, and the case has not yet gone to trial*, leaving some of the facts in dispute—including the promise she says the police made to arrest her husband the night before the bloodshed. Cockerham's resolve is steely, but when she describes the crowd of teenagers who lined the street for Candice's funeral, she still breaks down and weeps.

[bump-inthenight]

Prosecutors allege that a Colorado man being re-tried for killing his wife in 2001 shot her in the head while she slept and put her body in a dumpster at work.

Michael Blagg is on trial for the second time in the death of Jennifer Blagg.

He was convicted of murder in Grand Junction in 2004 but his conviction was overturned 10 years later after the judge learned a juror concealed her experience with domestic violence in order to serve on the jury.

This time Blagg is being tried in Jefferson County in suburban Denver because of concern that an impartial jury couldn’t be found in Mesa County.

The Blaggs’ daughter, Abby, disappeared when Jennifer Blagg was killed and has never been found. Blagg’s lawyer claims a child predator killed Jennifer Blagg and kidnapped Abby.

Source: The Denver Post

[fpcsolution]

Criminal Defense Lawyer in Denver.

Find best criminal defense attorneys in denver,Criminal defense lawyer in Denver. Law Office of Peter D. Menges P.C. denver handle various cases like sexual assault, child abuse, domestic violence, fraud & theft. To know more about us call on: 303-333-8433. The Law Office of Peter D. Menges, P.C. Practice Areas CRIMINAL DEFENSE ·White Collar Crime Cases ·Drug Cases ·DUI and Traffic Cases ·Other Criminal Cases: Read More: http://www.mengeslaw.com/practiceareas.html

[mbslaw]

Expungement and Record Sealing: How to Clear Your Criminal Record

Clearing your criminal record through expungement or record sealing can significantly impact your life, opening doors to employment opportunities and restoring your peace of mind. If you've faced criminal charges in Denver or anywhere else in Colorado, understanding the process and working with skilled professionals can make a substantial difference.

Expungement vs. Record Sealing

Expungement involves erasing your criminal record as if the offense never happened. In contrast, record sealing restricts access to your criminal record, making it visible only to law enforcement agencies and certain other entities. Both processes are vital for individuals who have been convicted or have pending criminal charges in Colorado.

Steps to Clearing Your Record

Determine Eligibility: Not all criminal records can be expunged or sealed. Typically, you must have completed your sentence, including probation, and remained crime-free for a certain period. A Colorado Criminal Law Firm can help determine if you qualify for expungement or sealing.

Gather Documentation: Collect all necessary documentation related to your criminal case, including court records and proof of completed sentences. This paperwork is crucial for the application process.

File a Petition: You’ll need to file a petition with the court to request expungement or record sealing. This can be a complex process, requiring a thorough understanding of Colorado criminal law. Seeking assistance from criminal defense attorneys in Denver ensures that your petition is accurately completed and submitted.

Attend a Hearing: In some cases, you may need to attend a hearing where a judge will review your petition. Having experienced Denver DUI lawyers or Denver sexual assault lawyers can help you present a compelling case.

Await the Court’s Decision: After the hearing, the court will decide whether to grant your petition. If approved, your criminal record will be expunged or sealed, depending on the type of relief you sought.

Why Hire a Criminal Defense Attorney?

Navigating the legal system can be daunting. Whether you’re dealing with DUI charges, property crime, or domestic violence charges in Colorado, having a knowledgeable attorney is crucial. DUI Defense Attorneys in Denver and Colorado Attorney for Drug Crime Defense are specifically skilled in handling complex cases and can provide invaluable assistance. Similarly, Denver Domestic Violence Lawyers and Denver Violent Crime Defense Attorneys offer expert guidance for those facing more severe charges.

For those involved in sex crimes, Denver Sex Offender Lawyers and Colorado Sex Crimes Attorneys are essential for ensuring your rights are protected throughout the legal process.

Why Choose Mastro, Barnes & Stazzone, P.C. (MBS Law)?

Mastro, Barnes & Stazzone, P.C. (MBS Law) stands out as one of the premier Denver criminal defense attorneys serving all of Colorado. With a team of highly skilled and experienced attorneys, including Denver DUI Lawyers, Denver Drug Possession Lawyers, and Property Crime Defense Attorneys, MBS Law is equipped to handle a wide range of criminal cases. Their dedicated approach ensures that each case is thoroughly evaluated, and every legal strategy is meticulously crafted to achieve the best possible outcome for their clients.

Whether you are seeking to clear a DUI conviction, address domestic violence charges, or need representation in a complex property crime case, MBS Law offers the expertise and commitment required to guide you through the expungement or record sealing process effectively.

In conclusion, clearing your criminal record can offer a fresh start and restore many opportunities. Partnering with a reputable firm like Mastro, Barnes & Stazzone, P.C. (MBS Law) ensures that you receive expert guidance tailored to your specific legal needs and circumstances.