#The enforced disappearances? The people arrested for no charge and have been in prisons for years?

[tishalfdeadwaffles]

Each passing day I discover darker and more twisted events that happened in the massacre a decade back in my home country and I’m still in disbelief that there are people who condone it, who thought it’s alright to murder civilians for protesting, but even more terrified by the generation that has no idea what happened even though it’s been just 11 years and they haven’t heard of it, even people my age. It’s so heartbreaking

#Personal #2013 massacre #Home country #Politics #i personally knew people who died during that time and people who got incarcerated #And yet the amount of people who are so disconnected and out of touch and forgot what happened is truly ?????? #Like my GOD #and people treat it as if this was centuries back #No you guys this was barely a decade ago #Barely #11 years isn’t that long of a time #And 600-1000 dead most of them if not all of them being civilians isn’t a small number #To this day they aren’t sure what the exact number of deaths was because of the corpses that were burned/cremated (cremation isn’t usual or #And the gvt denies being involved it and decided that the toll was ONLY 300?????? #As if 300 is a small number either #People have to know about Egy’s true conditions #About the insane propaganda and the inhumane conditions #It’s so much worse than anyone would think #The enforced disappearances? The people arrested for no charge and have been in prisons for years? #The dire and disgusting state of the prisons???? #There was that one newly built jail four years ago that they made an AD FOR #LIKE WHO MAKES AN AD FOR A DUCKING PRISON????? #it was advertised as if it was some kind of five star hotel it’s so messed up #And yet the torture over there is just as extreme if not more and the advertising was just a guise and more propaganda

[lilithism1848]

Atrocities US committed against NATIVE AMERICANS

In 2016, the US army corp of engineers approved a Energy Transfer Partners’ proposal to build an oil pipeline near the Standing Rock Indian Reservation, sparking the Dakota Access Pipeline Protests, evoking a brutal response from North Dakota police aided by the National Guard, private security firms, and other law enforcement agencies from surrounding states. The Standing Rock Sioux tribe believes that the pipeline would put the Missouri River, the water source for the reservation, at risk, pointing out two recent spills, a 2010 pipeline spill into the Kalamazoo River in Michigan, which cost over billion to clean up with significant contamination remaining, and a 2015 Bakken crude oil spill into the Yellowstone River in Montana. Police repression has included dogs attacking protesters, spraying water cannons on protesters in sub-freezing temperatures, >700 arrests of Native Americans and ~200 injuries, a highly militarized police force using armored personnel carriers, concussion grenades, mace, Tasers, batons, rubber bullets, and tear gas. In November 2017, the keystone XL pipeline burst, spilling 210,000 gallons of oil in Amherst, South Dakota. 

In 1975, FBI agents attacked AIM activists on the Pine Ridge Reservation, in the ‘Pine Ridge Shootout’. Two FBI agents, and an AIM activist were killed. In two separate trials, the U.S. prosecuted participants in the firefight for the deaths of the agents. AIM members Robert Robideau and Dino Butler were acquitted after asserting that they had acted in self–defense. Leonard Peltier was extradited from Canada and tried separately because of the delay. He was convicted on two counts of first–degree murder for the deaths of the FBI agents and sentenced to two consecutive terms of life in prison, after a trial which is still contentious. He remains in prison.

In 1973, 200 Oglala Lakota and AIM activists occupied the town of Wounded Knee, South Dakota, on the Pine Ridge Reservation, called the Wounded knee incident. They were protesting the reservation’s corrupt US-backed tribal chairman, Dick Wilson, who controlled a private militia, called Guardians of the Oglala Nation (GOONs), funded by the government. FBI, US marshals, and other law enforcement cordoned off the area and attacked the activists with armored vehicles, automatic rifles, machine guns, grenade launchers, and gas shells, resulting in two killed and 13 wounded. Ray Robinson, a civil rights activist who joined the protesters, disappeared during the events and is believed to have been murdered. As food supplies became short, three planes dropped 1,200 pounds of food, but as people scrambled to gather it up, a government helicopter appeared overhead and fired down on them while groundfire came from all sides. After the siege ended in a truce, 120 occupiers were arrested. Wilson stayed in office and in 1974 was re-elected amid charges of intimidation, voter fraud, and other abuses. The rate of violence climbed on the reservation as conflict opened between political factions in the following three years; residents accused Wilson’s private militia of much of it. 

In Nov. 1969, a group of 89 Native Americans occupied Alcatraz Island for 15 months, to gauge the US’s commitment to the Treaty of Fort Laramie (1868), which stated that all abandoned federal land must be returned to native people. Eventually the government cut off all electrical power and all telephone service to the island. In June, a fire of disputed origin destroyed numerous buildings on the island. Left without power, fresh water, and in the face of diminishing public support and sympathy, the number of occupiers began to dwindle. On June 11, 1971, a large force of government officers removed the remaining 15 people from the island.

From its creation in 1968, The American Indian Movement (AIM) has been a target of repression from law enforcement agencies, and surveillance as one of the FBI’s COINTELPRO targets. This includes the wounded knee incident and the pine ridge shootout. 

In 1942 the federal government took privately held Pine Ridge Indian Reservation land owned by tribal members in order to establish the Badlands Bombing Range of 341,725 acres, evicting 125 families. Among the families evicted was that of Pat Cuny, an Oglala Sioux. He fought in World War II in the Battle of the Bulge after surviving torpedoing of his transport in the English Channel. Dewey Beard, a Miniconjou Sioux survivor of the Wounded Knee Massacre, who supported himself by raising horses on his 908-acre allotment received in 1907 was also evicted. The small federal payments were insufficient to enable such persons to buy new properties. In 1955 the 97-year-old Beard testified of earlier mistreatment at Congressional hearings about this project. He said, for “fifty years I have been kicked around. Today there is a hard winter coming. …I might starve to death.”

In 1890, US soldiers killed 150-300 people (including 65 women and 24 children) at Wounded Knee (19-26 people, including two women and eleven children.) on the Lakota Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in the U.S. state of South Dakota. Twenty-five soldiers also died, and 39 were wounded (6 of the wounded later died). At least twenty soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor. The event was driven by local racism towards the practice of Ghost Dancing, which whites found distasteful, and the Native Americans arming up in response to repeated broken treaties, stolen land, and their bison-herds being hunted to near extinction by the whites.

In 1887, the Dawes Act, and Curtis Act, resulted in the loss of 90 million acres of native-alloted land, and the abolition of many native governments. During the ensuing decades, the Five Civilized Tribes lost 90 million acres of former communal lands, which were sold to non-Natives. In addition, many individuals, unfamiliar with land ownership, became the target of speculators and criminals, were stuck with allotments that were too small for profitable farming, and lost their household lands. Tribe members also suffered from the breakdown of the social structure of the tribes.

Starting in the 1870s, The US army, aided by settlers and private hunters, began a widespread policy of slaughtering bufallo and bison, in order to destroy many tribe’s primary food source, and to starve Native Americans into submission. By 1900, they succeeded; the bufallo population dropped from more than 30 million, to a few hundred. The country’s highest generals, politicians, and presidents including Ulysses S. Grant, saw the destruction of buffalo as solution to the country’s “Indian Problem.” By destroying the food supply of the plains natives, they could more easily move them onto reservations.

Starting in 1830-50, The Trail of Tears was a series of forced removals of Native American nations, including Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek, Seminole, Cherokee people and the African freedmen and slaves who lived among them, from their ancestral homelands in the Southeastern United States to an area west of the Mississippi River that had been designated as Native Territory. The forced relocations were carried out by various government authorities following the passage of the Indian Removal Act in 1830. “Marshaled by guards, hustled by agents, harried by contractors,they were being herded on the way to an unknown and unwelcome destination like a flock of sick sheep.” They went on ox wagons, on horses, on foot, then to be ferried across the MississippiRiver. The army was supposed to organize their trek, but it turned over its job to private contractors who charged the government as much as possible, gave the Indians as little as possible. The Cherokee removal in 1838 (the last forced removal east of the Mississippi) was brought on by the discovery of gold near Dahlonega, Georgia in 1828, resulting in the Georgia Gold Rush. Approximately 2,000-6,000 of the 16,543 relocated Cherokee perished along the way.

In 1848, the California Genocide is a term used to describe the drastic decrease in Native American population in California. The population decreased from ~300,000 in 1769, to 16,000 in 1900. 

The Second Seminole War, also known as the Florida War, was a conflict from 1835 to 1842 in Florida between various groups of Native Americans collectively known as Seminoles and the United States, part of a series of conflicts called the Seminole Wars. The Second Seminole War, often referred to as the Seminole War, is regarded as “the longest and most costly of the Indian conflicts of the United States.” ~3000 seminoles were killed, and 4000 were deported to Indian territory elsewhere. 

In 1832, the Black Hawk War, was a brief 1832 conflict between the United States and Native Americans led by Black Hawk, a Sauk leader, in Illinois. The war gave impetus to the US policy of Indian removal, in which Native American tribes were pressured to sell their lands and move west of the Mississippi River and stay there. Over 500 Native Americans were killed in the conflict.

In 1832, the Chickasaw Indians were forced by the US to sell their country in 1832 and move to Indian Territory (Oklahoma) during the era of Indian Removal in the 1830s.

In 1813, the Creek War, was a war between the US, lead by the then notorious indian-hunter Andrew Jackson, and the Creek nation, residing primarily in Alabama. Over 1,500 creeks were killed. The war effectively ended with the Treaty of Fort Jackson, where General Andrew Jackson insisted that the Creek confederacy cede more than 21 million acres of land from southern Georgia and central Alabama. These lands were taken from allied Creek as well as Red Sticks. In 1814, Andrew Jackson became famous for his role in the Battle of Horseshoe Bend, where his side killed more than 800 Creeks. Under Jackson, and the man he chose to succeed him, Martin Van Buren, 70,000 Indians east of the Mississippi were forced westward.

The Red Sticks, a faction of Muscogee Creek people in the American Southeast, led a resistance movement against European-American encroachment and assimilation; tensions culminated in the outbreak of the Creek War in 1813.

From 1785-96, the Northwest Indian War was a war between the US and a confederation of numerous Native American tribes, with support from the British, for control of the Northwest Territory. President George Washington directed the United States Army to enforce U.S. sovereignty over the territory. Over 1,000 Native Americans were killed in the bloody conflict.

In the 1800s, Indian removal was a policy of the United States government whereby Native Americans were forcibly removed from their ancestral homelands in the eastern United States to lands west of the Mississippi River, thereafter known as Indian Territory. That policy has been characterized by some scholars as part of a long-term genocide of Native Americans. 

The Texan-Indian Wars were a series of 19th-century conflicts between settlers in Texas and the Southern Plains Indians. Its hard to approximate the number of deaths from the conflicts, but the Indian population in Texas decreased from 20,000 to 8,000 by 1875.

The Indian Wars is a name given to the collection of over 40 conflicts and wars between Native Americans and US settlers. The US census bureau reports that they have cost the lives of about 19,000 white men, women and children, including those killed in individual combats, and the lives of about 30,000 Indians. The actual number of killed and wounded Indians must be very much higher than the number given… Fifty percent additional would be a safe estimate.

From 1500-1900s, European and later US colonists and authorities displaced and committed genocide on the Native American Population. Ward Churchill characterizes the reduction of the North American Indian population from an estimated 12 million in 1500 to barely 237,000 in 1900 as a “vast genocide.. the most sustained on record.

#anti capitalism #socialism #leftism #anarchy #communism #late stage capitalism #classism #economics #inequality #capitalism #current events #us healthcare #us house of representatives #us history #us hegemony #anti imperialism #imperialism #anti capitalist love notes #tweet #anti capitalists be like #anti capatilism #native american #killers of the flower moon

[27-moons]

Palestinian Prisoners' Club

On Palestinian Children's Day

The "israeli" occupation incarcerates in its prisons more than 200 Palestinian children, among them 23 children from Gaza held in "Megiddo" prison under enforced disappearance, as are all detainees from Gaza. This information is the only available data regarding the detained children from Gaza, and the number may be higher than this.

This year has been the bloodiest for Palestinian children, in light of the comprehensive aggression and ongoing genocide war in Gaza to this date, where the occupation has killed more than 14,000 Palestinian children in Gaza over the past six months, according to the Palestinian Ministry of Health, noting that this toll is not final due to the ongoing aggression. Additionally, thousands of victims are still missing under the rubble, in addition to 117 children martyred by occupation forces since the beginning of the year in the West Bank and occupied Al-Quds.

Since the beginning of the aggression after October 7th, the number of arrests among children in the West Bank has exceeded 500, where the policy of arresting children is one of the most prominent policies pursued by the occupation over decades to this day.

Since the early years of the occupation of Palestinian lands, the occupation has targeted children in various and different ways and means directly, without the slightest regard for any agreements that guarantee the rights of children. The occupation, through its practices against children in the West Bank, Al-Quds, and the Gaza Strip, is a main target of the ongoing aggression against the Palestinian people, as the occupying state is the only country in the world that systematically prosecutes between 500 and 700 Palestinian children in military courts each year, in a manner lacking the basic rights to a fair trial.

Child prisoners in the occupation's prisons, after October 7th, face "revenge" measures imposed by the occupation on various categories of prisoners in all prisons. Initially, it completely isolated the prisoners from the outside world and from each other within the prisons, withdrew all electrical appliances and their belongings from inside the rooms, cut off the hot water, confiscated clothes, and the prison administration was content to provide very small food portions of very poor quality. In addition to all this, the occupation forces have resorted to torture against the prisoners at an unprecedented rate.

According to testimonies from child prisoners who were recently released, the occupation has isolated them from other prisoners and sections from day one, and several testimonies recorded that they were severely beaten during their time in prisons. Statistics and documented testimonies of detained children indicate that the majority of children who were arrested were subjected to one or more forms of physical and psychological torture, using a series of systematic methods and tools contrary to laws, international norms, and agreements on children's rights.

The occupation authorities use the policy of arbitrary administrative detention against Palestinians as a tool for repression and control amid escalating events and also as a punitive measure. Children are not spared from the policy of arbitrary administrative detention, where the occupation today holds in its prisons more than 3660 administrative detainees, including 41 children, most of whom were arrested and issued administrative detention orders after October 7th, without being charged, claiming the existence of a "secret file" that steals their childhood in cells that kill their childhood and deprive them of their right to education.

5/4/2024

VIA Resistance News Network

https://www.ppsmo.ps/

#palestine #gaza #west bank #israel

[aptericia]

OC intros! 😊

POV you can choose to side with a) corrupt politicians who hate war so much that they’re willing to kill a lot of innocent people to avoid it, b) warmongering rebels who hate corruption so much that they’re willing to kill a lot of innocent people to take it down, or c) bitches who don’t care about anything beyond saving their own skin. And you have no idea who’s who :)

Here are the 5 prominent characters for the graphic novel I’m (very slowly) working on! I posted a bit of info at the beginning of last month for OCtober art challenges, but now I’m finally giving them a proper introduction! Keep reading for info about each of them~

TRACE he/him age: 31 Tech assistant at Sandoval, a police station and prison at the edge of a vast, unexplored marsh. Unfulfilled with his lot in life, he is eager to exceed expectations and fix problems where he finds them. His probing leads him into an investigation that others are desperate to keep him from completing.

SIGNE she/her age: 32 An undocumented immigrant who was arrested at the edge of the Marsh and is being held at Sandoval. Has a violent, unstable demeanor, yet appears to be free of the curse that crushes the will of others those who cross through the Marsh. Somehow, she knows secrets about Sandoval that even Trace doesn’t.

OFFICER CORTEZ she/her age: 50 Chief Officer in charge of the police station side of Sandoval. Determined to protect it from the mysterious attackers that have been targeting the country’s law enforcement institutions.

NOÉ he/him age: 29 A security officer at Sandoval’s prison, and Trace’s friend. Although more carefree than the latter would prefer, he’s less afraid to speak his mind.

OFFICER EMIRA they/them age: 38 Moved to Sandoval to take charge of its guard force after the mysterious disappearance of the previous captain. Friendly with Trace and the other staff.

#my ocs #my art #still working on their designs I’m not totally happy with them ;-; #I like the gold/purple color scheme for the uniforms because symbolism but it’s kinda ugly… #it’s really helpful to see them all next to each other though #I ended up adding a tattoo to noe’s design just now bc I though he looked to similar to the others

[thenuclearmallard]

Ukraine/Russia: Sentencing of indigenous rights defender Nariman Dzhelyal

23/09/2022

URGENT APPEAL

Human Rights Defenders

Ukraine

Russia

Ed Hinchliffe

New Information

RUS 004 / 0921 / OBS 095.1

Arbitrary detention /

Judicial harassment

Ukraine / Russian Federation

September 23, 2022

The Observatory for the Protection of Human Rights Defenders, a partnership of the World Organisation Against Torture (OMCT) and the International Federation for Human Rights (FIDH), has received new information and requests your urgent intervention in the following situation in Crimea, Ukrainian region being occupied by the Russian Federation.

New information: 

The Observatory has been informed about the sentencing of Mr. Nariman Dzhelyal to 17 years in prison on trumped-up charges of “sabotage”. Mr. Dzhelyal is an indigenous and minority rights defender and the first deputy head of the Mejlis of the Crimean Tatar People [1]. 

On September 21, 2022 the Kiev district court of Simferopol found Nariman Dzhelyal guilty of “sabotage” and sentenced him to 17 years in prison, a 700,000 Rubles (approximately 11,780 Euros) fine and one year and six months of freedom restriction. On the same day, and as part of the same case, the court sentenced Crimean Tatar activists Asan Akhtemov and Aziz Akhtemov to 15 years in prison, a 500,000 Rubles (approximately 8,400 Euros) fine and one year of freedom restriction each on the same charges.

The trial has suffered from multiple and gross procedural irregularities, including lack of access to a lawyer of their choosing, and the use of evidence obtained under duress. The indictment relied solely on the testimony of secret witnesses and on the testimonies of Asan and Aziz Akhtemov, charged with “sabotage” alongside Mr. Dzhelyal. Both of them retracted their testimonies in court, alleging that they had been obtained under torture and that they had been subjected to mock executions during the interrogations. Despite the lack of firm evidence, Mr. Dzhelyal has been kept in arbitrary detention at the temporary detention facility of Simferopol for more than one year.

The Observatory recalls that Mr. Dzhelyal was arrested on September 4, 2021, in relation to an alleged intentional damage to a gas pipe. On September 6, 2021, the Kiev district court of Simferopol ordered Nariman Dzhelyal’s pre-trial detention until November 4, 2021 on charges of “sabotage” (part 1 of Article 281 of the Criminal Code of Russia) brought against him by the Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation (FSB). Mr. Dzhelyal’s pre-trial detention has been renewed several times since then.

The Observatory expresses its utmost concern over the continued arbitrary detention and unfair conviction of Nariman Dzhelyal. The Observatory firmly condemns the acts of torture committed against Asan Akhtemov and Aziz Akhtemov and the use of confessions made under duress as evidence during the trial.

The Observatory recalls that since the occupation of Crimea by the Russian Federation in 2014, Crimean Tatars and those who defend their rights have been targeted by the Russian authorities, including through enforced disappearances, torture and ill-treatment, arbitrary detentions, judicial harassment and arbitrary searches [2]. 

The Observatory urges the Russian authorities to immediately and unconditionally release Nariman Dzhelyal, to quash his conviction and to put an end to all acts of harassment, including at the judicial level, against him and all human rights defenders and organisations in Crimea. 

Actions requested:  

Please write to the authorities of Russia, urging them to:

 guarantee in all circumstances the physical integrity and psychological well-being of Nariman Dzhelyal and all other human rights defenders in Crimea;

 quash the conviction of Nariman Dzhelya;

 immediately and unconditionally release Nariman Dzhelyal as his detention is arbitrary and merely aimed at intimidating him and diverting him from his legitimate human rights activities;

 guarantee Nariman Dzhelyal’s unhindered access to his family members and to a lawyer of his own or his family’s choosing;

 put an end to all acts of harassment - including at the judicial level - against Nariman Dzhelyal and all other human rights defenders in Crimea, and ensure in all circumstances that they are able to carry out their legitimate activities and exercise their rights without any hindrance or fear of reprisals.

Addresses:  

 Mr. Vladimir Putin, President of the Russian Federation, Twitter: @KremlinRussia_E

 Mr. Mikhail Mishustin, Prime Minister of the Russian Federation, Twitter:@GovernmentRF

 Mr. Sergey Lavrov, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation, E-mail: [email protected]

 Mr. Igor Krasnov, General Prosecutor of the Russian Federation, [email protected]

 Mr. Alexander Bortnikov, Director of Federal Security Service (FSS), [email protected]

 Permanent Mission of the Russian Federation to the United Nations in Geneva, Switzerland. E-mail: [email protected]

 Embassy of the Russian Federation in Brussels, Belgium. E-mail: [email protected]

 Permanent Representation of the Russian Federation to the Council of Europe, France. Email: [email protected]

Please also write to the diplomatic representations of the Russian Federation in your respective countries.

***

Paris-Geneva, September 23, 2022

Kindly inform us of any action undertaken quoting the code of this appeal in your reply.

To contact the Observatory, call the emergency line:

 E-mail: [email protected]

 Tel. FIDH: [phone] 

 Tel. OMCT: [phone]

Footnotes

[1] The Mejlis is the self-governing institution of the Crimean Tatar people, the largest indigenous group in Ukraine. On September 29, 2016, the Russian Supreme Court banned the activities of the Mejlis in Russia and Russian-occupied Crimea after declaring it an “extremist organisation”. This prohibition was part of the ongoing repressive measures taken against the Crimean Tatar people since Russia’s occupation of Crimea in 2014. On April 19, 2017, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) ordered the Russian Federation to refrain from maintaining or imposing limitations on the ability of the Crimean Tatar community to conserve its representative institutions, including the Mejlis, but no measures were taken.

[2] See Report of the United Nations Secretary General on the Situation of human rights in the Autonomous Republic of Crimea and the city of Sevastopol, Ukraine, published on August 2, 2021.

#indigenous #indigenous russian #indigenous russia #culture #russia #important #colonization #fypシ #fypage #landback #russian imperialism #Russian genocide #indigenous people #indigenous rights #Text #Urgent #crimean tatars #Crimea #Ukraine #Indigenous Ukraine #land back #Racism #Genocide

[mariamonstrike]

“

The murder of women in Woonsocket, Rhode Island and Stuart, Florida, took place, at least in time, close to one another. In both cases, women who were sex workers were murdered. In Woonsocket, the women were dismembered. I knew a person who was murdered in Rhode Island, Christine Dumont, having met her while visiting a drug rehabilitation housing unit for women. That Christine’s body ended in the massive Central Landfill in Johnston, Rhode Island and cannot be found is traumatic to the extreme. In Florida, the bodies of two of the victims were dumped only a few hundred yards from where my wife and I once owned a condo. I don’t know if it was a coincidence, but the proximity in time of these murders and the fact that I knew one of the murdered women was shocking in the extreme!

Only traces of fluids from the murdered women could be found from any of the Woonsocket women linked to killer Jeffrey Mailhot.

When Rex Heuermann was recently arrested and charged with the alleged murder of three sex workers on Long Island, the sameness of the themes of misogyny and an insane desire to enforce some sort of perverse moral code on innocent people were inescapable. The psychopathology of these murderers may have been different, but these men knew what they were doing during the planning, execution, and follow-up of these murders. The murderers went about their lives following their heinous acts.

In both Woonsocket and  Long Island, police were slow to respond to the killings and exhibited a less than professional regard for the women killed. As years passed, the police investigation became more professional.

In “An Ordinary Guy,” (Rhode Island Monthly, April 17, 2007), sex workers are referred to as “hookers” as reported in killer Jeffrey Mailhot’s interrogation at Woonsocket police headquarters.  Perhaps it was the times and the absence of political correctness that informed that language?

“The questioning continued for another half hour. Then Lee opened a file folder and spread the pictures he’d gathered earlier across the table. There was Audrey Harris, missing sixteen months; Christine Dumont, gone almost two months; and Stacie Goulet, whose disappearance had been reported twelve days earlier. “Criminologists have sketched a demographic profile, and he fits it to a T. The typical serial killer is a white male who first takes up homicide around age thirty. The majority target strangers or near-strangers exclusively. Though a few travel about, leaving bodies here and there, most operate within a specific locale. “Beyond that, Mailhot displayed a predator’s psyche. He killed not for money or vengeance, but for the thrill of it. He snuffed out lives with his hands (never a knife or gun) to savor every moment of his victims’ suffering and fear. He preyed on a specific group — prostitutes — whom he’d come to regard as less than human. And he concealed his horrifying depravity with an unremarkable, everyday routine: He could dismember a body, toss the parts in a Dumpster, and stop for a Bud on his way home.”

Eugene McWatters killed three women in ways similar to Mailhot. He strangled three sex workers, not dismembering them as the Woonsocket killer did, and left their bodies in a drainage canal and near a homeless encampment in Stuart, Florida. The homeless encampment was within a few hundred yards of a condo I owned. McWatters was dubbed “The Salerno Strangler,” after an area of Stuart. Sentenced to death for those murders, a technicality in Florida law saw him sentenced to life in prison without parole “Salerno Stranger most recent serial killer on Treasure Coast,” (TCPalm, November 28, 2010).

Rex Heuermann (“The Polygon and the Avalanche: How the Gilgo Beach Suspect Was Found,” New York Times, July 20, 2023), the alleged Long Island serial killer, had a much different lifestyle than the Woonsocket and the Stuart serial killers. He was an architect with a wife and children and lived a middle-class life, although his Massapequa Park home was in substantial disrepair, an anomaly for that Long Island village.

While there have been many psychological profiles of Heuermann, it is a near-universal professional code within psychiatry and psychology to never evaluate a person who has not been evaluated in person. Within the media blitz about Heuermann, an interview of substantial length was conducted a few years ago in which Heuermann dispassionately discusses his work as an architect. In my opinion, the interview was poorly done and is not easily accessed on the Internet since shortly after Heuermann’s arrest.

How many additional murders are connected to Heuermann are impossible to determine at this time. One additional murder has a similarity to his alleged murders, and forensic evaluation of bodies found in the Gilgo Beach site may give up more information.

The misogyny and sense of enforcing some moral order, along with murderous behavior, are the apparent earmarks of these murders.”

[alisaint]

(Washington, DC) – The Cuban government is committing systematic human rights abuses against independent artists and journalists, Human Rights Watch said today as it released a video on the abuses.

In recent months, Cuban authorities have jailed and prosecuted several artists and journalists who are critical of the government. Police and intelligence officers have routinely appeared at the homes of other artists and journalists, ordering them to stay there, often for days and even weeks. The authorities have also imposed temporary targeted restrictions on people’s ability to access cellphone data.

“Singing a song that the government does not like, or reporting the news independently, is enough to get you detained in Cuba,” said José Miguel Vivanco, Americas director at Human Rights Watch. “These abuses are not isolated incidents, but rather appear to be part of a plan to selectively silence critical voices.”

Between February and June 2021, Human Rights Watch interviewed by telephone 29 journalists and artists who were victims of abuse and harassment by Cuban authorities in recent months. In many cases, Human Rights Watch conducted multiple interviews with people who were subjected to new abuses. Human Rights Watch also reviewed court decisions, publications by local human rights groups, and media reports, and corroborated videos posted on social media.

Most of the artists and journalists targeted belong to the “San Isidro Movement,” a coalition of singers, painters and other artists, and “27N,” a group of artists and journalists who gathered after a landmark protest against censorship and repression in Havana on November 27, 2020. Victims also include people who have performed in, or even simply played or promoted “Motherland and Life,” a song by Cuban artists in Havana and Miami that repurposes the Cuban government’s old slogan “Motherland or Death” (Patria o muerte), and criticizes repression in the country.

Officials involved in the abuses include members of the intelligence services, known in Cuba as “state security,” and the national police, based on accounts by witnesses and victims, as well as photos and videos reviewed by Human Rights Watch. Intelligence officers normally wear civilian clothing, but at times they identify themselves to detainees verbally or show their credentials. Many government critics said that they are often detained and under surveillance by the same people, leading them to conclude that their harassers are intelligence officers.

Many of the artists and journalists have also been smeared with false accusations on national television. Anchors on the main Cuban news program – which belongs to a state-owned channel and is featured at prime time simultaneously on most TV channels in Cuba – have in recent months falsely accused some of the artists and journalists of “conspiring” against Cuba and being involved in “delinquency.”

The consistent and repeated patterns in the cases Human Rights Watch documented have involved actions by police and intelligence officers at least since the November 27 protest, often against the same victims. The patterns of harassment strongly suggest a plan by Cuban authorities to selectively repress independent artists and journalists, Human Rights Watch said. The targeted restrictions on critics’ cellphone data, as well as the repeated instances of accusations against many of them on public television, are further evidence of the systematic nature of these violations.

The restrictions on movement have been imposed on multiple journalists and artists on the same days, preventing them from participating in demonstrations or meetings. Barring people from leaving their homes for a significant period, barring them from socializing with others, and threatening them with imprisonment if they don’t comply amounts to arbitrary deprivations of liberty comparable with de facto house arrest, Human Rights Watch said.

Cuban authorities have also imposed targeted and temporary restrictions on cellphone data and phone services to members of the “San Isidro” and “27N” groups, often coinciding with the restrictions on movement. When they face such restrictions, some government critics borrow phones from friends and relatives who are not critical of the government and whose service has not been interrupted, they told Human Rights Watch.

Iliana Hernández, a reporter for the independent news outlet Ciber Cuba, has faced such restrictions persistently since April 23. Five officers, including three in civilian clothes, forced her into a police car that day as she headed for a bus stop with some friends. She shouted “down with the dictatorship! Down with communism! Motherland and life!” The officers took her to a police station, where an officer said she was being accused of “contempt” for “offending the figure of President Miguel Díaz-Canel,” apparently because of what she shouted.

The officer told her she would be held as a “precautionary measure,” and forbidden to leave her home until she stands trial. Hernández was never taken before a prosecutor or judge, shown a document indicating she is legally subjected to such a measure, or given a chance to challenge it, she and her lawyer told Human Rights Watch. She has never been formally notified of the alleged “contempt” investigation.

Since that day, several officers have surveilled her home in shifts, 24 hours a day. Normally, five of them are surveilling at any time. Other people who live with her have been allowed to leave the house, but officers have attempted to arrest her every time she tries to leave. Her cellphone data and her home internet have not worked since the beginning of her detention, she said.

In most other cases documented, critics facing such restrictions were never notified, even verbally, that these were connected to an alleged criminal investigation.

Many journalists and artists were arbitrarily detained, often for attempting to leave their homes when they faced restrictions on movement. Police and intelligence officers arrested some artists and journalists repeatedly. In the vast majority of cases, officers did not show an arrest warrant or provide detainees with a reason for their arrest. Most were released after a few hours. In some cases, the officers drove the detainees to unpopulated areas where they held them for hours, or simply kept them in the police car, instead of taking them to a police station, then released them.

Some have also faced longer term arbitrary detention. Maykel Castillo, who had experienced multiple short-term arbitrary detentions and is one of the singers in “Motherland and Life,” was arrested at his home on May 18. His whereabouts were unknown to his family until May 31, when Cuban authorities informed them that he was being held in the Pinar del Río prison. The family was notified a few days after the UN Committee on Enforced Disappearances had urged the Cuban government to reveal Castillo’s place of detention.

A court document Human Rights Watch reviewed indicates that he is being investigated on charges of “contempt,” “resistance,” and “assault.” An official Cuban news outlet reported that the charges are connected to an April 4 peaceful protest in Havana, during which a police officer tried to arrest Castillo and a group of local residents defended him, preventing the detention.

Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara, a leading figure in the San Isidro movement and also a singer of “Motherland and Life,” has been routinely arrested or had his movements restricted in recent months. On April 25, he began a hunger strike demanding that the authorities stop harassing him and that they return some paintings they had confiscated during a search of his house on April 17.

On May 2, officers went to his house, handcuffed him, and took him to a hospital, he said. The next day, Alcántara decided to end his strike, fearing that they would force him to eat. He said he remained in detention while hospitalized, in a five square meter room with three security officers always in the room with him. He was not allowed to call anyone and was only allowed four five-minute visits by family members, he said. After threatening to jail him, officers released him, and he left the hospital on May 30. “They told me that if I didn’t behave properly, they could do whatever they wanted with me,” Alcántara said.

#cuba #soscuba #patria y vida #blm be like suddenly i can't read or do a simple google search? :/ #and tankies be like This Is Good Actually Freedom of Speech Is Only For Those That Think Like Me And Agree With Me And Don't #Threaten My Power Over An Entire Nation. #like. make it make sense. how is defending this government even an option for some people like bro it aint the embargo arresting #these people! #u can lift the embargo and these people will still not have freedom of speech or due process!

[thejudgingtrash]

hello mel i Love You

HELLO DIL I LOVE YOU EVEN MORE!!!

You had me SCREAMING! Criminal genius/Detective Annabeth is my new hyper fixation, I fucking swear T_T

My brain went OVERBOARD with this! It’s super long! Please enjoy!!

(I’ve withheld this story due to the current political climate and I still feel sorta a way. But if reading about the p*lice triggers you or makes you feel uncomfortable, I wholeheartedly understand if you want to skip this one. Also... the story has some... a little bit of heat in it. Not much, it’s SFW. But it’s there <.<)

And: law enforcement, medical and science side of the pjo fandom, I doubt that this will make any sense :D

Also thanks again Torie @percyheartsannabeth for being an amazing beta!!

The Golden Age (WC: 9,5k)

i.

“Absolutely not,” Detective Annabeth Chase crossed her arms and shook violently her head. The blonde curls nearly escaped her bun. Her partner Detective Luke Castellan was surprised. He had never seen Annabeth reject a direct command.

“We need his statement, Chase,” said Sergeant Charles Beckendorf. “It’s his M.O. The drugs, the paintings. Either he’s operating from prison again or someone’s copying him. We need to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all!”

“Even so, we’re busy with the robberies in Chelsea.” Annabeth didn’t want to pick this case up again. The case that made her famous, the case that changed her life forever. For the worse.

“Stoll will take over that with his younger brother. Chase, you don’t have a choice. You will talk to Perseus Jackson. That’s an order,” Captain Dougenis commanded. He had the final say. Luke nodded, Annabeth did nothing.

“Don’t you think we haven’t tried to get him to cooperate earlier? He said he only wants to talk to you. The person that put him behind bars,” Beckendorf explained.

Fuck Annabeth thought. She did not want to face Perseus Jackson again. She wanted to forget him and move on. The looks from her two superiors said that they would deny her wish. Jackson was a cunning manipulator. She knew how he worked and what he was. A criminal. A thief. A criminal.

“When will I speak with him?” she sighed. A battle that was lost quickly.

“In two days. Should give you enough time to study the case files,” Dougenis said.

Off to a great start. The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway muffled as the prisoner was placed into the interview room two days later. He sat down and the cuffs fell from his hands. He rubbed his wrists. A little bit of freedom regained. Orange was a hideous color, but he actually managed to make it look good on him.

He and Annabeth were separated by the thin layer of the one-way-mirror. His sea green eyes scanned the plain fake wall in front of him. They tried to find her as he knew he was being watched. The piercing stare actually caught her eye directly. Annabeth sighed. He couldn’t hear her, but a smirk found its way onto his lips regardless. He knew her.

“You’ll be fine in there?” asked Luke who would stay outside of the interview room. He had been a part in arresting that monster. The condition that Jackson gave them was that he wanted to speak with Annabeth – alone. Annabeth nodded. Then she stepped into the small room. Tension laid in the air.

Four years had passed since he had been locked up. Perseus looked good. His hair was grayer, the beard had been trimmed recently. He looked like he exercised on a regular basis. Annabeth’s eyes spent two seconds engraving the picture of his brown biceps into her memory.

“Perseus Jackson, 38, born in New York City, arrested due to art theft and extortion. Twelve years. You’ve managed roughly a third so far.” Despite her marvelous work, they never were able to charge him for drug trafficking directly. The witnesses had remained silent. Annabeth took a seat in front of him.

“Annabeth, you know me,” Perseus pouted. A contrast to his deep voice. “Call me Percy,” he winked.

Her neck felt hot. “It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. Amusement sparked through his eyes.

“Okay, Detective Chase.” How was he able to make her name sound so… dirty? So profligate?

“The woman that I have to thank for my new cozy home needs my help now all of a sudden. The tables have turned. I like that.” And Annabeth did not like one bit how his mocking tone sent shivers down her spine. The way his tongue flicked. The urge of standing up and fleeing the room was prominent, but she was a professional and had a job to do:

Make Perseus Jackson sing.

“I need information.” Annabeth’s mouth was pressed to a thin line.

“Straight to the point, Detective, huh?” The attractive man leaned forward. “And what information do I supposedly have?”

“Your family never stopped your business,” Annabeth spat. Perseus shrugged and his fingers tapped on the desk. An annoying habit.

“Someone is operating with the same methods as you. Art gets stolen and drugs follow the leads. Either you’re behind it or someone else has been recruited to fill your place. We need to find that someone.” She opened the case files and showed him pictures of missing paintings and locations as well as new collecting points for drugs on a map.

“Oh?” Jackson made and tilted his head. He faked interest and glanced lazily over the pictures.

“I’m pretty sure that I don’t have the time in my precious little cell to run all of the things that you’ve been accusing me of. Everything comes at a price, Detective,” he then smiled.

Sea green met light gray. Annabeth swallowed. Memories came back.

ii.

Two years. Annabeth had spent two years on that fucking case and barely made any progress. The smuggling of paintings to cover up or be used as payment for drug operations just didn’t make any sense. Her partner Luke got undercover into the business as a small middle man, but the rules were different for women. Sexism ruled yet once again. Detective work had narrowed the window down and came to one person: Perseus Jackson. He was invisible. He was a phantom. He had been swallowed by mother earth, never to be seen again.

He was part of the Greek syndicate that ruled with an iron fist over the East Coast. Not even the Italians, Chinese, Egyptians or Russians had that much power. Chrýseon Genos. The Golden Age. A fitting name for a bunch of pieces of shit that found joy in ruining people’s lives and making New York unsafe each and every single day. Everything was coded and followed the basic principles of Greek mythology. After Konstantinos Olympianidikis, otherwise known as Kronos, died in the 1970s due to a raging war with his own brothers, his three sons split the legacy and entire empire into three sections:

Adrian Olympianidikis. Hades. Racketeering and money laundering.

Petros Olympianidikis. Poseidon. Theft and drug trafficking.

Zacharias Olympianidikis. Zeus. Prostitution and human trafficking.

All these crimes were tied to the Golden Age and the police forces couldn’t do anything. Witnesses vanished or remained silent. The little evidence they had left was either compromised or disappeared. Everyone in the Golden Age had their little specialty. Everyone passed missions and power onto the next family member in the hierarchy. So did Petros aka Poseidon do the same thing with his sons. One of those sons was Paris. His youngest. The only pieces of information that Annabeth had of him were a 17-year-old picture that showed Paris shoplifting with some of his cousins and a diploma that showed that he had studied art history. A picture of him as a boy and proof that he had a college degree. Wow. Compelling evidence.

Annabeth took one final look of the teenage boy. The picture had been taken in the year 2000 hence the quality of the security camera of Macy’s being complete shit. Despite seeing a long mop on his head and awfully baggy clothes there was next to nothing that was useful for Annabeth in the year 2017. Hell. Who knew what Jackson looked like now as a grown man? The probability of him running around like in the early 2000s was next to none.

“And?” Annabeth asked Luke as he returned from a meeting in the syndicate.

“Poseidon is willing to speak to you,” her blond colleague nodded. The scar under his eye had proved his loyalty. A near fight for life and death. The other person had remained in the hospital for a while but was fine and dandy by now according to Luke.

“Okay.”

“Only you. Not anyone else. I’ll drive you.” Annabeth nodded.

The townhouse in the Meatpacking District did not look much like most of the houses in the area. The real luxury laid within. The house was filled with two kinds of people: security guards and young models. Annabeth felt uncomfortable and underdressed as she was following a young girl’s lead. Barely a woman. Not only did Poseidon enjoy his life at the fullest, no, he was also rich as fuck. Young women served drinks and cooked in the kitchen. Bikinis, shorts and cocktail dresses so short that they nearly gave Annabeth whiplash. A young thing named Lacy brought Annabeth to the garden where a mini pool party was going on at its fullest.

Despite being in his 80s, Poseidon looked good. He looked young and was full of life. He looked like he was in his solid early 50s. The hair and the bushy beard were so white that it seemed to have been dyed. The tanned skin was healthy. A friendly face. The only indication of his age were the neck and his hands. Had Annabeth been into older men, she had to admit that she wouldn’t have said no to Poseidon from the visuals alone.

Poseidon enjoyed his book and the giggling girls in the background as Lacy caught his attention with the new arrival. “Ah!” he said, and his eyes twinkled as he put the sunglasses away. Girls were swimming in the pool or playing volleyball, music was blasting, and food was served.

“Detective Chase!” Poseidon stood up and shook her hand. A firm grip. He spoke with a soft Greek accent.

“What can I do for you?” he asked friendly.

“More like how can you help me speak to one of your sons?” Annabeth smiled.

Poseidon laughed. “Which one? I have many.”

Yes, you do you horny bastard the blonde thought. Poseidon had twelve sons in total. Or twelve sons that he publicly claimed. All by different mothers of course. All of them had joined the family business and most have paid the price with their lives.

Proteus. Triton. Khrysomallos. Pegasus. Arion. Polyphemus. Bellerophon. Theseus. Orion. Sciron. Chrysaor. Paris. More than half of them were dead, less than half of them were alive. Tryfon aka Triton, the son Poseidon had when he was 19, had been killed by his cousin Iraklis also known as Hercules in 1974. Orion had been twelve when he had been shot in the street by Antonios and Phoebe aka the twins Apollon and Artemis in 1986. Assassinated by his own cousins. The trend of getting killed by your own family members was fairly present in the Golden Age.

“The youngest,” Annabeth answered which made Poseidon laugh.

“Ah, my boy Paris. What did he do?” Curiosity swung in the words of the old man that referred to his son in his codename.

“Sorry, confidential,” Annabeth deflected and pouted.

“Of course, of course. Ah the police. Friend and helper. As you can see-” Poseidon pointed to the precious gardens. “My son isn’t here.”

Annabeth nodded. “Well, if you happen to see him, tell him to give me a call.”

She gave him her card. Poseidon studied it. “Of course, I will Miss Chase.” Another friendly smile.

The blonde nodded and then left. The smile of the old man vanished for a split second only to appear as one of his young helpers gave him one of the many burner phones of the house.

“Thank you, Drew!” he said before pressing a number into the small device.

“Yes?” asked the tired voice of a man on the other side.

“Can you explain to me why a certain Detective Chase from the NYPD came to my home to talk about you?” The old man sounded cold and amused at the same time.

“What?” Now he was wide awake.

“I thought the woman would introduce herself as your fiancé! Something that would actually make me proud,” complained the old man and nodded to another young thing that handed him a drink.

“I will take care of it.”

“Yes, you will.”

The line was dead.

And Annabeth continued to work for another two weeks without any other results. Her shift came to an end but at least the desk was clean. She didn’t drown in mountains of paperwork like Castellan did.

“See you tomorrow!” said Connor Stoll as she crossed ways with him in the hallway.

“See you!” Her mood had reached its lowest so far. It was time to visit her best friend since childhood and his bar The Grove. As soon as Annabeth stepped out of the police department, it started to rain.

“Great.” Her steps got faster.

Fortunately for her, The Grove was within walking distance. The pouring sky distracted Annabeth so much that she didn’t realize neither a black Lexus parking around the corner nor the footsteps that had been following her. The leather jacket and the blonde curls were wet but nothing that would worry bartender and owner Grover Underwood all too much. He had seen her in fairly worse states.

“What can I do for you, Annabeth? An Old Fashioned like usual?” His friend nodded.

“Have you eaten something?” The dark-skinned man knew Annabeth and her habits. Overworking herself and forgetting to eat lunch were her favorite deadly combinations.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind something to snack on,” she confessed.

Grover only shook his head but gave her a glass full of pretzel sticks. A delicious Old Fashioned stood on the counter a few moments later. The door behind her opened and closed.

“What can I do for you, sir?” asked Grover and looked to the door.

“Whiskey. Double.” A rich baritone. Pleasant to the ears.

Annabeth heard the squeaking of the barstool next to her. She turned her head to the right and nearly fell to the ground. A man sat next to her that was a younger copy of Poseidon. Paris Olympianikidis also known as Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon. The man she had been searching for since forever randomly decided to appear. Her talk with Poseidon must have sparked something and Annabeth hated the stupid rule about women not being in the family business unless they had been born into it even more. Precious time that could have been used for undercover operations had been wasted.

Perseus looked… good. Good didn’t even describe it. His salt and pepper hair had the same streaks in the beard. He had a chiseled face with a straight nose. Wrinkles around the eyes showed that he loved to laugh and smile. He seemed to enjoy his regular exercise; the way his shirt shifted whenever he moved a muscle made it seem like it was about to tear apart. His skin was of a rich brown, and his lips were curled into a devilish smirk. The sea green eyes were a direct copy of his father’s. He had won the genetic lottery. He had nothing in common with the shoplifting boy from the year 2000.

“A little bird told me you were looking for me,” he winked.

Why did her chest feel so heavy? Why weren’t her lungs functioning normally?

Percy had to admit. His father had been right. Annabeth Chase was his type. Her body had a beautiful shape from what he had observed in the past few days. A firm ass that did Pilates on a regular basis in a class not far from her shithole of an apartment. A heart shaped face and a slight tooth gap that made her look only more adorable. Blonde princess curls that seemed to be fairly taken care of with expensive products. But her eyes… an interesting gray that told him one thing: she had a flaming spirit that was blessed with intelligence. Or was it cursed by its burden?

“Your father,” she commented.

The whiskey was served, and Percy took a swig. He was pleased.

“Do you mind?” the handsome man asked as he grabbed a smoke. Annabeth turned to Grover who ignored the antics of the new customer. The bartender placed an ashtray in front of him instead. What in the fuck is going on?

“I usually don’t smoke,” he confessed and lit the cigarette regardless. Annabeth pulled a face. Where was the logic in that?

“And you do now because…?” The interest was honest.

“I only smoke when I’m having a good drink-” He raised the glass to Grover who nodded and appreciated the compliment. “And am sitting next to a beautiful woman,” Perseus winked.

Annabeth didn’t know whether she wanted to blush or strangle him. She was 29 and acted like an insecure school girl for fucks sake! She nearly laughed.

“So, I have the honor of finally meeting you, Annabeth.” The way he said her name. So smoky and dark. He belonged in prison for that.

“It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. The criminal next to her only raised an eyebrow.

“Bossy. Kinky. I like it,” he smirked and enjoyed the redness of her face as he pulled from the cigarette and blew the smoke.

Grover in the corner tried to hide his laughter with a cough. Annabeth turned to her best friend with a murderous rage. “Annabeth and kinky. Yeah right.”

“Grover, shut up!” she commanded. Jackson next to her was more than just amused.

“Now I’m interested.” He tapped some of the ashes off.

“You really want to know the details of her love life?” Grover asked.

“Oh, I definitely bite,” Percy smiled. Yes please. Annabeth wanted to smack herself.

“Could we come to the more pressing matters?” the woman groaned.

“Sure,” Jackson shrugged.

He lifted his drink, she lifted hers. They met in the middle and both felt a spark immediately.

“I need information.” Chase cutting the chase.

Percy smiled. “Everything comes at a price.”

The fact that Annabeth had spent another hour next to him and had let him pay for all of her drinks made her stomach churn in hindsight. He even insisted on paying for the Uber that picked her up.

As Annabeth returned to her apartment, she started searching through it high and low in her semi drunken state. The stupid Greek syndicate had to have bugged her. Her already chaotic apartment was even more disheveled. At least she would be forced to properly clean up once the weekend hit. The worst part was that she found absolutely nothing.

What’s worse? Being wrong or being crazy?

iii.

“I’m pretty sure you got the wrong person,” Percy said and grabbed the glass of water in front of him. The interview room looked sad. “I know nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got the right person,” Annabeth retorted and leaned forward. Her hand grabbed the edge table so tightly that the vessels nearly popped. He had to give her something.

“You’re the key. You were the blueprint and now someone’s running off with your legacy. And you’re more than okay with that?!”

“Mmhh,” Percy made. As if he had seen the most delicious thing in his life. The fact that he didn’t lick his lips was a wonder. Annabeth’s eyes followed his gaze right into her cleavage. Two buttons of her blouse that had been left open. Boys will be boys.

“Are you fucking serious, Jackson?” she spat.

The prisoner leaned backwards into his chair with a grin that quickly vanished. “It stinks in here,” he sighed.

Annabeth halted her movement. Her eyes widened in shock.

“No,” she whispered.

His beautiful sea green eyes told her one thing. Yes.

iv.

“Is this really necessary?” Annabeth questioned Beckendorf’s decision behind his back.

A visit to an art gallery. Perseus Jackson decided to become visible to the public eye all of a sudden and started to work as an art collector and conservator. He had meetings with clients, he had visitors in his studio and seemed to actually use his degree for something. Whether it was for the good or not was a matter of perspective. The criminal went to the gym daily; he even bought his own fucking groceries. Observing him had been nerve wrecking. Especially since probably he knew that he was being watched and therefore enjoyed every second of Annabeth’s annoyance. The detective felt like a true voyeur. He hadn’t done anything suspicious unless being a little piece of shit counted. Jackson didn’t separate his waste for an instance. Prick.

When Luke told her that Jackson had planned the opening of a gallery and proposed that they should go, the blonde almost laughed. A public event where no invitation was needed. A ballsy move. It seemed like Jackson really gave no fucks. Unfortunately, Beckendorf caught wind of it and now she was forced to go.

“I’m afraid so,” Luke said as he rubbed his temples. He really wasn’t in the mood for a fight with Annabeth. She was an opponent that just maimed you with arguments.

“What’s going on, Annabeth?” her colleague asked. “You wanted to find Jackson the entire time. You’ve worked for years on this and now you’re basically backpedaling. This is so not you.”

For better or for worse, Annabeth didn’t talk about Luke with her meeting with Jackson at The Grove. Something told her that she should hold onto the information.

“I don’t know. Just a bad feeling I guess,” she confessed. Annabeth didn’t know what would happen once Jackson was aware of her presence. And he would definitely see her.

“You’re not alone.” Luke patted her shoulder. “Grace, Beauregard and hell even that di Angelo informant guy said they would be present. Jackson must have pulled a big gig if even the Italians are interested in his shitty joint. Nothing will happen to you.”

I’m not so sure about that, Annabeth thought, but the only thing she did was nod.

A month had passed, and the day of the gallery opening was finally there. Annabeth stood in front of the building where soft string music could be heard from the outside and guests flooded in. Annabeth saw how undercover cop Jason Grace entered. He quickly glanced in her direction but turned around. Annabeth understood; he was a valuable asset who could not let his cover get blown over.

The blue dress that she wore hugged her curves tightly and the high heels that she chose made the detective regret every life decision that led up to that exact moment. Her soles would be burning the next day and it wasn’t like in the movies. An attempt to run in those things would be a one-way ticket to the ER. The wire in the dress didn’t make the discomfort any better.

“Chase, everything's fine?” asked Beckendorf in her ear. Of course, she had been bugged.

“Yes, everything is good. I’m moving,” she said.

Annabeth mingled with the crowd and entered. The blonde actually stood in awe and registered all the modern pieces. Pop art, minimal art, abstract expressionism, all sorts of different post-modern works that fought for space but harmonized wonderfully together in the rooms. How the fuck was that criminal scum be able to display works from Andy Warhol, Helen Frankenthaler or Jackson Pollock?

They had to be either stolen, bought for a large sum, rented, which was not the style of the Greek syndicate or, something that was Jackson’s supposed specialty, be forged. A waiter offered her champagne which she politely declined. As much as Annabeth would love to cloud her mind, she could not afford it on that evening. She had to look out for Jackson. The blonde made her first round at a slow speed.

“Can you see him yet?”

“No, not yet. Oh, there he is! With Chiara Benvenuti!” A known mafia bride. Chiara was surrounded by her bodyguards like always as she pointed towards a picture.

“Good,” Beckendorf breathed into her ear. “Perhaps we can finally raid this place.”

The painting was an abstract piece with lots of red elements. Blood that was spilled on the dance floor. Something fitting for a coldhearted villain.

“Of course, painting it was a task, but I thoroughly enjoyed it,” Annabeth heard Jackson say. The way Benvenuti laughed made her rage. Jackson joining her, didn’t make it any better. The fact that Benvenuti stared at his tanned chest as he had left some of the buttons of his shirt open, pissed the detective even more off.

Jackson’s sea green eyes shifted to the right and caught her staring at him. A pleased expression rested on his face and the smile could almost be considered to be honest. Embarrassed, Annabeth turned around and immediately left the corner. Fuck that mission. Fuck everything. Fuck that man in particular and the uneasy feeling that rested inside her heart. She saw Luke mingling with two people in black suits, they looked like they would fit the description of some of the Golden Age’s lackeys. Luke was irritated but there was no time for explanation. Annabeth needed alcohol, she needed it badly.

“Chase, what’s going on dammit?” hissed Beckendorf as he heard her frantic steps. She was glad he was unable to see her in that pathetic state.

“Nothing,” Annabeth lied. “Don’t want to blow cover.”

Fortunately, another waitress was making her rounds and Annabeth grabbed a glass which she nearly inhaled. She was wandering through the gallery and tried to figure out her next steps. Too little, too late.

“You left me waiting. Good evening, Detective.”

Annabeth almost let the glass fall as she heard his deep voice behind her and felt his large hand around her waist. A scent of musk and fresh sea breeze crawled into her nose. The grip wasn’t extremely tight, but it was clear that Perseus Jackson had no intention of letting her go.

“Fuck!” hissed Beckendorf into her ear. It was too early to storm the place. They had nothing in their hands against Jackson.

“You have quite the collection,” Annabeth complimented him.

“Thank you, love.” She punished him with a sour look that made his grin only widen.

“Interested in buying?”

“If it’s real perhaps.”

“Oh, my dear Annabeth, everything is real.” The warmth of his hand spread throughout her entire body. Her glass was empty, and he gave it to one of the lackeys.

“Mister Olympianidikis,” the boy nodded and ran off with it immediately. Oh, the power of someone in the higher hierarchical position of a crime syndicate.

Jackson accompanied her through the gallery and showed her his favorite pieces.

Annabeth could picture Beckendorf walking up and down in the small van, nearly losing his shit at the man babbling about oil colors or frameworks that he or other painters used. Jackson was hindering them on purpose. Something was going on.

“There’s something I want to show you. Follow me.” He took her hand and walked to a hidden niche. Jason Grace who stood in the corner and spoke to a woman eyed them with suspicion.

A white door was there with the words Emergency Exit engraved on it. A cold and naked hallway was in front of them. Lights were off and the moon was the only orb that illuminated the place. They were alone.

“And what are you supposed to show-” Jackson cut her off. With a brutal kiss.

A spark that set the entire place in flames. Annabeth did the one thing she was not supposed to: not use her intelligence. Her arms automatically wrapped themselves around his neck as she fiercely kissed him back. Their lips fought a battle against their lungs, and they dived into each other again and again. Taste. That was all they thought.

Percy pulled away from Annabeth. She was beautiful. Her citric smell was divine. The delicate updo was no more. The lipstick was smeared. Her lips trembled and there was something else written in her eyes. Lust. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. A wild look was on his face. He kissed her again. He held her close to his body and pressed her against the wall.

Annabeth felt how one of his hands slid underneath the dress. Did Annabeth exchange the boy shorts for a thong in the last minute? Yes, she did. Did she regret that decision? No, she did not. But his hands had a different goal in mind. The yanking made her shriek into his mouth. A solid welcome for his tongue. The wire underneath her dress was no more. Only then did he place his tight grip on her ass.

Oh, two can play this game Annabeth thought and grabbed the wire that stuck out of his collar.

“Guess that no one’s listening in on us anymore,” Percy commentated.

“It seems like it,” Annabeth agreed. A calm before the storm. A storm that broke loose as they kissed each other again. Percy’s lips wandered.

“Who told you to waltz in this place with this fucking dress?” He claimed her neck with kisses. His beard tickled her. “You look perfect!”

Annabeth wished she could retaliate the compliment. Percy looked fairly handsome in the beige suit, but her brain was short circuiting and only focused on not moaning too loudly and enjoying the feeling of being pressed against him. The probability of her colleagues rushing in that compromising situation was way too high.

Percy broke the kiss off for good. He made a move towards the staircase. A foot was set to the lower step. “Come with me!” His hands reached out for her.

Annabeth was panting. Heart or sanity who would win? Annabeth made one decision that would seal her fate forever. She took his hand and the unlikely pair fled out of the building.

As soon as they opened the backdoor, Annabeth heard a frantic scream for her name. There was no turning back now. A black car was waiting for them in the hidden alley. It looked like Castellan didn’t do his homework properly and had received the wrong plans of the building to study.

Percy held the door open for her and she slipped into the limousine. Percy followed. “Leo!” he barked. The vehicle moved with screeching tires and drove through a garage which led to a tunnel that Annabeth had never seen. She stopped paying attention to it as Percy claimed her lips yet again.

The car ride was a blurry memory. They entered another garage which was when the car stopped. “We’ve arrived,” announced the chauffeur.

Percy nodded to the front and then exited the car. He reached out for Annabeth and helped her out of the car. “Where are we?” she asked as they entered an elevator.

Percy pressed a key card against the board. “My home.”

There was no time left for sightseeing. They immediately entered the bedroom. His jacket was tossed aside, her dress slid to the floor. Both of them fell to the bed. Both of them never wanted to leave the bed.

Annabeth woke up to the wonderful smell of coffee. Her eyes fluttered and the memories hit her. The wonderful night she had shared with a wanted criminal. Her naked body was wrapped in satin sheets. The blonde sat up. Her pale body was sore and ached but in the best way. She didn’t remember the last time she had sex with anyone; work had been way too busy. She didn’t want to remember. What Perseus Jackson did to her would be fairly impossible to top.

Said Perseus Jackson entered the bedroom in nothing but sweatpants and two mugs. Oh yes, he did enjoy his daily workouts. “Morning,” he smiled.

“Morning,” she replied and thanked him for the cup. A delicious aroma took over the room. Annabeth took a sip.

“Mmhh,” she delightfully sighed. Two pumps of hazelnut and heavy cream, just the way she liked it.

“Yes, I did do my homework,” he laughed and drank his tea. “You aren’t the only people that study others. Was seeing me work out at least fun?”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Annabeth blushed. He laughed.

The cop finished her cup and Percy put it on a nightstand. “And what do you want to do now?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Something’s coming to my mind.” His light eyes darkened, and he cupped her face. Annabeth pushed the blanket aside, revealing her perfect self.

“That insatiable?” she laughed but didn’t receive an answer as she felt his lips on hers again. Her hand went on to grasp his black curls.

“Very,” he said as his hands roamed over her very naked body.

Putting the blue dress on again felt wrong. Percy wouldn’t have minded for Annabeth to stay the entire day at his apartment, but he knew she had a point when she said that her colleagues would searchthe entire city for her. Turning brick by brick if they must.

“I honestly can’t come up with a good excuse for my boss. You didn’t think this through.” Annabeth wandered through the modern apartment. It was bathed in light and had window fronts that showed her the entirety of Manhattan and the green of the Central Park. A dream apartment. The Golden Age had money, no doubt in that.

“Well… I actually have an idea,” Percy started. Annabeth turned to him with one cocked eyebrow and her hands on her hips.

“That sounds like I won’t like it,” she predicted.

He opened a cabinet and showed her the bottle.

“Are you fucking serious?!”

“Well as you’ve said. I didn’t think it through,” he shrugged with a goofy grin. It made him look adorable. Stop Annabeth. No time for that. Percy grabbed a cloth as well.

“Let’s just say that I never had the honor of being treated that way,” Annabeth muttered. But she agreed with him. It would make the lies that were about to come out of her mouth easier.

Percy kissed Annabeth one last time and brushed a lock out of her beautiful face. “Sweet dreams, Annabeth,” he wished her.

Then he pressed the drenched cloth over her nose and mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she was embraced by darkness. Annabeth slumped down but Percy caught her.

Four hours later, Luke Castellan and Jason Grace made their way to Annabeth’s apartment, looking for possible clues. Both of them were fucking pissed. At Jackson, at Annabeth, at the entire fucking operation. The police force was frantically looking  for her. They got Paris Olympianidikis for kidnapping at least. If they would catch him.

Luke had a key to Annabeth’s apartment because they were  close friends. Annabeth had actually defied orders, nearly ruined a mission and drove him to the hospital as his wife gave birth three years ago. He had to find her. Not to make it even, but to know that his friend was safe.

“Look for anything useful,” Luke commanded. Jason nodded.

Luke entered the living room and Jason worked through the bathroom which was followed by the bedroom. He nearly slipped to the floor.

And there she was, sleeping like a princess.

“Annabeth?! Annabeth! Luke, she’s here!”

The next thing Annabeth remembered was waking up in the hospital. She knew that everyone was pissed at her. But Castellan had defended her for the stupid act of following a criminal to nowhere. Jason had seen where they left, and Annabeth thought the Sergeant could hear important information. Who would have guessed that the wiring would be cut off?

Examinations. DNA samples were taken to get a hold of Jackson. Questions. So many questions. A knock. Yet another person that wanted to annoy her. “Yes?” Annabeth sighed.

“Annabeth,” Beckendorf entered the hospital room. Annabeth felt patronized but of course her hands were tied. She refused to speak with her boss about a certain criminal. She covered up the truth and enjoyed living her life in lies. The young detective had no family who anyone could call. That made Beckendorf extremely worried about her.

The tall man took a seat next to her bed. “I’m not here to tear you apart, pretty sure Captain Dougenis had the pleasure.” Yes, he had. “I want to hear from you what happened.”

The blonde retold her vision of events. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It was a trap. I can’t remember how I ended up in my apartment.” Annabeth spoke a little truth in her web of lies.

“The way our connection cut off as soon as you left the exhibition… I thought it was static. Then you were gone.” Oh no, he heard us making out Annabeth thought. She tried to suppress the panic that was bubbling up in her and was glad that Percy had discarded the wires. The technicians at the police department would have immediately figured out that there had been no static. She remembered almost everything. The staircases. The car. The apartment. The way he felt between her legs. The way she straddled him. The way he grabbed her throat. The pleasures and the cries.

Beckendorf looked deeply into her eyes. He knew that she had something to hide but was wise enough not to ask. The old man was one of the few people that blindly trusted her instincts in the department.

“Okay,” was all that he said. “I’m trusting your judgement.” She nodded. He was a kind soul.

“Take the next week off. You need the rest.” Beckendorf stood up.

v.

Percy saw how her delicate fingers grabbed the folder and closed it. The shiny object fell into his vision.

“I like your ring.” His sea green eyes shot up to her face. He saw a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she nearly whispered and played with the small white band.

“Someone very important gave it to me a long time ago. Someone dear to my heart.”

He blinked twice. She blinked twice.

A devilish smirk rested on his face.

vi.

Their affair lasted an entire year. The fact that it came to an end was saddening. But it was predictable. Star-crossed lovers from two entirely different universes that weren’t meant to be. Otherwise the balance of both of their worlds would crash, burn, and fall.

Annabeth had insight into the police work and Percy had insight into the Golden Age. That was the sole reason they barely saw each other in a work related context. They actually managed to live a fairly happy life outside of the working hours. They went on secret dates, they visited museums after they had been closed and reopened only for the powerful son of Poseidon, they watched movies together, they even flew out to visit his Hawaiian mother Sally who adored Annabeth. And the sex was amazing. A welcoming bonus. Both felt happiness for the very first time. Both felt love for the very first time.

The secret studio in his art gallery was one of the few places where they could be free.

“And here’s the Mona Lisa,” Percy grabbed the painting out of the box. He showed Annabeth some of his latest pieces that were part of his collection or creations. Real paintings and forged ones.

“Wow, that looks so real. An incredible copy.” Annabeth had visited France in her college days.

“The thing that’s hanging in the Louvre?” he winked.

“Tell me you’re joking.” The corners of his lips pointing up was all she got.

Annabeth laid next to him a week later. They were inside of her shitty apartment. Percy had surprised her because of course he could cook as well. To the question “Is there something you can’t do?” Percy only answered, “Change a tire and board planes because I hate heights.”

He might have been joking, he might have been serious. Annabeth did not care. She had returned from yet another demanding shift. This time her task force had hunted down one of Zeus’ kids. Aristidis also known as Ares. Despite being in his late 40s he was an annoying little piece of shit. The fat fuck tried to sell child slaves on the dark web and barely managed to escape them.

As Annabeth had entered her apartment, she was greeted by the delicious smell of parmesan that melted over fresh pasta. Seeing houseman Percy cook was not only a picture for the gods but something she could get used to. Annabeth placed her bag on the sofa and ran to the kitchen to greet Percy with a kiss. A passionate kiss.

“Aren’t-” kiss. “You-” kiss. “Hungry?” he asked between their kisses.

“Well, I think we can eat later.”

“Grover is right, you’re a terrible liar when it comes to food,” he joked. The Grove was another spot for them together. Once the customers left, the three would sit together and joke. Mostly at Annabeth’s expense.

Annabeth pouted and then kissed him again. The only thing that broke her silence was her stomach grumbling.

Percy broke off from her with a roaring laughter. “Eat first. Then we can come to the more fun activities.”

Annabeth pouted but Percy unfortunately had a point.

Now she was fighting against falling asleep as she laid on his chest and he played with her hair. He inhaled her smell. Raindrops were racing on the window as gravity pulled them down. The shower on the outside calmed them. “There’s a good reason why you never found me. Why no one found me,” Percy started.

Her tiredness was gone. Curiosity won. “The fact that my father uses me as his master forger is abundantly clear, right?”

Annabeth nodded. They didn’t talk much about his business ventures in the Golden Age, but she had pieced large chunks of the puzzle together.

“I want to leave my family,” he confessed.

“What?” That came as a surprise to Annabeth. Percy seemed fairly content with his life in the family business. He joked about it and enjoyed the high standards of life that came with the fruits. Then again, Annabeth had seen the dark shadows that followed the Golden Age everywhere they went. Blood, bodies, chaos, destruction.

“A rule that my father engraved into my brain was to be invisible. Live like there’s no tomorrow, but don’t forget to clean the remains of yesterday. The day me and my cousin Ethan were caught shoplifting seventeen years ago changed me. It changed us all. We were so naive, and felt so invincible. For normal parents that would have been a tirade and grounding. Our parents think differently. For Ethan, whose idea it was to begin with, it cost him his eye.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened. The cruelty of parents. The fact that the Golden Age had no problem with hunting their own down was still sickening to her.

“It didn’t matter. Four months in and he had been shot by the Russians, the Bratva. Nearly started an entire fucking war,” he sighed.

“Percy, that’s horrible.” Annabeth tried to see if there was any emotion left in his eyes. There was none. His eyes were dull from the wars he had seen. Percy was blind and used to the cruelty of the survival of the fittest.

“Annabeth, I’ve witnessed my first murder as a thirteen-year-old. At least I haven’t pulled the trigger myself yet. Not in a deadly way.” He stared at the white ceiling.

Her heart broke for the boy that lost his honest smile. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“No, it doesn’t. It really doesn’t.” Percy hugged her tightly. “I want to be free. Die as a free man. Live in the sunlight and not in the shadows. Not in fear of getting gunned down by a crazy family member. My father spoke with my uncles. They gave me an impossible task. Once I solve it, I’m a free man.”

“Who are you? John Wick?” she joked. She wasn’t in the mood for cracking stupid jokes, but she had to uplift the situation or else the mental image of Percy losing his innocence as a child would forever haunt her.

“That guy is amazing; I’m not going to lie.” Percy managed to crack a crooked smile.

“And the task?”

Percy sighed. He wouldn’t have minded a smoke. “It stinks in here, the three of them had said. ”He turned to Annabeth. “There’s a rat.”

A rat? she thought. “Someone that betrays my family. They mix up our business and create chaos from within as if they want us to implode. I have to find and either obtain or eliminate them.”

Someone that betrayed the Golden Age? Whoever they were, they were crazy and suicidal.

“And what do you want to do once you’re free?”

“Move to Hawaii. Be reunited with my mother again. Find a woman,” he looked at her and grinned. “Marry her, pop out a kid or three. Be an artist.”

Silence. Annabeth was speechless. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that and being a part of that,” she whispered.

Percy only kissed her.

Another month later. The fact that Percy disappeared around her birthday upset her, but that was life. He had been in Los Angeles for a gig. Which gig exactly she did not ask. Was it a legal gig? Highly debatable. It had something to do with the rat. That was all that he told her.

A small package got sent to her and she was curious to see what it was. No sender. Carefully she opened it. A small ring box was in there. Tiffany’s & Co.

A card was attached to the box. Happy Birthday, Princess – P.

“Oh no…” Annabeth opened the little box. The ring had a small silver band that was covered in small diamonds. Her jaw dropped. The ring was beautiful. And it was meant to be for her?

Annabeth put it on. It sat perfectly on her ring finger. Annabeth looked at the box again. It had a code on it. The detective grabbed her phone and searched for the ring.

“WHAT THE-”

Perseus had spent fifteen thousand dollars for that little piece of jewelry.

“No…” she cried. How could he have spent so much money on her?

Annabeth ran into her bathroom and shoved a loose tile aside. She used that little space to hide something. That something was the burner phone that Percy had given her so that they could always stay in contact. Annabeth called him.

“And?” he asked.

“PERSEUS JACKSON!” she yelled.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

“Why? Don’t you like the ring?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I love it. We have to talk about the price.” Her left hand already played with the beautiful ring.

“Why? Do you want a more expensive one? Let me know which one, I’ll buy it,” he stated.

“What?! No! You’ve spent way too much on that ring! I can’t accept this!”

Percy laughed. “You can and you will. It is my gift for you. Happy birthday, Annabeth.”

Annabeth wanted to scream. Denying his gift felt so wrong, but it was the right choice she made.

“Once you’re here we’re going to have a talk. We have to return this!”

Annabeth could practically hear how he shook his head. “You’re going to like the ring and you’re going to keep it.”

“Fine,” she huffed. Annabeth accepted her fate and waited until the days of solitude would be over. Until she was reunited with her Percy again.

The year had passed. Then it happened. The day Paris Olympianidikis would fall.

vii.

“Cooperate with me, Jackson,” Annabeth sounded soft. He merely raised an eyebrow.

“Cooperate and we can make a deal. Better conditions in prison, a reduced sentence perhaps and-”

“I want out,” he boldly stated.

Annabeth stared at him blankly. “Pardon me?”

“You said cooperate and we can make a deal. That’s my end of the line.” Jackson leaned back into his chair again.

Annabeth was speechless. He had beaten her with her own game. She closed her eyes for a second before focusing on him again. Don’t let him get the best out of you.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He smirked as he loved to hear that answer. Then she remembered what he had said.

“You said it stinks in here?” she repeated. Annabeth eyed him suspiciously.

“Yes, Detective,” he truthfully answered.

“What does it smell like?”

“Colors, Detective.”

“Why?”

“You should be able to see it for yourself.” He scratched his temples.

viii.

They got him. They didn’t get him with drugs or anything else that would give him a long sentence. But they got him with one of his forges. The good old Al Capone method. If you don’t get him with the big guns, try to stick to the petty crimes. Criminals get sloppy. Especially criminals that do way too much in too many places. The meeting was over, and everyone cheered. Everyone but Annabeth.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? Hell, Annabeth. You’ve spent more than three years on this case.” asked Travis Stoll.

“It’s just…unbelievable. The fact that everything comes to an end. Goal completed and all,” she smiled sadly.

Annabeth dreaded her seeing Percy again. He was waiting in her apartment and probably preparing food for them. The sight of her apartment complex made her heart sink. Where once was joy, ruled depression.

“Annabeth, what happened?” Percy ran to the door as he saw her in her desolate state. The door closed and she told him what would happen in the next sixteen hours.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. Percy just held her and hugged her tightly as the tears blinded her. He fought his own tears that threatened to rise. Their future, destroyed.

“It was bound to end like this,” he said. Sadness rested in his voice. But also, tranquility.

“No.” Annabeth shook her head and buried her face into his strong chest.

“Whatever happens. I’ll be fine. Most of the prisons and the judges are smeared.” He kissed her head.

“Of course, they are,” she laughed darkly. Knowing that he wouldn’t be subjected to fights in prison didn’t do much to calm her down. She’d rather have him next to her.

“Annabeth. I want you to arrest me.”

“No. Never.” She violently shook her head again and slapped his shoulder.

“I mean I’m already used to your cuffs, now’s the chance to make it official,” he grinned.

“Percy! Now is not the time to joke about our sex life.” They shared a laugh anyway.

“I have another wish. Move on, Annabeth. Live life to the fullest,” he whispered.

“Everything but that.” She refused to move on. How could she?

“Find an idiot, marry him, have kids and live happily with him. Do that for me. Please,” he continued.

“I want you to be that idiot,” she pressed and looked deep into his eyes. “I don’t care how long it’ll take. I’ll wait for you.”

He kissed her. Don’t do this Annabeth. Don’t give me hope he thought.

The unlikely couple hugged each other tightly as they went to bed. One last time. It didn’t come to Annabeth as a surprise to find his side of the bed cold and empty. His side. His side was no more, it was only her side.

Perseus spent the night and morning hours in the art gallery. He had one final piece to finish. He drank and smoked and cursed. The bottle of cheap whiskey nearly fell to the ground, but he managed to catch it.

The oil painting was a self-portrait. An anchor to the last few moments of his life as a free man that hid in the shadows.

The task force broke into his gallery. He had a cigarette in his mouth and put the paintbrush down as his lover approached him. He had a sarcastic smile on his lips which vanished as he registered the pain in her eyes.

“Perseus Jackson, you are under arrest,” spoke Annabeth with a commanding tone.

She put him into cuffs and read him his rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court... A glance at the painting he had been working on ever since he left the apartment.

Annabeth knew immediately that it was them. Percy in the painting hugged her but their faces had been cut off. She saw the birthmarks on her back and the accuracy of how he portrayed his hands on her hip. Percy’s final act of love to her for all of them to see. Unfortunately, all of them were blind to it. All of them but Annabeth.

The moment she was at home she ran to the bathroom and emptied her stomach. Gush after gush came out of her. Her mouth felt sour and dry, the teeth hurt and had an ugly yellow color, the tears that blinded her ran towards her nose. “What have I done?” she cried and looked at her pathetic self in the bathroom mirror.

Judgement day came eight painful months later. The judge slammed the hammer and sealed his fate.

Twelve years. Twelve years was the sentence. Perseus lost his coolness for one second. Annabeth’s heart broke in two. Poseidon who sat on the other side of the room looked like he wanted to shoot the judge right then and here and Annabeth would have gladly joined him.

They were robbed of twelve years together. Percy was put into handcuffs. His sea green eyes searched through the ranks until they found her gray ones. He blinked twice. I love you. She blinked twice. I love you too. The police officers around her almost cheered.

They complimented her for the worst decision of her life. An act that had destroyed her life. Her lover was gone. And a free rat was still out there.

The trail of memories stopped. Annabeth knew that Luke was restless behind the one-way-mirror. The talk had stretched into eternity and gave little information to the hidden detective, but so much to Annabeth. Percy had been right. He was roaming freely in prison. He was able to talk with his family day in and day out. And most importantly. He knew of operations. And he knew of his own operations the best.

Finally. There was movement in the gallery. Whoever was decided to continue the work of Percy Jackson was stupid enough to revisit the place where it all began. The rat would be caught in a trap.

“NYPD PUT YOUR - no.” Annabeth had the gun pointed at him. But she couldn’t believe it. The rat. The rat that had cost her four years of their life.

“I’m sorry, Annabeth,” he sadly smiled. Then he pointed his gun at her.

A shot.

Annabeth had closed her eyes. The bullet didn’t hit her. It had hit him as Luke Castellan had fired a warning shot into the abdomen. The detectives moved to him.

“Call an ambulance!” yelled Annabeth to the cops that flooded the place. He laughed on the floor as he bled.

Jason Grace. Secret son of Zacharias Olympianidikis also known as Zeus. He not only wanted to act in revenge as Percy’s brother Sciron had killed his older sister Thalia. He wanted to spite him and take over his businesses as well. The money and the gold. The cars and fame. In his twisted mind he was able to run the syndicate and destroy it at the same time. It was over.

Annabeth saw as the ambulance drove off. Percy scratching his temples as an indication for the glasses and his talk about colors to point to the gallery would be his ticket to freedom. Hopefully.

ix.

It was the first time that Percy had seen the sun as a free man again. He left prison with the clothes he entered. The deal with the district attorney went smoothly although the old man would have rather wrung the half-Greek’s neck.

A black car drove up to the prison. Two people exited the car.

“Mom? Dad?”

Sally and Poseidon hugged their free son tightly.

“You are stupid!” cried Sally. “Both of you!”

Father and son winced. That was Sally Jackson for them.

x.

Quitting her job had been freeing. She had made the decision about half a year ago. Annabeth wanted to see something new. Experience something new. She was on the way to the small airport. The day was sunny and warm. A new day to start a new chapter in her life.

Annabeth arrived. “You can stop hiding, we aren’t being followed,” she laughed.

Percy yawned in the backseat. “I was sleeping,” he excused himself.

“Of course, you were.” She rolled her eyes and smiled into his reflection in the rearview mirror.

Her colleagues were upset, especially Luke, but it had to be. She had to quit for her own sanity. Beckendorf would check up on her and then see who she was with and connect the dots. But he would be wise enough not to contact her, not to rat her out. He would be happy about the fact that she had found love.

They would live with Sally and her little family for a while before they would buy their own house. The private jet that Zeus had given them would bring them to Hawaii undetected. A small sorry as the son of Zeus had caused a lot of trouble in the family. At least Jason was still alive.

Annabeth stopped the car and turned to Percy.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she grinned. A delicate kiss was shared.

A golden age was truly upon them.

The End

Ummm... I... I think this might be a poppin feature fic? I have still many ideas and many things could be fleshed out...? Help?

BUT THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE SUGGESTION DIL OMFG ILY!

All Cookout Fics

Cute/Cursed Cookout Writing Prompts

#pjo #Percy Jackson #annabeth chase #mel's little cookout #percabeth #percabeth fanfiction #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the olympians #tw: police #tw: violence #mel writes #the golden age

[latenightsleuth]

West Mesa Murders: Theories differ on the identity of the West Mesa Bone Collector, or if he even exists

On Feb. 2, 2009, Christine Ross was walking her dog Ruca in a suburban housing development on Albuquerque’s West Mesa when they found a bone. Realizing it was a human femur, Ross contacted the police. As they investigated the area where the body was buried, authorities uncovered the remains of 11 women and one unborn child.

The women had gone missing between 2001 and 2005 and were similar — most of them were sex workers, most of them were Hispanic, and all of them were murdered. Authorities believe that a serial killer was responsible for the deaths, but in the almost 12 years since the crime became known, no suspects have ever been named.

The Albuquerque Police Department considers the West Mesa murders an active investigation, but as time goes on, it seems less and less likely that the city will ever learn who killed the women — or whether they are the only bodies buried on the mesa.

BONES ON THE MESA

In 2005, Albuquerque police detective Ida Lopez compiled a list of missing women after noticing that an inordinate number of women with ties to drugs and prostitution had vanished off of the city’s streets. Four years later, ten of them — Jamie Barela, 15; Monica Candelaria, 22; Victoria Chavez, 26; Virginia Cloven, 24; Cinnamon Elks, 32; Doreen Marquez, 24; Julie Nieto, 24; Veronica Romero, 28; Evelyn Salazar, 27; and Michelle Valdez, 22, who was four months pregnant when she was killed — were found buried on the mesa. The other one, Syllania Edwards, was 15 and had run away from her foster home in Lawton, Oklahoma.

The area where the bodies were found had been barren, empty land before housing developments began to encroach on it in 2006. The 2008 Housing Bubble collapse, however, halted that development before it reached the burial site. Before it ceased, the development had covered an existing arroyo, and complaints of flooding from nearby residents led the developer, KB Homes, to build a retaining wall to channel rainwater into a retention pond. This construction inadvertently uncovered the bone found on Feb 2.

The resulting criminal investigation, which uncovered the bodies of the 11 women over a two month period, was the largest in the history of New Mexico. It took almost a year to identify all of the victims, and the bones did not reveal how they were killed, though authorities have said they suspect strangulation. The fact that the bodies were found in a group led investigators to believe they were killed by one person — a serial killer who has come to be known as the West Mesa Bone Collector.

The investigation, at least publicly, was unable to establish any major connections between the women.

“We know that some of these women definitely would have known each other just by virtue of where they were,” said Tierna Unruh-Enos, an Albuquerque-based journalist who started “The Mesa,” a podcast delving into details of the murders, this year. “Albuquerque is not that big of a city. There have definitely been some more interesting connections that have come out in terms of like family members somehow knowing each other randomly, children of the women being in dance classes together, even though that wasn’t necessarily a factor either.”

Very little, if any, evidence was uncovered pointing toward the identity of the person who killed the women. As a result, the police have never named anyone as a suspect in the case, which remains active. They have, however, mentioned two individuals as persons of interest. (The distinction is important: A “suspect” is someone the police believe committed a crime; a “person of interest” may or may not be involved or have information about a crime.)

On Dec. 19, 2006, 19-year-old Shericka Hill met Lorenzo Montoya, 39, in a chat room and agreed to meet in person. During the meeting, police told the Albuquerque Journal, Hill and Montoya arranged for Hill to come to his mobile home — a few miles away from where the West Mesa victims would be found three years later — to perform a dance for him. Hill’s boyfriend, Frederick Williams, drove her to Montoya’s house and remained in the car while Hill went inside.

After waiting an hour, Williams grew concerned and went to check on Hill, bringing his gun with him. He encountered Montoya outside the home and Montoya brandished a gun. Feeling threatened, Williams shot him dead.

Williams found Hill dead inside the residence, bound with duct tape and strangled. It appeared that Montoya was transporting her body to his car.

“You don’t see this type of violent act committed the way it was,” Albuquerque Police Chief Ray Schultz said at the time. “It seemed like he knew what he was doing. It was very well planned and orchestrated, and that is what is worrisome about this.”

According to court records, Montoya had previously been arrested in 1999 under suspicion of sexually assaulting a 23-year-old prostitute, who told police Montoya had put his hands around her throat and choked her before he was caught by detectives. The case was later dismissed in metropolitan Court and never refiled. Montoya had also been arrested on suspicion of patronizing prostitutes in 1998 and 2005.

As Unruh-Enos points out, the fact that he killed one sex worker and may have tried to strangle another does not necessarily mean he killed others. No evidence connects him to the West Mesa killings. But notably, all of the West Mesa victims were killed before Montoya’s death.

JOSEPH BLEA

Within a week of the discovery of the first bone on the West Mesa, April Gillen contacted the police and suggested that they look into her ex-husband Joseph Blea. The man already had a significant history with the APD.

According to a search warrant affidavit, between 1990 and 2009, police had run across him over 130 times, usually in the area the West Mesa victims were said to have frequented — the East Central corridor. He was charged with the rape of a 14-year-old he knew, but that case was dropped. And his DNA was found on a prostitute left dead on the side of a street in 1985, though he was never charged for that crime.

After the discovery of the West Mesa Murders, police tailed Blea’s car for four days as he drove back and forth along Central Avenue. Police wrote that he appeared to be stalking prostitutes but never approached them. When police searched his home in late 2009, they found women’s jewelry and underwear. His wife, Cheryl Blea, told police that she and her daughter had found articles of both that didn’t belong to them around their home.

Years later, Robert Cloven, the father of West Mesa victim Virginia Cloven, told the Journal that families of the victims had noticed that the women’s jewelry was missing.

The only piece of evidence that the APD says may connect to him the murders, however, is a plant tag for a Spearmint juniper that was found near Virginia Cloven’s buried remains. The tag was traced to a nursery in California that provided plants for others in Albuquerque. Blea’s business records as a landscaper showed that he bought plants from those nurseries.

The case for charging Blea as the West Mesa Bone Collector never materialized, but evidence of other crimes did.

A rape kit collected in 1988 after a 13-year-old eighth-grader was assaulted near McKinley Middle School was tested in 2010 and led investigators to Blea. He was convicted for the crime in 2015. He then pled no contest when charged with the rapes of two women and another child that occurred between 1990 and 1993.

Blea, who is now 63, is currently serving a 90-year prison sentence. He has repeatedly denied any involvement in the West Mesa Murders, and he has never been charged with killing anyone.

OTHER THEORIES

It’s far from the most popular theory, but some believe that there is no individual West Mesa Bone Collector.

Thomas Grover is currently a lawyer in Albuquerque, but from January 2004 through December 2011, he was an officer with the APD, with the rank of sergeant when he resigned. These days he spends a lot of time representing officers throughout New Mexico in administrative matters and bringing whistle-blower actions against law enforcement agencies.

To him, the inability of the Albuquerque Police Department to find a suspect in the killings is emblematic of the disorder within the department.

“The best way to describe it is like a giant family domestic relations dispute where you’ve got some alliances working together, you’ve got antagonisms between others,” he said. “Ranks within the department personnel, cliques within the department, even units or divisions, have this acrimony, and from that, you don’t get the best application to whatever issues are going on that the community needs addressed, whether it’s large scale crimes, criminal events, ongoing patterns of criminal activity — criminal rapes for instance.”

He describes a department in which many of the best officers have departed over recent years, and supervisors with little experience and a relatively weak knowledge base are running the show. As a result, the APD has gotten increasingly less efficient and effective. Grover said that when he left the department, he thought it was going off the rails by not recognizing the concerns of citizens about the use of force and the escalating number of officer-involved shootings. That trend eventually brought the Department of Justice in to investigate the APD, which he said further reduced the police department’s efficiency.

As for why he doubts a West Mesa serial killer exists, he points to the fact that there was not a search for one prior to when the victims were found. Though Grover was never involved in the investigations, he knew people who were and confirms that there was a perception that prostitutes were disappearing — something that officers like Ida Lopez were concerned about at the time. But patterns of behavior surrounding the disappearances never suggested that they were directly related or that one person was behind them.

Grover compares this to the efforts to capture a serial robber who stole from Albuquerque businesses in the early 2000s by disassembling safes after hours. He said that even beyond the burglary unit, there was a massive effort among street-level officers to know what to look for that might indicate a robbery was being committed by this individual rather than a common thief. The burglar was never caught, but the search nevertheless illustrates to Grover that even a department in chaos was able to devote resources to catching a serial offender when they thought one existed — something that was never done in relation to the vanishing sex workers.

“Whenever there was a notion that there was an adversarial type entity out there, whether it was the burglar, or some sort of gangs, or something that really attracted a lot of attention among folks in the department ... just sort of the notion that there was a true bad guy out there — this is why a lot of people become cops,” he said. “You don’t necessarily want to go after the guys that are just committing crimes to fund drug habits. I mean, we’re talking about someone who’s a true antisocial adversary. And when those types of investigations were going on, everyone would sort of hear about it. And even if — and I don’t think this would be the case — but even if you’re talking about someone who preyed on the most vulnerable ... spectrum of society, sex workers, I don’t think that would take away from anyone’s interest.”

Why were the West Mesa victims all found in the same general area? That’s just where bodies ended up in Albuquerque, regardless of the crime.

That’s sort of the history of the West Side and the unincorporated abandoned area,” Grover said. “Detritus would just get left out there.”

ONGOING INVESTIGATIONS

The West Mesa Murders have never been designated a cold case by the Albuquerque Police Department, allegedly because the team investigating them, the 118th Street Task Force, consistently gets new tips about the killings. This also has the obfuscating effect of the department sharing few details about the investigation with the media and public, citing that doing so would interfere with the case.

This is part of the reason Tierna Unruh-Enos started her podcast. Now the managing editor and associate publisher of The Paper, Albuquerque’s new alternative weekly news publication, she was a journalist at local ABC affiliate KOAT when the bodies were found. She said the media covered the investigation extensively for about a year as it got national and international attention. But then interest died off and now it only really gets dusted off about once a year for anniversary stories.

“Watching this whole thing for the past 11 years, I just thought, there is a different way to tell the story,” she said. “I don’t want to just keep rehashing the same details over and over and over again that just don’t really take anyone anywhere. I want to talk to the families — a lot of these women had children, and those children are now adults or teenagers. And, you know, let’s talk to them and further the story than what was really being done with it.”

She is also seeking to humanize the victims.

“They were not just women who were on the street. They were not just women who were possibly a victim of their lifestyle — although that still hasn’t been proven. They were mothers, they were daughters. And this is a legacy that their children now have to deal with. And I think there’s a lot of people out there who don’t really have a lot of sympathy and kind of just want to move on and put in the past,” she said.

The majority of the women on Ida Lopez’s list of missing sex workers were identified as victims in the West Mesa Murders. But six were not. Felipa Gonzales, Nina Herron, Leah Peebles, Darlene Trujillo, Anna Vigil, and Shawntell Waites were all in their 20s when they disappeared between 2001 and 2005. They would all now be in their 30s or early 40s.

Since 2009, the West Mesa, which was previously open space, has exploded in development. A memorial park was built over the acre where the bodies were found, but the other 95 acres of that lot have gone undeveloped. Unruh-Enos believes it’s only a matter of time, though, before KB Homes finally develops that area as well. Perhaps at that time, more bodies will be found — assuming they’re not already under existing houses.

According to the city of Albuquerque’s website, a reward of up to $100,000 is still being offered for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person or persons responsible for the murders. The 118th Street Task Force can be reached at 1 [phone] or [phone].

.

By: Nick Gonzales

DGO Staff Writer

Dec 2, 2020

Read full article at: https://www.dgomag.com/contents/west-mesa-murders-theories-differ-on-the-identity-of-the-west-mesa-bone-collector-or-if-he-even-exists-4474

.

#westmesamurders #westmesabonecollector #rememberthevictim #latenightsleuth #murder #unsolved #jamiebarela #monicacandelaria #victoriachavez #virginiacloven #syllanniaedwards #cinnamonelks #doreenmarquez #julienieto #veronicaromero #evelynsalazar #michellevaldez

[sergeantmiller]

Ted Bundy's Murder Timeline

February 1974

Bundy abducted Lynda Ann Healy, 21, from the University District of Seattle, where the main campus of the University of Washington is located. She was known in the community for giving the weekday ski report on the radio. He abducted and strangled her.

March 1974

Bundy kidnapped and murdered Donna Gail Manson, 19, a student at Evergreen State College in Olympia. Her body was never recovered.

April 1974

Bundy abducted and killed Susan Elaine Rancourt, 18, a student at Central Washington University in Ellensburg.

May 1974

Bundy abducted Roberta “Kathy” Parks, 20, from Oregon State University around 11 p.m. He claimed to have raped and killed her at Taylor Mountain, more than 25 miles southeast of Seattle.

June 1, 1974

Bundy abducted Brenda Carol Ball, 22, in the town of Burien, south of Seattle. Her skull was later found at Taylor Mountain.

June 11, 1974

Bundy kidnapped and killed 18-year-old Georgeann Hawkins from the University District of Seattle. In an interview with King County Sheriff's Office Detective Robert Keppel, he claimed to have knocked her unconscious and strangled her.

July 1974

On a beautiful summer day at the popular Lake Sammamish, Bundy abducted Janice Anne Ott, 23, and Denise Naslund, 19. Witnesses described a handsome young man who called himself "Ted." Police were beginning to identify Bundy’s strategy of luring women by wearing his arm in a sling and asking for help.

September 1974

A grouse hunter discovered the remains of Ott, Naslund and Hawkins, one mile east of an old railroad trestle just outside Issaquah, Washington. According to Keppel the site was a “multi-use environment” for Bundy.

Oct. 18, 1974

Bundy abducted, raped and strangled Melissa Smith, 17, from Midvale, Utah. Her body was discovered just over a week later.

Oct. 31, 1974

Bundy kidnapped, raped and murdered Laura Ann Aime, 17, from Lehi, Utah. Her remains were found that Thanksgiving Day in a mountainous area.

November 8, 1974

Bundy attempted to abduct Carol DaRonch, 18, at the Fashion Place Mall in Murray, Utah. He posed as a police officer.

At 10:15 p.m. that same day, Debra Jean Kent’s father gave her the keys to the car to pick up her brothers from a roller skating rink. She never got to her parents’ car. She was 17. Bundy claimed in an interview with Salt Lake County Sheriff's Detective Dennis Couch that he left her body in a grave, but her body has never been found.

January 1975

Bundy abducted Caryn Eileen Campbell, 23, from the Wildwood Inn in Snowmass, Colorado. Thirty-six days later, her body was discovered three miles from the inn with evidence of blows to her head.

March 1, 1975

While Bundy was in Salt Lake City, Utah, the remains of Healy, Rancourt, Parks and Ball were found on Taylor Mountain in Washington. Their skeletal remains showed they suffered severe blunt force trauma.

March 15, 1975

Bundy abducted and killed ski instructor Julie Cunningham, 26, from Vail, Colorado. Her body was never found.

April 1975

Bundy killed Denise Lynn Oliverson, 24, from Grand Junction, Colorado. He said he left her body in the Colorado River and it has never been recovered.

May 1975

Bundy kidnapped and drowned Lynette Dawn Culver, 12, in a bathtub, then later said he discarded her body in the Snake River. Her remains have never been found.

June 1975

Bundy kidnapped and killed Susan Curtis, 15, when she was attending the Bountiful Orchard Youth Conference at Brigham Young University. Bundy claimed he buried her body near a highway, but her remains have never been located.

August 16, 1975

At 2:30 a.m., Bundy was arrested for the first time in Granger, Utah, after a chase by high way patrol officer Bob Hayward. Police found masks, gloves, rope, a crowbar and handcuffs in his car. He was released on bail the next day.

October 1975

Bundy was identified in a line-up by Carol DaRonch, whom he tried to abduct in November 1974.

Carol DaRonch testifies at a pre-sentencing hearing for convicted murderer Ted Bundy as Judge Edward Cowart looks on in Miami, July. 28, 1979.AP

Bundy was arrested and charged with the aggravated kidnapping and attempted criminal assault of DaRonch. He was held in Salt Lake County Jail.

February 1976

Bundy’s trial began. He waived his right to a jury trial. On March 1, he was found guilty of aggravated kidnapping. He was sentenced to a minimum of one to a maximum of 15 years in a Utah state prison.

October 1976

Bundy was charged with Caryn Campbell's murder.

January 1977

Bundy was moved to Aspen, Colorado, to face charges for Campbell’s 1975 murder.

May 1977

Bundy pleaded not guilty to Campbell’s murder.

June 1977

Bundy assisted in his own defense in the case, and was allowed to access the Pitkin County jailhouse law library. He escaped from the second story window of the library, 25 feet above the ground. He was captured five days later, after spending that time in the nearby mountains and back in Aspen. He went back into custody at a facility in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. On June 15, 1977 he was charged with escape, burglary and felony theft.

On June 7, 1977, Ted Bundy jumped from the second-story window of the Pitkin County Courthouse, seen here in this recent photo, and ran straight for the mountains.ABC News

December 1977

Bundy escaped from his jail cell through a light fixture opening in the ceiling. He stored books and other belongings on his bed below a blanket to appear as if he were in bed sleeping.

This 1977 file photo shows the jail cell from which serial killer Ted Bundy escaped on Dec. 30, 1977, in Glenwood Springs, Colo.Ross Dolan/Glenwood Springs Post-Independent via AP

January 1978

After flying to Chicago, then taking a train to Ann Arbor, Michigan, and driving a stolen car to Atlanta, Bundy arrived in Tallahassee, Florida, by bus. He signed a rental agreement at a building called “The Oaks.”

Jan. 15, 1978

At 3 a.m., Bundy entered the Chi Omega sorority house near Florida State University and killed Margaret Bowman and Lisa Levy. They were both beaten severely and strangled to death.

Chi Omega Sorority members Lisa Levy, 20, and Margaret Bowman, 21, were killed by Ted Bundy at Florida State University, Jan. 15, 1978.Bettmann via Getty Images

Karen Ann Chandler and Kathy Kleiner suffered severe injuries after Bundy bludgeoned them while they slept, but survived.

Kathy Kleiner was a member of Chi Omega and living in the sorority's house in Tallahassee, Florida, when Ted Bundy entered the house on Jan. 15, 1978. He attacked Kleiner and three others, killing two women.ABC News

Shortly after the Chi Omega attacks, Bundy broke into the apartment of Cheryl Thomas, a student at FSU, and attacked her. Her housemates who lived on the other side of the wall, Debbie Ciccarelli and Nancy Young, heard the noise and called Thomas’ apartment, but she didn’t answer. Ciccarelli and Young then called police. Bundy escaped before authorities arrived. Thomas survived the attack.

Cheryl Thomas was attacked in her home, blocks from the Chi Omega sorority house. A neighbor called 911 after hearing pounding and Thomas? whimpering.ABC News

Feb. 9, 1978

Bundy kidnapped and murdered 12-year-old Kimberly Leach. She was a junior high school student who disappeared in the middle of the school day. Leach was one of Bundy’s youngest victims. It was his last murder.

Kimberly Dianne Leach was 12 when she was abducted and murdered by Ted Bundy in 1978.Lisa Little, Ruby Bedenbaugh and Sheri McKinley

Feb. 15, 1978

At 1:34 a.m. David Lee, a patrolman with the Pensacola Police Department, noticed a suspicious car loitering and driving erratically. The officer ran the plates and discovered the car was stolen. Bundy refused to give his name and resisted arrest. The officer was able to subdue Bundy after a struggle and arrested him.

Back at the police station, Bundy gave officers a stolen ID and said he was an FSU student named Kenneth.

Feb. 17, 1978

Bundy reveals his true identity to police officers.

April 1978

Kimberly Leach’s body was found near Suwannee River State Park.

July 1978

Bundy was indicted for the murders of Margaret Bowman and Lisa Levy and the attempted murders of Cheryl Thomas, Kathy Kleiner and Karen Chandler.

Florida State University student Margaret Bowman, one of Ted Bundy's murder victims, is shown in an undated photo.AP

May 1979

Bundy rejected a plea deal that would have allowed him to avoid the death penalty if he admitted to murdering Bowman, Levy and Leach.

July 24, 1979

Bundy was found guilty of murdering Levy and Bowman and attempted murders of Kleiner, Chandler and Thomas. One week later, he was sentenced to death for the murders.

Kimberly Leach, 12, was a victim of serial killer Ted Bundy.Acey Harper/LIFE Images Collection via Getty Images

Feb. 1980

Bundy was found guilty of Leach’s kidnapping and murder and was sentenced to death.

July 1986

After Florida Gov. Bob Graham signed two death warrants for the Chi Omega case, the 11th Circuit Court signed a permanent stay of execution fifteen minutes before Bundy was scheduled to be executed.

Jan. 17, 1989

Gov. Bob Martinez signed the second death warrant in the Leach case.

Jan. 21, 1989

Over the next several days, Bundy confessed to various law enforcement agents. Bundy told FBI Special Agent Bill Hagmaier he killed 30 people in California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, Colorado, and Florida between 1973 and 1978.

Jan. 24, 1989

Around 7 a.m., he was strapped into the electric chair. He was later pronounced dead.

#Ted bundy #Tcc #True crime #True crime community #Dylan klebold #Eric harris #Columbine #Murder #Murder case #Serial killers #Serial killer #Killer #Murderer

[southeastasianists]

Student activists at Thailand’s most prestigious university defied a ban by college administrators and staged an anti-government rally on Friday, as a prominent protest leader was arrested elsewhere for his involvement in a previous demonstration.

Up to 1,000 students gathered in a hall on the campus of Chulalongkorn University in central Bangkok to hear speeches calling for a new constitution and for the government to resign, and for an end to intimidation of critics. Heavy rain forced a change of venue from an outdoor plaza and may have discouraged attendance.

The rally was banned by the university, which said it allows nonviolent political gatherings but was given too short notice to ensure safety. Protest organizers announced they would go ahead with the event anyway, even though those taking part were threatened with possible punishment.

“We are fed up with dictatorship, with people’s voices being ignored, with activists being harassed by the authorities, with enforced disappearances, with the government siding with the capitalists leaving the rest of the people to suffer, with the law not being applied to the elites, with us the people not holding power,” said Sirin Mungchareon, one of the participants.

The rally was the latest in a series in several major cities around the country.

Several activists involved in organizing earlier protests have been arrested on various charges, including sedition. Police on Friday stopped a car carrying Parit “Penguin” Chiwarak and arrested him on a sedition charge in connection with a July 18 protest.

His arrest in a northern suburb of Bangkok, as he was reportedly traveling to a protest at another university, was shown in a video on his Facebook page.

The protests have been gaining steam for several weeks but took a controversial turn on Monday, when some speakers at another university north of Bangkok openly criticized aspects of Thailand’s constitutional monarchy.

The openness of that challenge to what is traditionally the country’s most revered institution sent shock waves through the country. The monarchy is protected by a draconian defamation law that carries a penalty of up to 15 years in prison.

It also put pressure on the government to crack down harder on the protest movement, at the risk of stoking further discontent among supporters of the student activists.

The wave of protests has pressured Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-ocha’s government, whose competence to run the economy was already in question before the pandemic, with growth struggling in comparison with Thailand’s Asian neighbors.

The growing anti-government agitation has mainly taken aim at its perceived illegitimacy. Prayuth, a former army commander, originally seized power in a coup in 2014. He retained it last year in an election under rules that opponents say were drawn up to all but guarantee his victory.

#Southeast Asia #Thailand #Protests #Politics

[tabloidtoc]

Globe, January 4

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Ghislaine Maxwell buying her way out of prison

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Gavin Rossdale playing tennis with his pup Chewy, Brooke Burke holding holiday balls topless, James Franco takes his cellphone into the sea 

Page 3: Leighton Meester surfing in Malibu, Robbie Williams, Lisa Rinna wearing two masks 

Page 4: Angelina Jolie is bracing for major humiliation after being dragged into Johnny Depp’s latest legal showdown with ex-wife Amber Heard -- Angie’s run-ins with Johnny who she starred with in 2010′s The Tourist are coming under intense scrutiny as Depp gears for a second court battle with Amber -- Angie and Johnny were so coy about their white-hot connection at the time even though their romance was an open secret but they got lucky because nobody had the smoking gun to prove it but now it’ll all come out in the open -- at the time Johnny was still dating Vanessa Paradis while Angie was five years into her doomed love-in with Brad Pitt -- there’s talk bisexual Amber was kind of obsessed with Angie so Angie is central to the plotline whether she likes it or not

Page 5: The Bachelor host Chris Harrison is worried he’ll follow Dancing with the Stars host Tom Bergeron out the door -- both these shows have been on TV forever and the world has changed around them and to keep up with Black Lives Matter and the #MeToo movement changes are being discussed and that’s left Chris fearing he’ll be the next Tom Bergeron and replaced by a woman of color 

Page 6: Aging divas Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton are caught in a bitter country catfight and long-dead Patsy Cline is the excuse -- although there’s been little love lost between the Nashville icons for nearly 50 years their simmering feud exploded weeks ago when Dolly apparently took some veiled public shots at Loretta’s BFF Patsy who was horribly disfigured in a car wreck two years before dying in a 1963 plane crash -- in an interview Dolly recalled standing in the wings of Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry at age 13 and watching Patsy perform and she remembered thinking about how awful it was that she got her pretty face scarred up like that -- Loretta was fit to be tied over the comments Dolly made about her old pal and thinks Dolly should stop running her mouth about Nashville legends like Patsy and Johnny Cash -- Dolly’s heard about Loretta’s complaints through the grapevine and brushes them off as quarantine boredom mixed with old age 

Page 8: Blake Shelton’s going bonkers after fiancee Gwen Stefani told him she wants to skip the mega-million star-studded wedding shindig he’s been planning and elope -- Blake is all bent out of shape over Gwen’s latest switcheroo which calls for them to get hitched on the sly at a Mexican resort and she’s got him so mixed up he can’t think straight because for the longest time she wanted the Hollywood-style wedding with all the bells and whistles and was very particular about details but now she’s telling him to ditch those plans which have already cost them a small fortune and book a trip somewhere exotic so they can just just get it over with -- Gwen wants to elope so they can hitched at the Riviera Maya resort in Cancun where they could swap vows on the beach witnessed by her three sons and Blake has no choice but to give in to Gwen and he’s saying he’s fine with it as long as she’s sure this time 

Page 9: Hollywood horndog John Mayer is back sniffing around old flame Jennifer Aniston after his mom gave him a shove -- John and Jen had a steamy fling for about a year before he dropped her in 2009 and now John’s mom Margaret Meyer is scolding him for letting Jen go and John’s mom is always on him about settling down and she feels that at 43 he should be married and she recently had a heart-to-heart talk with him and told him she thought Jennifer was the most down-to-earth of all his exes and because John considers his mom one of the smartest people he knows he decided to reach out to Jen and he’s always admired Jen and thought of her as a classy lady and now he’s reaching out to her again in hopes of getting her to agree to see him again once things leave lockdown 

* FKA Twigs has socked actor Shia LaBeouf with a bombshell lawsuit claiming he subjected her to relentless physical, emotional and mental abuse and gave her an STD and she also accuses him of sexual battery, assault, and infliction of emotional distress -- although Shia says she’s lying Twigs insists Shia once choked her in the middle of the night and kept a loaded firearm by the bed leaving her terrified to get up at night for fear he’d think she was an intruder and shoot her -- she claims during an incident around Valentine’s Day 2019 Shia threatened to crash his speeding car unless she professed her love for him so when he pulled into a gas station she got out of the car but he threw her against the car while screaming in her face then forced her back into the car -- Shia also had rules about how often Twigs had to kiss and touch him -- Shia has been arrested several times on now-dismissed charges including assault and disorderly conduct 

Page 10: John Lennon didn’t have to die -- that’s law enforcement experts’ explosive analysis after reviewing newly discovered evidence about the Beatles legend’s December 8, 1980 murder in NYC -- an odd series of coincidences and simple decisions put Lennon and his killer Mark David Chapman in the same place at the same time -- a review of the details concludes Lennon’s death was a strange result of flukes including his penchant for running around without protection and a missed appointment with his photographer and without these quirks of fate John would still be alive and recording hit songs 

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Pink flashes her bandaged thumb after getting stitches in Santa Monica (picture), Amanda Seyfried confesses she made a terrible decision for turning down the role of a lifetime as Chris Pratt’s love interest in Guardians of the Galaxy and now she’s watching from the sidelines as the director’s second choice Zoe Saldana skyrockets in the money-making Marvel franchise, Katherine Heigl will star in the upcoming limited biopic series Woodhull about Victoria Woodhull the first woman to run for president in 1872, Big Brother alum Zach Rance has come out as bisexual after admitting a sizzling same-sex romance with his former reality show housemate Frankie Grande who is the real-life older brother of pop star Ariana Grande

Page 13: Jaime King slurps down a meal on the streets on L.A. (picture), Jax Taylor mowing the lawn (picture), Guns N’ Roses axman Slash loads up on supplies at an L.A. grocery (picture), former teen heartthrob Chad Michael Murray admits his inflated young ego got the best of him and now he looks at photos of himself and thinks what a dweeb

Page 14: Julia Roberts is headed for the small screen headlining the limited TV series The Last Thing He Told Me where she’ll form an unexpected relationship with her teenage stepdaughter while searching for the truth about her husband’s mysterious disappearance, Emma Stone is also heading for the flat-screen in the comedy series The Curse alongside Nathan Fielder about a couple starring on an HGTV-style show who are trying to conceive a child amid an alleged curse, Nicolas Cage is hosting a new series called The History of Swear Words in which he’ll delve into the origins and pop culture usage and science and cultural impact of profanely shocking expletives

* Fashion Police -- Peyton List 8/10, Sofia Carson 9/10, Vanessa Hudgens 2/10, Neve Campbell 1/10, Chelsea Handler 4/10 

Page 16: Cover Story -- Jeffrey Epstein’s madam Ghislaine Maxwell’s $30M jail break -- terrified and tortured Ghislaine risks family fortune to buy her freedom -- the accused sex predator and her fat cat inner circle are set to plunk down an obscene $30 million to buy her way out of federal prison in what outraged investigators fear is a brazen plot to cheat justice 

Page 19: 10 Things You Don’t Know About Mayim Bialik

* Lizzo is admitting she’s having negative thoughts and is hating her 300-pound body but adds she knows she beautiful

* The Spice Girls were likely liquored up on cut-rate champagne when they made their first album according to Emma Bunton a.k.a. Baby Spice who says she and her bandmates swilled the cheapest sparkling wine in the studio 

Page 20: True Crime -- a chilling message left by the elusive Zodiac Killer has finally been cracked by a team of code breakers after 51 years -- a hodgepodge of numbers, symbols and letters called the 340 cipher was sent to the San Francisco Chronicle in 1969 and lawmen believed it contained key clues to the serial killer’s identity but the truth is even more chilling -- according to the experts the message says I hope you are having lots of fun in trying to catch me, I am not afraid of the gas chamber because it will send me to paradise all the sooner because I now have enough slaves to work for me 

Page 21: Caitlyn Jenner is terrified after learning her skin cancer has returned a second time -- she was diagnosed with basal cell skin cancer a few years ago and had an entire layer of skin removed from her nose -- since then she’s been slathering on sunscreen but a new red spot on the right side of her nose popped up along with some crusty areas on her scalp but the nose patch was not cancer but hypertrophic keratosis or scaly damage from sun exposure -- however the dozen spots on the top of her head was squamous cell carcinoma which is a skin cancer that’s known to be aggressive so her doctor burned off the offending spots -- her doctor recommended she replace her 1960 Austin-Healey convertible but the chances of Caitlyn selling her prized ride are slim 

Page 23: Your 2021 Horoscope -- love, luck, health, wealth, happiness -- plus surprising celebrity predictions -- Elton John, Valerie Bertinelli, Johnny Depp, Jessica Simpson, Matthew Perry, Cameron Diaz, Will Smith, Katy Perry, Howie Mandel, Savannah Guthrie, Justin Timberlake, Carrie Underwood 

Page 30: Larry King has reached a deal with estranged wife Shawn but she’s royally peeved about the payoff -- Larry has agreed to pay her a lump sum of $20,000 plus $33,000 a month in spousal support which lasts until at least their next scheduled hearing in April but Shawn claims the 33Gs only covers a third of her monthly nut which includes $25,000 for rent on her home, $12,000 on clothes, $3500 on groceries and $4500 for hair and nails and pet care and gym 

Page 31: Kim Kardashian is reading husband Kanye West the riot act over his junk food benders that are sabotaging her healthy eating program and it’s led to more than a few arguments with no peace in sight -- he’s telling her to chill and let him live by his own terms but she can’t do that because it’s driving her crazy -- what really ticks Kim off is his junk food has totally taken over her section of fresh cut veggies, fruits and water and she wants him to get his own storage in a different part of the house where she won’t have to see it or hold her nose 

* Kardashian momager Kris Jenner’s faux reality TV home is on the market for nearly $8 million even though she never lived there -- the L.A. estate was used for exterior shots of the image-conscious family’s compound on Keeping Up with the Kardashians but it was all for show -- dubbed the Iredell Estate the house also appears in True Blood and Chelsea Lately 

Page 33: Health Report 

Page 34: Wrestling Ring Kings: Where Are They Now? Sable, Bret Hart

Page 35: Lex Luger, Steve Austin, Ric Flair 

Page 36: The Undertaker, Tito Santana, Diamond Dallas Page 

Page 37: Kane, Kurt Angle, Sunny, Mick Foley 

Page 39: Despite an astounding 30 No. 1 country music hits legendary singer Charley Pride took a haunting regret to his grave that he never made it as major league baseball star -- Charley had so much success but he died tormented his baseball career short-circuited -- Charley was singing and playing guitar by the time he was 14 but his real goal was to pitch for the New York Yankees -- Charley signed with a Yankees farm team as a flame-throwing phenom at 17 but in his rookie season he threw out his arm and was just never the same -- after he struck out in baseball he put his full energy into singing but faced an uphill battle -- Charley was the Jackie Robinson of country music and he endured a lot of racism 

Page 40: Kelsey Grammer admits he often breaks down and blubbers like a baby and it makes him feel better and he cries when he’s upset or sad or scared and it provides him a lot of relief and he believes years of tragedy in his life taught him to cry as a healing mechanism and now he sheds tears whenever he has sad feeling bottled up inside him 

* A moneybags James Bond fan coughed up a whopping $256,000 for the handgun 007 Sean Connery toted in the first spy epic Dr. No -- the disabled Walther PP semi-automatic was supposed to bring in no more than $200,000 but the unidentified American buyer who claims to have seen every Bond epic went even higher 

Page 44: Straight Talk -- Miley Cyrus is now blabbing about why she broke up with husband Liam Hemsworth after years of togetherness and just nine months of marriage and it sounds like a case of the pot calling the kettle black 

Page 45: Furious Queen Elizabeth has booted Princess Eugenie and her husband out of Prince Harry’s Frogmore Cottage home in a bit to foil Meghan Markle’s plan to completely cut him off from England and the royal family -- pregnant Eugenie and her booze-seller husband Jack Brooksbank were ordered to quit the cottage and move back to Kensington Palace just six weeks after Harry and Meghan secretly leased them the home meaning Harry and Meghan are still on the financial hook for Frogmore which was a gift from the queen and they will have to underwrite the cost of keeping up the property and it also ensures Harry has a home in Britain if he ever wants to come back -- by moving Eugenie and Jack out the queen has made sure Harry still has a place to hang his hat if he decides to come back to leave his American wife 

Page 47: Bizarre But True 

#tabloid #grain of salt #tabloid toc #tabloidtoc #ghislaine maxwell #jeffrey epstein #angelina jolie #johnny depp #amber heard #the bachelor #chris harrison #tom bergeron #loretta lynn #dolly parton #patsy cline #johnny cash #gwen stefani #blake shelton #john mayer #jennifer aniston #fka twigs #shia labeouf #john lennon #mayim bialik #lizzo #spice girls #emma bunton #baby spice #zodiac killer #caitlyn jenner

[humanrightsupdates]

Urgent Action: Human rights defender’s health at risk (Egypt)

On 31 October 2020, the pre-trial detention of human rights researcher Ibrahim Ezz el-Din was renewed for 45 days. His health has been deteriorating since his arrest on 11 June 2019 and his 167 days of enforced disappearance. Ibrahim’s poor health puts him at increased risk of the effects of COVID-19 that has reportedly been spreading in Egypt’s notoriously overcrowded and unhygienic prisons.

TAKE ACTION:

Write a letter in your own words or using the sample below as a guide to one or both government officials listed. You can also email, fax, call or Tweet them.

Click here to let us know the actions you took on Urgent Action 104.19. It’s important to report because we share the total number with the officials we are trying to persuade and the people we are trying to help.

CONTACT INFORMATION

Public Prosecutor Hamada al-Sawi Office of the Public Prosecutor Madinat al-Rehab Cairo, Arab Republic of Egypt Fax: [phone] E-mail: [email protected]

Ambassador Yasser Reda Embassy of the Arab Republic of Egypt 3521 International Ct NW, Washington DC 20008 Phone: [phone] I Fax: [phone] Email: [email protected] Twitter: @EgyptEmbassyUSA Salutation: Dear Ambassador

SAMPLE LETTER

Dear Counselor,

I am writing to you to raise concern about the ongoing arbitrary detention of human rights researcher Ibrahim Ezz el-Din at the Tora Investigation Prison. Prior to his transfer to prison on 26 November 2019, he was forcibly disappeared for 167 days at undisclosed locations, where he said he was tortured. Amnesty International considers him to be a prisoner of conscience, detained solely for his peaceful human rights work.

On 31 October 2020, the Cairo Criminal Court renewed Ibrahim’s detention for 45 days pending investigations into case No. 488/2019 over baseless charges of “contributing to the achievement of the objectives of a terrorist group” and the “publication of false information undermining national security”.

According to informed sources, Ibrahim suffers from an inflammation in his lumbar vertebra, chronic allergies, and a fungal infection of the tongue due to poor conditions of detention. In April 2020, Ibrahim was taken to the prison’s hospital, but the prison authorities did not share his medical record with his family, hindering their ability to consult a private doctor and prescribe him the appropriate dosage of medication. The prison hospital does not have X-ray equipment needed to diagnose Ibrahim’s back pain. Ibrahim’s poor health puts him at increased risk of the effects of a virus like COVID-19, according to the World Health Organization’s list of vulnerable groups, particularly as he suffers from chronic allergies that cause respiratory difficulties. According to medical professionals familiar with Ibrahim’s case, the torture he endured while forcibly disappeared, in addition to the denial of adequate medical care by the Tora Investigation Prison authorities, might have triggered his depression. Ibrahim attempted suicide twice in 2020.

I urge you to release Ibrahim Ezz El-Din immediately and unconditionally given that his detention stems solely from his peaceful human rights work. I call on you to ensure that, pending his release, he has access to adequate health care, including psychiatric services if needed. I also urge you to open an investigation into his enforced disappearance and the torture to which he has been subjected and bring all those responsible to justice in fair trials.

Yours sincerely,

[YOUR NAME]

#amnesty international #human rights #egypt #coronavirus

[truecrimeroom]

This is a long one but worth the read!!

Crystal Roger's Disappearance

In case you are unaware, Crystal Rogers (35), was a mother of five children. She disappeared over the 4th of July weekend, in 2015. She spent the night prior to her disappearance with her boyfriend Brooks Houck, with whom she shared one son, and she was never seen again. Remains were just recently discovered, not far from where Crystal was last seen. The FBI recently took over her case and the investigation is on-going.

🔹️July 3, 2015 - Last Seen

A family member saw Crystal Rogers leaving Walmart early on July 3rd. Her ex-husband, also saw Crystal on that day, when she dropped of two of their children at his home.

Houck claims, on the afternoon/evening of July 3rd, they were at his mothers farm, feeding cows. They left and went home, and he went to bed. He claimed Rogers stayed up playing games on her phone and that the next morning when Houck awoke, Rogers was gone but she had not taken their son with her. He then took their son and went back to his mother's house for 4th of July. He says he tried to call Crystal but she did not answer.

🔹️July 5, 2015 - Missing Person's Report Filed

Crystal's family continually tried to contact her but she did not respond. They began searching around town for her and became very concerned. So, Crystal's mother, Sherry Ballard, filed a missing person's report with the Nelson County Sheriff's Office.

🔹️July 5, 2015 - Vehicle Found

Someone noticed Crystal's vehicle, a maroon Chevrolet Sedan, was parked on the Bluegrass Parkway. That individual notified her father, Tommy Ballard. Tommy went and found the vehicle and noticed her keys, purse, diaper bag, and cell phone were all inside. The keys were still in the ignition and the vehicle also had a flat tire.

Numerous family members and friends spent the following days searching the area around where the vehicle was found. Family also claimed that Houck, Crystal's boyfriend, never offered to help look for her.

🔹️July 6, 2015 - Reward Announced

Crystals family announced a $25,000 reward for any information leading to her return. A massive search was underway but nothing was found.

🔹️July 7, 2015 - The Interrupted Interview

Now, one thing about this case that I think is important to note, is that Brooks Houcks older brother, Nick Houck, was a police officer for Bardstown PD, at that time.

During Brooks Houcks interview with the Nelson County Sheriffs Office, his older brother Nick called him. Nick told Brooks not to cooperate anymore and to leave the interview and Brooks did.

Some people see this and say, "oh its just an older brother looking out for his younger brother." However, many found this extremely suspicious and were shocked that a member of law enforcement was telling his brother not to cooperate with law enforcement, when the mother of his child was missing.

🔹️July 10, 2015 - Search Warrant

The Houck family farm was searched by the Nelson County Sheriffs Office because it was the last place that Crystal was known to be alive. It is not known what was or was not found but it was just the first of many searches.

🔹️July 15, 2015 Nick Houck, Forced Interview

Nick Houck was interviewed by Kentucky State Police. He initially refused to be interviewed but Bardstown Police Chief McCubbin basically forced him to do the interview. Houck, was then told that bodily fluids were found in his trunk but he couldn't explain why.

🔹️October 2015 - Major Announcements

First, Sheriff Mattingly came out and said that Crystal Rogers was presumed dead. He saw no reason that she would not be with her children unless something bad happened to her.

Second, Nick Houck was fired from the Bardstown PD. He was fired for interfering with the investigation and also for failing a polygraph.

The third announcement, was that Brooks Houck was a prime suspect. However, Brooks had never been arrested or charged with anything regarding Crystals death.

🔹️December 2015 - An Arrest

Danny Singleton, an employee for Houck, was arrested for lying to a grand jury. He lied about where he was around the time when Crystal went missing. He was finally charged with false swearing and was sentenced to one year in prison. He ended up being released prior to serving the full year and was placed on probation.

🔹️November 19, 2016

Crystal's father Tommy Ballard, had never given up on figuring out what happened to his daughter. He took things into his own hands and continued to investigate her disappearance and some people weren't happy about it. He was in the media frequently and would always say he knew who killed his daughter.

On November 19, 2016, Tommy was getting ready to go hunting on his families property, next to the Bluegrass Parkway, with his twelve year old grandson. Some one had been waiting and hiding along the treeline on the property, and shot Tommy with a rifle. The single shot hit him in his chest, and killed him instantly. Whoever did this, clearly had planned it, and it is believed to be a targeted assassination. Police still say its possible that it was a hunting accident. Although, that is hard to believe when looking at the evidence.

Many are convinced that his death is connected to this disappearance of his daughter Crystal Rogers. However, noone has been charged with the death of Tommy Ballard.

🔹️August 6, 2020 - FBI Comes In

The case essentially went cold for years, until July 2020. In July 2020, remains were found in an area of Nelson County, not far from where Crystal was last known to be. This prompted the FBI to take over the case. As of right now, the remains are at the FBI's lab in Quantico and the FBI is awaiting DNA results. We do know the remains are female and are believed to have been between the ages of 24-82. Rogers is currently the only woman missing in Nelson County

Since the FBI took over the case, at least nine search warrants have been executed, and over fifty people have been interviewed in Bardstown.

🔹️Theories (not my own theories, these are theories that have been considered by many others)

Crystal never left the Houck family farm on July 3, 2015. She was murdered by Brooks that day and his brother Nick helped him dispose of her body and to leave her vehicle on the Bluegrass Parkway.

Houck murdered Crystal in their home. He handled everything himself but he had help leaving her vehicle. His brother Nick wasn't involved directly but knew after the fact.

Crystals vehicle was having issues, so she pulled over, and some other person picked her up, and they ended up harming her.

She left of her volition because she was overwhelmed with her life and wanted to start over. Which I think we all know is pretty ridiculous.

What do you believe happened to Crystal Rogers?

#investigation discovery #homicide #murderer #murder story #only murders in the building #true detective #true crime #it's true

[foreverwayward]

“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 10: Jus In Bello

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 11,581 (Yup. It’s long)

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

In Monument, Colorado, the door of a beautiful hotel room quietly opened. As it swung inward, Sam, Riley, and Dean went in with their guns at the ready. Riley shut the entrance behind them as they spread out. 

They then nodded to each other that it was clear and began their search.

The white carpet seemed like new with elegant décor filling the room. Beautiful, and clearly expensive, silk bedding was left unmade. Ivory furniture lightened up the space giving it an airy feel that was nothing like the cheap motel rooms the family was used to.  

Sam went to the large, white armoire to check its contents along with the safe inside. He came up empty as Dean rummaged through the dresser drawers and Riley checked out the bathroom.

“Any sign of it?” Dean asked as he continued to dig through the bureau.

“Nothing.” The younger brother stood from his kneeled position with a sigh. “Are you sure this is Richard’s room?”

As Dean went through the piles of folded clothes, he found a small leather-bound book. The hunter opened it seeing names, titles of priceless items, and transactions. 

Dean flicked through the ledger until a photograph fell onto the floor. He knelt to pick it up as his face fell into a deadpan. Lifting a photo up in front of him, Dean’s tongue pressed into his bottom lip with frustration. “Oh, yeah.” He turned the picture in Sam’s direction. “I’d say so.” It was a photo of Riley that Dean had taken of her sitting on the Impala’s hood. 

“Thought I’d lost this.” Dean nodded with a condescending chuckle. “God, I hate that guy.”

“Bathroom’s clean.” Riley tucked her gun into the waistband of her jeans as Dean put the picture into his jacket pocket. “I dunno, guys. I got a bad feeling.”

Suddenly, the phone rang; it was sitting on the bed almost as if it had been waiting for them. 

The three shared a look before Dean walked to the phone. Sam shook his head with the sickening feeling that trouble was on the other end of that call. But Dean picked up the handle of the rotary phone and answered it cautiously.

“Dean…?” a deep and familiar voice asked. “You there, old friend?”

Dean had forgotten how irritated he would get just hearing Richard’s voice. “Dick. Where are you?”

“Two states away by now.” The sound of passing traffic echoed through the line.

“Where?”

“Where’s our usual quippy banter? I miss it. Any chance I can speak to Ms. Munroe?”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t fuckin’ think so and I want it back, Dick...now.”

“Your little pistol, you mean? Sorry, I can’t at the moment.”

“You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?”

“What exactly is it that you think I plan to do with it?”

“Take the only weapon we have against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder.”

There was a pause and Richard’s tone grew serious. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know I’m gonna stop you.”

“Tough words for a guy who can’t even find me.”

“Oh, I’ll find you. You know why? Because I have absolutely nothing better to do than to track your ass down.” Dean couldn’t help but smile to himself mischievously.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re about to be quite occupied.” 

Realizing they were in trouble as Richard continued to talk, Dean shot a worried look at his partners. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions? Send Riley my regards.”

As the call ended, a loud crash came from the door as police officers burst into the hotel room, practically breaking the door off its hinges. Their guns were drawn and immediately aimed at the three hunters. “Hands in the air!” 

Sam, Dean, and Riley raised their hands above their heads in surrender with disappointment on their faces. They had been set up.

Another officer shouted, “down on your knees!”

“That son of a bitch,” Dean seethed through his gritted teeth.

“Turn around! Now!” More backup filed in as they grabbed the Winchesters and Riley before forcing them to lie down on the floor. “Sam and Dean Winchester, Riley Munroe, you have the right to remain silent.” From their low view on the ground, a pair of shoes came closer. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney and have an attorney present during any questioning.” 

Their Miranda rights continued to be read as they peered up at the figure above them. It was Agent Victor Henriksen, the FBI agent whose sole focus had been finding the hunters for over a year.

“If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you at government expense.“

With a pleased expression, Henriksen met their gaze. “Hi guys…it’s been a while.”

Sam, Dean, and Riley looked at each other with worry. Dean closed his eyes and laid his head down on the floor as he conceded to the arrest. 

They had been on the run for too long and the law had finally caught up to them.

------

The police station bullpen was nothing of note, not unlike most small towns’ precincts. Exposed brick made up the walls with state and country flags in the corner.

A meek, young, Asian American girl sat at her secretary’s desk. Nancy was in her early twenties and beautiful with a long braid hanging over her shoulder. Her modesty was obvious and she seemed almost intimidated as Henriksen walked into the police station.

The phones rang as the agent walked around the front desk. He was still in his bulletproof vest over his work attire with a matching FBI jacket. With his radio in his hand, he marched in with an authoritative energy showing he was the one in charge.

Two officers in uniform were waiting for him and one asked, “so, did you get them?”

“Where is everyone?” Henriksen barked. “I asked for all your men.”

Sheriff Melvin Dodd sighed. “And you got them. They went with you on the raid.”

“Four men? That’s all?”

“Everyone I could drum up with an hour’s notice. We’re a small town, Agent Henriksen.”

Unsatisfied with the sheriff’s response, the agent dropped his things and headed for the holding cells as the two followed quickly behind. In the first cell was a sleeping and disheveled man laid flat on his stomach. “What’s he in for?”

The second officer, Phil Amici, spoke up from behind the sheriff. “Uh--drunk and disorderly.”

“Keys,” Victor demanded with hand out and waited. “Now.” 

Amici gave his superior a swift glimpse before handing over his keys. The agent wasted no time as he unlocked the cell and slid it open.

“What are you doing?”

Henriksen pat the prisoner on the back, waking him from his sleep. “It is your lucky night, sir. You are free to go.”

“What the hell are you doing?” the Sheriff questioned in disbelief.

The small-town officers’ words seemed to go in one ear and out the other as the agent took the man out of his cell and gave him to Amici.

“Agent Henriksen,” Melvin started with a stern tone. “You can’t just release my prisoners.” Henriksen walked away and the sheriff called out for him.

“Look, I get it...you’re Mayberry P.D.”

“Excuse me?”

“And this isn’t how I’d do it if I had my choice. But a tip’s a tip and we had to move fast.”

“Look, Agent, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

With all three of the men back in the main bullpen, the agent turned back to Amici and Dodd. “You’ve never been to a rodeo like this before. You have any idea who we’re about to bring in here?”

“Yeah, a couple of fugitives.”

“The most dangerous criminals you’ve ever laid your eyeballs on. Think Hannibal Lecter, a woman crazy enough to be his girl, and his half-wit little brother. Do you know what these three do for kicks? Dig up graves and mutilate corpses. They’re not just killers, Sheriff. They’re Satan-worshipping, nutbag killers.” 

As Henriksen went on, Nancy sat nearby and overheard it all. She grew nervous and held tightly to the cross pendant hanging from her neck. 

“So, work with me here. I’ll get them out your hair and on their way to Supermax and you’ll be home in enough time to watch the farm report.”

Sheriff Dodd nodded, trying to contain his frustration with the way he was being ordered around. “However we can help.”

“Those men of yours...post them at the exits.”

“Yes, sir.”

Henriksen lifted his walkie and held the side button as he spoke into it. “Reidy? Bring them in.” The agent looked at an anxious Nancy and told her, “I guess we’re ready as we’re gonna be.”

The double doors to the station opened as the Sam and Dean were led in by law enforcement. They were shackled at their wrists and ankles with the brothers tethered together. 

Riley was guided in behind them in similar bindings. The metal at their feet clinked as they struggled to take steps with the chains weighing them down.

Dean’s gaze landed on the small bullpen where Nancy, Agent Henriksen, and the other two officers stood and watched them come in. 

“Why all the sourpusses?” Dean smiled.

As Sam and Riley looked at the young secretary, she felt the worry in the air. Nancy was terrified and took the rosary from her desk to squeeze in her hand. Riley’s face grew soft and she tried to comfort the poor girl as best she could.

Agent Reidy took the older brother’s arm roughly to take them to their cells and Dean stumbled slightly at the pull. “Hey! Hey! Watch the merchandise!”

Nancy’s eyes followed them as they walked on.

“Don’t be scared, Nancy,” Riley said sweetly. The young woman watched as Riley softly smiled at her before being drug into the back and disappearing around the corner.

Sam and Dean were brought to their cell still in their shackles. The door was rolled closed and locked behind them before they turned to see Riley being led to the separate cell across from them.

Riley scoffed. “Oh, what? Because I’m a girl I gotta be separated?” she snarked. “That’s sexist!” Her words echoed through the concrete space as the officers ignored her remarks, leaving the hunters alone.

The walls had red, stenciled words on the cement wall. ‘NO TOUCHING, NO SPITTING, NO SHOUTING’.

As silence found them, Dean went for the bed and Sam towards the iron bars that surrounded them. They had forgotten about the chain that bound them together and nearly fell at the strain, having to catch themselves on whatever they could.

“Dean, come on!” Sam snapped in frustration.

“Alright, alright. Sit?” The older brother motioned toward the bed and Sam nodded in agreeance. They awkwardly walked around each other struggling to deal with the chains before finding a place to sit. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you good?” Dean’s eyes went to Riley and waited for a response.

Riley sat on her own barely padded bed as her shackles clanged together. “Just awesome.”

A devilish grin grew on Dean’s face as he looked her over. “Why is that a good look for you?”

“Dean, we’re going to prison. Now is not the time to get into your jailhouse bondage fantasies.”

He cocked his head with an understanding expression. “Fair. So, how we gonna Houdini out of this one?”

“Good question.” Sam sighed heavily with no answer as he stared at the bars.

-----

Back in the main office, Agent Henriksen made a phone call as he loosened his bulletproof vest. His supervisor on the other line had the agent biting his tongue as he was warned again and again not to lose Riley and the Winchesters. Henriksen’s idea to take them on an armored bus up to max was tossed aside and the supervising agent would be coming to pick the fugitives up by helicopter.

Henriksen took a deep breath to calm himself as he hung up the receiver. He turned to Melvin to address him. “There’s a chopper on its way.”

“But we don’t have a helicopter pad.”

“Then clear the goddamn parking lot,” the agent bit back before walking back to the holding cells. His eyes were locked on Dean as Henriksen stood in the way of their only way to freedom. With his hand holding the bars, he watched the defeated brothers closely. “You know what I’m trying to decide?”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t know. What? Whether ‘Cialis’ will help you with your little condition?”

“What to have for dinner tonight.” Sam and Riley looked at Henriksen as he went on. “Steak or lobster--what the hell? Surf and turf.” A cynical grin and a wry laugh came from Dean. “I got a lot to celebrate. I mean, after all, seeing you three in chains…”

“You kinky son of a bitch. We don’t swing that way. Besides, that lovely lady over there has already reminded me that this is neither the time or place, so keep it in your pants.” Dean clicked his tongue as he mocked him. “Tsk tsk. And here I thought you were a professional.”  

“Now, that’s funny,” he replied with no expression.

“You know, I wouldn’t bust out the melted butter just yet. Couldn’t catch us at the bank, couldn’t keep us in that jail...” Dean shrugged condescendingly.

Victor nodded in agreeance. “You’re right--I fucked up. I underestimated you. I didn’t count on you being that smart, but now I’m ready.”

“Yeah, ready to lose us again?”

“Ready like a court order to keep you in a Super-maximum prison in Nevada till trial. Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell, that between you and me…probably unconstitutional.” 

Riley, Sam, and Dean realized how serious Henriksen was and even Dean went quiet. 

“How’s that for ready?” When none of his prisoners responded, the agent went on. “Take a good look at Sam--you two will never see each other again. And Riley over there--your girl? She’ll be long gone--your whole little family torn apart for good.” All three stared back at him disconcerted. Henriksen was going to make sure their lives were over. “Aw. Where’s that smug smile, Dean? I want to see it.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief and chuckled to himself. “You got the wrong guys.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. You fight monsters. Sorry, Dean. Truth is, your daddy brainwashed you with all that fuckin’ devil talk and no doubt touched you in a bad place. That’s all. That’s reality.”

With anger in his eyes, Sam sat up next to his brother as they bore holes into Henriksen with their glare. 

“Why don’t you shut your mouth?” Dean told him gruffly.

“Well, guess what? Life sucks, get a helmet. ‘Cause everybody’s got a goddamn sob story. But not everybody becomes a cold-blooded killer.” Satisfied with finally being able to shut Dean up, Victor shot him a stern look before turning to Riley. “You know, I definitely underestimated you, Ms. Munroe.”

Riley leaned onto her thighs and rested her chained hands. “Well, I’m flattered.”

“I don’t get you. I mean I know your dad lead you down just as fucked up of a road as Sam and Dean’s, but you’re a pretty girl--smart.” Henriksen pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards the Winchesters and his face scrunched playfully. “How did you get mixed up with those two?”

“Just lucky I guess,” she shrugged.

“It’s a shame you had to fall for a monster instead of a real man. You could have had a bright future.”

“Look, as much as I appreciate your need to dissect my life choices--and I say this with all the respect in the world...nobody asked you.” 

Her tight-lipped smile made Victor scoff to himself.

The sound of a helicopter approaching caught their attention as Henriksen looked at his watch before tapping it with a pleased grin. “Mm. It’s surf and turf time.”

Sam, Dean, and Riley watched the agent leave, their brave faces falling with him finally gone. Dean dragged his palm down his face as the tension in the holding cell grew. 

The three were running out of time, and the thought of losing each other was more terrifying to them than the idea of a lifetime spent rotting in prison.

Their solitude didn’t last long before another man strode in. He was in a sharp blue suit and tie with his badge on his belt. Sam and Dean had played the role of feds long enough to know who the stranger was.

He closed the large metal door separating the office to the holding cell and Dean stood up to get a good look at him.

“Sam and Dean Winchester.” The man smiled, delighted with the situation before twisting only enough to get a quick study of the woman behind him. “And Riley Munroe. I’m Deputy Director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure.”

With an annoyed expression, Dean grumbled, “well, glad one of us feels that way.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you three to come out of the woodwork.”

“Wait…” Riley started as her face grew concerned and her eyes widened.

She was cut off when Agent Groves drew his gun and shot Dean in the left shoulder. He grunted at the impact as his blood sprayed the wall. Dean fell back onto the bed while Sam jumped up to grapple with Steven through the bars.

“Dean!” Riley shouted as her hands gripped tightly to the bars and fought against them, desperate to get to him.

Several more shots were fired from the agent's gun, narrowly missing the older brother. The sound of bullets ricocheted off the walls as they were fired from the weapon. 

Sam roared as he struggled against the man trying to kill them. When he finally had a firm grip on Steven, the hunter held his arm in place and his angry stare found the agent’s face. 

The brown irises that glared back Sam shifted into an obsidian black.

Riley began an exorcism in Latin, her rage rising out of control. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…” Her prayer caused the demon’s head to violently whip from side to side in an unholy and monstrous manner. 

Sam joined in as they continued to recite in unison. “...omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.”

The evil creature bared its teeth and snarled. “Sorry, I've gotta cut this short. It’s gonna be a long night, kiddos.” 

A gut-wrenching cry ripped from the vessel’s throat as black smoke shot from his mouth. As the agent’s body shook, the demon flew through the air and disappeared into the ceiling air vent. 

With nothing left in him to stay standing, Groves collapsed to the ground, leaving the gun in Sam’s hands.

Sheriff Melvin, Agent Henriksen, the FBI supervisor Agent Reidy, and other officers rushed in with their guns drawn only to see the injured director on the floor and Sam with his weapon.

“Aright, put the gun down!” Melvin shouted.

Sam put his hands out showing he meant them no harm and pleaded for them to understand. “Wait. Okay. Wait!”

“He shot him!” Panicked officers yelled back and forth in the heated moment.

“I didn’t shoot him, okay. I didn’t shoot anyone!”

The brothers went to their knees, still calling out over the loud voices that they were innocent.

Dean clutched at his still bleeding wound and roared, “the bastard shot me!”

“Stop!” Riley cried while still trapped in her own cell. “Stop! He didn’t do it!”

“Get on your knees, now!” Voices overlapped as chaos ensued.

Sam’s heart began to beat out of control and he cast his eyes down in submission. “Okay, okay, okay. Don’t shoot. Please. Look--here. Here.” Moving slowly, Sam placed the gun on the ground and slid it underneath the bars. “Look, we didn’t shoot him. Check the body, there’s no blood. We did not kill him. Go ahead, check him.”

Reidy checked Steven’s pulse and then looked him over. “Vic, there’s no bullet wound.”

The emotionally charged room pulsed through Riley as her abilities drowned her in the weight of it all. “Oh, my god,” she growled angrily as her cuffed hands ran through her hair before clenching it in her fists. “The guy’s probably been dead for months. I’ll repeat myself, they didn’t do anything to him!”

With his gun still pointed at the brothers, Henriksen shifted his grip. “Talk or I shoot.”

“You’re not gonna believe any of us, anyway!”

Sam paused and weighed their options before looking back at the agent. “He was possessed.”

“Possessed? Right,” Victor replied incredulously. “Fire up the chopper! We’re taking them out of here now.”

“Yeah! Do that!” With his hand holding tight to his gunshot wound, Dean knew their best chance of survival was to get out of that station. It didn’t matter where they were headed, as long as his family was safe.

“Backup should already be here. I’m gonna go check it out.” Reidy nodded to Henriksen before hurrying outside.

As he opened the front doors, the agent discovered the bodies of two officers. Their throats had been slit brutally nearly to decapitation. Blood pooled around their still-warm corpses on the concrete where they had been slain. 

Reidy’s breath grew ragged with panic as clouds from the cold air swelled in front of his mouth. He hesitantly went to the chopper that had come to evacuate them. Another two agents and the pilot were all dead.

“They’re dead,” he uttered into his walkie. The fear in his voice was evident as it trembled with his every word. “I think they’re all dead.”

A massive explosion erupted from the helicopter. Agent Reidy cried out as the blast threw through the air and onto the asphalt with a hard thud.

Victor's voice was still calling to him through his radio. “What the hell was that? Reidy? Reidy?!”

Groaning in pain and coughing to catch his breath, Reidy sat up to see the chopper still ablaze. A large cut across his cheek dripped fresh blood down his face.

The sound of approaching footsteps came from behind Reidy. He turned to see one of the fallen officers back on his feet looking down at him with empty black eyes. 

Reidy screamed in agony as the possessed deputy’s fist tore into the agent’s chest. His ribs crunched at the impact as his mouth hung open in shock. 

The demon twisted its hold and ripped through his chest before Reidy’s body fell to the ground.

Sam, Dean, and Riley waited alone in the holding cells after the officers had all ran out to help. 

Every light in the station suddenly went out and the sound of whirring electronics powered down. It went silent with the night moon serving as the only light through the small window. Only a handful of backup lights flickered on and the hunters stood to their feet knowing the worst was yet to come.

“Oh, that can’t be good,” Dean said to himself.

Sam gathered a long ream of thing toilet paper and held it to Dean’s still bleeding shoulder. As his older brother grunted at the contact, Sam remained unmoved as he continued to apply pressure. “Alright, don’t be such a wuss.”

With a heavy sigh and nowhere to go, Riley returned to her spot on the bed. “Sam, how’s he lookin’?”

“I don’t think it’s too bad. The bullet went clean through. Just gotta get the bleeding to stop.”

Riley closed her eyes and took long, slow breaths to calm herself. Coupled with her own fear and worry, she had to calm herself. They were in for a long night, and Riley knew she had to get her abilities under control. Death was in the air and its presence challenged the air in her lungs.

“What’s the plan? Hmm?” Henriksen barked at the hunters as he charged back into the holding cell. “Fuckin’ kill everyone in the station, bust you three out?”

Dean’s hand had replaced Sam’s as he held the cheap tissue in place. Confusion fell over him as he stared back at the agent. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your psycho friends. I’m talking about a goddamn blood bath.”

“Okay, I promise you--whoever’s out there? Is not here to help us.”

Sam lowered his voice to plead with the agent. “Look, you got to believe us. Everyone here is in terrible danger.”

“You think?”

“Why don’t you let us out of here so we can save your asses?” Dean snapped back.

“From what?” Victor paused while Sam and Dean looked away. “You gonna say ‘demons’?” He spun and stared Riley down as she refused to meet his glare.

In his frustration, Henriksen raised his gun and pointed it to the ceiling, his finger aching at the trigger as he spoke through his gritted teeth. “Don’t you fucking dare say ‘demons’. Let me tell you something...you should be a lot more scared of me.” Shaking his head, the agent walked away, his gun still in his hanging hand.

“Dean?” Riley called softly. “You okay?” She was feeling the pain of Dean’s gunshot wound and fought to not let it show. The last thing he needed was to worry about her.

Dean peeled back the pad of toilet paper revealing a large bloodstain seeping through before chucking it away to the side. “I’ll live,” Dean sighed. “You know, that’s if we actually get out of here alive. So, either of you got a plan?”

Sam examined the exit wound on the back of Dean’s shoulder and his brother grimaced in pain.

As Riley still struggled with her overwhelming empathy, she looked up feeling a new presence in the room. She saw Nancy peeking her head around the corner outside the bars.

“Hi…” the hunter said sweetly. The scared girl began to back away and Riley put up her hands. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you. But, please--” Riley looked back at Sam and Dean and bit her lip anxiously. “We need your help. It’s Nancy...right?” 

The secretary stayed silent unsure of what to say or do. 

“Nancy, my boyfriend--he’s been shot. I can tell from here that it’s really bad and he needs help. Is there a towel you can get for my brother Sam so he can stop the bleeding?” 

Still uncertain and clearly afraid, Nancy’s timid eyes looked back at the hunter.

“I promise...we’re not the bad guys.”

When Riley couldn’t get a response from the girl, she closed her eyes and focused, hoping to hone in on her abilities. After not using them for so long, Riley would need to find a way to control them once again. 

She reached out to Nancy telepathically and tried to calm her nerves. Riley could feel the girl’s utter terror and she trembled briefly at the feeling. It had been so long since Riley had tried to ease someone’s pain, but she couldn’t stand leaving Nancy in that state.

Riley opened her eyes as she watched the girl’s body relax ever so slightly. Nancy sighed in a moment of relief and a small, almost unnoticeable smile curled at one side of her lips. She then spun on her heel and left.

“It was a nice try, sweetheart,” Dean told her.

Sam let out a heavy breath and turned around to see Nancy had come back with a clean white towel. “Thank you,” he said gently.

 Nancy slowly inched towards the boys, carefully.

 “It's okay.” Sam held out his handcuffed hands. The girl nervously put the towel inside the bars as Sam smiled at her; she returned the gesture before the hunter grabbed her arm and drug her against the bars. 

Nancy screamed at the top of her lungs and an officer rushed in with his rifle.

“Let her go! Let her go!”

Doing as he was told, Sam released her as Nancy backed away, terrified.

The officer pointed his weapon at Sam. “Try something again--get shot. And not in the arm.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded.

Still rattled and scared, Nancy left with her coworker as he escorted her out.

Dean hit Sam in the arm angrily. “What the fuck was that?”

From the other cell, Riley smirked knowing exactly what her brother had done. Sam held up Nancy’s rosary that he had stolen from her in the tussle. The couple chuckled softly to themselves.

------

Dean, Sam, and Riley were unsure how much time had passed since they had heard anything. There was no way out and all they could do was wait.

Laying on her back with her knees bent, Riley stared at the ceiling as she fiddled with her hands. Her mind was racing and she tried to ground herself as much as possible.

In the other cell, Dean was still pressing the towel into his wound as he sat on the bed with Sam who scoffed. “We’re like sitting ducks in here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean agreed. “Would it kill these cops to bring us a fuckin’ snack?!” He raised his voice to a yell hoping the officers would hear him.

Riley sat up on her bed and scooted back to lean against the wall. “Guys, we have no clue how many there are. I mean, they could be anybody and just waltz right in here.”

“It's kind of wild, right? I mean it’s like they’re coming for us--they’ve never done that before.” Dean smirked, pleased with his train of thought. “It’s like we got a contract on us. Think it’s because we’re so awesome? I think it’s ‘cause we’re so awesome.” He smiled again before it quickly faded after seeing Sam’s unamused expression.

“You might be right, Dean. It’s ‘cause we’re awesome.” As Riley shot him a playful look, Dean laughed under his breath.

Scratching his nose, Dean signaled for Riley to read his mind just as he used to. “I’m gonna get us outta here, okay?” 

She nodded as she acknowledged his thoughts with a smile.

Riley’s focus shifted as Sheriff Dodd came in with his keys in hand.

He went to the brothers’ cell and unlocked the bar door; it clicked loudly as it came undone.

The two shared a worried glance before Dean looked back at Dodd. “Well, howdy, there, Sheriff,” he joked with a forced southern accent as the cell door was opened.

Sheriff Dodd walked in and stared at the brothers. The two grew increasingly worried as Riley hurried to the locked door of her cage. “It’s time to go, boys.”

“Uh...you know what?” Knowing Riley was right, Dean played it cool as he and Sam stepped back as the Sheriff blocked them in. “We’re--we're just comfy right here. But, thank you.”

The sound of footsteps had everyone turn to see Henriksen had walked in. He was standing behind Melvin with a stern expression. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“There’s a SWAT facility in Boulder. We’re not just gonna sit around here and wait to die. We’re gonna make a run for it.”

Hoping she could still get Dean to hear her, Riley whispered into his thoughts. “Something’s not right.” 

The agent’s head barely turned with the corner of his sight set on Riley. A hidden curl of his lip sent a chill up her spine. 

“Guys…” As the brothers peered over to her, Riley’s heart began to race. “...that’s not Henriksen.”

Without hesitation, Victor lifted his weapon and didn’t flinch as he fired a bullet into Dobb’s head. Blood splattered behind the Sheriff as he fell back against the bars and his body slumped to the floor.

Dean and Sam leaped in to grapple with the agent as they each went for one of his arms. The older brother disarmed him and aided Sam in shoving the man’s face into the toilet. 

In the bowl waited the rosary Sam had stolen; it was now holy water. 

Henriksen’s eyes went stark black as the blessed toilet water burned his face and he screamed in pain as bubbles escaped his mouth. 

Sam began to recite the Latin exorcism prayer, pulling the agent’s head out from moment to moment to allow the trapped man inside to breathe. 

Steam poured from Victor’s face as the holy water burned the demon and it seethed.

Officer Amici ran around the corner responding to the sounds with his rifle ready and aimed.

“Stay back!” Dean ordered as he pointed the agent’s gun back at him.

Again, Sam dunked the creature into the water and continued to pray. The demon yelled in agony but the hunter wouldn’t relent. 

“Hurry up!”

As Sam held tightly to the vessel’s collar, he jerked him back out. 

The monster’s black eyes only aided the malevolent smirk that still sat on its face. “It’s too late. I already called them. They’re already coming.” 

Before the demon could be drowned in holy water again, Henriksen howled out as black smoke shot out of his mouth and up into the air. His body twitched and tears formed at his eyes as the evil entity ripped itself from his body before disappearing into the vents above them. 

Victor fell to the floor as Sam slinked to down as well, breathing heavily from the struggle.

They all waited for the agent to respond before he regained consciousness and began to cough as he tried to catch his breath.

“Henriksen! Hey. Is that you in there?” Sam asked shakily.

Getting up while still shaking and in shock, Victor slowly pulled himself up to sit on the bed. “I…I shot the Sheriff.”

A thought came to Dean and he smiled proudly. “But you didn't shoot the deputy.” Sam glared at his brother in disbelief at his poor timing.

“Five minutes ago, I was fine, and then…”

“Let me guess. Some nasty black smoke fucked itself into your throat?”

Henriksen’s eyes darted back and forth as he tried to come to terms with what had just happened and he nodded.

“You were possessed,” Sam interjected. “That’s what it feels like--now you know.”

Handing back over Henriksen’s gun to him, Dean said, “I owe the biggest ‘I told you so’ ever.”

It was then that the agent knew he had been wrong all along, that Sam, Dean, and Riley had been telling the truth from the beginning. Demons were real, all of it was real. 

He stood to his feet, water still dripping from his face. “Officer Amici. Keys…” When the officer obliged, Victor immediately unlocked the heavy chains that hung from the brothers and they fell to the floor with a loud clang. “Alright, so, how do we survive?”

“Um, hello?” Riley called out still locked up and shackled. She held up her restraints and her face appeared slightly annoyed. “You start by getting me the fuck outta here.”

------

The night lingered on with everyone still trapped in the station. Even with the large clock on the wall, time passed differently, sometimes painstakingly slow and other times rushed as if they had no time left at all.

A spray paint can rattled as Sam shook it while he continued to draw a large devil’s trap on the floor. All the while, Dean went over the floor plans of the police station. Two traps had been drawn at the entrances at the exits as they plotted their plan.

Finally, with access to medical equipment, Riley tended to Dean’s wound. She had cleaned it thoroughly and wrapped a bandage around his shoulder before taping it in place. “Better?”

“Well, I still got shot,” Dean teased. “But, sure...better.” 

With a playful glare, Riley shook her head at his sarcasm. 

The only remaining officers, Henriksen and Amici, walked in as they prepared guns for the coming battle. ”Well, that’s nice. It’s not gonna do much good,” Dean told them.

With skepticism, Phil replied, “we got an arsenal here.”

“You don’t poke a bear with BB gun. That’s just gonna piss it off.”

Henriksen worked to loosen the tie around his neck. “What do you need?”

“We need salt.” Riley collected the rest of the med kit before closing it back up. “We’re gonna need a lot of salt.”

“There’s road salt in the storeroom,” Nancy added from off to the side. She stepped in closer from out of the shadows as Dean nodded.

“Perfect. We need salt at every window and every door.” At Dean’s command, Henriksen and Phil left to retrieve everything from storage. His focus returned to the soft-spoken girl nearby. “How you holdin’ up, Nancy?”

“Okay,” she paused. “When I was little, I would come home from the church and start to talk about the devil. My parents would tell me to stop being so literal. I guess I showed them, huh?”

Phil found his way back to the bullpen with large bags of salt and Dean looked back at him. “Hey, where's my car?”

“Impound lot out back.”

“Okay.”

“Wait,” Amici said as his arm reached out to stop the hunter. “You’re not going out there?”

“Yeah, I got to get something out of my trunk.”

Riley stood from her seat and threw her jacket back on that she had taken off while aiding Dean. “I’m coming with you.”

“Like hell you are.”

She scoffed. “Since when have you ever been able to tell me what to do, Winchester?”

------

After getting the keys from the officer, Riley and Dean ran out to the backlot. A chain-link fence with large ‘NO TRESPASSING’ signs had been locked to keep the confiscated vehicles safe. Dean made quick work of removing the lock as Riley kept a lookout.

The hinges of the gate squeaked as they hurried inside. Riley watched Dean’s back for any movement before following him to the Impala’s trunk.

As Dean hurried to gather their equipment and stuff it into his duffle bag, the lights of the gas station across the street began to flicker. 

A dark and eerie feeling sat in Riley’s gut and she swallowed hard as the wind changed and started to blow her hair behind her. “Dean, something’s coming.” 

From around the gas station came a thick, massive cloud of black smoke interspersed with lightning. Glass shattered as it plowed through, breaking anything in its path. 

“Scratch that...something’s here. We gotta go!”

Dean’s breath quickened as he grabbed dreamcatcher-like amulets and added them to his bag of weapons. He slammed the trunk shut as leaves around the couple flew out of control as gusts of wind whisked around them. 

With a shotgun in his hand and his duffel bag on his shoulder, Dean looked back at the evil force barreling toward them. “Go, go, go!” Dean shouted as he grabbed Riley’s hand. The two went into a full sprint running as fast as their legs could carry them back towards the police station. “Come on!”

Completely out of breath as they reached safety, Dean threw the double doors open and drug Riley in tow. He slammed them shut behind and reclaimed Riley’s hand as they ran down the hallway. 

At the top of his lungs, Dean screamed out to the others. “They’re coming! Hurry!”

Nancy continued to line the windows with salt as black smoke hit the pane in front of her face. She screamed in terror and hurried back into the main office. The rest of the survivors joined her as Dean tossed his shotgun to Sam.

The lights buzzed and flickered almost violently as a loud bang came from outside. Thick smoke struck the building with a thud and surrounded them, blocking out any remaining light from outside. 

The evil cloud engulfed the building as dust rained down from the ceiling while it quaked. Everything around them rumbled and shook as if the station itself was alive. The sound of deafening pounding came from the doors and windows as the powerful smoke demanded entrance.

It suddenly went quiet as the blanket of darkness seemed to disappear.

“Everybody okay?” Sam asked as he peered out the windows from where he stood.

Henriksen sighed. “Define ‘okay’.”

Grabbing the arsenal bag, Riley pulled out a small pouch. She opened it up as her fingers dug in and pulled out necklaces. They were strung on strands of leather with a symbol of protection dangling in the front. “Here, everyone needs to put one on, alright? They’ll keep you safe. You can’t get possessed if you’re wearing it.”

As Nancy put hers on and pulled her hair out from underneath, the symbol laid over the silver cross on her own chain. “What about you guys?”

Dean and Sam pulled back their shirts to reveal the top of the left side of their chest. The protective emblem that Bobby had shown them had been tattooed into their skin. It was in black ink depicting a pentagram surrounded by a ring of what looked to be flames.

When the others turned to Riley, she huffed and moved her jacket to the side as she lifted her shirt. She tugged the fabric up high enough to show her lower ribcage. The same black symbol had been etched into her.

“Smart,” Henriksen told them with a look of approval. “How long you had those?”

Sam straightened up his shirt before uttering, “not long enough.” He swallowed hard as his eyes flickered up to Riley. 

They shared a look remembering what they had gone through when Meg had taken over Sam.

Though her brother could only recall fragments, Riley remembered every moment. From time to time that night would haunt her, vividly, but it was a secret she intended to carry to her grave.

While Nany shuffled through the items on her desk, she slowly lifted her head when she noticed movement from outside the window. A large crowd of people had filed in front of the station in wait. 

“Hey, that’s Jenna Rubner,” Nancy said, recognizing an old friend. 

The woman had long red hair, her eyes black as an empty hole. Officers that had once lied dead in front of the entrance, stood drenched in their blood, their throats still slit open.

Joining her at the window, Sam surveyed the situation. “That’s not Jenna anymore.”

“That’s where all that black demon smoke went?”

“Looks like.”

------

Dean and Victor sat alone in one of the offices as they readied their weapons. It was quiet and it was the first time the two had ever been alone.

“Shotgun shells full of salt,” Henriksen chuckled to himself as he loaded the rounds into a shotgun.

“Whatever works.”

“Fighting off monsters with condiments.” Taking off his tie, the agent sighed before resuming his task. “So...turns out demons are real.”

“FYI,” Dean started as he peered up at him from his seat on a nearby chair. “Ghosts are real too. So are werewolves, vampires, changelings, even evil fuckin’ clowns that eat people.”

“Okay then.”

“If it makes you feel better, Bigfoot’s a hoax.” The hunter gave a tight-lipped smile with that same look of ‘I told you so’ that he felt so comfortable shoving in Henriksen’s face.

“It doesn’t.” Loading shells into a belt to pack as much ammo as possible, he asked, “how many demons?”

“Total? No clue...a lot.”

Victor’s face fell as he took a brief moment to think to himself. “You know what my job is?”

“You mean besides locking up the good guys?” Dean cocked his weapon and walked over to his new ally. “I have no idea.”

“My job is boring, it’s frustrating. You work three years for one goddamn break, and then maybe you can save...a few people--maybe. That’s the payoff. I’ve been busting my ass for fifteen years to nail a handful of guys and all this while, there’s something off in the corner so big. So, yeah…sign me up for that big, frosty mug of wasting my fucking life.”

Dean’s expression went softer. “You didn't know.”

“Now I do.” Henriksen paused as he collected more rounds for them to keep working. “What’s out there? Can you guys beat it? Can you win?”

“Honestly? I think the world’s gonna end bloody. But it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swingin’.”

“What about Riley?”

Looking back at the agent, Dean’s brow hooked. “What about her?”

“Well, you got more to go home to than just your brother. You got more to lose.”

“Yeah,” the hunter nodded solemnly. “What about you? You rockin’ the white picket fence?”

“Mm-mm. An empty apartment and a string of angry ex-wives. So, I gotta ask...how does that work for you guys doing all of this?”

“Honestly?” Dean grimaced realizing he never had to answer that question before. “I guess it just does. Ya know, I never imagined being the kind of guy that would ever involved with anyone. I mean, what we do? Getting attached to people doesn’t usually end with anything but blood. But, with her?” Peering through the window into the bullpen, Dean watched Riley comfort Nancy and smiled to himself. “Man, she’s somethin’ else. She’s not just ‘some girl’, ya know? Riley’s my partner, she’s family.”

A loud crash came from nearby and Dean and Henriksen ran into an office across the way. Immediately behind them, Riley and Sam hurried in to help.

The small room’s high window had been shattered and the line of salt was broken. They all stopped at the door with their weapons ready only to see a blonde woman had found her way inside. She was caught in the red devil’s trap painted on the ground with a cut bleeding at her brow line. It was Ruby.

Henriksen pointed his rifle at her. “How do we kill her?”

“We don’t,” Sam said as he lowered the agent’s gun.

“She’s a demon.”

“She’s here to help us.”

Riley rolled her eyes as she and Dean dropped their aim. “So the bitch says.” she feigned a dramatic ‘fuck you’ expression at Ruby.

The demon remained trapped by the window, breathing heavily after the fight to get in. 

Sighing in exasperation, Dean leaned in to whisper into Riley’s ear. “Right there with ya, sweetheart.”

“Are you gonna let me out?” Ruby asked as Sam walked in her direction. 

He knelt down and scratched at the devil’s trap on the floor with his knife, creating a break in the seal. 

“And they say chivalry’s dead. Does anyone have a fucking breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in here.” Ruby marched past everyone and into the main office as they turned to follow her while Sam stayed behind to fix the salt line at the shattered window.

As Dean caught up to the demon, he knew she could give them the answers they needed. “How many are out there?”

“Thirty at least,” Ruby answered as she leaned against a desk to look back at Dean. “That’s so far.”

“Oh, good. Thirty. Thirty hit men all gunning for us. Who sent them?”

Ruby focused her attention on Sam with a cocked head with a shocked face. “You didn’t tell Dean? Did you even tell Riley?” Dean and Riley turned to Sam, perplexed. “Oh, I’m surprised.”

“Tell us what?”

“There’s a big new up and comer--real pied piper.”

With her arms crossed over her chest, Riley shook her head before reaching up to run a hand through her hair. “Who’s the new guy then?”

“Her. Her name is Lilith. And she really, really wants Sam’s intestines on a stick. ‘Cause she sees him as competition. I know she’s just as desperate, if not more so, to get her hands on Riley.” Ruby’s eyes bore into the hunter as she looked her over. “You’re not just competition, you’re the one she wants. With you, Lilith’s got a weapon like nothing else. But, if she can’t have you, her first priority is gonna be to eat you alive before you can go against her.”

Dean scrunched his face in anger as he turned to his brother. “You knew about this?” When Sam didn’t answer and he hung his head, his brother scoffed. “Well, gee, Sam. Is there anything else we should know?!”

“How about you all have your little family meeting later? We’ll need the Colt.” The room went still with the hunters knowing they had lost their most powerful weapon and Ruby snapped at them. “Where’s the Colt?”

Finally having something to say, Sam uttered, “it got stolen.”

“I’m sorry, I must have blood in my ear. I thought I just heard you say that you three were fucking stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your clumsy, idiotic hands.” Pushing herself up, Ruby gritted her teeth as she looked away from them. “Fan-fucking-tastic. This is just peachy…”

“Ruby…”

She raised her hand to stop him from speaking. “Shut the fuck up.” Ruby clenched her jaw as she quickly thought their options over. “Fine. Since I don’t see that there’s no other any option, there’s one other way I know how to get you out of here alive. I know a spell. It’ll vaporize every goddamn demon in a one-mile radius...myself included. So, you let the Colt out of your sight and now I have to die. So, next time, be more careful. How’s that for a dying wish?”

With his gun still in hand, Dean got up from where he sat on the desk nearby. “Okay, what do we need to do?”

“Aww...you can’t do anything. This spell is very specific. It calls for a person of virtue.”

Dean shrugged with a cheesy grin, still favoring his injured arm. “I got virtue.”

“Nice try,” the demon chuckled. “You’re not a virgin.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Nobody’s a virgin.”

Ruby’s eyes flickered from Dean and over to Nancy who looked away from the evil monster staring her down.

“No,” Dean started with utter disbelief. “No way. You’re kidding me. Y--you’re…”

As she fiddled with the silver cross on her neck, Nancy replied, “what? It’s a choice, okay?”

“So, y--you’ve never...not even once? I mean not even--” Stopping himself with wide eyes and a shake of his head, Dean tried to wrap his head around the idea of a young, beautiful girl who had saved herself. “Wow.”

Riley had gone over to Dean and her elbow poked him as she telepathically spoke while trying to hide her growing grin. “Not everyone’s as sexually depraved as we are.”

His tongue shot out over his bottom lip as his eyes met hers. “Oh, sweetheart, we live through this--and I’ll show you depravity.”

She had to fight to stifle the flirty expression that attempted to take over her face.

“So, this spell,” Nancy said eagerly trying to move on from the subject with a hopeful and innocent smile at Ruby. “What can I do?”

“You can hold still…” The sound of Ruby’s heeled boots clacked as she sauntered toward the girl. “While I cut your heart out of your chest.”

“What?”

Immediately, Riley and Dean’s voices overlapped each other as they yelled and stepped forward, the two sharing the same urgency. “What?” “You’re insane.” “We’re not doing that.” “Absolutely not.”

“I’m offering a solution.” Ruby was growing impatient.

Dean dramatically feigned being taken aback and his wide eyes sat on the demon’s face. “You’re offering to fuckin’ kill somebody.”

“And what do you think’s gonna happen to this girl when the demons get in?”

Henriksen, Riley, and Dean continued to argue back and forth with Ruby, shocked, angry and disgusted at the suggestion.

“Excuse me,” the young girl said softly, broken and scared.

“You’re all gonna die.” Ruby retorted to the others. “Look, this is the only way.”

“Ex--excuse me.”

The consistent bickering over it all had tensions growing by the minute and Riley went to stand in front of Nancy as if trying to protect her.

“Would everybody please shut up?!” The room went silent at Nancy’s shouting and everyone’s focus sat on her. “All the people out there...will it save them?”

Riley exhaled heavily. She knew that by telling her the truth, Nancy would sacrifice herself. The hunter had felt her gentle spirit from the moment they had been brought into the station. It made sense to her that the girl was a virgin, she was pure.

“It’ll blow the demons out of their bodies.” The demon had just threatened to butcher Nancy, and yet her tone almost seemed gentle. “So, if their bodies are okay... yeah.”

There was a moment of silence as Nancy paused to think it over. Her nerves grew and her heart raced, but there was no doubt in her mind what her decision would be. 

With her lip trembling, she swallowed. “I’ll do it.”

Riley closed her eyes at the girl’s words trying not to cry as Nancy’s heartfelt emotions and empathy for others rushed over her.

“Hell no!” Henriksen interrupted from off to the side.

“Nancy,” Riley touched her arm and shook her head. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

“All my friends are out there.” Sniffling and still shaking, she stared back at  Riley.

Victor pushed to the center of the room and spoke with conviction. “We don't sacrifice people. We do that, we’re no better than them.” 

Dean peered over to Henriksen and they shared a moment of understanding. Whatever history the two had shared, they were now comrades in the trenches together; brothers in the bloody battle to come.

A cacophony of shouting roared through the space around them, except for Sam, who leaned against the doorway quietly.

“Sam,” Ruby began as she looked to him. “You know I’m right.”

Again, Sam had nothing to say and his eyes fell to the floor.

Smiling slightly in the expectation that Sam would agree with him, Dean’s focus went on his little brother. “Sam?” With no words, Sam’s jaw clenched and Dean raised his voice. “What the fuck is going on? Sam, tell her.”

“It’s my decision.” Still clinging to the peace her necklace brought her, Nancy stood her ground.

A devilish grin and arched eyebrow stared back at her as Ruby encouraged her on. “Damn straight, cherry pie.”

“Stop!” Dean yelled furiously. “Stop! Nobody kill any virgins! Sam, I need to talk to you.” His head motioned forward to Riley letting her know to follow suit. The three walked into the empty hallway to speak privately before Dean spun around to his brother. “Please tell me you’re not actually considering this. We’re talking about holding down a girl and cutting out her fucking heart.

Sam’s brow creased with concern and his voice rose. “And we’re also talking about thirty people out there, Dean. Innocent people who are all gonna die, along with everyone in here.”

“That’s not the point, Sam,” Riley jumped in. “In what world is it okay to slaughter an innocent girl? I’m not letting that demon bitch touch her, you hear me? I won’t surrender my humanity; I refuse to become a monster. I told you I wouldn’t no matter the cost.”

“Then what? What do we do?”

Turning away for a moment, Dean thought to himself and drug his calloused palm down his face before returning to his partners. “I got a plan. I’m not saying it's a good one, I’m not even saying that it’ll work. But it sure as hell beats killing a virgin.”

“Okay, so, what’s the plan?”

Dean and Riley’s eyes met as they shared his thoughts and she nodded with an approving gesture. Without breaking their gaze, Dean answered Sam, “open the doors, let them all in...and we fight like hell.”

------

Not long after, the group had gathered once again in the bullpen. It was quiet as anticipation and worry consumed them. The time to fight was drawing closer, and if any of them were honest, no one was ready.

Sam made his way back to the others after coming out from one of the back rooms. “Got the equipment to work.”

“Good,” Riley replied as she cocked her shotgun.

“This is insane.”

“You win ‘understatement of the year’,” Ruby mocked. “It’s not gonna work.” Using her arms to push herself up from her chair, the demon waved them off. “So long.”

“So, you’re just gonna leave?”

“Hey. I was gonna kill myself to help you win. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you lose.” She inched closer to them and glared back and forth between Riley and Sam. “And I’m disappointed because I tried--I really did. But clearly, I bet on the wrong horses. Do you mind letting me out?”

They lead her to the front doors and Sam crouched to scratch away the paint from another devil’s trap. He then ran his hand over the salt line across the doorway, breaking the barrier.

The demon gave them one last snide look before stepping out into the night.

Through the fogged, bulletproof glass on the entrance, Riley peered outside to see Ruby pull out her knife. She waved it in front of herself as if challenging the rest of the demons. 

They stopped to think it over and made a way for Ruby to pass between them before she disappeared into the night.

“Let’s go.” Gripping her weapon, Riley lead them back as Sam fixed the blockade.

Everyone went to ready themselves in their positions at different spots in the building. Sam waited in the main office as Dean and Henriksen headed to stand at the doors.

Dean passed Riley and he took one of her hands in his as his thumb ran over her skin. “Be careful.”

“You too.” Forcing a smile, Riley touched Dean’s face lovingly before they shared a kiss. 

As they pulled apart, their foreheads came together and their eyes closed as the couple soaked each other in. With Riley’s abilities growing again, the connection they had always had was finding them once more.

In that brief moment, they became one as Dean’s hand held the back of her head. “I love you,” he murmured softly.

“I love you too.”

Dean cleared his throat as a lump grew and he kissed her head. Choking back the fear that they wouldn’t see each other again, they quickly headed to their positions.

Nancy had hidden up on the roof away from the fight with Officer Amici armed to protect her. They had their own parts to play.

With Henriksen, the Winchesters, and Riley at their entrances, Dean called out loudly, “all set?”

“Yeah!” Sam shouted.

Victor nodded nervously to himself. “Ready!”

There was a quick pause and Riley readied her weapon. “Let’s do it!!”

All four broke the salt lines and devil’s traps that protected the doors. One by one, they forced them open and held up their weapons as the dark and foggy night stared back at them.

Henriksen steadied his breathing as the silence nearly deafened him.

Lost in his assumption of where the attack would come from, he was caught off guard as a demon swung down from above. With heavy force, the creature kicked Victor in his chest. He grunted at the impact and his rifle went off echoing through the halls as he fell back onto the ground. 

Henriksen was grabbed by his shirt and yanked from the floor before immediately being shoved back into the wall, drywall falling around him.

The demon grabbed the agent’s throat in an attempt to strangle him as the creature pinned him to the wall.

“God, I hope this works.” Henriksen pulled a flask from his pocket and opened it before splashing holy water on the evil thing holding him hostage.

Groaning in pain, the creature grabbed at its face as its skin sizzled and burned its unclean soul.

The booming sound of fired shots rang through the station as Sam, Dean, and Riley shot at the demons that charged towards them.

As Riley’s barrel went empty, she fumbled to load it again. “Dammit…” she muttered as a possessed vessel rushed at her. 

With the demon inches in front of her, the hunter cocked her shotgun and fired, blowing a hole into its chest. 

Riley panted at the close encounter before more demons began to run in through the doors. She fired round after round as she moved back into the hallways.

Dean and Henriksen bumped into each other as they were pushed further into the station by the coming army. They shared a quick look and hurried to reload. While back to back, they began to fire away, blasting anything that came close.

“Go! Go! Go!” Dean roared out as they both ran in opposite directions down the halls and a hoard of the possessed charged in after them.

Back in the bullpen, Sam was tackled to the ground by a side attack and he was forced into hand-to-hand combat. He was held in a chokehold as another demon came toward him. Sam then bashed the butt of his shotgun with all his might into the monster that held him to set himself free.

A cry came out from nearby. “Sam!” Riley’s boots screeched to a halt once she had a clear shot and she fired. The blast’s smoke blew from the barrel as the she loaded up once again.

Chaos enveloped the station as the four fought for their lives. Glass shattered, the sound of yelling and screams rang through the air, and gunshots fired with abandon nearly piercing their ears.

With all the demons inside, Phil and Nancy rushed at the opportunity to line all of the exits with salt. All the while, Sam, Dean, and Riley had all found their way back into the main office.

They were surrounded and flung holy water in every direction. Demons cried out in pain as their flesh hissed with every splash.

As their canteens ran dry, the hunters watched the hoard closed in on them. 

A single demon walked towards them, her eyes black. She stretched out her arm and her power sent Sam, Dean, and Riley flying against the wall. The crash of their bodies into the solid brick had them gasping in pain.

They looked at each other before Dean shouted at the top of his lungs. “Henriksen, now!”

A recording began to play through the sound system of Sam reciting the exorcism prayer. The demons froze and covered their ears, desperate to protect themselves.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversari, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te, cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis, humiliare sub potenti manu dei…”

As the exorcism continued to air over the loudspeakers, demons flailed and screamed. They began to pound at the doors trying to get out; still the barriers held. 

Black smoke began to shoot from their mouths and the bodies of the possessed people fell to the ground. Their energies converged together, creating a massive cloud of evil that swirled around the ceiling above them.

“Contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomini quem inferi tremunt ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, domine. exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”

An explosion of light, brighter than fire, roared as the evil smoke was destroyed. The hunters squinted their eyes trying to protect themselves from the blast before everything went still. 

Finally free from the demon’s hold Sam, Dean, and Riley slid down the wall to the floor before they began to stumble to their feet, groaning.

Henriksen came into the office and chuckled softly as he wiped the blood from his cut lip.

The electrical power in the building flickered back on as those still living after their possession began to get up.

It was over, for the time being.

------

Henriksen, Riley, and the Winchesters gathered together around a desk as they collected their things. They all carried their own battle wounds, bloodied and bruised. 

People filed out the doors unsure of what had happened and with little to say.

“I better call in. Hell of a story I won’t be telling,” Henriksen joked.

Sam stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. “So, what are you gonna tell them?”

“The least ridiculous lie I can come up within the next five minutes.”

“Good luck with that.” Dean smirked back. “Not to pressure you or anything, but what are you planning to do about us?”

“I’m gonna kill you. Sam and Dean Winchester, and Riley Munroe were in the chopper when it caught on fire--nothing left. Can’t even identify them with dental records.” The three smiled at Victor’s response. “Rest in peace, guys.” 

Sam and Dean took turns shaking the agent’s hand exchanging silent gratitude for each other. Riley cupped his hand into hers with a short squeeze and she nodded at him lovingly. 

“Now get out of here” he told them. 

“Yeah…” Flinging their bag over his shoulder, Sam began to walk toward the entrance. 

Dean’s good arm wrapped around Riley’s waist and pulled her to his side as they followed close behind.

------

Morning peeked over the hills and its light washed away the darkness. The night had finally passed and the hunters sat quietly in reflection in their motel room.

None of them had slept much with their adrenaline still rushing through them. There was guilt that sat with them realizing how many people had been lost in the fray. They knew they had saved as many as they could, but it would never be enough.

A knock on the door broke them from their thoughts and Dean went to open it. 

With her arms crossed over her chest and a disgruntled look on her face, Ruby waltzed in. “Turn on the news.”

Sam picked up the remote that sat on the nightstand beside him and pointed it at the television. 

A reporter was reading the most recent story as video of a horrific scene played out. Firefighters worked to manage the smoking building of the Monument County Sheriff’s office.

“The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago. Authorities believe a gas main ruptured…” 

Dean slowly sat down on the bed next to Riley as they all listened intently. 

“...causing the massive explosion that ripped apart the police station and claimed the lives of everyone inside. Among the deceased, at least six police officers and staff, including sheriff Melvin Dodd, deputy Phil Amici, and secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents, identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen.” 

The pictures of those that Sam, Riley, Dean believed they had saved covered their TV screen. A shocked expression came over Dean as Riley covered her mouth in disbelief. 

“Three fugitives in custody were also killed. We’ll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now, back to you, Jim.”

Taking the remote from its spot near Sam, Ruby shut off the television and looked back at the others with a stern ‘I-told-you-so’ look.

“Must have happened right after we left.” Sam’s saddened gaze fell to the floor.

“Considering the size of the blast...” Ruby paused and tossed three small bags to each of the hunters. “...smart money’s on Lilith.

Dean’s face scrunched with skepticism. “What’s in these?”

“Something that’ll protect you--throw Lilith off your trail...for the time being, at least.”

Sniffling back the urge to cry, Riley turned to face Ruby. “So, what? We’re just supposed to thank you now?”

“Don’t thank me,” the demon bit back angrily as her jaw ticket. “Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little virgin, plus a half a dozen other people. So, after your big speech about humanity, turns out your plan--was the one with the body count.” 

Sam, Dean, and Riley sat quietly feeling that sadly, Ruby was maybe right. 

“Do you know how to run a goddamn battle? You strike fast and you don’t leave any survivors, so no one can go running to tell the boss. So, next time...we go with my plan.” With one final wrathful glare, Ruby stormed away and flung the door open, slamming it hard behind her as she left.

Riley and the Winchesters went still as tears filled their eyes. The room was silent with no one knowing the words to say.

They had tried; they had tried with everything they had to save everyone that they could. The guilt the three were already feeling for the lives they had lost was enough to send them reeling. Still, knowing that no one else made it out alive because of how they decided to handle things, was like a knife to the heart. 

As hunters, their job was to save people, not to watch them die. They had failed in the worst possible way and it cost countless people their lives.

It was moments like that that would always give them pause to wonder if they actually were making a difference--maybe the job hurt more people than it saved. 

Sam, Riley, and Dean were forced to face the fact that they continued to leave death in their wake.

Fear is an expected constant in the lives of those who hunt. But, for those three, their greatest fear was that maybe it was all their fault, and theirs alone.

------

S3 Ch11: Time is on My Side

Tag List is always open!

Wayward Hearts Taglist: @waywardmoeyy @00slayer @adoptdontshoppets @crystallstaircase @salt-n-burn-em-all @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @becs-bunker @squirrelnotsam @fandommaniacx @death-unbecomes-you @themoonandotherslikeit @x-waywardaf-x @flamencodiva @aaspiringhero @gemini0410 @love-nakamura @klinenovakwinchester @cemmia @deans-baby-momma @paintballkid711 @da5haexowin @a-manduhhhhh @winchestergirl82 @spnbaby-67 @sandycub @bunnybaby121115 @erins-culinary-service @lauravic @moonxdance @knights0fkylo @panicatthewestwing @screechingartisancashbailiff @wiredandwayward @the-children-of-the-stars @rosey1981 @mylovelydame21 @titty-teetee 

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #series #series rewrite #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite #dean winchester #sam winchester #ofc #oc #dean #sam #sam and dean #sam and dean winchester #family #chapter #gif #new #spn fandom #masterlist #wayward hearts #dean x oc

[bountyofbeads]

Inmate 76318-054: The Last Days of Jeffrey Epstein

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/17/nyregion/epstein-suicide-death.html

Inmate 76318-054: The Last Days of Jeffrey Epstein

The notorious jail in Manhattan was a sharp departure from his formerly gilded life. Here’s what happened inside.

By Ali Watkins, Danielle Ivory and Christina Goldbaum | Published August 17, 2019 12:04 PM ET | New York Times | Posted August 17, 2019 12:46 PM ET |

Jeffrey Epstein, inmate 76318-054, hated his cell at the Metropolitan Correctional Center. It was cramped, dank and infested with vermin, so Mr. Epstein, long accustomed to using his wealth to play by his own rules, devised a way out.

He paid numerous lawyers to visit the jail for as many as 12 hours a day, giving him the right to see them in a private meeting room. Mr. Epstein was there for so long that he often appeared bored, sitting in silence with his lawyers, according to people who saw the meetings. While they were there, he and his entourage regularly emptied the two vending machines of drinks and snacks.

“It was shift work, all designed by someone who had infinite resources to try and get as much comfort as possible,” said a lawyer who was often in the jail visiting clients.

Outside the meeting room, Mr. Epstein mounted a strategy to avoid being preyed upon by other inmates: He deposited money in their commissary accounts, according to a consultant who is often in the jail and speaks regularly with inmates there.

The jail was a sharp departure from his formerly gilded life, which had included a private island in the Caribbean, a $56 million Manhattan mansion and a network of rich and powerful friends.

But in his final days, Mr. Epstein’s efforts to lessen the misery of incarceration seemed to be faltering.

He was seldom bathing, his hair and beard were unkempt and he was sleeping on the floor of his cell instead of on his bunk bed, according to people at the jail.

Still, he convinced the jail’s leadership that he was not a threat to himself, even though an inquiry was already underway into whether he had tried to commit suicide on July 23. The federal jail was so poorly managed and chronically short-staffed that workers who were not correctional officers were regularly pressed into guard duty.

On Aug. 9, lawyers crowded into the plastic chairs in the meeting room with Mr. Epstein as the world was riveted by news that a court had released a cache of previously sealed documents, providing disturbing details about the sex trafficking accusations against him.

A few hours later, on the overnight shift, only 18 workers were guarding a jail with roughly 750 inmates, according to records released by the Bureau of Prisons. Ten of the workers were on overtime.

One post was actually vacant, the records show.

On 9 South, the special unit where Mr. Epstein was housed, there were two guards, one of whom was a former correctional officer who had volunteered for duty.

The two guards were supposed to check on Mr. Epstein every 30 minutes, but failed to do so for about three hours. At some point, the guards fell asleep, according to two Bureau of Prisons officials.

By the next morning, Mr. Epstein, 66, was dead. At 6:30 a.m., at least one of the guards discovered him in his cell, unresponsive and tinged blue, after he had hanged himself with a jail bedsheet, a prison official and a law enforcement official said.

A worker hit an alarm he was carrying to alert the jail that there was an emergency, according to one prison official.

Radios called out, “Body alarm on South, body alarm on South.”

Staff cut the bedsheet holding Mr. Epstein and tried to administer CPR, according to two prison officials. But an hour later he was pronounced dead.

It is impossible to know why a person takes his own life. But an examination of Mr. Epstein’s last days by The New York Times, gathered from dozens of interviews with law enforcement officials, Bureau of Prisons employees, lawyers and others, suggests that Mr. Epstein’s death came after he started to realize the limits of his ability to deploy his wealth and privilege in the legal system.

The people who described their interactions with Mr. Epstein and the conditions in the jail almost all spoke only on condition of anonymity, in large part because Epstein’s death is now the subject of at least two major federal inquiries into the failure to closely monitor such a high-profile prisoner.

Mr. Epstein’s lawyers have not responded to questions about his time at the jail or whether they believe that he was not properly monitored. After his suicide, they issued a short statement.

“No one should die in jail,” they said.

Fearing Jail, Seeking A Way Out

Jeffrey Epstein feared life behind bars, according to people who knew him.

A few years ago, on the second floor of his Upper East Side mansion, he had a mural painted that shows a photorealistic prison scene, with barbed wire, correction officers and a guard station. Mr. Epstein himself is portrayed in the middle, and he told a visitor earlier this year that he wanted the mural to remind him of what could await him if he was not careful.

Mr. Epstein had successfully used his wealth to skirt punitive conditions in his 2008 brush with authorities in Florida, when his team of elite lawyers  negotiated a much-criticized deal with federal prosecutors to allow him to plead guilty to state charges of soliciting a minor for prostitution. In return, Mr. Epstein was shielded from federal sex-trafficking charges.

He served 13 months at the Palm Beach County stockade and was allowed to leave custody and work out of an office six days a week.

But this time was different.

After Mr. Epstein was arrested on July 6 on a new federal indictment, he ended up in a cell in the special housing unit in the Metropolitan Correctional Center, a rust-colored fortress in Lower Manhattan where many of the inmates are awaiting trial on federal charges.

The jail has often held high-profile prisoners. Joaquín Guzmán Loera, the drug lord known as El Chapo, was housed there after two escapes from high-security Mexican prisons. Other inmates have included Bernard L. Madoff, who masterminded a multibillion-dollar Ponzi scheme.

It is notorious for miserable conditions, particularly in the higher-security units. Mr. Guzmán and the mob boss John Gotti, who were housed in the most secure wing, often complained (garnering little sympathy in response).

The staffing problems at the jail are emblematic of a larger shortage of correctional officers in federal jails and prisons across the country.

These facilities have been dealing with rising levels of violence and other safety problems as the Trump administration has curtailed hiring in its quest to shrink the government, according to an investigation by The New York Times last year.

Some prisons have been so pressed for guards that they have forced teachers, nurses, cooks and other support staff to step in. That can lead to security risks because the substitute workers are often less familiar with the inmate population than the regular guards and can miss cues indicating that trouble is brewing, The Times investigation found.

The wing where Mr. Epstein was housed, 9 South, is the less restrictive of the jail’s two most secure units, holding dozens of inmates, usually in groups of two in small cells.

There, he was allowed one hour of recreation per day and could shower every two to three days, according to prison officials. Aside from meetings with lawyers, his contact with the outside world was severely limited.

Beyond its isolation, the wing is infested with rodents and cockroaches, and inmates often have to navigate standing water — as well as urine and fecal matter — that spills from faulty plumbing, accounts from former inmates and lawyers said.

One lawyer said mice often eat his clients’ papers.

Mr. Epstein tried desperately to ingratiate himself with fellow inmates, the consultant who had spoken with inmates said. He had heard from two inmates that Mr. Epstein transferred money into at least three other inmates’ commissary accounts — an exercise often used in the jail to buy protection.

It was clear early on that Mr. Epstein was desperate to leave 9 South.

After his arrest, he asked a judge to release him on a substantial bond, pledging to put up his Manhattan mansion and his jet as collateral. He would hire round-the-clock security guards, he said, who would “virtually guarantee” that he would not flee.

The judge denied the request on July 18, and Mr. Epstein stayed in 9 South.

The Possible Suicide Attempt

Five days later, Mr. Epstein was found unconscious in his cell, with marks on his neck.

His cellmate, Nicholas Tartaglione, a former suburban New York police officer accused of a quadruple homicide, summoned guards, and Mr. Epstein was revived, according to Mr. Tartaglione’s lawyer, Bruce Barket.

Prison officials investigated the incident as a suicide attempt, and Mr. Epstein was removed from 9 South and placed in the jail’s suicide prevention program.

Some workers and inmates were skeptical, according to prison officials and people who spoke with inmates in the wing. They questioned whether Mr. Epstein was faking his injury to gain sympathy from Judge Richard M. Berman, who was presiding over his case.

That skepticism grew when Mr. Epstein accused Mr. Tartaglione of assaulting him, an allegation Mr. Tartaglione denied and some guards doubted.

A prison official said that within the facility, Mr. Epstein’s story was seen as an attempt to avoid being put on suicide watch.

The jail’s warden, Lamine N’Diaye, told Judge Berman in a letter that the jail conducted an internal investigation into the July 23 incident, but did not say what the outcome of that investigation was. (Mr. N’Diaye was transferred out of the jail on Tuesday pending the investigation into Mr. Epstein’s death.)

The few comforts Mr. Epstein once had in 9 South disappeared on suicide watch.

Inmates there are housed alone in solitary rooms, naked except for a thick, heavy smock. Lights can be dimmed, but never turned off, and there are no bedsheets or materials that could be used for self-harm.

According to Bureau of Prisons policies, Mr. Epstein would have met on a daily basis with psychologists.

Six days later, on July 29, he was taken off suicide watch and returned to 9 South.

In the wake of his death, the decision by the jail’s leadership to end the suicide watch has sparked criticism from elected officials and some mental health professionals.

“Any case where someone had a proven or suspected serious suicide attempt, that would be unusual to within two to three weeks take them off suicide watch,” said Dr. Ziv Cohen, a forensic psychiatrist who frequently evaluates inmates at the Metropolitan Correctional Center.

But six current and former prison officials said it was not uncommon for an inmate to be taken off suicide watch after only a few days.

Mr. Epstein’s own lawyers believed that he was fine and lobbied to have him taken off suicide watch, according to someone familiar with the negotiations.

Suicide And Aftermath

Three days after Mr. Epstein was formally removed from the 24-hour suicide watch, he received a visit from David Schoen, a lawyer whom he had consulted periodically over more than a decade.

Mr. Schoen said Mr. Epstein had sought the meeting through another lawyer and indicated to Mr. Schoen that he wanted him to join his legal team.

They conferred in the meeting room for roughly five hours, talking about legal issues and the case.

At one point, a therapist at the jail stopped by and asked Mr. Schoen to leave the room because she had to meet privately with Mr. Epstein.

The therapist told Mr. Schoen that her visit was part of the suicide protocol.

Mr. Epstein “said he was fine with it,” Mr. Schoen said. “She stayed max five minutes.”

When the session was finished, Mr. Schoen said he joked with Mr. Epstein and the therapist about how short it had been.

Mr. Schoen said that by the time the meeting ended, Mr. Epstein seemed excited about their working together on the case.

“One thing I can say for sure is when I left him he was very, very upbeat,” said Mr. Schoen, who never had the chance to join the team.

But in the days that followed, Mr. Epstein started appearing more haggard, according to lawyers and prison staff.

“He’s deprived of communication with third parties, looked disheveled, sleeping on the floor sometimes,” a lawyer said.

And Mr. Epstein’s penchant for meetings stretched an already thin staff to its limits. As an inmate in 9 South, Mr. Epstein required additional guards to take him to and from meeting rooms. He took frequent bathroom breaks, requiring guards to escort him.

Mr. Epstein spent his last day in 9 South the same way he spent nearly every other: sitting for hours with his lawyers. They had arrived early, according to a lawyer who visited the secure client meeting rooms that day, and Mr. Epstein was seen there until at least late afternoon.

Overnight, the two guards in 9 South should have checked on Mr. Epstein every 30 minutes, but they stopped around 3:30 a.m. Two prison officials said they fell asleep.

Both staff members were working overtime. One had volunteered, having already worked several tours of overtime that week. The other had been forced to work a 16-hour double shift. A prison official and a law enforcement official said the two guards falsified records to make it look like they had checked in on Mr. Epstein.

Mr. Epstein was housed in one of a handful of cells in 9 South where inmates could peer out of their small windows and down onto the staff members stationed at the guard desk, according to a prison official. He might have been able to see whether the guards were asleep, the official said.

The official autopsy results, announced by the medical examiner on Friday, showed that the cause of death was suicide by hanging. But that finding seemed to do little to quell the mystery of how Mr. Epstein was allowed to remain unsupervised on the night he killed himself.

The medical examiner’s findings did not placate Mr. Epstein’s lawyers.

“The defense team fully intends to conduct its own independent and complete investigation into the circumstances and cause of Mr. Epstein’s death,” they said in a statement. “We are not satisfied with the conclusions of the medical examiner.”

Days after Mr. Epstein’s body was found, there was little inside the jail to indicate the havoc his life — and death — had wrought. In 9 South, his cell remained unoccupied, but a flurry of lawyers representing other inmates rotated in and out of the meeting room he had only recently stopped using.

By late in the week, there was one small difference: The vending machines were full again.

Susan C. Beachy, Katie Benner, William K. Rashbaum, Ashley Southall and Benjamin Weiser contributed reporting.

#us politics #politics #u. s. politics #u.s. news #u.s. department of justice #u.s. politics #justicedept #justice department #united states department of justice #epstein case #jeffrey epstein #sex trafficking #sex crimes