#paperwork transcription my DETESTED

[pierswife]

I am going to commit a felony (for legal reasons, this is a joke)

[rockinmyownboat]

Weapons and Words

Some people have such a fundamental impact on our lives that even two decades later, we can still feel their reverberations echo in our souls.

22 years ago I was an angry and angsty sophomore caught in the throes of awkward adolescence trying to find my voice.

I met Leah when she was in college working towards a degree. She was the student's assistant to our English teacher. Aside from being genuine, honest, and kind, she also took an active interest in the lives of her students. Much more-so than the actual teacher did. Honest to God, I don't even remember the name of the teacher on the transcripts. Leah was my teacher.. I didn't care what the paperwork said.

I fell head over heels in an innocent requited admiration with Leah. It didn't take her long to become EVERYONE'S favorite Teacher. Aside from her genuine warmth and care, open thinkers were drawn to her like a magnet. She cultivated them. She was such a beautiful vibrant human that her very presence sparked great ideas and inspiration out of everyone she met just by talking with them.

Her creative writing assignments were both fun and challenging. She always pushed us to dig in deep. Find the extra substance beneath the surface. There was always improvements that could be made to turn a simple homework assignment into a Masterpiece.

She brought out the best in all of her students because she loved without bias and cared about them as people. She showed a fierce mama-bear-like dedication to our mental health.

She was always there.

One of the most valuable gifts she gave was to help so many kids find creative voices. She actively encouraged students to express themselves thru performance and art as catharsis from a shitty life.

She was the first teacher I remember encouraging us to dive headfirst into the currents of our talents and not fight against them.

When you're creative or poetic or musical, your brain is wired differently. It's like looking at the world through a stained glass window. While most people are content to look through just one color or another, you're more focused on seeing ALL the colors together and the bigger picture they all form.

A lot of our teachers seemed content to categorize their students and encourage bonded conformity by this detestable"one color" approach. They had been duped by the societal illusion that you have to pick one color to view the world through. So they encouraged that same basic dehumanizing worldview in their underlings.

Leah actively fought against that. She helped correct our developing moral compasses so we could start looking at the world as it IS... not how other people tell us it is. She taught us to see past our own opinions. And most importantly, she taught us to interact with people of worth with valued perspectives that differ from our own Agreeing was not a requirement to just listen.

She taught us the skill of respectful disagreement by teaching us to form bonds based on commonalities rather than differences.

She opened my eyes to disparities and injustices within our society. But she did so using gentle patience and fierce resolve tempered with genuine love.

I could tell she was face-palming a lot in the beginning. I had years of social conditioning in me to deconstruct, and bless her soul... she was patient with me. I remember walking out of class one day feeling "personally attacked" ... I was balking at the concept of "white privelege." The idea that our country was founded in racism had not even crossed my red white and blue washed brain.

I was very uncomfortable accepting this paradigm because of my ethnicity. Leah had to educate me through it. She had to coach me to find out the truth for myself.

That's what she did best. She opened doors of curiosity. One thought would lead to another and before long my perspective had completely shifted. She was great about leaving breadcrumbs and guiding lights everywhere.

Eventually I accepted that I had been raised in a racially biased society, through no fault of my own... but I had to change my view. Now I was responsible for how to believe moving forward.

Leah taught me to look for evidence and question and think for myself. The Brow-beating from other positions of authority were a lot less effective.

Junior year, I found out that she was teaching her own class on poetry. I had to take it. It didn't matter that I didn't need the elective credits. I was going to be in Leah's class.

What started off as a formal introduction to the world of poetry quickly devolved. It was Very informal and relaxed compared to the stuffy classroom atmosphere we had all grown accustomed to. And we had a small group of about 15 of us that regularly showed up every week.

Leah's lesson plans went pretty well for the first few days or so. We studied some Poe ... some Dickinson ... Definitely a Frost or two. Shakespeare. All the basics. And right about week two, she lost the reigns and never got them back again.

We got to learn about the beat poets. She introduced us to Kerouac and Ginsberg. And then we got into watching videos of beats poetry slams....

It was like nothing we'd ever seen. We had to do something with this brilliant concept of a TRULY OPEN mic.

We watched a documentary about a class that competed in poetry slam championships. These kids were our age and burning through volumes of their original prose like a Detroit rapper.

Over the course of a couple weeks we all realized that We did not want to just read and understand other people's poetic musings. We wanted to create our own too.

Every student in the class was titillated. To say we hijacked the class and rebuilt it was an understatement.

Oh don't get me wrong. Leah kept tight reigns on our activities and what we chose to invest the class energy into but it was all centered around using our words and creativity to express the emotional violence we felt instead of resorting to physical violence itself. we wanted to provide a creative outlet not only for ourselves but for all of our peers.

But we did it differently. It was no holds barred. If you wanted to sing a song on a guitar, that was allowed. If you wanted to do a native American chant, that was allowed. If you wanted to ramble onstage for three minutes and cry your heart out, we gave that safe forum where you would be heard, loved, and accepted.

Under her tutelage and that of her twin sister Rena, an also equally beautiful soul, we built a loving supportive high school student-led open mic network from four different high schools.

It was called Weapon of Choice: Word! And the name said it all.

We would all meet at this small intimate coffee house right next to the Amtrak Station in downtown Eugene. It was a vegan coffee shop called Out of the Fog and Morning Glory Cafe. (Years later, they shortened it to just Morning Glory Cafe, which definitely saved a lot of ink on the flyers).

Our flyers were designed by mostly graffiti artists that would craft ingenius interpretations of what our open mics represented to high school students all across the city.

I designed a couple flyers myself, one actually ending up as a tattoo on my shoulder as a reminder to be part of the solution. Not the problem.

Here's my original flyer I designed.

And here is the tattoo

Those open mics became creative hot spots thriving in the hearts of Eugene youth for over 15 years. It was incredible. After being part of the foundational group that established the open mic as a junior, I was still going back ten years after graduating and performing when I could.

All walks of life were welcome. All view points. It was the one place where you could have one guy saying "fuck God!" The next girl gets up going "fuck you if you hate God!" The stoner kid performs a banjo track going "why can't we all just get along?" The hippie girl all about her energy and crystals And then you find out this quadfecta of oddity are besties from different schools that all met in gym class.

We would sing songs and collaborate with each other. Leah pushed that a lot. She was kind of hard-core about it. She was all about destroying creative and ideological boundaries and the only way to do that was by collaborating and engaging new ideas and processes.

Some of those collaborations ended up going beyond just a one time performance. My band featured one such example.

I had penned a very sweet "I love you" song for a girl I was pining over and Rio had stepped in to write a verse for my song. In return I wrote out some guitar parts for him to rap over.

Now I didn't get the girl but the song was a hit and I got multiple requests to do a full recording.

Almost 6 years after I penned the original lyrics, I managed to sneak "September" onto Black Bell's "Truth of Silence" in 2010.

Eventually I played that song for my best friends wedding. It was the first song he danced to with his wife.

Leah laid the groundwork that made it happen.

Aside from cultivating our creativity for open mics, Leah was pretty fabulous about holding our feet to the fire on our education, too.

My senior year she had moved back to a structured lesson plan in language arts. We were continuing with the open mics but at that point those were taking a back seat to my studies.

I was a bad student for a couple years and I was not trending to graduate on time.

I remember the stressful meetings with my counselor and the principal and facing the devastation of not being able to walk with my class like I'd been looking forward to.

Leah believed in me. She kept me accountable. She helped me find solutions. She guided me to complete an epic turn around that not only saw me graduate with honors but I even had a scholarship to spring board into college.

She was beaming at me on the day I walked across the stage to receive my diploma. I recall as one of about 1600 graduating seniors that year, she cheered exceptionally loud for me. It meant the world then and twenty years later, it still does.

We haven't seen each other much since I walked with my class. Like I said, I came back for a few open mics when I was able to. In fact the flyer and photos were from my one such return. I believe this was my last open mic there. It was my birthday as I recall. Someone nabbed a picture and as much as I love the picture for what it represents, Leah and Rena got cut off the bottom of the photo.

I still check up on her once in a while.

Last time I did was about a week ago. I called Churchill's registration office to have my transcripts emailed to me. While on the phone I asked if Leah was still teaching.

Turns out in 2021, Leah had moved on to a community position... ever still the shining beacon of love and acceptance, she simply turned her attention towards educating adults on multicultural differences, as opposed to angry, angsty teenagers. I'm sure she's got her work cut out for her either way.

I will always love and adore Leah for being the perfect teacher I didn't even realize I needed at the time. She was the teacher that gave me the most powerful weapon I will ever wield against a world of woundedness.

She gave me My voice to fight against it.

#mylife

#mystory

#Leah

#characters

#highschool

#weaponofchoice

#word

#myfavoriteteacher

#voice

[thecrookedgavel]

The Crooked Gavel - Ep 1 Transcript

Here is the transcript for Episode 1 of the queer audio drama - The Crooked Gavel. 

Audio of the episodes can be found here

Episode 1 Transcript

Credits Voice: You are listening to episode 1 of The Crooked Gavel: A 1920’s tale of court drama and lesbian romance, produced by Crooked Gavel Productions. This episode contains a scene of sexual assault, please look after yourself while listening.

Alice: I need an Earl Grey tea with just a bit of milk. It’s for Miss Paprika over at table 7, so make sure it’s cooled off a bit before I take it over to her!

Harry: Thank you, Alice. One noodle juice with a splash, less of a quilt and more of a bedsheet, on the way.

Alice: So as I was saying, my Daddy’s doing just fine, thanks for asking. He’s still working hard as headmaster and loving it. He did say he’s missing having you around in his last letter though, if that’s what you were wondering about.

Harry: *laughs* well if I’ve got to be honest, I was wondering just that. Some days, I miss teaching those little Joe Brooks, but making java and beating my gums with other intellectuals is the place to be. *sigh* Last time your father was here from Texas, we saw a Yankees game together. Say, did you listen to this week’s game? Hot dawg, I tell you, it had me jumping!

Alice: Oh no, Mr. Tarragon. I don’t much care for baseball. Never really interested me at all. The way you men drone on and on about it… Why, I am likely to be bored to tears.

Harry: Oh, come now, in my experience, everyone loves baseball. Even the ladies!

Alice: Only when they’re trying to impress a big timer.

Harry: In that case, you’d do well to learn a bit about baseball to aid you in your search for a husband.

Alice: Oh, Mr Tarragon, I’m not exactly husband hunting at the moment.

Harry: Really? Then what are you here in Brooklyn looking for? And please, give me a straight answer this time.

Alice: Well, inspiration. Direction. Belonging. Living in Texas just wasn’t for me. I found big city life to be very appealing. I’m sure you know the feeling.

Harry: You got me there. It took me a while to find where I fit in. But running The Crooked Gavel seems to suit me just fine. I do hope you find what you’re looking for. Order up!

Alice: Thank you Mr Tarragon, I think that I will.

---

Alice: Here’s your tea, Miss Paprika

Lillian: Thank you very much, young lady. *takes a sip* The tea is lovely, just the right temperature for me to start drinking. And I didn’t even have to ask this time!

Alice: You’re quite welcome. How’s your nephew doing, by the way?

Lillian: He’s doing wonderfully! Mathew’s started to get a lot of cases, possibly more than he has time for. But he just can’t say no to someone in need, I can tell you that.

Alice: I’m glad to hear that being a prosecutor has started to bear fruit. Speaking of, would you like me to bring you an apple to your table?

Lillian: Oh no, thank you. I’ll be leaving shortly after I finish my tea. I’m meeting Matthew outside as soon as he finishes up his paperwork for the afternoon. The boy has quite the gift for it, I’m told. This coffee house is so close to the courthouse, it just makes sense to drop in and see you! We’ll be taking a walk as soon as he gets here, since it’s such a lovely September afternoon.

Alice: Sure beats the storm last week. It started raining pitchforks so suddenly that I was caught walking home without an umbrella. Let me tell you, by the time I got home again, I looked like a cat that had a whole bathtub full of water dumped on her. Positively dreadful.

Lillian: *laughs heartily* That’s hard to imagine, given you look like the cat’s meow today! My dear, if only I were a few years younger.

Alice: Or if I were a few years older.

Lillian: *chuckle* if only… Anyways, my dear, here’s what I owe you for the tea. And don’t worry, you can keep the change.

Alice: Why thank you very much, miss Paprika. I do hope you have a lovely walk outside and an even lovelier day.

Lillian: Thank you, Alice. Good day to you, too.

---

Alice: I’m back!

Harry: You seem full of energy all of a sudden. Well, more so than usual.

Alice: I am indeed, and not because miss Paprika gave such a generous tip. She’s simply a pleasure to talk to. By the way, she said her tea was the perfect temperature for drinking.

Harry: Oh, Glad to hear, though you were the one who reminded me to let it cool. You have such a mind for people. I don’t know how you do it.

Alice: That’s very kind of you to say, Mr Tarragon. Why, I don’t think anything can ruin my mood right now!

*Door with bell opens*

Alice: Aww, shoot. I guess I spoke too soon. Well if it isn’t --

Harry: Judge Cayenne, always a pleasure to see the old egg

Alice: More like a bad egg. I know how he talks to you! You ought to hear how he talks to the rest of the staff. One time that high hat broke Betty’s poor heart down to tears. And she’s a regular bearcat!

Harry: John? What a bunch of malarkey! He is a pillar of our community… Why, he --- Well… To be honest, I have been hearing some rather nasty rumours about him lately

Alice: Yes? Do tell.

Harry: Let’s just say that if chin music is to be believed, that old bird makes the Crooked Gavel look straight. They all stem from the man he walked in with, Frank Saffron. That’s Cayenne’s assistant. He’s known to keep track of some rather dirty laundry. Mix in the fact that he’s so deep in the judge’s pocket, that he might as well be a couple of clams, and you’ve got yourself some moonshine that’ll put you straight in your coffin.

Alice: Now that sounds more like the fella I know

Harry: Both looking over here like they know what they want. *pause* That’s your cue, Alice.

Alice: Ooooh, but Mr Tarragon… Mr Cayenne makes me feel so uncomfortable. The way he talks down to me… it’s detestable. Couldn’t you serve him instead?

Harry: *sigh* Alice, I’m not paying you to be comfortable, I’m paying you to serve customers. He’s a customer, so serve him.

Alice: Oh, alright. I’m going, I’m going.

---

Alice: Welcome to the Crooked Gavel. My name is Alice, and I will be serving you today. Is there anything I can get for you?

Cayenne: Finally, we have been waiting for ages! You really know how to put the ‘wait’ in ‘wait staff’

Frank: *laughs a little too loudly* That’s a good one! You slay me, your honor.

Alice: Now that’s a load of hooey! You’ve not been here two whole minutes and yet you’re complaining. Now tell me, sir, did you bite into a lemon while I wasn’t looking, or is that face of yours just natural?

Cayenne: Buh - How dare you, you little trollop! You have just confirmed in my mind that you are disrespectful, vapid, and difficult to get along with

Alice: Well, for a judge, you don’t seem to be a very good judge of character

Frank: Oh yeah? Says who? Alice: Says everyone I’ve met with today. They all seemed to think very highly of me. Meanwhile, Mr Cayenne, you seem ill-tempered, antiquated, and like you’d be the wet blanket at a party.

Cayenne: *growl* You are living proof that women are best seen and not heard

Alice: As opposed to you, who is best not seen at all

Frank: *whispers* Wow, she sure got you good

Cayenne: *whispers* Silence… *normal tone* We would like to start with two espressos, mine with milk, his with sugar. Make sure his is cooled, and mine is hot

Alice: One test of my patience, coming right up

---

Cayenne: Though I usually prefer to be served by a woman for what I think to be… Obvious reasons…. It really can be quite taxing to have to actually speak with them

Frank: And how! You certainly have a way with words, your honor.

Cayenne: Thank you, old boy. That’s very kind of you. But that’s enough about her, let’s get down to business. Any changes to the monthly… donations to the John Cayenne fund?

Frank: Let me take a look. Hmmm… Everything seems to be in order…. Ah yes, it looks like the Mace brothers have missed their payment for the second month in a row.

Cayenne: Well... won’t they be surprised the next time either of them ends up in court. And exactly how much… creative accounting were you able to pull off this time?

Frank: This month I was able to get you 12 percent off the top.

Cayenne: *laughs* Attaboy, Frank. Excellent work, as always. You really are my right hand man, you know.

Frank: Aww shucks. It was nothing, your honor, really.

Cayenne: The only thing that would make this day better is to teach that flippant waitress a lesson. Wait, *chuckles* I have an idea that will put our little miss in her place...

---

Alice: Here are your drinks, made just the way you asked

Cayenne: Here, let me take them from you

Alice: No need to --- Woaaah! *Crash*

Alice: Now why’d you have to go and do a thing like that? You know I’m perfectly capable of placing drinks on a table myself!

Cayenne: Oh, sorry, sorry. How completely foolish of me. I don’t know what came over me.

Alice: You better be sorry, now I have to stoop down and clean this mess up all by myself

Cayenne: Yes, I suppose you will

*Slap*

Alice: *Gasp* Now would you kindly remove your hand from my backside, please? I-I-I find that wildly inappropriate… Your honor

Cayenne: Inappropriate? But you were the one who bent down in front of me. Wearing that dress… Wearing those heels. Why, you were simply asking for it.

Alice: I did not ask for you to… *gulp* try and woo me in that manner. I-I-I was simply doing my job

Frank: Your honour, don’t you think---

Cayenne: ubp, ubp, ubp! Woo you? Ha! Don’t flatter yourself thinking I was trying to woo you, sweetheart. You’re not even that good looking of a girl!

Alice: Well… Well then, why would you ---?

Harry: Alice, could you come over here a minute? Now?

---

Harry:  For crying out loud, Alice! Not only have you wasted a perfectly good set of espressos, but you’ve painted a customer’s suit with them! And not just any customer, I might add, but John Cayenne? He could shut the place down if he wanted to. What is the matter with you?

Alice: Please, Mr. Tarragon, you have to listen to me. None of this was my fault. He… That prune pit... Tipped over my hands on purpose! And worse, he did it so he could… So he could paw at me. I don’t feel so good. My knees feel so weak. And my head…

Harry: Oh here, why don’t you have a seat? *chair moving* 

Alice: Thank you… I can’t believe this has happened to me. You hear stories like these all the time, but I never thought it would happen to me. This just can’t be happening.

Harry: Oh, Alice. I can see how this would be awful for you. But you have to look on the bright side. He didn’t hurt you, or steal something of yours. No real crime was committed here today

Alice: No, that was definitely a crime, I know it must be. This whole thing has made me feel more terrible than I ever have in my life!

Harry: I understand, but there’s nothing left to be done. You’ll feel better in no time! I’ll give you a few minutes to compose yourself

Alice: I think I’m going to need more than a few minutes, Mr Tarragon. And there is so something that can be done! He can be pinched and shoved into a jail cell for what he did.

Harry: You can’t be suggesting that -

Alice: Yes I am, indeed. I’m going to take him to court. And you’re going to be my witness

Harry: Oh, no, that I cannot do. With the kind of pull that man has in the legal community, one word and there’d be a boycott on this establishment from every lawyer, aide, and clerk in Brooklyn. That’s more than half our regular clientele! 

Alice: Please, that awful man needs to be taken off the streets. You said yourself that he’s not on the level. He deserves to rot in jail for touching me like that.

Harry: I’m sorry Alice, but I… I didn’t see it happen. I can’t help you.

Alice: Baloney! With all the commotion, the entire BLOCK must have looked over.

Harry: I was already fixing up some java to replace the order that you… Well, he… dropped. Even if I had seen, I’d be out of a job if I spoke up. You’d be out of a job too.

Alice: I’m going to be out of a job this instant if you don’t pledge to help me!

Harry: Alice… Please don’t do this. I already said I can’t help you. Think of your future, think of your father, what would he say?

Alice: My father would support me no matter what. I’m sorry that you don’t share the same conviction. This is goodbye, Mr. Tarragon.

Harry: Alright, alright, I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you two months pay to hold you over until you find another job. Just don’t come back here expecting a place at the Gavel when your kale goes sour. 

Alice: *Pause* Thank you Mr Tarragon. You’ve always been very kind to me. I will remember that.

Harry: I can see it in your eyes that you’ll see this court idea of yours through to the end. Go on now,  I’ll clean up this mess myself. You go along home and get some rest.

Alice: Then, this is not goodbye. Only farewell. I do hope to see you again soon, only next time with justice by my side.

Harry: *Chuckles* Farewell then, Alice.

---

Alice: Mr Cayenne, a pleasure to see you, as always. Next time I see you, it’ll be in court!

Cayenne: Seeing as I have a career as a Judge, that is indeed a place you’d expect to see me

*Door with bell closes*

---

Credits Voice Thank you for listening to episode 1 of The Crooked Gavel! Follow us on Twitter @TheCrookedGavel for updates and discussions of this and other queer projects. This episode’s cast in order of appearance:

Katte Noel as Alice Cinnamon 

Nicholas Alain as Harry Tarragon 

Kaidan Cormier as Lillian Paprika 

An Capuano as Frank Saffron

Michael Hope as John Cayenne 

And An Capuano as the credits voice

Directed by - An Capuano

Produced by - An Capuano 

Written by - An Capuano

Copy Editing by - Sharon van Wyngaarden

Casting by - An Capuano

Sound Design by - An Capuano and BA Nemo

Logo Artist - McKenna Pipher

Audio Editing by - An Capuano

Audio Mastering by - An Capuano

Music by - Kevin MacLeod

Music used in this episode is attributed in the description.

[solarmason-blog]

it will be held against you | self

WHO: Mason McCarthy; Director Dustin Goolsby & Dmitri the Very Capable Assistant; mention of Madison, Tina, Elliott and Santana. WHAT: Mason’s interview with NYADA Security. WHERE: NYADA Main Building. WHEN: Monday, 1/23, noon. WARNINGS: I don’t think so?

Dustin Goolsby yawned at the next appointment set at the Main Building. Dmitri, his secretary, was by his side as usual. Dustin went to go reach for his coffee cup, but it was too far away from him to reach. << Move. >​>​ His magic circle flashed as the cup edged to his hand. Who cared if he was using magic for mundane things. He had magic, didn't he. "Where are the copies from transcript between our conversation with the McCarthy girl?" He asked Dmitri after he took a sip.

Dmitri had his hands full, folders and manila envelopes wrapped tightly in his arms as they settled for the next appointment. He quirked his lips in a small frown as the coffee cup slid across the table before flipping through the folders rapidly. McCarthy stood out in bold red, and he placed it on the desk in front of Dustin. "Right here, Mr. Goolsby."

Dustin Goolsby would have praised Dmitri's astute attention to detail if Dustin himself didn't care for the paperwork of all this. When he was younger, he envisioned the Cardines as a glorious occupation -- come on, what boy never grew up wanting to be a magic cop (!!) -- but then it came with annoyances, one being filing and reporting. He was thankful for his director position. As director, he could get a secretary. Taking the files from Dmitri, Dustin scanned the information that McCarthy girl had given to them on the sixteenth. There was no doubt her twin brother was involved. Now it was a matter of how much involvement.

Mason took a steadying breath as he approached the office room. Everything was going to be fine. Everything was fine. If he got an Eye like Madison, so be it - the end result was what mattered, and as Mason squeezed the flash drive in his right hand, he found himself hoping that somehow, this would lead to the end result they supposedly all wanted: Elliott's attacker appropriately punished. Mason brushed a hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders, then raised his hand and knocked briefly. This was just a debriefing. And if his heart could just calm the heck down...

Dustin Goolsby noticed a figure approaching. He lifted his chin, cocky, at the boy coming in. "Mr. McCarthy, take a seat. I wouldn't want to see those knobby knees knocking together as we review this detestable scenario." His hand fanned out in swagger as he analyzed the younger twin. How much did Mason McCarthy know...

Dmitri held back a grimace, eyes casting briefly towards Dustin before focusing on the young boy approaching them. He offered a small, friendly smile.

Mason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he just flashed a bright smile and nodded, stepping into the room. He'd decided that his best bet was to say as little as possible, which was difficult, given his propensity to ramble. "Thank you, sir," Mason murmured as he sat down. "I hope I can be of service."

Dustin Goolsby 's smile dropped. "Not in the same service as you do for your sister, I hope. Can you tell me what you know of the November 30, 2016 incident? The attack on a Shedim student, as it were. You're a slayer, you know about subduing Shedim, don't you?" He looked over at Dmitri to start taking notes and collecting the transcript.

Dmitri could recall the last meeting: don't ask questions, just take notes. His pen was at the ready, hovering over a fresh legal pad.

Mason considered for a moment before speaking. "I know of the kneeling spell used to subdue Shedim, sir, but I'm afraid I don't know how to perform it myself." Mason pursed his lips, just slightly. He didn't know what to make of that first comment--what service he did, or didn't do for his sister, and he was going to do his best not to rise to the bait. Any of the bait. "What I know about the attack is that Elliott Gilbert was forced to kneel, that he was stabbed with a knife made of--honestly, sir, I don't remember the name for the material, just that it was initially created to give Shedim immunity to the LN Flu. How's that for irony." Mason snorted lightly. "He was stabbed repeatedly by an unknown assailant, who has yet to be caught. That's what I know about the attack, sir. Is that about right?"

Dmitri offered a small, encouraging smile. He studiously wrote Mason's words down with his left hand, and his magic circle spun to life over a tablet. Neat, block type transcribed everything into a script for Dustin's later perusal. He didn't know the kneeling spell, but his sister did. Curious.

Dustin Goolsby didn't smile and wrote down Mason's answers. "No knowledge of the kneeling spell but your sister knows. Suspicious... why is that you are unaware of the spell?" He said. "How did you know the student was forced to kneel?" He leaned back in his chair and glared at Mason.

Mason shrugged. "Because I wasn't taught it, sir. My sister and I learned different things. We're twins, not the same person. My family believes that female witches are inherently more powerful, and Madison is the heir to our clan. She learned a lot of things that I didn't, and vice versa." Mason shook his head. "I suppose 'know' was too-strong a word, sir. Assumed may have been a better word, I apologize. I don't think Elliott would have let someone get close to him, especially with a weapon, without being controlled somehow." Mason swallowed. "I know that the attacker got his nose broken, too." Mason added as an afterthought, thinking back to his conversation with Santana. He was very, very glad he'd been too busy for that particular evil plan.

Dustin Goolsby 's seat swiveled as he considered the new angle. "A matriarchy, that's it. I heard the tale here and there about the McCarthy clan. So you are sworn to protect your sister, the heir at all costs?" He asked... and then raised an eyebrow. "Are you on a first-name basis with the victim and know about the attacker being hurt as well? Or should I take a page from your book and suppose that 'know' is too strong a word and you are assuming."

Mason would not rise to the bait. "Due respect, sir, my duties as a McCarthy aren't relevant to this investigation." Mason said, as evenly as he could. "I'm an acquaintance of Elliott's, yes. I wouldn't necessarily call us friends, but yes, we're on first-name basis. Someone he's close to told me about the attacker's nose, so while I don't know it of my own knowledge, I...trust that the person who told me wouldn't lie about that." Trust was a hard thing with Santana, even aside from the aura, but she didn't get anything from sending him on a wild goose chase about that. "Elliott has a great many people who want to keep him safe, sir, and some of them looked to myself and my sister to do that, as we're sworn to protect the innocent."

Dmitri shifted in his seat, pen hesitating for a moment before continuing. He really wished that they didn't need to antagonize. Innocent until proven guilty, right?

Dustin Goolsby said evenly. "I think your duties as a slayer are very pertinent. Are you the one doing the investigation? I hope not, but your sister proved me wrong otherwise... who is this person that he is close to? We need names, Mr. McCarthy. I don't know why a group of students decided that they were going to play detective with a very dangerous weapon."

Mason nodded. "I agree, sir, that my duties as a Slayer are pertinent, and that we aren't doing the investigation." Mason cleared his throat. "Sir, listing all the people Elliott is friends with...frankly, is a better question for Elliott himself, as he could give you clearer answers about who knows what and how they know it." Mason shrugged. "A group of students decided to play detective out of concern. We shouldn't have, sir, and I hope that your investigation goes smoothly from here on out. Have you discovered anything about the attacker since you spoke to my sister, sir?" Mason asked, keeping his voice steady as he tilted his head at Director Goolsby.

Dustin Goolsby replied, "Answer the question on who supplied you the answer about the nose, Mr. McCarthy. I know you don't want to be kept here any longer than you have to." He ignored the rest of Mason's statement, deeming it in his head as conjecture. "A group of students decided to withhold information from the authorities out of concern, that's how I see, Mr. McCarthy."

Dmitri looked up from his transcribing briefly, offering another crooked smile. He transcribed everything, he seemed concerned, which was promising. He glanced at Dustin, then back to his notes.

Mason smiled, just faintly. So that was a no, then; the Director was hounding kids instead of actually, you know, investigating. He kept himself from saying so out loud, and just shook his head. "Again, sir, I'd prefer if you asked Elliott about the attacker's nose, since following a hear-say comment won't get you very far anyway, will it?" Mason shrugged, then let out a breath. He slumped his shoulders. "Truthfully, sir, the comment was given to me by an L. Naturae student with an aura that doesn't lend itself to credibility. I'm really only trying to save you time and effort." Mason smiled apologetically. "I'm not trying to withhold information, sir. I just don't feel comfortable putting a concerned student in this situation when all the information they know could be easily and clearly gained from Elliott himself."

Dustin Goolsby raised an eyebrow at the smile. Was the kid not taking this seriously? Such a difference from the sister. "Yes, I'm sure the victim will have a great time being reminded of the incident, Mr. McCarthy -- and making us run to get him instead of telling us who actually gave you the answer... you weren't by chance ​advised​ on giving us these vague answers, are you? Our reported testimonies and confessions do add up to a picture, Mr. McCarthy. Either we get your cooperation or we will be thinking of re-locating Mr. Gilbert. Dmitri, make a note of contacting any Lusus Naturae close to Mr. Elliott Gilbert. I'm sure that we will be able to weed out the one. I wonder if any have been asked questions like this before."

Dmitri quickly makes the note, biting back another frown.

Mason raised his eyebrows. "No, I wasn't advised on anything, sir. Why on earth would my answers 're-locate' Elliott? Why is that something you think about, instead of making this campus safe for all its students? You can't relocate every Shedim, sir, and until you find the person that attacked Elliott, they're all at risk." Mason pursed his lips tightly and shifted in his seat. He hated to let this jerk manipulate him, but he was well and good between a rock and a hard place. His mind flashed to Marley, who was far more directly involved, and how much he'd be screwing her, not to mention others, if a bunch of L. Naturae were rounded up because of him. "Her name's Santana Lopez. She's a Trickster." Mason sighed. "I'm sure the victim would like to be given the ​option​ to tell you his full story himself, sir. I'm also sure he hasn't exactly ​forgotten​ the attack, given that it almost killed him." Mason set his jaw. "I hope the picture it adds up to points you toward the actual attacker, sir, and not the people trying to support their friend, however misguided the attempts were."

Dmitri looked up from his notes once more, where 'Santana Lopez' was underlined. A Trickster, that could make for an interesting interview.

Dustin Goolsby heeded the question. "The main target of ire seems to be the only Shedim student on campus, Mr. McCarthy. It's more suitable for him to be kept on watch to prevent this from happening again, unless we campus security are allowed a higher allocated budget, of course." He grinned. There was his name. She already had one mark on her record during the Saltus Forest protests. Dustin kept grinning; he never grinned much unless there was something that excited his thirst for total justice. "Misguided attempts such as robbery, Mr. McCarthy?" He asked. "We have record that you and your sister trespassed and then kept the knife in your possession, until she buried it near her dormitory in the most un-suspicious fashion." Dustin emphasized "un-suspicious" in his speech to make it sound anything but. "Do you want me to further jog your memory, Mr. McCarthy?"

Dmitri shifted in his seat again, oh the grin. Oh the way he said un-suspicious! It was ​so​ suspicious.

Mason leaned back in his seat. The Director of the NYADA Security Office was blaming three months of no progress on budget problems. Incredible. Mason bit back the comments that he desperately wanted to ask - namely, if Mason had been the one attacked, as a Bloodline, if the process would be going nearly so slow. "I didn't know she buried it," Mason began slowly, letting out a sigh. "That was stupid of her, sir." For about fifteen different reasons. "Taking the knife in general was a stupid idea, and I should have put a stop to it." Mason paused. "But, for the record, I never trespassed. I stood outside in a hallway. I never even ​saw​ the knife, sir. And that is the truth."

Dustin Goolsby said, "But you knew of what she did and failed to report it to the proper authorities? We can't examine the attack without the attacking weapon, now could we, Mr. McCarthy?" He continued on, "So you had never assisted your sister or -- looked away knowingly -- from her other illicit activities? Please tell us the truth, Mr. McCarthy and don't play shield for anyone else. We already know what Miss McCarthy did."

Mason smiled a little wryly. "I apologize, sir, but it's not 'playing' shield. Being a shield is--that's who I am." Mason shrugged one shoulder; he didn't comment on the fact that they could have reinterviewed Elliott or proceeded in a million different directions even without the knife. "I did not report my sister, no, sir. As far as I know, that's the only illicit thing she's done. You might know more than me. She..." Mason sighed faintly, then continued, voice carefully even, "Madison is the heir of my family, sir. It's not my place to control her."

Dustin Goolsby smiled again. "Are you certain that is the only thing you did not 'help' her with, Mr. McCarthy?"

Mason shrugged. "I've helped my sister with a lot of things, sir; I'm her brother, that's what I'm here for. Most of them aren't security-worthy. If there's something specific you're referring to, please, can you be more clear?"

Dustin Goolsby clarified. "I know about the text message, Mr. McCarthy. An unknown third party? Or should I assume that your sister has lied to us?"

Mason nodded. "No, she didn't lie to you, sir. I was sort of wondering if you were going to ask me about that." From his pocket Mason removed a simple black flashdrive, and set it on the table. "This is everything I know about the third party, sir. Screencaps of the messages he sent me, photos and videos I took while I was covering Madison. I was able to clean them up, a little, the photos and videos, so you could hear and things better, but the originals are on there too. Unfortunately that's all I have, because they texted me again and wiped all the info I had on them from my phone." Mason pursed his lips. "I'd really like if you could get this guy, sir. Both of these guys. My sister and I are clearly out of our depth, and we...I would appreciate knowing that this creep isn't bugging anybody else anymore."

Dustin Goolsby took the flash drive eagerly and handed it over to Dmitri for further inspections. The secretary had the files up and ready to go, and projected them for both to see. "Finally, we are getting somewhere." He said, happy that Mason was cooperating. Dustin longed to nail the bastard who threatened this campus, and it appeared to him that this was indeed something greater. The Cardines who would be reviewing this case later would try to take it, he presumed. "...What do you mean photos and videos you took while covering Miss McCarthy?" Dustin asked. "Miss McCarthy never said you were there when she made contact with an unknown figure."

Dmitri inspects the flash drive closely before pulling the images up. He squints, lips pursed as he inspects the photos. They are clean, fairly quality images. "Director, if I may interrupt, these images looked cleaned up to me. Pretty neatly done, at that.”

Mason made a mental note to thank Madison. "She asked me to accompany her, even though the note said to go alone, in case things went bad." Mason paused. "Did my sister tell you about the pastry guy? This guy, Mister Poof-In-The-Night, he was really into the like, cartoony emojis, like on regular phones, right? But the guy who wiped our phones--guy or girl, 'scuse me--used the like, typed out ones?" Mason tried to trace what he meant on the table. "It doesn't seem like it fits this guy's aesthetic. Which, in my unprofessional opinion, says that there's a lot of people interested in this knife, and Aether only knows what they want to do with it. If it gets mass-produced somehow, or sold, then it ​won't​ just be Elliott under attack." Mason sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I don't know if either of these guys were the attacker, and I don't want...I want these guys caught, but...I want the person who hurt Elliott caught more." Mason glanced back at the assistant, who hadn't spoken since Mason walked in the room. His mind flashed to Tina and his stomach turned over. He wouldn't lie, but Aether, he didn't want to give her any more reason to be angry with him...

Dustin Goolsby narrowed his eyes as Mason talked. Now the McCarthy boy was willing to be specific, finally. "So they wanted to get the knife from you? I heard from Miss McCarthy about AAA, the fraternity on campus? Any idea why she would suspect AAA?" Dustin had all the ideas as to why, he wasn't a fan of the fraternity's very close brushes with campus security. Whilst Dustin scrolled through the images again, Dmitri had made his comments. Dustin did a double take. He wasn't too knowledgeable about technological magic, but thank aether Dmitri was. "The photos have been altered? Are they even real?" The story was far-fetched to begin with. Mysterious man, emoji texts? Didn't kids use some sort of photo editing tool nowadays? Photoshot? He raised an eyebrow and looked over to Mason. "So you were aware of her other plans, Mr. McCarthy. I don't get you McCarthy slayers. Aren't you supposed to follow the law? How dare you act like you are above it all, I don't understand the reason to be obstructing justice. How did you take these photos. Better yet, who fixed these photos.... The technology shouldn't be as clean and crisp since you're unmistakably a bloodline." He was writing down all of Mason's other ramblings, something about typed out emoticons. Definitely there were two distinct individuals -- but were they two different people altogether or were they a pair of lying twins. Dustin stroked his chin and regarded Mason once more.

Dmitri answered a quick, "Yeah, they look real." As Dustin continued.

Dustin Goolsby was secretly happy that he had a capable secretary. "Interesting. So now, the question -- who else are in your little detective agency, Mr. McCarthy?"

Mason kept himself from sniping back at the Director, if only because he knew that he was...well, right. Aether, if the Puckerman clan ever found out...Mason refocused, willing himself to stay on task for once in his life. "Yes, this person in the sweatshirt wanted the knife. Madison probably suspected the AAA due to their history with Elliott. You remember the trial, I'm sure." Mason wouldn't name Coleman. It would not go well for him if Coleman were brought in front of Security. "My sister told me that Elliott's attacker wanted him off AMS. Which, again, you could get from Elliott." Mason sighed and crossed his arms. "If I don't give you their name are you going to threaten the victim again? Honestly, they don't know anything except these images and video, sir, and they're pretty mad at me right now, because the pastry guy, the second texter? Completely wiped their phone. The person who cleaned these images for me - because, as you point out, I'm a Bloodline - is a tech witch whose entire database was wiped clean, because I involved them." Mason snorted deeply, a frown on his face. "You don't have to worry about me trying to be a detective anymore, sir. I won't put anyone else in that position."

Dmitri inched a protective hand closer to his tablet.

Dustin Goolsby chuckled darkly. "Yes, I think we all saw how the trial ended. Settled out of court. What a weak resolution to justice." If Dustin were allowed to intervene, he would have made sure that none would get away. "Your sister didn't say to us about targeting the victim for being a part of AMS. We will look into this. Dmitri, make a note to talk to any of Elliott Gilbert's opponents during the AMS election... So you involved them without telling them what they have done? They are a part of this if they had any contact with the third party. This third party lead is what keeps your sister from a higher charge."

Dmitri wrote 'AMS Election' in bold, underlined scrawl.

Dustin Goolsby was secretly happy that he had a really capable secretary.

Mason nodded his agreement - he knew Goolsby was probably referring to Blaine, but that didn't matter. It had been weak. AAA should have gotten kicked off. "Yes, I did," Mason said. "I don't think they even know it's regarding Elliott, sir." Mason sighed; at least he was helping keep Madison safe, and it was a much more effective lean than threatening Elliott had been. "Her name is Tina Cohen-Chang. She's the best tech witch I've ever met, sir, and she...she just wanted to help me." Mason dropped his gaze, picking at the edge of the table. "She didn't deserve to have her legs basically cut out from beneath her, sir." Mason looked back up at him. "The person who wiped our phones. He--somehow--gave us pastries, from Madame Jason's. Like, poof, on our phone, like in exchange for the info. That can't be easy magic, right? Not to mention getting three different people's phone numbers." Mason sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Will any of this help find the person who attacked Elliott?"

Dustin Goolsby wrote it all down and reviewed his notes. They now had established proof of the unknown figures, which was a good place to start. But the magic the McCarthy boy was describing of, Dustin hadn't witnessed in person. He had heard cases like this before, when he got together with his old Cardine buddies who were still in the loop, but to have it happen at NYADA. That was unfathomable. His tone lost that playful edge. "It will help. Thank you for your information. We will send this to the Cardines. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter, Mr. McCarthy. We will have to speak with Miss Cohen-Chang. Furthermore, I think this goes without argument that this incident will be on your permanent record. We will also notify your parents. And lastly... Dmitri here will send a request for a watch eye. You are to also have it for a duration of three months."

Mason bit back a groan. Three months was basically an eternity. Whatever. ​Ugh.​ "Of course, sir." Of freaking course. "I did have a question, sir, about the eye. Who sees that footage? Also, does it record like, when you go to the bathroom and stuff?" Mason paused, gears ticking over in his mind. "Speaking of records, how would I like, look at mine? I'm allowed to do that, right? Since it would be my record and all?"

Dmitri wrote down the watch eye request, pursing his lips. He understood that it was meant as a deterrent, a way to keep the kids from meddling in business that they shouldn't be meddling. And this truly over their heads, a deterrent was wise.

Dustin Goolsby quirked his lips, avoiding the bathroom question. The kid will figure out soon enough. "NYADA Security Staff and the local Cardine precinct. You may receive a copy of your record, but the original stays with whoever does the filing for those things."

Mason nodded, though he was a little dismayed. If the Cardines had control over the feed, they could easily doctor whatever Puckerman's watch eye had or hadn't seen the night of Samhain. But if Adam could get a copy of his record...Maybe that would at least tell them how much the school was involved in the cover up. Or maybe it would just be further proof that Adam had the worst concussion ever, or whatever made people dream up nutty false memories. "Thank you, sir. Is there anything else?"

Dustin Goolsby smirked. "I don't know. You tell me. Is there anything else you'd like to say, Mr. McCarthy? If not, then you may leave."

Mason hesitated. "I guess I have a request. With Tina, she...she scares easy, sir. If you could go a little easy on her, I think it would probably accomplish more than the whole..." Mason gestured vaguely at Goolsby. "Thing. That's all, sir." Mason stood up and walked to the door, letting out a breath as he crossed the threshold. Aether. Next time Madison came up with some wacky idea, Mason was just going to let her.

Dmitri wrote 'easy with Tina' in small handwriting in the margins of his notebook.

Dustin Goolsby clicked his tongue. "I'll choose how to approach Miss Cohen-Chang. Mr. McCarthy, if you cared this much about her well-being, you shouldn't have exposed her to this third party." He raised an eyebrow at the gesture and leaned back into his chair, watching him leave. He looked over to Dmitri. "Isn't Cohen-Chang one of the New Age witches who received a government tutor to audition to go here? Pull up her file. I think she was a special case..." Dustin smirked. This was getting more interesting. He would rid of all the troublemakers at NYADA, no matter what.