4 and a half years

Great, here we go again, the same monotonous routine day in, day out for the past 4 and a half years. Protection. That's what they told me, yeah and I'm the Queen Of England. I knew when I took this case, that it would be frustrating yet rewarding once i finished, but right now finishing this, it feels like maybe just maybe it might not end for another lifetime.

Sitting here now, staring at the same 10 by 5 inch screen, waiting for something that would be even remotely interesting to happen, so I can break the routine of staring at nothing for the next 6 hours. Then again the mafia works in mysterious ways, even me, someone who has had connections from birth, still has trouble understanding how they make people do a Houdini and still manage to get away with it Scott free, then again they are notorious for leaving no evidence, no bodies and no witnesses behind.

As I said before, 4 and a half years have passed since I have properly seen my city, my castle, my home. see the thing is they made me give up everything and I gained nothing in return. I was supposed to make history and look where I am now, in the back of a transit van staring at one of the smallest TV screens I have ever seen and that in itself should be a crime.

I gave up my home, my friends and my family to honour a dying man's wish. Now I know I could never have disregarded those words so, softly spoken that if I had not complied I would have been afraid to sleep for fear of them repeating like a mantra over and over in my head, disrupting my sleep and continuing into my waking moments also.

15 years old. 15 and he had to witness something that up until 2 years prior to this nightmare, well I wouldn't say nightmare more like, ongoing catastrophe. How would you feel and think if you had to watch your mother be raped and killed, your younger sister be raped and killed and your father tortured for information on case that could have destroyed half the Italian Mafia in Little Italy in swift hit? Could you really say that you wouldn't come out of that ordeal and not feel the slightest bit changed and if not then I suggest you take a step back and reevaluate your life.

Frank Shields was his name; a man of great loyalty and one of the bravest men I will probably have the pleasure to serve with. Frank was one of those men who would stand for nothing, except you everything and if you gave less, well lets just say he let you know. He took me on when I was fresh out of the academy, a rookie in every sense of the word, he taught me all I needed to know about surviving the streets.

I can still remember the exact time when i lost the only worthy father figure I ever had. I can remember the exact place and how it smelt. I was sat in a diner on the west side of town, nursing my 3rd cup of coffee that day. Then the words that every officer past, present and future will always fear as you can never know if it is someone you know who is injured of if they would never be going back to the people who loved them.

"Officer Down"

I don't remember how i managed to navigate my way out of the city and into the suburbs, but next thing I know is that I'm stood in the doorway of the home of Frank and his small but humble and caring family, which at this point had as one of their own. There was so much blood and the air smelt of death and decay already. Tears ran unchecked down y cheek as I stare at the wreckage that once was a peaceful and beautiful home.

Next thing I'm aware of is that I'm being pushed out of the way as the EMT's arrive on scene to check for any survivors. 10 minutes later and still stood rooted to that same spot, when the EMT's rush by me, with a body on a stretcher. A hand grabbed mine as they tried to get through the doorway, but hey were met with the firm resistance of that hand grabbing mine.

Using what little strength he had left Frank pulled me down just enough to whisper "Watch over Jamie for me", into my ear before he was whisked away by the frantic looking EMT's.

Hearing his voice, even though I knew it was to be for the last time must have jolted me into awareness of the situation. Glancing around the room I noted that there were only 2 bodies left in the home. informing the first officer on scene about my observations, but all I got from him was a look of pure contempt and disgust, which I had no idea what for, although lately I had learned to just ignore them and concentrate on my work.

So I set about searching the house for the lost teenager, that I just knew was hiding in the house.After going over the downstairs with a fine tooth comb to make sure I had left no where untouched. Hearing a sound of what at eh time sounded like footsteps from the floor above me, made me fall back on my training, Glock in hand, trained in front of me, slowly I made my way upstairs sweeping each room I came across.

Calling out for Jamie, as I had finished the initial sweep of the floor. Once again I heard the soft echo of footsteps so I turned around only to be greeted by the sight of a broken and defeated child who looked so small and vulnerable standing there with tears running down his cheeks, not much unlike my own from earlier. Before I had time to react to his appearance I was pounced on by the distressed teenager. Under his weight we slowly sunk to the ground where we stayed seated for about an hour, crying out all our fears and grief at the loss f family.

Those events I don't think will leave me and I hope that I won't ever forget what that man and his family made me. They changed me from a kid with attitude, as Frank liked to put it, into the Woman I am today and for that I couldn't thank him enough.

So that's how I ended up here in another country, city and time altogether. I miss what used to be mine. Death was the only way in which I could undertake this case and see it through without too much resistance from the powers that be.

My Captain and I concocted a plan in which I would be fired and then about 4 months later it would be organised for cops to find 'My Body' in a back alley not too far from my apartment.

Going to your own funeral is a bit of a surreal experience, though I knew I had to be done. Seeing my Mother crying and my Father sat on the pew next to her, with the same stony expression that you would only see on the face of a grieving Father, but there was something in his eye, something that I couldn't explain, yet I knew would be the cause of hell, knowing that he would put the Detectives on my 'case' through the doors of hell into the fire pits before he would let up and allow them to do their jobs, but knowing my Father he would have let the Detectives job their jobs and then when they knew who killed me he would have hired someone to kill them.

4 and a half years and things haven't really changed for me except that, I have less time to sleep and more time to sit and think over everything I have done and how I could have done things differently. Jamie's now 19 and is finishing up his first year at Oxford, smart kid that one. Though once in a while you can se just how deeply he is still affected by the traumatic experience of his earlier life. Then there are others times when he just glows with happiness and I can tell that he is on the way to recovering and that in turn will help me to forget and fulfil my promise.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Here we go then the routine is broken and now I'm finally going to keep my promise to Frank and the unspoken promise of my own.

Leave no survivors. Justice my way. You won't be forgotten.