Post by Deleted on Sept 9, 2019 22:43:41 GMT -6
PART ONE
September 11th, 2001 changed the city of New York, and the world, forever. Almost three thousand people lost their lives that day, another six thousand injured. And millions of lives altered to this very day. One of the casualties of that day was Lt. Stewart Lancaster.
My father.
I remember the day so vividly. My father’s usual partner, Lt. Jeremy Stevens, was on holidays that week, and he was training a newer officer that week. Lancaster and Stevens were childhood friends, went through the Academy together, graduated together, and eventually became partners. They were each the best man to the others’ weddings. My siblings were Jeremy’s children, as I was an only child. We all got together every Sunday for dinner. They were true brothers, not just in blue. However, on that day, my father was with another officer, a probie PO, Shane Gladstone. Sadly neither of them would make it home that day.
Jeremy drove home the day of the attacks when he got the call, the department called back all officers to assist. Jeremy was the one who told my mother what happened, and it devastated her which was expected. I was eleven, and the family tried to shield me from as much as they could, but being precocious as I was, am, I needed to be involved in as much as I could. Aunt Jenny, Jeremy’s wife, had left him months back and this holiday was a gift from his brother as celebration of the separation. With the news, the celebration was short-lived, and our small Brooklyn home of three ended up with five living under one roof.
My father and Jeremy had made a pact in the force, that if anything happened to either of them, the other would take care of the fallen’s family. And Jeremy stepped up as best he could. My mother fell ill within six months, due to depression. I was to take care of the younger children, while I myself hurt badly. I became the woman of the house at the age of 12 and did my best for my siblings.
Through a program funded at all three government levels, my mother and I received a large compensation, though won't disclose the amount. I also received a scholarship and a free ride through the Academy should I wish to become a police officer myself. I was a fixture at the precinct when my father was there.
Another place we frequented often was Madison Square Garden. My father and Jeremy were died in the wool Rangers fans, and even bigger fans of Mark Messier. They even drove car 11 in honor of Messier. We'd go to the games when we could, or sometimes if Jeremy scored tickets for wrestling shoes, he'd take me. I was a wrestling fan all my life, something my father never understood, but whenever Jeremy would score tickets, I was along for the trip. I love the physicality and theatre of it all, and would tell Jeremy every time that one day I'd be in that ring.
By 2004, my mother was in and out of rehab, spending her share of the insurance money, while mine was placed in a trust account until I was 18. It hurt watching my mother fall. She was such a strong woman. Agata Morielaz was the dynamo of her family. Business-savvy, very intelligent. She headed up the marketing department at MSG when she and my father met in 1988. Within two years, they were married and I was brought into the world December 16th, 1990 after a very difficult pregnancy that turned my mother off from ever having more children. Now, seeing her fourteen years later, almost an invalid at 35 tore at me. The state requested I live with Jeremy in Queens, and for the next few years, I separated my time between the two, while keeping my studies up to be eligible for the scholarship that awaited me.
In 2008, I went away to NYU in the Police Sciences program. I had wanted to work crime scenes since I was small. Sometimes my father would bring home cases, and while he didn't let me, I'd review them, look at photos and try to find clues or question the smallest things. Sometimes it actually helped him solve cases, but he would have to take the credit himself for legal reasons, but at home, I was Sleuth. In college, I was a top student, and after graduation two years later, went into the Academy myself.
The training in the Academy was extensive. They don’t fuck around. I met all the physical requirements, but my strengths were in the laboratory. The grunt work after the street, so they continued my training in that field. When I graduated in 2012, I got accepted into the same department my father had been. Some of the old guard were there, some I hadn’t seen in eleven years, and they helped me transition into my new role. I hadn’t realized how many cold cases there were. We had a few on our team and that was what we did. We evaluated cases, looked at what, if any, new leads came in. We ran new tests if samples allowed. Went over witness statements. Sometimes we were called to review cases we thought were solved, if there was a possibility of wrongful conviction. It was not a glorious job, but I enjoyed it.
In my first year, we dropped our cold case backlog by a quarter. After four years, that number was up to close to eighty percent. We had also successfully overturned convictions of some two dozen people in that time. By early 2017, I had been recruited to head up the same department, but for the California Department of Justice. It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up, and so with my own department handled wonderfully, I was off to San Diego.
My new department had twice the employees under me, but with less results being churned out. In six months, I turned that entire department around. However, in all the cases we worked on, there were two that eluded me. They weren’t cold cases, both were closed, and nobody was actively working them. As a hobby, I would read old cases, and challenge myself to see if I would have solved it the same way. Initially, the cases were not connected, but upon reading them, I started seeing discrepancies that I couldn’t ignore.
The cases of Serah Karin & Jasmine Matthews.
In our department, whenever we worked a case, we would have no issues requesting new testing, or permission to explore a case further. However, I was hitting roadblock upon roadblock. Was told the cases were closed, to leave it alone. There was something to these cases I could not let go, so against the DoJ’s wishes, I started working the case myself. And first thing I felt I had to do was track her down. Which ended up being easier than expected.
She was a wrestler. And a damn good one. So I sought her out. Initially it was to interview her, but that posed its own challenges as she refused to talk about it in a way I could use. However, her anger made it obvious to me how she felt about her situation. Over time, I thought we had built a bit of a foundation, a bit of a friendship. I got attached to her, she had nobody outside of a couple who gave her lip service and nothing more. I was the one in the trenches with her.at the beginning. History will say I abandoned her, but that was never the case.
Truth be told, I can count on one hand the people I ever gave my heart to, and the woman we know now as Jasmine is one.
During my time with her, there were theories floating around about Serah’s true identity. I watched as the theories hurt her, and yet, I was doing the same thing behind her back, trying to find answers to those very questions. When Jessica Sears took up the mantle to try to solve this mystery, I fed her some information to start her off. The high school. I sent her whatever information I could, and as the investigation picked up, I was found responsible for the leak, and I was fired. At the same time, what I felt should have been Serah and I alone against the world turned into The Collective. Not the situation I wished for, but by then, I was investing myself into her happiness, and went with it.
Around this same time, I met a drummer in New York named Alexandra Pellegrini. Beautiful, talented, it was a nice reason to return home. I wasn’t thinking anything long-term, she was a friend I thought was cool. I was satisfied in The Collective and falling into my role, until another fateful day that would change my life.
December 10th, 2018, I got a call from my mother about a financial matter. This is also when I learned a dark secret I was not aware of. I knew my mother had cleaned herself up lately, but wasn’t aware of her finances. At 18, I rolled over my insurance claim into investments as I was doing okay without it during school and my job. I found out an ex of hers had somehow got a hold of both halves of the insurance and was refusing to relinquish the money. I was on the way to New York to get to the bottom of things when I was contacted my Lexa’s roommate, Loti, that Lexa was in trouble.
The financial mess would have to wait.
I managed to contact Lexa when I arrived in Jersey and found her at her local watering hole and band practice bar, Jonesy’s. After a bit of convincing, I got her home and stayed with her, taking care of her. From our first meeting, I felt a connection with her, and now in this situation, I knew I couldn’t be anywhere else. I started to find a way to have her join The Collective, under the guise if Serah can be with others beside me, surely I could do the same. As luck would have it, Serah didn’t see things the same way, and had turned The Collective against me, saying I betrayed them by being with somebody else. While I was hurt by this, I was more hurt by trying to almost recruit somebody into something that wouldn’t be for her. While outwardly, I rebelled against Serah, in truth, I started to feel true freedom.
The following day, while others took care of Lexa, I tracked down the ex, a man named Dustin, and used a piece of blackmail to reclaim our money. Dustin had raped me while I was in college, and I had never spoke of it to anyone. When I learned he was the one who had control of the money, I used the fact that I had never reported the rape and would continue to keep it quiet with his cooperation. He understood, and within a day, the money was transferred to me and my mother.
So, here I was, back in New York, homeless yet free. My mother told me that Jeremy had passed away while I was in California from chronic alcohol poisoning. I had already been using the Stevens name as my wrestling persona, and decided to keep it, and have since changed my name legally. Lexa and I agreed to make a go of things since the day I rescued her from Jonesy’s, and as someone who had grown a resentment of children since I stopped caring for my Stevens siblings years ago, I’m now a proud mother of sorts to Lexa’s son, J. He’s my little buddy and sweets thief. I love them both fiercely. There was no way I could leave New York again.
Or so I thought.
December 15th, not long after I moved in down the hall from Lexa, I was recruited yet again. I became a Prospect of the Shieldmaidens Motorcycle Club. The reaction was mixed as it started to leak out. I abandoned one group to join another. The Maidens saw differently and allowed me and mine in their ranks. When our Sister Ophelia was taken, I was one of the first ready to fight for her return, and did my part to assist. No hesitation, no thought of my own physical well-being. My family was in trouble, and I stood up to fight. That act of selflessness earned me full member status and for that, I cannot be more proud.
I am bound to my family, and will protect them at all cost.
September 11th, 2001 changed the city of New York, and the world, forever. Almost three thousand people lost their lives that day, another six thousand injured. And millions of lives altered to this very day. One of the casualties of that day was Lt. Stewart Lancaster.
My father.
I remember the day so vividly. My father’s usual partner, Lt. Jeremy Stevens, was on holidays that week, and he was training a newer officer that week. Lancaster and Stevens were childhood friends, went through the Academy together, graduated together, and eventually became partners. They were each the best man to the others’ weddings. My siblings were Jeremy’s children, as I was an only child. We all got together every Sunday for dinner. They were true brothers, not just in blue. However, on that day, my father was with another officer, a probie PO, Shane Gladstone. Sadly neither of them would make it home that day.
Jeremy drove home the day of the attacks when he got the call, the department called back all officers to assist. Jeremy was the one who told my mother what happened, and it devastated her which was expected. I was eleven, and the family tried to shield me from as much as they could, but being precocious as I was, am, I needed to be involved in as much as I could. Aunt Jenny, Jeremy’s wife, had left him months back and this holiday was a gift from his brother as celebration of the separation. With the news, the celebration was short-lived, and our small Brooklyn home of three ended up with five living under one roof.
My father and Jeremy had made a pact in the force, that if anything happened to either of them, the other would take care of the fallen’s family. And Jeremy stepped up as best he could. My mother fell ill within six months, due to depression. I was to take care of the younger children, while I myself hurt badly. I became the woman of the house at the age of 12 and did my best for my siblings.
Through a program funded at all three government levels, my mother and I received a large compensation, though won't disclose the amount. I also received a scholarship and a free ride through the Academy should I wish to become a police officer myself. I was a fixture at the precinct when my father was there.
Another place we frequented often was Madison Square Garden. My father and Jeremy were died in the wool Rangers fans, and even bigger fans of Mark Messier. They even drove car 11 in honor of Messier. We'd go to the games when we could, or sometimes if Jeremy scored tickets for wrestling shoes, he'd take me. I was a wrestling fan all my life, something my father never understood, but whenever Jeremy would score tickets, I was along for the trip. I love the physicality and theatre of it all, and would tell Jeremy every time that one day I'd be in that ring.
By 2004, my mother was in and out of rehab, spending her share of the insurance money, while mine was placed in a trust account until I was 18. It hurt watching my mother fall. She was such a strong woman. Agata Morielaz was the dynamo of her family. Business-savvy, very intelligent. She headed up the marketing department at MSG when she and my father met in 1988. Within two years, they were married and I was brought into the world December 16th, 1990 after a very difficult pregnancy that turned my mother off from ever having more children. Now, seeing her fourteen years later, almost an invalid at 35 tore at me. The state requested I live with Jeremy in Queens, and for the next few years, I separated my time between the two, while keeping my studies up to be eligible for the scholarship that awaited me.
In 2008, I went away to NYU in the Police Sciences program. I had wanted to work crime scenes since I was small. Sometimes my father would bring home cases, and while he didn't let me, I'd review them, look at photos and try to find clues or question the smallest things. Sometimes it actually helped him solve cases, but he would have to take the credit himself for legal reasons, but at home, I was Sleuth. In college, I was a top student, and after graduation two years later, went into the Academy myself.
The training in the Academy was extensive. They don’t fuck around. I met all the physical requirements, but my strengths were in the laboratory. The grunt work after the street, so they continued my training in that field. When I graduated in 2012, I got accepted into the same department my father had been. Some of the old guard were there, some I hadn’t seen in eleven years, and they helped me transition into my new role. I hadn’t realized how many cold cases there were. We had a few on our team and that was what we did. We evaluated cases, looked at what, if any, new leads came in. We ran new tests if samples allowed. Went over witness statements. Sometimes we were called to review cases we thought were solved, if there was a possibility of wrongful conviction. It was not a glorious job, but I enjoyed it.
In my first year, we dropped our cold case backlog by a quarter. After four years, that number was up to close to eighty percent. We had also successfully overturned convictions of some two dozen people in that time. By early 2017, I had been recruited to head up the same department, but for the California Department of Justice. It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up, and so with my own department handled wonderfully, I was off to San Diego.
My new department had twice the employees under me, but with less results being churned out. In six months, I turned that entire department around. However, in all the cases we worked on, there were two that eluded me. They weren’t cold cases, both were closed, and nobody was actively working them. As a hobby, I would read old cases, and challenge myself to see if I would have solved it the same way. Initially, the cases were not connected, but upon reading them, I started seeing discrepancies that I couldn’t ignore.
The cases of Serah Karin & Jasmine Matthews.
In our department, whenever we worked a case, we would have no issues requesting new testing, or permission to explore a case further. However, I was hitting roadblock upon roadblock. Was told the cases were closed, to leave it alone. There was something to these cases I could not let go, so against the DoJ’s wishes, I started working the case myself. And first thing I felt I had to do was track her down. Which ended up being easier than expected.
She was a wrestler. And a damn good one. So I sought her out. Initially it was to interview her, but that posed its own challenges as she refused to talk about it in a way I could use. However, her anger made it obvious to me how she felt about her situation. Over time, I thought we had built a bit of a foundation, a bit of a friendship. I got attached to her, she had nobody outside of a couple who gave her lip service and nothing more. I was the one in the trenches with her.at the beginning. History will say I abandoned her, but that was never the case.
Truth be told, I can count on one hand the people I ever gave my heart to, and the woman we know now as Jasmine is one.
During my time with her, there were theories floating around about Serah’s true identity. I watched as the theories hurt her, and yet, I was doing the same thing behind her back, trying to find answers to those very questions. When Jessica Sears took up the mantle to try to solve this mystery, I fed her some information to start her off. The high school. I sent her whatever information I could, and as the investigation picked up, I was found responsible for the leak, and I was fired. At the same time, what I felt should have been Serah and I alone against the world turned into The Collective. Not the situation I wished for, but by then, I was investing myself into her happiness, and went with it.
Around this same time, I met a drummer in New York named Alexandra Pellegrini. Beautiful, talented, it was a nice reason to return home. I wasn’t thinking anything long-term, she was a friend I thought was cool. I was satisfied in The Collective and falling into my role, until another fateful day that would change my life.
December 10th, 2018, I got a call from my mother about a financial matter. This is also when I learned a dark secret I was not aware of. I knew my mother had cleaned herself up lately, but wasn’t aware of her finances. At 18, I rolled over my insurance claim into investments as I was doing okay without it during school and my job. I found out an ex of hers had somehow got a hold of both halves of the insurance and was refusing to relinquish the money. I was on the way to New York to get to the bottom of things when I was contacted my Lexa’s roommate, Loti, that Lexa was in trouble.
The financial mess would have to wait.
I managed to contact Lexa when I arrived in Jersey and found her at her local watering hole and band practice bar, Jonesy’s. After a bit of convincing, I got her home and stayed with her, taking care of her. From our first meeting, I felt a connection with her, and now in this situation, I knew I couldn’t be anywhere else. I started to find a way to have her join The Collective, under the guise if Serah can be with others beside me, surely I could do the same. As luck would have it, Serah didn’t see things the same way, and had turned The Collective against me, saying I betrayed them by being with somebody else. While I was hurt by this, I was more hurt by trying to almost recruit somebody into something that wouldn’t be for her. While outwardly, I rebelled against Serah, in truth, I started to feel true freedom.
The following day, while others took care of Lexa, I tracked down the ex, a man named Dustin, and used a piece of blackmail to reclaim our money. Dustin had raped me while I was in college, and I had never spoke of it to anyone. When I learned he was the one who had control of the money, I used the fact that I had never reported the rape and would continue to keep it quiet with his cooperation. He understood, and within a day, the money was transferred to me and my mother.
So, here I was, back in New York, homeless yet free. My mother told me that Jeremy had passed away while I was in California from chronic alcohol poisoning. I had already been using the Stevens name as my wrestling persona, and decided to keep it, and have since changed my name legally. Lexa and I agreed to make a go of things since the day I rescued her from Jonesy’s, and as someone who had grown a resentment of children since I stopped caring for my Stevens siblings years ago, I’m now a proud mother of sorts to Lexa’s son, J. He’s my little buddy and sweets thief. I love them both fiercely. There was no way I could leave New York again.
Or so I thought.
December 15th, not long after I moved in down the hall from Lexa, I was recruited yet again. I became a Prospect of the Shieldmaidens Motorcycle Club. The reaction was mixed as it started to leak out. I abandoned one group to join another. The Maidens saw differently and allowed me and mine in their ranks. When our Sister Ophelia was taken, I was one of the first ready to fight for her return, and did my part to assist. No hesitation, no thought of my own physical well-being. My family was in trouble, and I stood up to fight. That act of selflessness earned me full member status and for that, I cannot be more proud.
I am bound to my family, and will protect them at all cost.
