So this is a long one. Like, I'm going back over it and damn. This is longer than I thought it would be. Throwaway account, I've only made one other post to this relating to what's going on. Instead of updating the other post, I figured I'd make a separate one about the whole shit show I experienced, and the shit circus I uncovered and avoided. I'll try to keep this in as chronological an order as I can.
As the title says, my abusive/narc mom and pos/delusional/golden child brother started trying to reach out to me a few months ago wanting to make amends and build bridges with me again. There were a few people that commented on my previous post in another subreddit that may be a little disappointed in me for how I handled this, and a few that might enjoy that I handled it the way I did. Someone commented to not let them use my good nature. My nature is dependent on who I'm dealing with, and when it comes to that side of my family, I'm more stick than carrot. So their attempts did not go ignored, and did not go unpunished.
Growing up, I was always closer with my Dad than my mom. My brother was the epitome of "pampered mamma's boy". He started having seizures as a child and was diagnosed with epilepsy, which I thought was why my mom babied the absolute fuck out of him long into adulthood. He would go a year or 2 without any seizures, and then there would be a few months where he'd be having them every other day. At Anytime he got in trouble at home or school, my mom would find a way to blame me, for not making sure he knew whatever he was doing would get him in trouble, or she would blame my dad for not being "involved enough in their baby's life." My dad was in the Navy and I remember any time he'd deploy, I'd dread every day until he came back. My brother would taunt me that he knew whatever he did, I'd be the one to get in trouble for it. My dad would always make things up for me when he got back from his deployments though. We'd often have weekend trips just the 2 of us. And then around my 12th birthday, my mom insisted on sitting us all down and explain to that she and my dad were getting a divorce. We got the whole talk about how they still love us and they just can't be together anymore, etc. my dad told us both that he still loved us and he would be there for us whenever we needed him. He explained that he would be moving out, but he would be by to pick us up to spend the weekends with us. I was nervous and honestly scared of what it would be like without him. But I was looking forward to the weekend when I got to see him again. That never happened though, and that was the last time I ever got to see him.
Right before his weekend with us, my mom explained to us that my dad didn't want anything to do with us anymore. There was some news story about a father that killed his kids when he had custody of them and she used that to terrify my brother and convince him that our dad wanted to kill us to start his life over. We left damn near everything behind and moved in with my mom's brother in Florida (from Virginia) a couple days before my dad was supposed to come get us. After that, she went to great lengths to make sure we had no contact from him.
Years went on, my mom seemed more indifferent towards me than ever. She never seemed interested in anything I did unless my brother also seemed interested in it. She didn't show any interest in my wanting to learn guitar until my brother also showed interest in it. Then we got one guitar that we had to share, I'd take lessons on the condition that I taught my brother whatever I learned in them. My brother eventually wound up breaking the guitar and I was blamed for not storing it in the case it came with. I had to share my N64 with him whenever he wanted to play it. I was playing perfect dark one day and having a hard time killing the skedar leader at the end of the game. My brother burst into the room saying he wanted to play his MegaMan game, to which I just replied "give me a minute, this boss fight is hard, once I'm done you can have your turn" He didn't like that. He left the room and came back with a hammer and smashed the console while I was still playing. My fault for not letting him play it. The only thing I had that he could not use was a pair of roller blades my aunt got me for my 14th birthday. I specifically asked for roller blades to get around instead of a bike because my brother and I had different shoe sizes, so he couldn't wear them Because of constant shit like that, I never really put much value in having things growing up. I didnt want to buy something or get something as a gift just to have it fucked up in a few weeks or months. At some point, my "little" brother became the larger one, so my clothes all became "hand-me-ups" as he outgrew everything. So, because I didn't really have any distractions at home, I turned into a high achieving student, rarely got in trouble. made the honor roll all throughout school. But that wasn't something to celebrate as it was expected of me. I had long since decided that I was moving out as soon as I could once I turn 18. I got a job working at a Walgreens as soon as I could and started saving up for a car. My mom however took issue with this and would never agree to take me looking for one and absolutely refused to ever have it put on her insurance. This is where my Aunt comes in. She and her son are the only 2 on my mom's side that aren't some sort of degenerate. She had her son young, but put herself through college while raising him alone and eventually got her MBA and a cushy upper corporate job. She told me to tell my mom I had to go in to work on one of my days off, that she would pick me up and she would take me car shopping. So that's what we did. I couldn't quite afford a cash car, but she helped me with the financing. I put down what I had as the down payment, the arrangement she made with me was that 1- as long as I was in school, she would cover the insurance and payments for me, however, if I got into an accident, I was responsible for paying the deductable. And 2- as long as i was living with my mom, the car remained in her (Aunt's) name. And if anything happened to it, to let her know so she could get the appropriate authorities involved. My mom was PISSED when she found out I now had a car. Her reasoning (that she said in front of my aunt) was that she didn't think it was fair for one of us-either me or my brother- to have something the other couldn't use. Due to him being 13 and having epilepsy, he couldn't drive, so why should i have a car if my brother doesn't? That turned into a long shouting match between my mom and Aunt that basically ended with my aunt explaining that since it was her car, and all paperwork on her name, I was just on the insurance for it so I could drive it. But if anything at all happened to it while I was living at my Mom's, that the police and insurance companies would get involved. My mom still kept track of all the miles on the car to "make sure I was only going to work and school and wherever she told me I could go". Most of the time, when I hung out with friends, I wasn't the one driving. From that that point though, my mindset was very much "keep my head down and nose clean until I can leave." I graduated a month before my 18th birthday. After graduation, my mom and i got into an argument about me contributing to her bills. I eventually dropped the ball that I planned on getting back in touch with my Dad and leaving. She started laughing. Something about that laugh made me really uncomfortable. She then said "well, you can certainly meet up with him whenever you want! I'll supply the gun if you buy the bullet!" And told me my dad had died when I was 15. That. Fucking. Broke. Me. Later that night, i called my best friend and vented everything to him. He was in the DEP program for the Navy and would be shipping out in a few months, he told me to come by first thing in the morning and talk with him and his parents about the whole situation. I basically packed up all of my clothes and left the day after my 18th birthday. I just left my house key and a note that said "I'm not your problem anymore." I couch surfed for a little while until after my best friend left for boot camp, then I was able to move in and live with his parents (chosen parents basically). My only real rules were keep the house and my space clean and make sure I had a job and/or going to school. I spent a few months mourning my dad and kind of in a haze. Since he was in the Navy though, that meant I was reliable for financial aid for school. My second dad helped me get everything put together to start receiving that so I could start college.
Well, after a couple years of this, my brother, who had spent his time at school more as "forced socializing" instead of learning, was expelled from public schools for allegedly setting off a fire extinguisher in a classroom. He had to enroll at an alternative school called "the drop back-in academy" that was specifically for dropouts or anyone that got the boot from the public school system. My mom reached out to me and asked me if I would drive him to this school in the mornings, she'd pick him up in the afternoons, and she'd pay me $20 a week.I agreed to it thinking this was out of character for her, but she surprisingly held up to that agreement. I drove him for a couple years until I was ready to start my bachelor program. My second parents were getting ready to move back to their hometown and I was going to start school on the other side of the city. So, I was moving to that side of town and couldn't really drive out of my way to pick up and drop off my brother anymore. He continued his enrollment at this place for another 3 years (5 years total) and it turned out, he was never attending. I would drop his ass off there every day and he'd just walk home immediately after I pulled out of the parking lot. He'd just tell my mom that he finished his work early and decided to walk home instead of wait around for her. One afternoon, I'm coming home early from work and my brother is just sitting on the steps to my studio apartment. He tells me that he and our mom got into a really big argument and he needs a place to stay. I (reluctantly) let him in. I'm stuck thinking he must be really desperate if he's coming to me for help. But I start thinking at this point, he's 24, jobless, and probably needs to learn some self discipline and responsibility, and our mom just never did that for him. So I try to help. I ask him what their fight was about and he tells me that he started dating this girl at his alternative school. She was 21 and got the boot from the school system for being too old to attend (we actually have several relatives that were kicked out of the school system for the same reason) and that he accidentally got her pregnant and our mom did not take kindly to that. I called my landlord and explained the situation to him. He was okay with it, so I let him crash on my couch for a little bit (until the end of my lease, then I'd be moving) and just told him to clean up after himself, take care of himself, etc until we could all work this out. He crashed there for a few months and did Jack shit. He would complain that I didn't have a computer for him to use (I only had a laptop I bought for school) and I didn't have any video game consoles for him to entertain himself with. So he was stuck there bored all day. I got tired of the complaining and lack of effort and told him he had to go back to our mom's if he wasn't going to be an adult. We started shouting at each other until he dropped this little bombshell. He yelled "I can't go back to Mom's!" And when I asked why, he just blurted out "because it's to close to that elementary school!" That stopped the whole thing. "And why is that a big deal now?" I asked him. I already knew why that would be the problem, but 1% of me was holding onto the hope that he was got jumped by a gang of 5th graders and the trauma was too much for him to bear. I told him he could either tell me what's going on, or I could make a phone call and get every last detail I needed. He confessed that he had been leaving that school and going over to his "girlfriend's" house and waiting for her to get home. And that one day, her mom ended up catching them in the act. I explained to him that he was leaving out important details if that was the reason he couldn't be near a school.
He told me she was 14, not 21. I. Lost. My. Shit. Everything after that is kinda fuzzy, but he was arrested, mom posted bail, and since she lived right around the corner from an elementary school, he couldn't stay there. So they told his parole officer that he'd be staying at my address until his court date.. his PO had swung by a couple times, but I was always either at work or school or out somewhere. At this point, I told him the lease was up in 6 weeks, I couldn't stand to be around him. I packed my stuff early, moved out into a storage unit, and I stayed at an extended stay hotel until it was time for me to move. Called my landlord and told him what was going on, and if my brother was still there the last week of the lease, nail him for trespassing. My landlord was a good guy. I never had any problems with him. I paid up the last 6 weeks and threw him since extra cash for his troubles as I knew I wouldn't be getting my deposit back. That was the last time I saw my brother. After I moved out of state, I cut all contact with everyone in that family except my Aunt who was the only one that ever helped me out or even had my back. But even then, it was just through email. We'd mainly email birthday and holiday wishes to each other. Updates from my side on how life and career are going.
I never had a myspace or a Facebook growing up. I either never had a computer to check it on, or I was just so accustomed to not having any online distractions that I just never got around to making one. I did finally make a Facebook and I did get in touch with my dad's side of the family and reconnected with them. I hadn't seem most of them since I was 4 or 5. Some of them had been in contact with my brother (he fucking knew our dad died) and was spinning some sort of web about how he graduated high school early, had gone to college for pre-med and then got some sort of full ride scholarship to some prestigious medical school in Florida. He told them I wasn't on social media because I had been arrested for selling drugs and that he was taking me in after I got released. He was also using my senior portrait as a profile pic. They were surprised when they saw me and how I "looked just like my brother!" I had set the record straight. They looked dumbfounded when I told them that he couldn't get himself out of the 9th grade in 10 years, and now would likely never complete his high school journey due to the fact he can't be within 100 yards of a school.
So, fast forward to last week. I checked my email for the first time since late January (for my aunt's birthday) and noticed a few from her saying my mom wanted to reach out, then several emails from a new address. It was my mom's first initial and last name. Subject lines usually read "please respond" and "let me know you're okay" and stuff like that. I'd copy some of them over, but holy shit this is already a novella. Basically she got my email address from sneaking my aunt's phone (aunt did not sell me out). She's trying to apologize for how she treated me growing up and trying to excuse it by saying I reminded her of my dad and then she was going through menopause and just any excuse to dishes full accountability it seems. She acknowledges that it was wrong to hold me accountable for my brother's fuck-ups but dismisses that by saying he didn't know any better and she needed me to be a good role model for him. Things have been hard for her since I left, since she "had" to take my brother back in (I would've left him on the street or in jail), she had to sell her house (she was only 10 years into her mortgage) and buy another smaller one further from a school for him. He never did get a hs diploma or GED because how can he? And she's been going through breast cancer treatment for the last several months and just doesn't have the energy to take care of her 33yo baby anymore. She asked me if I lived close enough to them to take him in for a little bit while she focuses on her health. I left Florida 8 years ago and haven't even lived in the same time zone in 6 years. She can only check her email at work since she no longer has Internet at home. She had to cancel her home Internet service because of him. So, I decided to just put my brother's name into a search bar and the first thing that pops up is a FDLE sex offender's page. And holy shit has he gone downhill. He had a second arrest when he was 27 for the same thing, and then was caught in communications with another girl (like Chris Hansen sting) and was released from prison at the beginning of the year. And the mugshot.... You know the pale lady from the scary stories to tell in the dark movie? Think that, but with a patchy beard. Beady eyes, bad skin and all. According to the sheriff's office inmate search, he's been arrested 5 times in the last 10 years. Twice for lewd and lascivious battery of a minor (aged 12-15), once for solicitation of a minor, and twice for probation violations.
The TL/DR: abusive mom took all her frustrations out on me, blamed me for everything my brother did, hid my father's death from me until I was almost 18, and reaches out after 8 years of no contact and wants me to take care of her pedophile son while she's in poor health.
I'm attaching my response to her below.
Hi. I'm alive. I'm well. I'm also not okay with you contacting me, especially under the circumstances that you violated the privacy of your own sister to get my contact information. I have read your apologies and excuses and I do not accept either. You say I reminded you of Dad? He spent more time with me and showed more interest in my well-being than you ever did, and that's including the 6 years he was absent from my life by your own selfish design. Menopause? I find that hard to believe as this went on for the better part of half a decade and not once in that time did your attitude towards brother change. You always treated him with the same coddling infantile obsession and patience that one would show a toddler. It was and is clear that you have a preferred child as that adult-sized pile of shit is still living comfortably with dear old mama. I'm guessing no one else is willing to take him in? Are Uncle and Cousins afraid of him doing something to their daughters or grandchildren? I do believe you when you say you want to rebuild the bridge that you nuked from orbit years ago, but I can't believe it's not for your own selfish desires. And I can't find any reason or way my quality of life could be improved with your presence. The reality is, my life has been far better without you than it could be with you. I've never said this to anyone, but if there is a sense of karma and balance in the universe, your current situation is proof of that. The next time I see your name on my computer screen, had better be for your obituary. But since you and the monster you raised both decided to keep Dad's death a secret from me, and remove any choice I had to mourn or pay my respects, I'll return that kindness to you.
Please die away from me.

“Telling you guys, it was Ratcatcher. His body just floated out of the fuckin’ reservoir, torn all to shreds. Cops showed up, boss sent us all home for the day.”
“Yeah, sure thing, Fox. We believe ya. Right, Loco?”
“Sure. And the green chick with the plants was there too, right? She stripped down and asked you to turn over her new leaves.”
“Fuck you two.”
They numbered three: Fox, Ali, and Loco. They were Street Demonz, or at least aspiring associates. Admittedly, so far that association consisted solely of picking up and moving the odd smuggled package from Morningside Mortuary (each, unbeknownst to the trio, extracted by the surly mortician from inside the body cavity of a freshly delivered corpse). But still, they were on their way, climbing the ladder. Rising stars.
This evening their ecliptics had brought them to Gotham’s sewer system, in search of buried treasure. That had been Fox’s idea. She (the gang was quite cosmopolitan in its way) worked by day at the water treatment plant in the industrial district, being the only one of the bunch with some form of legitimate employment, if only seasonally. It was an unpleasant job but, in Gotham City, one that came with intermittent moments of excitement. You never know what might wash up in a typical work day.
Fox continued her spiel as they trudged on, guided by dim and fading light from a weak flashlight or the odd storm drain. “I’m telling you guys, it musta been Killer Croc, cuz I heard there were chunks missing from him-”
“Hold up,” Ali said, gears turning in his head. “You ‘heard?’ You told us you saw the body.”
“I saw the body a little. There was a big crowd, alright?”
“Fuckin’ wonderful. Now it comes out.”
“It was him, alright?” Fox snapped, exasperated. “The cops ID’d him and everything. I wouldn’ta recognized him if I just saw him, I never met the guy.”
“Can’t be Killer Croc,” Loco pitched in, patiently. “Heard he got shipped to a zoo in Louisiana.”
“Fine, then, it wasn’t Croc, but it was someone. I dunno, someone who kills on Halloween. Calendar Man, maybe. Sweet Tooth, Nursery Cryme.”
“Man, you said this Ratcatcher guy’s some big shot supervillain guy, he gets taken out by guys named Nursery Cryme and Calendar Man. I’m rapidly losin’ faith in this expedition, here.”
Ali felt a sense of self-satisfaction. He had heard that exact sentence used on a TV documentary once and, liking the sound of it, had been eagerly awaiting a chance to use it.
Fox took as deep a calming breath as she was able in her current surroundings. “Look. He was a big shot supervillain, okay? Made the news and all. And that means he’ll have a stash of some kind. Maybe money, maybe jewels. We find it and get it back to Dallas, real fast, before anyone else thinks to, we’re in sweet with the Demonz. Right?”
Ali and Loco were pensive for a moment. The logic was sound. Although it sounded like a long shot, each of the trio was by nature a gambling man. Or woman.
“Right. So shut up and follow me. This sewer line drains into the terminal they found him in. That means he washed up from somewhere around here. We just gotta find a place that looks like he’s been living in it, then we search it for his stash. We find it, badabing. Yeah?”
Ali grunted, which was a reluctant expression of agreement. Loco shrugged, to indicate he was resigned to follow wherever the other two went. That squabble addressed, the intrepid trio pressed onward.
They’d squelched in silence on for another few blocks when they saw the Bat. Heart pounding, Fox managed to switch off her light as discreetly as possible. Ali and Loco had seen as well; she could just barely make out their terrified wide eyes. With quiet urgency, she waved the gang into a branch tunnel, where they hid, struggling to keep their breathing level and their heartbeats steady.
They said not a word aloud, though inwardly they were each screaming.
Oh fuck, it’s the Bat. What’s he doing here? Maybe he’s the one who whacked Ratcatcher. No. No, he never kills- or maybe he just doesn’t leave any survivors to tell on him.
Why didn’t I stay at home? I could be watching Return of the Haunted Tank on Kadaver’s Mystery Theater right now.
Steady, Fox. What now? Retreat? No. We came this far. And this is almost better. Ratcatcher’s stash would have been one thing. But what if we turn this thing around? What if the three of us get the jump on the Batman? Bring HIM back for Dallas? The Demonz lost a ton of money when he shut down that street race last night. Dallas would be pumped. Nah… that’s aiming too low. We ice the Bat- That would make us just about the toughest gang in Gotham by ourselves, wouldn’t it? I’ll do it. Yeah. Sure, everyone else tried it, but they didn’t have the drop on him, the way we do. Just a quick jump when he’s not looking…
Fox drew her switchblade out of a pocket. Ignoring Ali and Loco’s silent pleading gestures, she slowly poked her head around the corner again and looked in the Bat’s direction…
Hey. Where’d he go?
They were mercifully out cold before they were even aware of it happening.
***
Jim Gordon was certain he felt something eating away at his stomach lining. He’d called Barbara again, left a voicemail. After arriving back in the city at the 14th Precinct in the East End, the first two things he’d done were commandeering the captain’s office and downing a pot of coffee. He had been up more than 24 hours already. Serial killers didn’t have the decency to allow you a night’s sleep first. The third thing he’d done was call Barbara again, and left a voicemail. It was comforting knowing she was safe in a hospital room somewhere, even if it was with that Grayson punk.
The fourth thing he did was start giving orders. Some might have argued ‘barking.’
“I want a squad at Mainland Bridge and I want them phoning in hourly. Assuming Myers hasn’t left North Island yet we want to keep him contained. And I want us in contact with other stations. Everyone not at the bridge and not here taking calls stays on patrol.”
A young lieutenant raised a hand tentatively. “‘Everyone’ meaning-”
“EVERYone. And nobody goes anywhere alone. One more thing. Michael Myers is a killer. I don’t mean he’s killed people. I mean all he does is kill people. He’s completely without remorse. He doesn’t have his original mask anymore- that identifier’s no good. But you have his height, his build, his behavior. If you have a likely suspect in sight, someone on their own, refuses to communicate through speech, or refuses to remove their mask or set down a weapon. You clear the area. You give warning to suspect to get on knees. After that you move to taze or take a shot. Understood?”
There was quiet as everyone digested that. Gordon’s eye was drawn to a heavyset figure standing in a far corner, features obscured by shabby trench coat and downturned hat brim. He swallowed a bit to get a sudden dryness from his mouth.
“I understand that’s not what most of you would have expected to hear from me. Especially in light of Myers’ last rampage. One of ours took a shot at someone in a mask. Turned out to be an innocent mental patient dressed up to resemble Myers. That officer isn’t with the force anymore. Tonight is different. We’re going to be smart. But we sure as hell aren’t taking any chances with Michael Myers.”
Batman wouldn’t approve, Gordon thought to himself. Well. Let him disapprove. Needs must when the devil drives.
The sergeant spoke up. “Alright. You heard the man. Everyone get out there. Bring that bastard down. And let’s be careful out there.”
There was a rumbling as the room emptied. Gordon ducked around a few officers to the heavyset man in the corner. He needn’t have hurried. The man had simply gotten to his feet, waiting for him.
Gordon sighed inwardly. “Hello, Bullock.”
“Hey, Commish,” the man with the throat scar said, in a raspy, broken voice. “Long time no see.”
“Didn’t expect to see you here. Not least since you’re not police anymore.”
Through the distortion, Bullock’s voice was cold and bitter. “Guess you wouldn’t. Still. Good to hear you remembered Montoya.”
“What are you doing here, Bullock?”
“Me? I’m just finishing up old business from a few years ago. That evil son of a bitch dies tonight, Jim.”
***
Corrigan, looking over his shoulder, noticed the Commissioner talking to someone as he left the briefing room. He couldn’t quite place the other someone. They were almost familiar, maybe someone who’d left the force just as he was stepping in. Guy looks like an unmade bed in human form.
Still, it hardly mattered now. In absence of other orders, Corrigan assumed he was to get back to the CSI lab and push paperwork around. He was about as useful as nippled on a bulletproof vest now. The only ones left at the station now where those Gordon trusted here or specifically mistrusted elsewhere.. You swipe a few things from the evidence locker- allegedly- stuff nobody’d miss, even, and everyone treats you different.
Corrigan’s boredom was interrupted when Kitch, who seemed to be Gordon’s new golden boy, called out to him in a hallway.
“Hey. Corrigan.”
The CSI, a pale and scruffy man who put most people in mind of a badly groomed corpse, turned and tried not to look guilty. “Yeah? Uh- yes, lieutenant?”
“You’re with me. We got a top secret important assignment. You ready? We’re gonna fix these goddam lights.” Kitch gestured to the ceiling. The lights in 14th Precinct were indeed in a sorry state, flickering on and off spasmodically. “Try going over a file in this, I’m gonna get a seizure. Someone said you can show me the fusebox.”
“Ah. Yeah. It’s downstairs, in the evidence room. Follow me.”
Things were surprisingly quieter down in the basement. Kitch was clearly a bit on edge. Even Corrigan himself, who spent a good chunk of his professional life down here, was starting to think the edginess was contagious. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when they passed the exterminator. It was the gas mask, mostly. Creepy fuckin’ thing. Apart from that the guy was just some dweeb, in denim coveralls that were too tight across his chest.
“Hey,” Corrigan said, mildly. “Workin’ hard?”
The exterminator said nothing, only tilted his head quizzically, and, helpfully, held up a dead rat he’d been carrying by the tail. The thing was missing big chunks out of its hide. Clearly humane traps weren’t in vogue this season. Corrigan felt his stomach turn, and was pretty sure he heard Kitch make a little noise of disgust. Corrigan nodded and moved along. Jeez. Freakin’ sanitation department, they say the cops in this city are creeps.
“Here we go,” Corrigan murmured. “Fair warning. The Locker ain’t the coziest place, not even when the light’s good.”
Kitch looked around, seemingly unimpressed, until he found himself looking straight into the severed face. “Jesus” he swore. “The hell’s this thing?”
It was in fact a human face, flayed from the skull of a presumably very upset former owner, kept preserved in a jar of preservative fluid. Someone had crudely painted clown makeup on it, white skin and red lips.
“That’d be a Joy Boy who annoyed the Joker. You might not remember. There was this phase a year or two ago, the freak was all about cutting off faces. Thought it was some kinda sick art or something. We keep it there. Don’t think anyone has any ideas what to do with it.” Only option I never could sell to any collectors, Corrigan thought, privately. “Alright, hang on. Lemme grab some tools a sec.”
The CSI weaved through cramped rows of wire shelving, finally reaching a toolkit in the far side of the room, unzipped it to take a quick inventory. Damn. Thought I had a hammer in here. A good one, too. He heard Kitch make an impatient grunting.
“Hang on already. Jeez.” Corrigan rifled more in search of the hammer, before giving up in annoyance. When he turned around, he bumped into a solid wall of very quiet muscle. His new friend the exterminator was back, standing straight and still right in his path and staring him down with the empty eyes of his gas mask.
Corrigan swore. “Christ. What the fuck you doin’, man? Get out of the way.”
Absolute silence.
“Yeah, look, buddy, I’m getting you ain’t really all there, but I’m bettin’ Sanitation don’t hire complete morons, and ya probably understand ‘get out the way.’ Right?”
More silence.
“Fine. Fuck.” Corrigan moved to push past the lummox, only to be effortlessly shoved backwards into a wall by one arm with the strength of a steel beam. He swore again and looked up. The exterminator was still staring him straight down with empty eyes. He was suddenly aware he could hear deep breathing from behind that mask. Deep and almost lustful.
“Christ,” he whispered. I’m sorry, I, I didn’t mean-” as he stood up, Corrigan noticed, far too late, that the exterminator had a hammer in his other hand. The claw end was tripping with Kitch’s blood. He swallowed. “Oh Jesus-”
He felt a strong hand grip his hair, then world-splitting pain as his face was slammed into the wall. Then again. And again. His vision shrank to a pinprick of light and the masked face with the empty eyes was occupying it entirely.
Corrigan scrabbled desperately to gain some kind of handhold as Michael Myers dragged him across the floor. He struggled to muster up enough air to scream for help, but it didn’t come. Not in the time it took Michael to drag him to the fusebox, rip the panel off, and ram his face inside. His last sensation was the smell of cooking meat.
The lights stopped flickering and simply died. A dark shape stood alone in the dim emergency lighting. Michael’s gaze wandered over to the severed clown face preserved in its jar. Intrigued, he slipped his Ratcatcher mask off his head. Time to trade up.
***
“Wish I could say it was good to see you again, Bullock,” Gordon said. With nowhere else to put the ex-detective, he’d opted to simply bring him into his office, or, more accurately, someone’s office.
“Woulda thought you’d want all hands on deck for this one,” Bullock responded. The throat wound he’d gotten that Halloween years ago made his voice sound labored and croaky. He’d lost a significant amount of weight; his formerly plump face looked slack sallow now. Those, Gordon knew, weren’t the only changes.
“You’re not exactly one of our hands anymore, Harv. I heard you wound up working with Waller and the Feds.” Must be someone well-connected. This investigation’s less than a day old and you’re already in on it.
Bullock winced. “Gotta eat. Didn’t work out in the end.” He’d swiped a bishop from some chessboard he must have passed on the way in, and was fiddling with it idly as he sat. “Now I’m private sector. Can’t tell me that’s a problem, all th’ sudden. I recall you not havin’ too much of a problem bringing in outside help.”
Gordon folded his arms. “I’ve never had to worry about the Bat. But right about now I don’t know how worried I need to be about you. But fine. I don’t have time to argue tonight. And you were once something reasonably close to a good cop. Just remember, when you let an obsession control you, like as not you wind up burned.”
Harvey Bullock was readying his retort when the lights went out, completely.
There were shouts of alarm and nervous grumbles from outside the office. Bullock swore; Gordon added a few imprecations of his own as he barked his shin on the desk. It took until he reached the office door for the emergencies to kick in, and the light remained movie-theater dim.
“Everyone calm down,” he heard himself shouting. “We have emergency light. Backup generator should kick in soon. Everyone accounted for? Where’s Kitch?” No response. “Anyone seen Kitch?”
“Think he went to the basement earlier,” offered a voice from far to Gordon’s right. “Haven’t seen him since. I think he took Corrigan with huuuu-” the voice was suddenly interrupted, trailing off in a strangled cry. Gordon felt his heart skip a beat.
“Say that again. Who was that?”
No response, not from whoever it had been. But agitated whispers from the others. Hairs began to prickle on the backs of necks.
“Hang on,” someone said. “Got a flashlight. Let me just-”
A light shone for a split second on a face, a face that looked to be made of strips of leather. A face with red lips and pale skin, and the blackest eyes. Then in a split second that face was gone, and the beam of light smothered. There was another, muffled, horrible cry and then a disturbing snapping noise. Then the panic started. Voices hissed, a few guns were brandished.
In Gordon’s ear, Bullock’s voice cut through it all. “He’s here. God help us, ‘e’s here.”
“Don’t get separated,” Gordon shouted. Stay next to someone you know. Don’t panic!”
There was something behind him. He felt it only for a split second. Then a crashing as something heavy was thrown across the room. As he whirled around he saw a flashlight beam again, illuminating a face carved like a nightmare. Throat slit, X-acto knife still jammed under one side of the jaw. Eyes removed and lips flayed into a gruesome smile. It was Kitch. His head had been made into a Jack-o’-Lantern.
“Oh, god. Stop. Everyone-”
No good. There was screaming now. More flashlights flicked. By beamglow a dark Shape was barely visible, strolling easily around a doorway. A shot rang out, and a scattering of plaster danced across the floor. Someone screamed that they had Myers, only to be suddenly silenced. They were dropping like flies. They were stuck in a tank with a shark. Gordon had not the slightest inkling of his location. He was only aware of shadows ducking and dodging in the pandemonium.
It took probably less than five minutes for the backup to restore light to the room. By that time, five of the officers in the room had become corpses. All mutilated in some way, some bent and some disfigured. Alcana had tools rammed through her skull like devil horns. Hainer's jaw was cloven in half and his throat slit vertically, eyes glassy and empty. Gordon struggled to catch his breath as he saw Kitch’s head, lying in his own lap.
“Oh, god,” he whispered to himself. “Lock this place down. Form groups of three, cover all exits, the holding cells-” He was here the whole time. We weren’t prepared for that. How? What did he want? “Security’s probably dead too. Get us the footage, see if we can trace where he went in the building.”
It took longer than it should have, precious time, to find the bodies in the security feed room, and in the evidence locker. Longer still to see the ransacked records room. In the ensuing chaos, nobody noticed uninvited Harvey Bullock eyeing up a smashed glass frame on the wall. A news clipping of James Gordon, receiving some sort of commendation or other, a set of faint blooded fingerprints on the photograph. It was a good photo. Jim centered, looking uncomfortable. A few others behind him- the Mayor and some officers, and-
In the chaos nobody saw Harvey Bullock slip out of the room and out of the station house.
***
Waiting less-than-patiently for Barbara’s MRI to finish, Dick took a moment on his phone to search for police records relating to Michael Myers.
The stories were disturbing, to say the least. Multiple escapes, each ending in a mass murder. A string of psychologists, more than a few coming to bad ends. Almost as if there were something about Myers that just couldn’t be safely studied by a rational mind. Going back to someone named Loomis, who had apparently spent the better part of fifteen years desperately, fruitlessly trying to convince the world of Myers’ true nature. Through those fifteen years, right up to Myers’ first escape, Loomis had been disbelieved and dismissed, even as Smith’s Grove’s other patients and staff started dropping mysteriously and inexplicably dead.
Like that cartoon where the frog dances ragtime, but it always stops whenever its owner tries to show someone, Dick thought, absurdly.
Mugshots of Myers were available, showing an unremarkable, expressionless face, but the photo that kept coming up was one of the mask. Pale white, ruffled black hair, totally empty eyes. It shouldn’t have been terrifying. It was just a piece of latex. Some cheap thing Myers had looted from a grocery store, part of a costume kit that let kids pretend they were the captain on Space Trek 3022. But somehow even in a police photo, those empty eyes seemed to stare straight through you.
Dick felt unaccountably cold all of a sudden. He flicked the phone’s screen off and looked out the window. Dark was just falling outside. Halloween was underway. I’m still exhausted, he thought. And then: Hope Bruce is alright. But Bruce is always alright.
“Mr. Grayson? You’re here with Miss Gordon?”
Dick snapped back to reality. He was being addressed by Dr. Shondra Kinsolving, orthopedist and traumatologist, tall and striking and strong-featured.
“Yes. That’s me. Hi.”
“Well, that’s the last test done. Signs are mostly positive but we’ll need maybe another hour to see any results. She’s resting now if you’d like to see her.”
Dick indicated that he would like to do such a thing and brushed off apologies for delays, and, in the understanding that politeness cost nothing and might buy many things, dared a mid-level dazzling smile. In time he was being led down a hall to Barbara’s room.
The clinic seemed unusually quiet by city hospital standards, quiet enough that Dick couldn’t help but mention it. “Pretty quiet here tonight.”
“Been a quiet season so far. We’ve been lucky lately.” That appeared to be all there was to say on the matter.
Barbara, still green-gown-clad, had hauled herself off her chair and onto a bed. There was still a considerable amount of strength in her still-functional limbs, which she tended to show off in those cases where she felt it might be forgotten.
“Hey,” Dick said, trying to sound nonchalant (not even a trace of chalant). “So. How’d it go? They say the Wizard can give you a heart?”
“You’re not funny, you know.”
“I think you’ll find I’m actually hilarious.”
Dr. Kinsolving smirked just a tiny amount. “Well, I can see you two are busy. I’ll leave you alone a bit.”
There was a thoroughly uncomfortable silence for a bit after Kinsolving left. Eventually Dick pulled up a chair and sat backwards, leaning his elbows against the back. “So. They still think-”
“So far no new complications. They think the surgery can still take place like normal. I could be walking again by New Year.” Barbara said. Her composure was almost perfect. You wouldn’t have heard the slight tremor if you didn’t know her well. She had been a champion athlete once. Once she’d kept pace with him and Bruce on nighttime patrol. It hurt to even try to imagine how much hurt came with that much loss.
Subject-changing time. “We should do something. I mean, while I’m in town. Wanna go to the museum, or the zoo?”
Barbara snorted. “What?”
“I kind of want to see that big snaggletooth shark thing they have. Whatsisface. Dunkleosteus? He still there? I missed him.”
“Dick-”
“Catch a haunted house, maybe. Think any’ll be open tomorrow? Maybe they’re discounted.”
“Dick.” Barbara employed her Stern Voice. It allowed no possible deflection. “You’re acting weird. And that’s even by your standards. What’s wrong?”
Dick sighed. “I’m just. I dunno. I talk when I’m worried. And I am, now. Worried, a little. I guess. That something could go wrong.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I don’t know how not to. I know we’re not, like… that anymore. But we’re still… something. Okay?”
There was another pause. Subject change, take two.
“So. I heard you were seeing someone. Bard or something. Is that still a thing?”
“He’s fine.” Barbara said, simply. “And how’s the orange girl? What was her name, Princess some-kind-of-spice? Cardamom?”
“It’s Koriand’r,” Dick said, a trifle indignantly.
“She’s orange.”
“Shaddup.”
“She’s orange and you’re an idiot. And you can stop worrying about me because I can take care of myself. And… thanks.”
Dr. Kinsolving poked her head back in the room, possibly revealing a metahuman talent for impeccable timing. (What makes timing pec, anyway?)
“Hi. I’m terribly sorry about this, it looks like the results might be a bit longer than we expected. We seem to be having power failures or something.”
Barbara shrugged, turned to Dick. “I can wait here, if that’s alright with you.”
Dick counter-shrugged. “What, pass up free cafeteria Jello? No chance.”
“I think that’s his way of saying he’s in too. A little more waiting won’t kill me.”
***
A rope drew tight. Three unconscious gangbangers would wake up, in time, tied to a safety railing atop an abandoned warehouse, just across from a shop where someone called Madame Xanadu did palm readings. Safe but humbled, and hopefully having learned a valuable lesson. All the same, the Batman was fuming inside. It was a distraction he had not needed. The darkness was getting denser. Halloween night would bring trick-or-treaters, a parade, parties, pranksters- and lined up for the slaughter, as long as Michael Myers was loose.
He hit the commlink in his cowl.“Alfred. Three for the police station on East End, at my location.”
“Placing call now.” came a voice on the other end. Once upon a time Alfred had passed up a very successful career on the stage. The police had gotten used to receiving anonymous tips from his Algernon Moncreiff or Señor Benedick. “Is there anything I can report on Myers’ whereabouts?”
“No.” Nothing except a few dead, mutilated rats. It was dark now. Myers would be on the hunt. Even from the rooftop the sounds of Halloween were audible. People were on the streets. Lined up for the slaughter.
Think.Using techniques he’d learned in Asia, the Batman emptied his mind of distraction. The city’s layout, perfectly encoded in his memory, unfolded before him. Time slowed down until it seemed not to pass at all.
Think. To catch a man, understand how he thinks. How does Michael Myers think? He used Cobblepot Manor as a hiding place during our last encounter. No good to him now. It’s demolished. And he won’t be hiding now. Possible routes and points of emergence, then. Maze-finding algorithms. Think!
It was no good. In his mind’s eye the city gave way to a pair of pitch-black eyes in a snow-pale face. He felt his jaw tense. There was no time for this…
Earlier that morning.
Dr. Leland had been helpful. But he had wanted a second opinion. So once the chaos had been sufficiently reined in, he paid a visit to the inmate in Myers’ neighbor. He had been moved, quite calmly and without even token resistance, to a spare cell in an emergency block.
“Oh, Batsy. You should have told me you were dropping by. I would have cleaned the place up a bit. Mmmhehehehehee.”
By all rights he should have looked unassuming next to the others at Arkham. Tall, stick-thin, gangling. Pale skin, hair sharply receding and pastel green, lips red. Teeth on dazzling display, always. Like Myers, it was the eyes that let you know you were dealing with a monster. These eyes weren’t black like the devil, but pale green and manic. The smile forever on that clownish face never quite touched those eyes.
“You had a chance to escape in the fire. Instead you let them move you here. Why?”
A casual shrug. “Eh. Still brainstorming some new material. Anyhoo, no sense sharing the stage. Everyone else always plans something big on Halloween.”
“Including Michael Myers?”
The pale face betrayed just a twitch of micro-emotion. “Ah. Ol’ Audrey, eh? You know his middle name is Audrey? Tried calling him that, and no response. How are you supposed to get the new guy’s goat if he won’t show you where he keeps it, amirite?”
“Then you interacted with him.”
“Heh. Much as I could. Talk about a stiff. Why so interested, Bats? Looking for someone else in the old two-man act? Bad dynamic for a duo, there. Two straight men? Abbott and Abbotter?”
That flash of expression had been there again. He asked only a few more questions. He’d learned more than he expected. Even the Joker, deep down, was afraid of Michael Myers.
No time for this at all. Like it or not, he was up against a mind he couldn’t understand. With time a factor, that left only one resource he hadn’t tapped yet.
“Brand,” he said. “If you’re there. Talk, now.”
For a time, nothing happened. Then a snort. Then a stir. One of the gangbangers, the woman, was conscious. Her head was no longer slouched on her shoulder; her eyes were wide, and… different. Everything about her seemed different. Somehow two people were in the same space, now, one flesh and one not. Like a 3D image, one was superimposed on top of the Other. The Other you might catch for less than a second, if you squinted, or looked only with the corner of your eye, though like a piece of subliminal advertising, your mind would convince you that you had not. The Other had corpse-pallid skin, and dressed in a high-collared leotard red as exposed sinew. A bullet wound in its heart bled eternally.
“Fancy meetin’ you ‘ere.” The gangbanger did not say it. Her mouth shaped the words, and her vocal cords gave them timbre. But the words themselves came from the Other. Boston Brand, the late.
“You were following me.”
“Don’ take it personal. I follow a couple guys. Yez one a’ th’ more interestin’ ones. Anyway, I guess y’ain’t too mad, seein’ as yer the one wanted to tawk to me.”
Batman kept many secrets. Few knew of this one. In life, Boston Brand had been a circus acrobat, killed mid-routine by an unknown assassin’s bullet. In death, for reasons even he did not know, his spirit would not vacate the mortal coil. He walked the Earth without mortal flesh or bone, save when he took possession of someone else’s. Until the day the mystery of his murder was solved, or the scales of karma were otherwise balanced, the Dead Man was not completely dead.
Brand’s death had been of interest once to the man now called the world’s greatest detective, a cold case intended as a bit of mental exercise. As Bruce Wayne, he had combed over Brand’s circus a dozen times or more, hoping to piece together the events of the crime, including the night he had made the acquaintance of Dick Grayson.
“So. What do I owe this pleasure to?” The Dead Man in the gangbanger’s body winced. “Hey, you have to rough ‘em up so much? I’m feelin’ this one’s bruises. Hang on.”
The Dead Man’s meat suit slouched into unconsciousness and within a second, another gangbanger perked up.
“Nah. Dis one’s worse.”
“I don’t have time for games. Something is loose in Gotham. Something I may not understand.”
“An’ naturally you turn t’ me fer help. Hey, I’m touched. Only not all us ghosts ‘n’ goblins know each other, see.”
“He knows,” came a voice from nowhere. “His actions are informed by desperation.”
A woman had appeared on the rooftop, unheard and undetected. One second she had not been there and the next it was as though he had always been. She was dressed in red robes and a jewel-inset choker, and a strip of cloth covered her eyes. She seemed to ripple oddly as she moved; one moment her long black hair was thick and lustrous, the next it was stringy and streaked with gray. One moment her face below the blindfold was youthful and soft, the next haggard and sharp.
“Forgive an old woman for her interruption. But you’ll get nothing harassing a petty ghost like Boston Brand."
“Hey,” protested the Dead Man, who was experimenting with the body of the third gangbanger.
“Men call me Madame Xanadu. I have answers that you need, though perhaps not the ones you want.”
Batman didn’t appreciate the unwelcome arrival, not least because he hadn’t sensed it. But he also realized, through something that was not deduction, that the (old?) woman wasn’t a threat, at least not at the moment.
“There’s only one answer I want, now.”
“Ah, yes.” The blind woman held up a hand, let a voluminous red sleeve slide down. In her palm was a deck of Tarot cards, and she flipped one off the top of the deck, not bothering to look with her blindfolded eyes. “Five of Wands. Sometimes associated with the rune of Thorn. Signifies determination and the drive to overcome. Overcome what, I wonder.”
“If you know Myers’ whereabouts, tell me. If not, stay out of my way.”
Another card flipped. “Yes. The Devil. Signifying a challenge, or an obstacle to self-realization. It’s the Devil you seek to overcome. Or he seeks to overcome you.”
“I said I don’t have time for games. And I don’t believe in devils.”
Xanadu flipped another card from the deck, blind gaze holding perfectly steady. “The Heirophant. Mistrust, rigidity. Your soul is ruled by logic, but you walk in a world you don’t understand. You haven’t been able to trust in higher powers since- yes, a fateful night when you were eight years old.”
Another card flipped. “And that one’s the Tower. Meaning danger or peril. And it’s for me. Well, fair enough, I apologize for that.”
I don’t have time for this, Batman thought. But somehow time didn’t seem real anymore. Everything felt like a dream. He was standing on a rooftop. Why did it feel like he was seated at a table?
“Myers,” he said out loud. “I’ve seen his eyes. He seems beyond death. What is he? A madman? A curse? Human? More? Less?”
The Dead Man chuckled. “The supernatural explanation ain’t ever right, except when it is.. That oughtta be your rule, Bats. Arkham’s Razor, they could call it.”
“One more card,” Xanadu muttered, and flipped it. “Wheel of Fortune. Signifying faith. That’s all I can say for now. Your world doesn’t have higher powers, but ours does, and there are rules about what problems magic can be used to solve. But don’t worry. When you wake up none of that will matter.”
Batman felt his head swimming. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to find who you’re looking for right now.”
“Sir? D'you hear me?”
Snap. Back to reality. Alfred’s voice was in his ear. Xanadu was gone, and the possessed gangbanger was asleep once more. It was as if no time had passed. Reacting on instinct, his eyes darted towards the magic shop across the street. It was there no longer; in its place was an abandoned pub by the name ‘Sabatino’s Old Irish Pub.’ What happened? Something about cards, and Thorns…
“Sir!”
“I’m fine, Alfred. Say again.”
“There was no response at police headquarters. I had to use our private line to the Commissioner. He said to pass onto the Batman that Myers had claimed another two victims at the East End station, sir.”
No. But that doesn’t- “Where were the bodies found?”
“In a basement records department, sir. Apparently some files were in disarray.”
Jigsaw pieces fell into place. He’s not after me. Or he is, but not directly. Leland said he was becoming obsessed with emulating my enemies. So what would Joker do in this situation, or Penguin? ...get at me through family. Myers faced someone else that last Halloween. Someone who poked his eye out and someone who escaped him. The one that got away.
But that only makes sense if he knows her connection to Gordon…
He knows. Never mind how. He knows.
“Alfred. I’m going to the Thompkins Memorial Hospital. I know what’s happening. Myers is going after Barbara.”

On my 18,000th rewatch and I just noticed in S7E6 "Trapped in an Elevator", while Taystee is writing the letter to Monica about her real parentage, she pauses for a moment and we see her looking at a document titled "Inmate Information Inquiry" with Cindy's mugshot on it before she continues writing. It's very blurry, but in the top left you can see Cindy's birthday listed as 2/13/70 - with this season dropping on 7/26/19, that would've made her 49 YEARS OLD when she got out! Did anyone else think she was way younger than that throughout the series? Or do you find this to be a believable age for her? Or believe it's a case of the crew using some random number thinking nobody would notice since you can barely see it anyway? I'm curious if anyone else has ever noticed this!

Jodi and Ruby were each sentenced to serve 4 second-degree felony charges of 1-15 years consecutively. They will serve a minimum of 4 years, Utah has a max of 30 years for second-degree felonies. The parole board will decide the amount of time based on their behavior and rehabilitation, you can find the sentencing guidelines here.
Edit
From the Utah Board of Pardons and Parole: "When a person is sentenced to prison in Utah, that person must serve the entire maximum statutory sentence unless the offender is released from prison prior to sentence expiration by the Board of Pardons and Parole... In addition to determining the amount of time to be served in custody, the Board determines the nature of the release (parole or termination), the conditions of release, and the amount restitution, fines and fees to be paid or remitted." See more from the parole board here.
FAQ
How long are they serving? 4-30 years, they will not be released until the Board considers the nature and severity of the crime(s) committed, including the harm done to the victim and society, the continued risk posed by the inmate, and the inmate’s behavior and programming efforts while incarcerated. At least three Board Members (constituting a majority) must agree on any release decision.
When will we know about parole? The first parole hearing will be sometime after one year. They will still have to serve a minimum of four years. Following a hearing, the Board can either: schedule a parole date; schedule a release without parole (termination); schedule a Rehearing at any point within an offender’s sentence; or order an inmate to serve the full sentence before being released.
How does the parole board decide? There are many factors, but their ultimate goal is to reduce immediate risk to the victims/community and meaningfully reduce that risk over time. Jodi and Ruby can participate in risk-reduction programming and eventually supervised community-based programming to show they will no longer be a risk to others. See page 7 of the Sentencing Guidelines for more.
When will evidence/ mugshots/ bodycam footage/ jail calls be released? In 30 days, we will make a post when they are available.

Just out of curiosity. I know famous inmates like Ted Bundy and Richard Ramirez got married while being in death row. But inmates in ADX Supermax are kept away from the world. We don’t even get to see their mugshots or get any updates on them. We just know that their families are allowed to visit them, but they communicate through that glass window, no physical contact. So do they have the choice to get married? Or they lose that right too?

There is another post showing a mugshot and further charges against Holly, including child abuse on January 5th 2024. As of now, nothing is officially showing this arrest, the charges, and the inmate listing or bond release. We will keep the thread open but please advise we cannot conclude it is official at this time. Once we have official documentation we will provide the information. Thanks!

Carson County Sheriff's Department, Cafrois' Department of Public Safety and Mount Harmon Police Department have all advised the 77,900 residents in Carson County to "remain vigilant and extremely cautious" following an escaped convict advisory.
Bjørn Lyståd-Holst - described as "a high-risk" inmate - was being transported via prisoner transport bus from Malvern State Penitentiary to Mount Harmon General when he escaped. No other prisoners were on the bus, according to police.
Although the circumstances of his release have not yet been released to the general public, MHCVN6 understands that the prisoner transport "deviated" from its planned route on Interstate 44-C and instead took an alternative route taking it through CF State Route 11, much of which cuts through tens and tens of thousands of hectares of private farmland owned by one of Cafrois' largest landowners, former state senator Jonathan E. Bigelow. Many of the fields in that vicinity of Bigelow's land are known for having some of the tallest cornplants and wheatplants, not just in Cafrois and the whole of Orica, but on the entire planet, with the average height of crops usually being at least 185cm. When crops are golden, the area proves to be a tourist attraction, attracting tourists from all over Orica and the world. The Bigelow Farm Maze is also the most popular attraction in Carson County and attracts visitors of all ages who wish to actually explore a section of the area without being accused of trespassing.
Lyståd-Holst - who is around 174cm tall and who was convicted three years ago of violently raping and assaulting his girlfriend and her sister - managed to escape into the tall cornfields, leading to pursuing officers losing sight of him. It is not immediately clear how he managed to escape from the prisoner transport bus and get out of his chains, however MHCVN6 understands that one of the prison guards - Ari Järvinen - has been taken into custody "for questioning". A MHCVN6 cameraman managed to record footage of Järvinen, 39, being placed in the back of a cruiser and he is by no means a small or weak man. Stood next a DPS Emory Benson cruiser, which are usually 165cm from ground to roof, Järvinen looked at least a head taller, suggesting his height could be nearly 6 feet and 5 inches and he looked like he had a muscular robust physique. Speculative reports by a local Carson County reporter have suggested that Järvinen's family, who live in Mount Harmon, may have been threatened by one of Lyståd-Holst's "associates", but it is too early to determine if this is the case. The local reporter also reported that Järvinen's most recent social media post was a video posted on Instagram of him "beating his PB" for the bench press, bench pressing a mean weight of ~600lbs (272kg). So, the reporter speculated, it is not clear "how Lyståd-Holst got out of his chains" and "evaded capture", so "the escape is very suspicious".
Currently, deputies and officers from CCSD, MHPD and DPS are searching for Lyståd-Holst and two police helicopters have been seen buzzing overhead. Police dogs are also being used in the search, according to Commander Pearce of MHPD.
Members of the public have been urged to "immediately call police" if they see Lyståd-Holst and to not approach him "under any circumstances", amid fears he could be considered armed and dangerous. Although it hasn't been confirmed if he is indeed armed, Pearce reiterated that Lyståd-Holst was "considered dangerous" and that he "is a man with a lot of resources", suggesting there was a possibility he may be able to get his hands on a firearm in the very near future. Acting Sheriff Cobtree has also stressed that his deputies "will not hesitate to use deadly force if necessary" when asked what steps CCSD officers were taking to locate Lyståd-Holst and whether he was armed.
Lyståd-Holst was jailed for 12 years on one count of assault, two counts of sexual battery and two counts of rape in relation to the rape of his girlfriend and one count of assault and one count of sexual assault in relation to the assault of his girlfriend's sister. He would not be eligible for parole until he had served at least 8 years of his sentence.
Given his crimes and escape, it is not far-fetched to speculate that his victims may have been alerted or even have already taken into protective custody, amid fears Lyståd-Holst "may be out for blood".
A special hotline has been set up, but anybody who sees Lyståd-Holst is urged to dial 911 immediately and get themselves to safety.
An escaped convict advisory was issued across Carson County and Mount Harmon three hours ago and Lyståd-Holst's mugshot has been circulated across multiple media stations.

More tags because my mom is terrible 🥳 TW DEATH? TW ED (Is that a warning?) advice wanted, kinda naita, also ALOT of oversharing. Also, I can't decide how I want to write this like do I use 3 or three, so I'm sorry if changes like that annoy you.
Currently, my parents are separated but not divorced. I want to start by saying I never had a good relationship with my mom. She has abused me emotionally and physically, although not terribly physically. She was very neglectful too, she yelled at me for "eating all the food in the house", forgot to feed us multiple times, bragged about not eating in 3 days and it was like she expected me to do the same. Needless to say, I basically developed some type of ED that I think included binge eating and anorexia.
We fought almost every day, and if we fought 1 time for a week, then that was a good week. I don't think I'm the asshole but she makes me doubt myself, also her and her boyfriend are the only ones who seem to think I am. My momn has called me worthless and said I was the reason my parents were fighting multiple times before she left. She would hit my dad, and he never fought back. (He's 6'3 "and like built of muscle, so he would be blamed for any domestic abuse) My dad has considered divorce since I was in elementary school but wouldn't because of my sister (2 yrs older) and I. He and my sister are still learning everything she put me through and are still apologizing for not being there. My dad was a truck driver and would leave for at least 2 weeks at a time, and sometimes, it was a full month. My mom yelled at me when I told my dad what my mom had done, and my mom manipulated my sister into resenting me so much that she also abused me. Basically, the first 15 yrs of my life sucked and I've been in therapy since I was 10.
Currently, I (18) live with my dad and sister. My parents have been separated for 3 yrs. My mom left during the weekend of my 15th birthday. She tried to leave on my birthday without telling me, but my sister and dad knew and obviously were upset. My sister tried to say she was okay but I got freaked out and while my mom went out to get alcohol I was called to my dad's room and he told me my mom was going to leave and move across the country to convice my grandpa to go to the hospital since he was very sick and refused to go. I should mention my birthday is during the summer and it was around covid but before everything completely shut down. Anyway, when my mom got home, I screamed at her and cried. My friends comforted me as my mom got drunk and fell asleep at some point. I want to make it clear I wasn't mad she was leaving for her dad it was because she wanted to leave the day of my birthday, drunk, and without my knowledge. I spent the next year or two the happiest I've ever been. Anyway, things go on. My grandpa died in the hospital from the nurses being busy, thanks to covid. I tell my mom I won't have a proper relationship with her until she's sober and has gone to therapy for a year. Still, I talked to her and visit her the next year.
During 2021, my mom came down for my sisters graduation in May and decided to stay until my birthday in June. She kept saying she was moving back, but we didn't believe it, but leading up to my birthday, she had started making plans to move, so I thought she might be here for an extra month. Nope. Instead, she left on my birthday again. No telling me, we found out through facebook when she was already a few states away.
Sidenote my dad tried to get divorced by giving the papers to me so I can give them to my mother, when I gave them to her she basically said she didn't know how to get it notarized. Also, my dad asked for 0 child support money since my mom's broke, was living in a hotel, and crashed her car in a ditch. Since I've turned 18, she now has asked how to get a divorce, and I just think that might not be a coincidence.
Notable mentions of why I'm low contact/ignoring her are I've gotten one present from her since and it was a pair of pants, she almost got us kicked out of the airport for arguing with my sister on our way home last time we visited, she promised help pay for my last glasses and didn't. Got a new boyfriend and expect us to consider him family, cut off her own family who I wasn't talking to for taking her side. (They now are on ours.) She blamed us for "kicking her out" when my dad had said for yrs if she was going to move out she wasn't coming back and my dad had a plan to visit my grandpa when we would have the money and we could do it as a family. Only contacts me every 2-3 months to say "love you, miss you ❤️" or holidays, tells everyone I hate her and expects me to carry our relationship even though she isn't sober and isn't in therapy.
Anyway, I guess I'm mainly asking for advice because I want to go no contact, but it feels complicated and wrong to do so. My sister and dad are still friendly with my mom, my mom tells my sister to tell me to contact her which hurts our relationship, I have asked my mom to stop but she still tries to manipulate my sister and dad to get me to contact her. I've talked to her, and we made a plan for me to forgive her, and I said it was okay for some of this stuff so she would stop crying. (She was also drunk for 90% of those conversations, so I don't know if those count.) She basically seems to think 1 conversation will fix years of trauma. My main issue, though, is I don't want to, and I've never felt like this before. I've always been a fighter, and I've dropped people for less before. My rule basically was like a 3 warning policy, and I never let myself get used or manipulated. I was so ready to never talk to her again when I was younger, and I don't know what changed. I still remember the heartbreak she put me through time and time again, I kinda just feel like I've become softer and I know that isn't a bad thing but in this situation I just feel weak. Everytime I think of her I feel like she must hate me to put me through all of this and still make it about herself and it just hurts to leave it like this but I get nothing out of this relationship and it gets in my head when people say things like "but she's your mom and she's the only one you have." Of course, no one has said this when they actually know what happened, but is there a way to save this relationship, or should I give up? If she ever does get better, should I give her a chance, or is this irredeemable? My dad says it will help me to forgive her so I can let go, but I don't know how. I know none of you will be able to give me a for sure answer but any guidance or speaking from personal experience will help, I'm just so angry but tired of feeling angry and I don't know where to go from here.
Update:
So my mom went to jail in January, so I couldn't exactly cut her off because her phone got turned off, and she also never called me from jail. Not that that's a bad thing. It just feels weird since she called both my dad and sister. I didn't want to reach out because she had told my sister she was sending letters, and I wanted to see what she had to say first. Before I get into that I want to go over, I found out about my mom being in jail. Basically, my dad sends me a text while I am at work saying, "Are you in jail?" I ask what he means, and he says my mom might be in jail. I was about to go home by then, so I waited until I got home to ask about it. To be honest, it wasn't a big surprise if my mom was in jail and I wasn't too worried about her. I thought she probably got a DUI or something. I ask my dad about it and he said he got a call from a correction phacility that is based in where my mom lived but that same number is also connected to some places here so he was just double checking I was at work. A week goes by with us not knowing if the caller was my mom or the wrong number. Eventually, my mom reached out to my sister, and she missed the call too, but this time, we got the name of the jail, and my dad looked up the inmates and found my mom's file. I think the next day my sister gets a call from my mom and she she explains what happened. Basically my mom was doing meth, got kicked out of the hotel she lived/worked at, moved in with her bf's sister, got kicked out of there and her bf moved into his neices while she was homeless. Now my mom lives in OH, so during Jan, it's pretty cold. Her boss (she worked at Walmart) took her to a homeless shelter but they were filled up so they go back to Walmart and my mom steals like 60 dollars worth of clothing and I'm assuming food. The next day, the cops arrested her at work. By the way, if she dropped her bf, who encouraged this behavior, her family offered her a place to stay.
Now, onto the letter. She says in the letter she was sober for 2 weeks in jail, and while she knows that's a short period of time, she's going to stop doing meth and drinking. The first half of the letters are all the same for my dad, sister, and I. It's just her apologizing for being a shitty person and saying she'll change. Also, we didn't know she was heavily doing meth. All we knew for sure was that she had tried it. I didn't believe she had stopped, but I genuinely had 0 clue since almost no one was in constant communication with her. She apologized for both physical and mental abuse, although she added that she didn't remember abusing me and apologized to me for arguing with my sister in the airport but didn't apologize to my sister for that. In my dad's letter, she admitted she "really loved meth" and said she's getting married to her bf in December despite the fact my dad has not gotten the divorce papers back. (He sent them to the jail, so if anything, it would help get them divorced faster.) Anyway we want to get mugshot mugs and put "I really love meth" in her handwriting from her letter and we want the mugs to be the heat changing one's so they look normal until you put something warm in them.

"The transparency argument is laughable." - Rep. Guy Reschenthaler (R-PA), immediately before refusing to release impeachment inquiry interview transcripts to the public :)

The Struggle Israel

The Biden administration has been rock-solid in its public support for Israel since the latest conflict began on October 7, but cracks are starting to emerge.

• On Tuesday, President Biden offered some of his sharpest criticism of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his government since the war began. Biden called Netanyahu’s coalition government “the most conservative” in Israel’s history (publicly acknowledging a view that has been widely held since it was formed last December), and urged the country to change its approach in Gaza, saying that its “indiscriminate bombing” campaign has led to declining support around the world. Also on Tuesday, the United Nations General Assembly voted overwhelmingly to demand a ceasefire in Gaza in a nonbinding resolution. Only 10 members opposed the measure, including the United States and Israel, while 153 supported it.
  
• Biden noted that some members of Netanyahu’s cabinet and coalition “don’t want anything remotely approaching a two-state solution,” a path that Biden has vocally supported. Nor does Netanyahu himself, based on all available evidence, despite his past refusal to be pinned down clearly in public on the issue. As President Obama’s former National Security official and co-host of Pod Save the World Ben Rhodes said recently on Pod Save the UK, “...not only does this Israeli government not support a Palestinian state, their objective is to prevent a Palestinian state.” He continued, “My experience in eight years with Bibi Netanyahu is he did not want a Palestinian state, and actually, he’s moved further to the right than even when I was in government.”
  
• Netanyahu has voiced strident opposition to many U.S. proposals related to Gaza since the war began, and on Tuesday, was equally as explicit. He rebuffed calls from U.S. officials to allow the West Bank-based Palestinian Authority to resume control of Gaza after the war, saying that the enclave will remain under “Israeli military control,” and that the civilian government will be “rehabilitated under [Persian] Gulf countries’ leadership.” He concluded, “We won’t give in to international pressure.” Well okay then!
  

With that defiant mentality, Israel’s deadly counteroffensive continues.

• The Israeli military began pumping seawater into Hamas’s network of tunnels in Gaza according to U.S. officials briefed on the operations who spoke to The Wall Street Journal. The strategy to flood the tunnels with water from the Mediterranean Sea is one of several approaches the Israel Defense Forces have pursued to try and destroy them. The country’s defense ministry declined to comment, saying that such operations are classified. Israel believes Hamas is holding some of the remaining hostages from its initial attack in the tunnels. According to the Gaza Health Ministry, Israel’s assault on Gaza has killed 18,205 Palestinians and wounded almost 50,000 more since October 7. Israeli airstrikes in southern Gaza and the city of Rafah, which borders Egypt, continued with full force on Tuesday night.
  
• The World Health Organization reported on Tuesday that a medical convoy was stopped twice and then came under gunfire during a mission to al-Ahli Hospital in Gaza City last week. Health workers were detained and interrogated as the convoy was en route to deliver trauma and surgical supplies to treat 1,500 patients. The convoy was also transferring 19 critically-ill patients along with 14 companions to another hospital in Southern Gaza, according to the WHO. Staff reportedly “saw one [health worker] being made to kneel at gunpoint and then taken out of sight, where he was reportedly harassed, beaten, stripped and searched.” According to the WHO and the Palestine Red Crescent Society, which was part of the mission, one of the injured patients died as a result of untreated wounds because of the delay from the stoppage. The WHO did not identify who carried out the shooting.
  

A Doctors Without Borders surgeon was also shot and injured inside a North Gaza hospital on Tuesday, according to the organization. More than 250 medical workers have been killed in Gaza since the war began.

Look No Further Than Crooked Media

Catch Pod Save America’s FINAL live show of the year in San Jose on December 13. The guys will be joined by co-host Addisu Demissie and special guest Zoe Schiffer. Don't miss out on the best night of your life! And if we're wrong about the whole “best night of your life” thing? Good luck proving it in court! Tickets are going fast, so get yours now at https://crooked.com/events.

Under The Radar

A congressional investigation found that the United States’ largest pharmacy chains have handed over data about people’s prescription records to police and government investigators without a warrant. Happy holidays! CVS, Kroger, and Rite Aid, which have a combined total of over 60,000 locations nationwide, said they allow pharmacy staff to provide customer medical records in the store without having the company’s lawyers review law enforcement requests. Members of Congress began investigating the practice after the 2022 Supreme Court Dobbs decision ended the constitutional right to abortion, prompting many GOP-run states to move to criminalize the procedure as well as drugs related to reproductive health. The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) regulates how health information is transmitted and exchanged among medical professionals in “covered entities” like hospitals and doctors offices, but pharmacies have more leeway.
America’s eight largest pharmacy giants—Walgreens, CVS, Walmart, Kroger, Rite Aid, Cigna, Optum Rx and Amazon Pharmacy—told congressional investigators that they require only a subpoena, not a warrant, to share pharmaceutical information. A subpoena, unlike a warrant, does not require a judge's approval. A spokesperson for CVS, the nation’s largest pharmacy by prescription revenue, said in a statement, “We have suggested a warrant or judge-issued subpoena requirement be considered and we look forward to working cooperatively with Congress to strengthen patient privacy protections.”

What Else?

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy met with members of Congress on Tuesday in a final plea to maintain military support for his country as it continues to battle Russia.
Congressional leaders may try to keep Congress in session next week in order to hash out a deal on Ukraine funding and border security measures sought by Republicans, but it’s doubtful that two such massive issues could be resolved before the holidays.
A group of current and former imprisoned men sued the state of Alabama on Tuesday, accusing the state of using a prison labor system that they claim is a “modern-day form of slavery.” The system is based on forced inmate labor for little or no pay for the benefit of government agencies and private companies. All 10 plaintiffs are Black.
Trump critic Gov. Chris Sununu (R-NH) endorsed Nikki Haley ahead of the New Hampshire primary in January.
A new Reuters poll found that 31 percent of Republican respondents would not vote for disgraced former president Trump if he receives a felony conviction. An extremely low number all things considered, yet one that is still probably significantly higher than the reality come 2024!
The state of Florida fined Broward County High School $16,000 for allowing a transgender girl to play on the school’s volleyball team.
Consumer prices in the U.S. unexpectedly increased in November as continued rises in rent more than offset declining gasoline prices.

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Light At The End Of The Email

The U.S. will produce more power from solar and wind next year than it will from coal for the first time ever.
New York’s highest court ordered the Empire State to redraw its congressional map on Tuesday, which could be good for Democrats if the New York State Democratic Party doesn’t fumble the ball again!
Disgraced former president Trump is selling pieces of the suit he wore during his mugshot photo as part of a promotion for a new set of his NFT “digital trading cards.” This guy was the PRESIDENT! He could be the president AGAIN!

Enjoy

Mike Abrusci on Twitter: "Whenever I see a Guy Who Wears Shorts In The Winter And Says He Isn’t Cold, I know I am his brother. His counterpart. The yin to his yang: The Guy Who Wears Jeans In The Summer And Says He’s Not Even That Hot"