THE HAUNTING PAST MYSTERY OF THE DRAG RACERS

THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF THE DRAG RACERS When Tami and I received the case file, on this one, we were baffled, right from the start. Rightfully so, considering the states publicity campaign. For MONTHS, prior to being assigned, to this case, both Tami and I had seen, and read, the news articles, about how the State of Illinois was ready to out-smart speeders, using a brand new type of patrol car. While state government declared th cars power source "classified", rumors abounded. Rumors, of using chemical additives, to "soup up" performance. Rumors, of engines, which were just short of Daytiona, or Indy 500 standards. According to the case file, however, there was a problem, which Illinois wanted handled, as QUIETLY, as possible. What puzzled Tami and I, at first, was WHY the state wanted US on a case, involving speeders. This, when the Brown Agency had professional drivers, on staff. Men, and women, who could out-drive ANY-one, on America's road ways. It was only upon reviewing the contents, of the file, that Tami and I came to understand the assignment. While even the case file did not give the details, of the cars power, it seems the police were concerned over how the suspects cars could out-pace cars, whose top speed was projected, at 400 miles per hour. Officers were reporting that, when they gave chase, to the speeders, and even with cruisers running "pedal to the metal", the speeders were leaving the police well behind, to the point where cruisers had to abandon pursuit. While the state had tried check-points, and road-blocks, nothing seemed to phase the speeders. As for officers descriptions, of cars, and drivers, the police could not figure out how cars, which were described as "Happy Days", or "Grease" era cars, could outrun the cruisers. Not when the classic cars top speed was below 100 miles per hour. Then, there were the conflicting reports, of the identification, of the speeders. While some officers gave reports, stating that speeders were wearing vintage leather jackets, and sporting "James Dean/John Travolta" style hair-cuts, some officers THOUGHT that what they saw were skeletons, driving the cars. The states primary concern, at this time, would be the fact that these speeders were racing along a patch, of road, which was being expanded, into a modern highway. The concern was that, with the speeders about, construction could not proceed, on a stretch, of road, which, MIGHT, increase gambling revenue, for the state, by providing easier access, to the latest round, of state-run casinos. There was another concern, as well. One, which Illinois was certain that the Brown Agency could figure out, in no time. That problem was the fact that, while the classic cars were being pursued, down the road way, when pursuit car video was checked, for license plate numbers, the numbers all came back as REAL. The problem? Each time the police had "run down" a license number, and asked to see the car, the report was the same, each time. Each car was in pieces, either in private garages, or in mechanics shops. All were in various stages of renovation, with engines having been pulled, so that bodies could be repaired, while engines were overhauled. Each time owners were asked if it were possible for the cars to have been put together, raced, then returned, to shops, mechanics just laughed at this. Most of the time, the police were asked "Who do you think I am? Harry Houdini? This car hasn't run, for (months/years/decades)" Despite the cruisers video evidence, there was no denying that the suspect cars were in pieces. In one case, a school teacher was using the re-building to teach students the value of classic, car-building, craftsmanship. The school teacher was teaching how, when PEOPLE built cars, cars were beautiful, and built, to last. (Not like todays, computer-built, cookie-cutter, designs. Cars which have NO "personality"). To our relief, Tami and I were not the only agents assigned to this bizzarre case. Mr. Brown had been contracted to utilize any resources, which were needed, to bring in the speeders. While the agencies professional drivers were preparing to use our own, super-charged, race cars, Tami and I were assigned to find out WHY the speeders were using cars which, atleast LOOKED to be vintage. If there was a "message", behind the speeding, it was our job to learn what the message was. Mr. Brown did not even have to ASK the state to close down the road, to public traffic. Since the state was preparing to rip up the asphault, anyway, the road was closed, and traffic was being detoured, already. While Mr. Browns professional drivers had seen the wisdom, in using a variety, of pursuit cars, for our "stake-out", what only the drivers, and the Brown Agency, knew, was just how "modified" these cars actually were. Mr. Brown had recruited some of the finest "speed demon" mechanics, in America, to take classic automobiles, and "hide" super-charged engines, under the hood. To the "naked eye", these cars looked like normal use cars. It was what was "under the hood", and the chassis, which made these cars beyond equal. Yes, the Brown Agency had spent a fortune, on these cars, yet it would turn out to be money well-spent. While the drivers relaxed, and awaited their prey, Tami and I were busy, investigating the road way, itself. A road way which, according to the state, had started out as a horse-and-buggy path. According to both official, and un-official, sources, the current road way had begun life, during the pioneer years, by bringing settlers, and supplies, to the "Prairie State". In the beginning, it seems that it was not so much a "path", as it was, more-or-less a general direction. For reasons never specified, it seems that, over time, general travel, over the area, transformed from a general direction, with more and more traffic using a specific passage. According to atleast one web-site, the lane was in the finest condition, in the region, and was, therefore, closed, at times, to traffic, for horse races. Another web-site claimed that the lane was, just as typically, used, for "duels of honor". There were, even, rumors that some outlaws had ridden this lane, to escape authorities. For just the 19th century, alone, there were volumes, of information. Farms, which were either rustled, or burned, as well as more than a few jilted lovers, a few, of which actually kidnapped "lovers", and were shot down, by possies. For a stretch, of roadway, not fifty miles long, it seems that this roadway had quite the history. Tami and I knew that our job would be to seperate fact, from fiction. It would be our job to provide the professional drivers with as much background, on the speeders, as possible. If someone had been foolish enough to post car, or engine, specs, on-line, it was our job to locate information, and notify our drivers. While Tami and I were investigating stories, of horse races, challenges, and duels, some of which did, in fact, lead to multiple deaths, Mr. Browns pursuit team would have a chance to, finally, prove their value, to the agency. This would be the night when Mellissa Anderson would prove her value, as a race car driver, and under the most difficult, of conditions. Since most, of the Brown Agencies other drivers had, never, been in races, where speed exceeded 250 miles per hour, when Mr. Brown reviewed claims, that the drag racers were exceeding 260 miles per hour, he assigned Mellissa as lead driver. This, because Mellissa was the only driver, not professionally employed, who held speed records, just over the 300 mile per hour mark. Mellissa's task, that night, would be to attempt to over-take the "speed demons". Her fellow drivers would report in, when the drag racers were spotted, then Mellissa would "Put the hammer down". Mr. Brown, still, recalled the day, when he had recruited Mellissa. In fact, it was the very day, when Mellissa was ordered OFF of a race track (For having a qualifying time, and speed, which out-paced the men, by as much as fifty miles per hour). Mr. Brown had failed to suppress a smile, when track operators told Mellissa "Go home! FInd a husband, and make some brats!" (Like home, and family, are all that women are good for). When Mr. Brown had invited Mellissa to lunch, he smiled when she said "I'm NOT looking for a husband, no matter how good he looks." When Mr. Brown had said "Thank You for the compliment, however, I am here, to discuss your skills." When Mellissa asked "And WHAT "skills" would those be?" Mr. Brown had said "Lets see, Miss Junior League speed champ, three years running. Obstacle derby's, in Clayville, Bentonville, Bartonville, Jersey, etc. Oh, yes, and coming in, first place, in the Challenge Race, for the tri-state invitational. Such a shame the officials said they thought you were a man, when they sent you the entry form. Still, you did qualify, at 287 miles per hour." When Mellissa would correct this, saying "287.956 miles per hour, to be precise." Mr. Brown would ask "Did anyone tell you the reason WHY the local P.T.A. had you removed, from the race?" Mellissa would say "Same, old, story. Women should be wives, and mothers. Primitive." Then Mellissa added "So, you know, about me. Whats your game?" Mr. Brown would say "No game. I, simply, want to test your driving skills..." Mellissa would interrupt, saying "...so I can "prove" my skills, to another man, right?" Mr. Brown would say "You mis-understand. I want to PROVE that you would be an excellent addition to a team, which I am recruiting." When Mellissa would ask "What KIND of team?" Mr. Brown would suggest "First things first. Where is your car?" Mellissa would say "Back, in the shop, at the moment, why?" When Mr. Brown would ask "Operational?" Mellissa would say "Of course. WHY?" Mr. Brown would say "I find that drivers operate, best, in cars they are familiar with. I find that it borders on ignorance, when people are "tested", in un-familiar cars. Do you agree?" Mellissa would say "So true. I know my car, so well, it is like we are "linked", psychically." What Mellissa Anderson never dreamed of was that, just two days after meeting this Mr. Brown, her driving skills would be put to the test by none other than a living, racing, legend. A driver, who held multi-year records, at national tracks, for the most laps, and races, won. While Mr. Brown, and Mr. Blue, watched, it would turn out that, instead of the retired professional putting Mellissa Anderson through her paces, it would be the opposite. In fact, by the time the "test" was over with, the racing legend would bow, to Mellissa Anderson, kissing her hand, and saying "Girl, one day, I would bet a years salary that you will be in the Racing Hall of Fame. Thank you for the best ride, of my life." The racing legend would, then, inform Mr. Brown "Pay this girl, REALLY well. She has potential, to spare." When Mellissa Anderson had asked "Pay me, for WHAT?" It would be on a lonely night, along a two-lane black top, that Mellissa Anderson would find out just WHAT she had been recruited for. This, when one of her crew would whisper, into a microphone "Quarry headed your way. Red Ford. Looks like 1955. Warning, that engine MUST be modified. Your position, within two minutes." Mellissa Anderson thought "Boy, are they in, for a surprise.", as she brought her car up, to speed, to prepare, for pursuit. Un-like drag-racing movies, where cars spin tires, leave smoke, then pursue competitiors, Mellissa Aanderson had been taught, by a retired driver "Never bother "burning rubber". Bring the car to coasting speed, then increase speed, to compensate for competitors speed." When Mellissa had asked her teacher "Why do other people "burn rubber?" Her teacher had said "They are fools, with too much money, and too little experience. Take my advice. Get more miles per gallon, by coming up to speed, more gradually. Also saves on tire tread." That night, Mellissa Anderson was cruising, at about 50 miles per hour, when a red Ford, vintage 1955, "blew past", with amazing speed. With her recorders running, on all sides, Mellissa Anderson stepped on the gas, and her Brown Agency modified car sprang into pursuit, catching the speeder, with ease. Then came the "fun" part. No matter how much the speeders "poured on the gas", Mellissa Anderson stayed right with them. She even got a good look at the occupants, of the hot rod. It was true. Both occupants were young, white, males, with "James Dean" style hair-cuts, and leather jackets. At first, Mellissa Anderson thought that both males were late teens, to early twenties. She would have staked a months pay, on this. That is, until the "men" knew they were being pursued. Was Mellissa Anderson dreaming? When the young men turned her way, she would, later, swear "I watched their faces turn into skulls, like they were dead." With her speedometer easily exceeding 350 miles per hour, Mellissa Anderson wondered how much more either car could take. After all, 1950's cars were designed for beauty, and with top speeds, of 100 miles per hour. 150 miles per hour, was POSSIBLE, IF the engine was over-hauled, with an enlarged blower. Mellissa Anderson just could not believe that a 1955 Ford could top 375 miles per hour. As the two cars closed on 400 miles per hour, Mellissa Anderson was grateful, that this road had been closed, to the public. If any innocents got in the way, there was no way to stop. It seems that, when the hot rodders realized that Mellissa Andersons car was a match, for theirs, the drivers did what she expected them to do. The boys would think that, being a woman, Mellissa had no "drivers sense". As the two cars raced for the end of the construction zone, the hot rod cut off Mellissa, forcing her off the road, over a concrete barrier, and sending her car, tumbling, into a ditch. All at well over 250 miles per hour. When her team contacted her, via radio, Asking "Are you okay?" Mellissa would report "Only thing hurt is my pride. My car, however..." As Mellissa would find out, later, one of the advances, of her Brown Agency car, over traditional police cruisers, was the fact that, while police cruisers only recorded data, to be uploaded, when the cruiser came into the police garage, Mr. Brown had added a second layer, of protection, for his employees. All Brown Agency vehicles were equipped with "continuous data dump." Even as the driver saw the view, the images were uploaded, to a secure satellite, down to Mr. Blacks lab techs, and stored, for immediate viewing. While the video did NOT support Mellissa's story, of the young men, in the car, what the footage DID show was that NO one was in the car. When Mellissa would say "I'm SURE I saw them. They looked at me, directly." All Mr. Black would say was "Based upon the video, we have no idea WHAT you saw." Sure enough, as Mellissa Anderson looked at the video feed, from her own car, it showed the impossible. A car, racing down the highway, at over 300 miles per hour. With NO one inside. No driver, no passenger. Not even an animal. When the state police would ask Mellissa "Just what is it you THINK you saw, again?" Mr. Blue would come forth, saying "Officer, the video is proof. Our agent DID pursue a car, down a road way. The fact is recorded, in the evidence." When the police would ask "Oh, really? If there was a driver, WHY dont I see them, on the video?" Mr. Blue would say "Finally, an intelligent question." While Mellissa, and her team, would be medically-cleared, and told to go home, and rest up, for their next patrol, another event would occur, that same night. While Mellissa, and her team, were being checked, for injuries, the only tow truck, within miles, was dragging Mellissa's car out of the ditch. The tow truck driver, Emanuel Lorenzo, found this evening to be strange enough that he was not certain what was going on. Lorenzo had been surprised when, after his shift ended, and he returned home, to his wife, and two children, that the call had come. Lorenzo was being called back, into work, since there was a man-power shortage. It was being reported that car batteries, on the far side, of town, were going dead. The boss would say that it didn't make sense. The town had only three tow trucks since the community was too small, for more units. Emanuel Lorenzo was being called back to work, since someone had "totalled" a car, in a ditch. With the other two tow-trucks busy, Emanuel Lorenzo was told "Your dinner can wait. We need that car towed, before morning. Get it done, before midnight, and there will be a bonus, for you." Emanuel Lorenzo gave his wife a kiss, saying "I promise, I will be home, as soon as the wreck is in the yard. Keep my dinner warm. I should be home, soon." Thirty minutes later, Emanuel would radio, from his tow truck "Boss, this will take awhile. "Mario Andretti" really buried it, deep, in the ditch." (This would be Emanuels last radio message.) While Emanuel Lorenzo was thankful that the car had landed, in a pile of construction sand, instead of dirt, the thirty year old man still had to "wiggle" the car, to get it lose, then grip into to the flatbed, of his tow truck. What the young Latino paid no attention to, while dragging the car, was the "growl", of a muscle car, in the distance. Emanuel knew that younger men liked to race along this road, especially after dark. With no modern street lighting, the only light even Emanuel Lorenzo had, that night, were the flood-lights, from his truck. In fact, at one time, Enamuel Lorenzo had been a hot rodder, himself. Since the races were illegal, and un-official, however, Emanuel Lorenzo had no prizes, from his wins. His only "prize", from racing, was his beloved wife. A woman who, originally, was dating Emanuels competitor. A man, in whom the woman saw no future, except prison, or death. Just before Emanuels final race, his competitor suggested that his lady give Emanuel a "good luck" kiss. While Maria Garcia DID give Emanuel Lorenzo a kiss, it was after she looked into his eyes, saw his potential, then whispered "I love you", before an extended kiss. When her boyfriend remarked "Are you going to finish that, tonight, or should we postpone, until you finish kissing him?" When Maria would ask Emanuel "Would you give this up, for me?" When Emanuel said "Last race." The men had just been preparing to start their drag, when sirens approached. Maria's boyfriend, and others, took off, like a shot, leaving Emanuel to offer Maria a ride home. (The police, barely, paid notice, to the couple, who sat in the car, kissing, while the hot rodders sped away.) For some reason, the sound, of the motor, in the distance, brought back those delightful memories. Memories, which made Emanuel Lorenzo happy to have decided to propose to his wife. Once Mellissa's car was on his rig, Emanuel did his best to focus on tying the car down, to the flatbed. This because, as if out of nowhere, all of the beauty, of the couples relationship, was replaying, before his eyes. Even as Emanuel Lorenzo was securing the car, he could not help but remember his wedding day, and the promise husband and wife made to one another. The promise NOT to start a family, until safely across the border, into America. While both were good Catholics, Emanuel had suggested that crossing the border would be easiest, with only the two of them. (Maria had agreed.) Yes, Maria was his angel. She was his, daily, reminder, of why he loved life. In fact, Maria was foremost, in Enamuels thoughts, at the moment, when a red Ford hot rod came, "screaming", by, killing Emanuel Lorenzo, on impact. The reason why aid arrived, so fast, was because, due to the nature, of the case, Mr. Brown had asked Mr. Black to maintain round-the-clock surveillance, for information, on the hot rodders. Mr. Brown just had a "gut feeling" that something BAD was going to happen. Mr. Blacks agents, soon, sounded the alarm, after satellite recon first showed Emanuel Lorenzo going about his duty, recovering the car, when the next image showed the man, lying dead, on the road. When Mr. Black viewed the footage, then told his workers "Wide scan. I want to know every car, within FIVE MILES." Not surprisingly, with the road being ten miles, outside of town, there was nothing to see. While the state police had three cruisers, in the general area, until the speeders were arrested, by the time the Brown Agency contacted the police, and the units arrived, Emanuel Lorenzo was as "dead as a door nail." Since the Brown Agency had the only thing even resembling "facilities", near the scene, the tow truck, and the car, would be brought to agency storage. Inside the Brown Agency "temporary" garage, mechanics would work, into the night, and the following morning, piecing together the shell, of Mellissa Anderson's car, one piece, at a time. This, even as they examined the tow truck. The question everyone wanted the answer to was "WHY bother to kill a tow truck driver? A man, with no criminal history, a wife, and two children. Emanuel Lorenzo could not be more "Apple Pie" if he tried. Come morning, however, Maria Lorenzo would, no-sooner put her children off, to school, when the police would ask her to join them, down town. When Maria asked "Is this about my husand?" When the police asked Maria "When did you, last talk to your husband?" Maria had said "Right after the work call. He was told to collect a crashed car. I have waited, all night. Is my husband okay?" When the police said nothing, Maria knew what this meant. Shortly after Maria Lorenzo would identify her husbands body, the police would say "Sorry to inform you, but we checked the records. Neither you, nor your husband, entered America, legally. As a result, you will be returned to Mexico." To Maria Lorenzo's horror, this was not the worst of the day. The worst was not even when Maria Lorenzo was informed that, under current immigration law, her husbands body was required to be shipped, seperately, from her. When Maria Lorenzo asked "What about my children?" The police would inform her that immigration law required that each family member be transitted, seperately. Even her children, when picked up, at school, would be transitted, into Mexico, seperately. In THEORY, a recent administration had proposed that, tearing families apart, and leaving family members with the horror, of not knowing one anothers fate, while in transit, was SUPPOSED to be designed to DIS-COURAGE illegal immigration. All the change really did was to leave police, and communities, sick at heart, and stomach, that children would not know where parents were, until, and IF, the families, re-united, in Mexico. At present, however, all the legislation was doing was causing a greater rift, in the American public. A rift where, on one side, the argument was "They have been taking our jobs! Besides, they came here, illegally." The opposite side stood, firm, saying "We dont need to tear families apart! Deport families, together." When agency personnel asked Mr. Brown what was the "right" thing to do, the boss held his usual "We are here, on a case. We are not here to make national policy. Focus on the speeders. I want to know WHY they killed that tow truck driver. Legal or not. The family deserves to know WHO killed the man, and WHY." As for Tami and I, we were, still, trying to nail down facts, about the violence, associated with the area. HAD men run horses over fallen opponents, just for the "fun" of it? Had people actually fallen off of wagons, and been left to die? Was it true that jousts had been held, at the location? Add in the question, of HOW a 1955 Ford drag racer could top speeds, of 300 miles per hour, and all we had were questions. Shortly after Maria Lorenzo was identifying her husbands body, the Brown Agency mechanics made a report, which made only slightly more sense than the question of how a 1955 drag racer could outpace a modern cruiser. When the mechanics reported, to Mr. Brown "Sir, we have found something, which MIGHT explain things, a bit." When Mr. Brown would say "Go on." The mechanics would explain "While examining the bodies, of both the car, and the tow truck, we found evidence, that the car, in question, was, in fact, red." When Mr. Brown would ask "So, what? Many, American cars are red." The mechanics would say "The color, red, but NOT red LEAD." When Mr. Brown would say "Impossible! Lead paint was outlawed, decades ago. You could not buy lead paint, today, period." The mechanics would say "Never-the-less, the car was/is painted, with red lead paint. Chemical analysis proves it." When Mr. Blue would ask "Just WHERE would a person secure lead paint, nowadays?" The mechanics would say "We have no idea. We thought it would be significant, to the investigation. I mean, hot rodders, using engines, which have been turned into "rockets", and red lead paint." When Mr. Brown would say "Thank you, gentlemen. Now, I know you have had a long, hard, night. Get some rest." With that, the mechanics would depart. When Mr. Blue would ask "Classic cars, classic hairdo's, leather jackets, drag racing engines, lead paint work? Is this weird, or what?" Mr. Brown would mention "Come to think about it, my father mentioned something, about this, years ago. Something about outlaw motorists either buying surplus lead paint, or, sometimes, stealing the paint. Several times, he told me stories, abut how he, and his friends, "found" car parts, then rigged engines, for racing. You know, one time, he even showed me an old, leather, jacket. Claimed he wore it, in high school." When Mr. Blue would ask "Do you mean, like in the movie, "Grease", or the show "Happy Days"?" Mr. Brown would say "Yeah. Father called these some of the happiest days of his life. Leather jackets. Smoking in the boys room. he, even, claimed that, one time, on a "dare", he "made out", with a classmate, right under school officials noses." When Mr. Blue would ask "Did he say HOW?" Mr. Brown would say "To hear father tell it, he parked his parents car, right beneath a window, of the room where the P.T.A. was meeting, to discuss how to curb teen sex impulses." When Mr. Blue would say "I'll bet that went over, well, with the student body." Mr. Brown would say "When my mother was not around, my father told me stories, of his girlfriends, in school. He cautioned me NEVER to tell my mother, since several, of his dates, were her friends." When Mr. Blue would ask "Did your father ever get caught?" Mr. Brown would say "Father was too smart. He never used school property. Always used the family car. This way, if discovered, he could drive away, with the "evidence". Namely, his date." When Mr. Blue would say "I have to ask. Did any, of his friends get caught?" Mr. Brown would say "Father told me about some of the guys, who got caught. Guys with names like "monkey", "meat-head", "dopey". Mr. Blue would say "Let me guess. "meat-head", and "dopey", were among those, caught, doing un-Christian things, on school property." Mr. Brown would say "Worse. The idiots did not even have an escape plan. They just took dates to school grounds, and had their "fun"." When Mr. Blue would ask "When they got caught?" Mr. Brown would say "According to my parents, the boys were sent to juvenile detention, until their eighteenth birthdays." When Mr. Blue would ask "Kind of late to "lock the barn door", AFTER the horse has escaped." Mr. Brown would say "Trust me, the boys did not escape, and neither did the girls." When Mr. Blue would ask "Damage?" Mr. Brown would say "According to my mother, only one girl was ALLOWED an Abortion. Mother said this was only allowed, after five, seperate, doctors, verified that becoming pregnant caused the girl to contract either severe Asthma, or some other, chronic, condition. Whatever it was, the proceedure was ruled neccessary." When Mr. Blue asked "What about the rest of the girls?" Mr. Brown would say "To hear my parents tell it, forcing the girls to endure pregnancy, then being ordered, to give up infants, seemed suitable punishment." When Mr. Blue would ask "What made you think of that?" Mr. Brown would say "The more we work on this case, the more it reminds me of my own, high school days. You know, during my high school years, my buddies, and me, boosted maybe half a dozen cars. Boy, did we think that was fun. Picking locks, tripping ignition wires, and, oh, that one, I think it was a Plymouth Fury, Firebird, or something similar. Boy, while we had that car, all the chicks in school, were willing to give their all, for a chance to ride in that car." When Mr. Blue would ask "Did you, ever, drag with the police?" Mr. Brown would say "Me? No. I was just one of the mechanics, who revved the engine. Not that I did not see any "action", but, no, I never dragged." When Mr. Blue would ask "What did you, eventually, do with the car?" Mr. Brown would say "One night, when "Dice" had the car, a guy we called "Fuzzy" "boosted" the car, from us. The fool got busted, making out, with a chick, right in front of the car owners house." When Mr. Blue would ask "Did you get "nailed", for the theft?" Mr. Brown would say "If D.N.A. testing had existed, at the time, I would be in prison, now. As it was, when the police found the couple, making out, in the car, "Fuzzy" was "hung" with the "rap". He did 2-5." When Mr. Blue would ask "Where are they now?" Mr. Brown would say "Fuzzy" left prison, and went into one, of his family's businesses, until his record was forgotten. Last I heard, he was a middle manager, somewhere. As for "Dice", boy was that boy a gambler. Would you believe it, "Dice" gambled every penny he had, as well as his car, and all of his gear, just to win another players girlfriend." Mr. Blue would say "Let me guess. She gave the guy a "one night", then bailed, going back to her man." Mr. Brown would say "Sort of. From the stories I heard, including from "Dice", himself, after the woman gave him what he wanted, she tried to go back, to her man, but he had, already, found another woman. Funny thing is, while the woman spent almost two years, telling people how much she HATED "Dice", he no-sooner proposed, when the two were married. "Dice" told me that, one of the womans conditions, of the marriage, was that "Dice" give up gambling. When Mr. Blue would say "I'll bet THAT went over, real well, too." Mr. Brown would say "It must have. The last time "Dice" gambled, was at his bachelor party. After winning a small fortune, "Dice" stood, from the table, put an arm around his fiance, told his friends "This was my last game." then handed his good luck dice, to "moocher". "How long did "Dice" keep his promise, to his wife?" Mr. Brown would say "As far as I know, it has been twenty-five years, and four children." When Mr. Blue would suggest "You dont think that some, aging, men, are rigging all of this, as some sort of "mid-life" thing?" Mr. Brown would say "I might have suspected that, but only until Ms. Andersons encounter. The men, I know, are far too settled, nowadays. None of them would risk driving at close to 400 miles per hour. Add in the fact that video did not pick up ANY-one, inside the car. I think we can rule out mid-life crisis. What I am hoping is that Tami can come up with is a reason WHY these spirits are haunting this place, now. If they wanted to pretend to be "Fonzie", or "Richie Cunningham", why wait until now? Why not back in the day, when they were "in fashion"?" While Tami and I were, still, working on the early twentieth century, of the road, Mellissa Anderson, and her team, returned to the stake-out, then made a surprising report, to Mr. Brown. Mellissa would tell Mr. Brown "I just dont understand it. When their car hit US, we FELT it, and the cars have the damage, to prove it. When we tried to hit, them, however, it was like they were thin air. We never collided. When we tried a squeeze-play, we passed through them, like they were fog. How can it be that they can total our cars, yet we dont affect them, at all?" While Mr. Brown would give his deepest thanks, to Ms. Anderson, and her crew. When they asked "Why?" Mr. Brown would say "You have aided us, in narrowing both the case, and the suspects. If you wish to remain, for the end of the investigation, that is fine by me. I just want you to know that your work has provided us with valuable leads." What no one expected was what happened, next. According to both police, and agency, reports, it would seem that, one, thurday night, while Maria Consula, Tam Zamali, and Maria Lopez, were driving home, after a boring evening, spent fixing all of thier bosses computer input mistakes, the women were verified, as having visited the only pizza parlor, in town, which was open, at that hour. While the restaurants dining room was, already, closed, for the night, the drive thru cashier remembered the ladies, from previous, late night work. There was nothing suspicious, about their order, either. The ladies ordered a large, supreme, pizza, and three salads. A short time after this, the ladies had stopped, at a local gas station, primarily to purchase some soda, to go with their food. (It would seem that, to prevent employee's from drinking up store supplies, the restaurants owner shut down the drinks station, before they left work, each night.) While the gas station cashier remembered selling the ladies SIX diet soda's, the cashier also remembered seeing a local, drug dealer, hanging arund. (This, despite the fact that the station owner had a court order, against the dealer, ordering the dealer to stay OFF station property). The cashier remembered the night, suspiciously well, since they told police that the drug dealer hung, just at the edge, of the property, until the ladies bought their drinks. The cashier THOUGHT they remembered the ladies car stopping near the drug dealer, before driving off. The cashier would add "It was odd. That dealer, when he hangs around, he stays almost all night. Does as much "business" as he can, then takes off, before sun-rise." When Mr. Brown had asked the cashier "What was different, about this night?" The cashier would say "I only remember seeing the dealer, until the ladies stopped by. After that, I dont remember seeing him, for the rest of my shift." From what the Brown Agency would be able to piece together, from that night, it would seem that, aside from their food, and drinks, the women DID purchase some "pot". Exactly how MUCH will never be known. All that anyone can discover is that, somewhere, along the way home, the ladies had a flat tire. Itr would seem, however, that the ladies must not have been stoned, at the time, of the incident, since the impact scene showed no evidence of the women being impaired. It is thought that, when the tire went flat, the women, in the front seat, left the car, to grab the spare, and the jack, from the trunk. This, while Maria Lopez sat in the rear seat, enjoying her late dinner. Based upon how the scene was discovered, it was obvious, that the women took the supplies, from the trunk, got the spare out, and had the flat, off to the side. It is thought that Maria Lopez witnessed the hit-and-run deaths, of her friends since, moments after the women were run over, Maria placed a call, to police. By the time the dispatcher took up the call, it would seem that the dragster had returned, for its final victim. The dispatcher HEARD the roar, of the dragster, even as Maria Lopez went, tumbling, to her death, being crushed to death, by the cars weight. When the dispatcher barked, at computer control "Track this call, NOW!", the programmer went to work, tracing the call. This, even as the dispatcher insists that they listened to the cars engine revving, as its victim met her death. The dispatcher would, soon, tell fellow officers "I KNOW that engine sound. My brother is working to restore a 1955 Ford, in the family garage. The NOISE. Sometimes I have to sleep elsewhere." When the bodies, and the car, were brought in, there was THOUGHT that the dispatchers brothers car might have been involved. Just two problems. For one thing, while the motor, of her brothers car, was in prime condition, the body remained in pieces. The car could not have driven out of the garage, if it wanted to. For another thing, her brothers car was "Starlight Blue". The paint scrapings, from the ladies car, indicated that the car, which collided with it, was painted with yellow, LEAD, paint. It seems that this stumped police, since there were NO, yellow, drag racers, within 100 miles. In fact, according to the chief, of police "The last, yellow, drag racer, left town, maybe three years ago. Joined a classic car circuit." When Mr. Brown would ask "Last, known location?" The chief would say "According to the Gazzette, the team is touring in California." Mr. Brown would ask "Mind if I verify that?" The next victim would be line-man Manuel Garcia. A man who had been working late, on a power line, which had, somehow, gotten crossed, with phone lines. While the dead women were the second generation, of their families, to be born, in America, Manuel Garcia was the fifth generation to be born, in the United States. As far as Manuel knew, his family had come to America, legal, fair, and square. What Manuel did not know was that his family history had been "fabricated". Atleast the part, about crossing the border, legally. What Manuel had no knowledge of was the fact that his ancestor had brought his family to America, Across the border, on a moon-less night. Since, in these days, "night vision", Apache Attack Helicopters, and even infrared, had not been invented, yet, all the illegals had to do was remain silent, until well within America's borders. The family had, quickly, established themselves, as hard workers. People who would rather starve than accept charity. People who became "pillars" of their community. As for Manuel, the man had decided, near his thirteenth birthday, to learn all there was to know, about electricity. His reason: His friend, Enrique, had been trapped, when a freak bolt of lightning, had severed a power line. The high tension line had fallen, on the boy, knocking him from his bicycle. While Manuel had seemed certain that he COULD have freed Enrique, just by lifting the wires, and allowing Enrique to crawl out, from beneath, several adults had held Manuel back, saying that professionals would handle the situation. By the time the professionals had arrived, however, the power company had tried cutting power, to the line, only to cause an un-expected surge. A surge, which caused the downed line, to leap from the ground, and land across Enrique's chest. The boy died seconds thereafter. After watching his friend die, Manuel Garcia decided to learn eveything, about electricity. He wanted to PROVE that he COULD have saved Enrique. After years, of studying everything he could find, on the subject, Manuel Garcia not only realized that, had he tried to lift the power line, he, too, would have been electricuted, but he became the highest rated student, in his class, regarding "Industrial Arts". In fact, due to his grades, Manuel Garcia received a "full ride" scholarship, to the local Electricians Union. Soon after this, the mans passion, for safety, had lead to his promotion, to supervisor. This, in turn, lead to a salary, high enough for him to propose to his girlfriend, and for the couple to have five, healthy, children. At age 35, Manuel Garcia thought he had it made. A wife, home, family. How could life be better. On the night in question, Manuel Garcia was not, originally, on "stand-by", however, when he heard what happened, with the lines, he decided to check it, for himself. That night, Manuel Garcia had failed to find a reason, for the lines to cross. The connections were secure, and there was no evidence, of tampering. Manuel was puzzled, as he left the pole, and was storing his gear, when the two cars RACED out of the distance. (Manuel Garcia would not live long enough to know that he had been a victim, of hit-and-run driving.) Mellissa Anderson was the only witness, to the crime, this because she had been in pursuit, of the red dragster, for miles. Earlier that evening, At Mexican restaurant, which had learned that the recent deaths, of Latinos, were being investigated, as normal Americans (Not as illegal aliens), had offered Mellissa Andersons team a "Hope for the Best" dinner. After dining on three Taco Salads, Mellissa Anderson had started her car, and was enroute, to the closed road way, when a scene, of horror, caught both her eye, and her cars camera's. While stopped at a red light, Mellissa Anderson was just noticing the strange appearance, of a young boy, at the corner. "What was he doing out, so late, and at his age?" Mellissa Anderson was about to driver over, to the boy, and offer him a ride home, when, out of nowhere, came a red dragster. Travelling at close to 100 miles per hour, the car did not even attempt to swerve, to avoid the boy. With a roar, of its modified engine, and blower, the dragster sent the boys body flying, over to the street curb. This is when Mellissa Anderson made her decision. Speeding, on a closed road, was one thing. Hit-and-run, on city streets, as well as hurting a child? No way would Mellissa Anderson let the creep get away, that night. While Mellissa Anderson set off, in high speed pursuit, of the dragster, back at Brown Agency headquarters, the video uploaded, and an ambulance was sent to find out if the child was alive. While Mellissa Anderson might have been passionate, about bringing in a driver, who would hit a child, then drive away, her already high blood pressure would be sent beyond the boiling point, as the dragster mowed down Manuel Garcia, yet did not even slow down. Having just witnessed two acts, of attempted murder, Mellissa Anderson forgot all the rules, of safe driving. She was DETERMINED that these people would PAY! No way would they get away, this night. Pushing her pursuit car past the 400 mile per hour mark, she was surprised, when the men, inside the classic car looked back at her, first in mocking contempt, then in what was, clearly, fear. As the cars passed 405 miles per hour, computers took control, of Mellissa Andersons cars systems. Not to countermand her actions, but to stop her, if her life was in danger. The two cars travelled at 415 miles per hour, for just a couple of miles, before Brown Agency computers had Mellissa Andersons car terminate pursuit, in a measure which brought her car to a crawl, just five feet short of a barrier, for the local river. What Mellissa Anderson could not believe, aside from the fact that the dragster had exceeded 400 miles per hour, was the fact that, when the car jumped the embankment, she would have thought the car would sail, for miles, over the water, before splash down. To her disbelief, as the car jumped the embankment, it performed as though traveling at only 40 miles per hour. It plummeted into the river, just twenty feet from the bank. Then, Mellissa Andersons car, and her eyes, caught sight of something neither could understand. As the drag racer plummetted, into the river, the water became charged, as if someone had dropped a live wire into the water. Back, in the control center, the police chief stood, slack-jawed, at what the video showed him. When Mr. Brown would ask "What do you see? Who are those men?" Sure enough, it seems that, once the cars exceeded 400 miles per hour, the spirits became visual, to the video. When the police chief would say "Inmpossible! Those men are dead." When Mr. Blue would ask "WHO is dead?" The chief would say "Kicker", and "Stomper". They died years ago." When Mr. Brown would ask "Real names?" The chief would say "Dont bother. You wont find them, in any data base." When Mr. Blue would ask "Why is that?" The police chief would say "Because of HOW, and WHY, they died." While Tami and I were just reaching the 1930's, in our search, the police chief would be re-telling a tale, which he had hoped would, never, be told, again. According to the police chief "You have to understand. This is a Christian community. We dont take, kindly, to people hurting one another." When Mr. Brown would ask "Okay, lets hear it." The police Chief would say "It was 1957. We were just in high school. Most of us just got along, and worked our way to graduation." When Mr. Brown would say "I take it not everyone did." The police chief would say "There was a group. They called themselves "The Avenging Angels." They took the name from a World War Two military unit, which specialized in re-capturing "property", which the Nazi's took, by force. In high school, however, OUR version, of the Avenging Angels, seemed to think that the world belonged to THEM. Not to America, but to them, personally. Boy! Did they get steamed, when some Latino boys challenged the Angels multi-year lead, in dragging the local area. When the Latinos brought an end, to the Angels "command", of the drag strip, the Angels fought back, by rigging the Latinos cars, to crash, killing the drivers. After the Latinos girls went to the police, and while the Angels were awaiting trial, the Angels grabbed as many, of the Latinos girls as possible, and did terrible things, to the girls. After that, the Angels tried to get rid, of the bodies, but they took too much time. The county troopers took the Angels, and the bodies, in. Due to the severity, of the crimes, we just didn't think that prison was good enough, for the Angels." When Mr. Blue would ask "What did you do, with the bodies?" The police chief would say "We denied them Christian burial, lumping their corpses into a single, mass, grave." Another voice would join the group, saying "Then, you erased us, from all of the records. You even helped the Latinos sell OUR property, as compensation, for their loses." When Mr. Brown would ask "Who might you be?" The spirit would say "I was the LEADER of the Avenging Angels, and I tell you those Latinos got what they deserved. they were not here, legally. They took jobs, and our women. We took BACK what they stole, from us." When Mr. Blue would ask "WHY have you waited, so long, to make yourselves, known?" The Avenging Angel would say "We loved to drag that part, of the highway. Far enough, from town, so no one bothered us. We could do whatever we wanted, and no one bugged us." Mr. Brown would add "Then, the state decided to upgrade the road way." The Avenging Angel would add "Yeah. Rip up our spot, just for some lousy casino." When Mr. Blue would ask the Angel "WHY kill these Latinos. I doubt that they were, even, born, in your day." The Angel would say "They are Latino. Thats all the evidence that we need. They stole, from us, and we stole, BACK! We are Americans, damn it! We should not have to share with these INVADERS!" Mr. Brown would say "Son, it is a good thing you are, already dead. If you were alive, you would face the death penalty, for the killings." When the Angel would say "These were not people. They were illegals!" The police chief, and Mr. Blue, would agree, with Mr. Brown. "It is true, son. Three women, a man, and a child. If you were alive, you would get the death penalty, for sure." Mr. Brown would, calmly, add "Now, how many, of you, are there, hereabouts?" The Angel would say "There are enough to make your lives a living HELL!" This is when the enforcer demon would appear, saying "Dont count on it, my boy. The master wants to have a "chat" with your gang. Seems, you are causing too much trouble. Time to "pay the piper". When Mr. Brown would ask the enforcer demon "Are you certain that they will be punished, for their actions?" The demon would say "Trust me. After a few centuries, they will WISH they were angels." While no human, present, SAW the other "angels", when the enforcer demon would say "Follow me. Judgement awaits." The entire staff felt a "chill", as if over a dozen souls had just walked by. After the enforcer demon took the Avenging Angels away, Mr. Brown would instruct Tami and I to focus our research on the late 1940's through the early 1960's. As Mr. Brown would say "This seems to be the time-frame, which the spirits are operating from." For Tami and I, reviewing these records brought back our own memories, of public school. While we had not attended school, until well AFTER the 1950's, we had our own memories, as well. While reviewing school records, Tami would mention "I know I never mentioned it, before, but, if it helps the case, I think I should tell you that, while I was in high school, myself, some classmates TRIED to get me to join a lesbian group." When I asked "How HARD did they try?" Tami would say "While I did not mind the kissing, so much, it was the "other stuff", that they wanted me to do." (When Tami told me what the lesbians wanted her to do, in order to PROVE that Tami was a lesbian, I could understand her revulsion) When I mentioned how openly VIOLENT my own class-mates were, including slamming me into lockers, and shouting in my face "You ARE a HOMO, because I SAID you are!", and how my class-mates just could not STAND having a peace-loving student, in their very violent midst. When Tami asked me "How did you survive?" I told her "As soon as I was old enough, I quit high school, and went into the much more respectful "Adult Education". When I asked Tami how she, finally, dealt, with high school, she would say "Once my class-mates decided that I was a lesbian, I could not get a date, no matter what I did. Like you, and the Latinos, I was "labelled", by my class-mates. Like you, faculty, and administration REFUSED to take any corrective measures, against my attackers." Un-like myself, who had a mother, who began allowing me to make my own decisions, it seems that Tami's parents ORDERED her to remain in school, and graduate. Tami had not understood, for several years, what her mother had meant, when the woman would say "High school is one of the most SAVAGE places, on Earth. My own parents told me that this SAVAGERY is the way that future business leaders are molded." When I suggested "Kill, or be killed", Tami would say "that about sums up my high school life, as well." While Tami and I DID locate several references, to various, high school gangs, we, also, noticed how much care was taken, in "sanitizing" the high school experience. Since it was not so long, especially for Tami, since her high school days, Tami and I began taking our own "trip, down memory lane". While most of my own memories were of brutal beatings, by class-mates, over the fact that I refused to accept the "kill, or be killed" brutality, of my high school, Tami would remember which area's of school property, which she would, NEVER, go near (Due to what the lesbians did, to those girls, who did NOT comply). Anytime a class-mate wanted Tami to join them, in such places, Tami would go the OTHER way. When her class-mates shouted "Chicken!!!" after Tami, she just kept walking. In the present, I would remind Tami "Thank GOD, those days are behind us." Tami and I had just walked a short distance, around the local high school, when we found what we were not prepared to find. A group, of female spirits, which were standing over a piece, of school property, and weeping, while looking at the ground. When Tami whispered, to the spirits, "May we help you?" Atleast one female would say "Maybe 50 years ago, you could have helped. Today, you are, much, too late." When I examined the property, for clues (and relived my own, personal, horrors, of high school), Tami would begin conversing with the spirits, about WHY they were here. Since the dead have no reason to lie, Tami would find out that the girls, buried, deep under this soil, were those whom high school athletes had gotten pregnant. It would seem that the more "macho" types not only enjoyed beating, on peaceful students, but that, when girls told the boys that the girls were pregnant, some of the boys tried to BEAT the girls OUT of being pregnant. (Yep, sounded just like my class-mates. Violence was their answer, to everything) The problem was that, while the beatings worked, at "terminating" pregnancies, the same beatings terminated the girls, as well. While the athletes had "rigged" the scene, to look like an opposing high school had vandalized the schools maintenace shed, the athletes had broken into the shed, and used the gardening tools, to bury the bodies. Two, of the girls, asked Tami if Tami would believe that one of the athletes, who had gotten two girls pregnant, had made "double-sure" the girls were dead. This, by using his shovel, to bash the girls skulls, before, finally, covering the bodies, with dirt. When Tami and I submitted our update, to Mr. Brown, we were surprised at how "riled" the police chief got, at the news. As the chief would say "Little missy. I dont CARE what some "woogly-boogly" ghosts MIGHT have told you. Our community raises FINE lads. Maybe a bit rough, around the edges, but NOT murderers." When Tami was about to ask "Why would the dead lie?", when Mr. Brown would say "I suggest a compromise. Chief, if you allow a certain section, of the school grounds to be dug up..." The police chief would cut Mr. Brown off, saying "NEVER! I dont CARE what any "ghost" says. I WONT have you digging up a whole school, just because "little missy", here, says some "ghosties" told her something". When Mr. Brown would ask "Whats the harm, in doing a bit of digging? Only in one spot." The police chief would growl "FINE! But ONLY for two minutes." When Mr. Brown would suggest "30 minutes" and the police chief would say "TWO minutes, or nothing." Mr. Brown seemed shocked, Mr. Blue would suggest, to Mr. Brown, "Sir, I have an idea." When Mr. Brown would say "Proceed." Mr. Blue would suggest "Why dont we contact Justice Johnston. Maybe HE can clear the way." When the police chief would ask "And just WHO is this Justice Johnston? Another of your "precious" agents?" Mr. Blue would say "Hardly. Justice Phillip Johnston is a federal judge, on the state circuit. His honor has aided our agency, on previous cases. Once we present our case, I am certain that Judge Johnston will, not only grant permission, but the full court press, along with it." Suddenly, the police chief would seem almost sheepish, as he said "Go ahead. Dig up as much as you want to. Just do me a favor, and TRY to put everything back, when you are finished, okay?" Mr. Brown would smile as he said "Good as done." For some reason, after Tami showed some, local, diggers WHERE to dig, the shovels had, barely, broken two feet, when some protesters arrived. While the female protesters seemed vocal, about the cost, of land upkeep, it was a group, of men, who seemed the most vocal, in saying "You have no RIGHT!" When the police chief heard a protester shouting about desecration, the police chief walked over, to the crowd, and asked "What do you mean "Desecration"? This is a public building. A public school. WHAT is there, to desecrate?" When the man would say "It is, STILL, desecration!" The police chief would inform the protesters "Wait a minute. For your information, Desecration is limited, by LAW, to churches, and graveyards. HOW can this apply to a public school?" When the protester stood, silently, the police chief would say "I am waiting for an answer." When the protester stood, silently, the police chief would say "My patience is wearing thin. Explain that "Desecration" remark, before I have you arrested." When the protester would say nothing else, the police chief would call a deputy over, handing the protester over, and saying "He KNOWS something. Lock him up, until he talks. When he does, call me, IMMEDIATELY! Undertand?" The deputy would say "Right, chief." Then lead the protester away. A short while later, the deputy had not taken the protester to the city lock up. He had taken the man to the old two-lane black-top, where the deputy would ask "Are you crazy, or STUPID? Dont you know how much it took, to HIDE what we did?" When the protester would say nothing, the deputy would say "Thanks to you being too stupid, to keep your mouth shut, action will HAVE to be taken." When the protester would say "I had to do something, to keep them from digging. Desecration seemed the easiest to rationalize." When the deputy had said "Stupid! If you had just SHUT UP! We COULD have claimed the bodies were dumped, by some rival gangs. Hell, we COULD have claimed they were illegal aliens." When the protester would say "I am not losing my position, over this. I am NOT going down, alone. Got it, "Squiggly"?" This was all the deputy needed, to rationalize his next action. Without allowing the protester to see his actions, the deputy switched from regular police ammo, to full armor piercing ammo. As soon as the protester would ask "Did you HEAR me, "Squiggly"?" The deputy turned to the protester, and put a lethal round, through his head. The deputy would watch the man fall to the ground, then make certain he was dead, before whispering "I heard you, "Freak Monster"." The deputy was just thankful that there was just not enough, violent, local crime, to justify barriers, between between prisoners, and deputy's. In fact, if this town had any LESS violence, it would be VERY difficult to justify having law enforcement, at all. After "setting the stage", the deputy ran his cruiser into one of the construction barriers, then sat by the road side, ready, with his story, about the protester grabbing the deputy, thereby forcing the deputy to shoot. When his G.P.S. activated, the deputy gave his story, while asking for a ride. While waiting for his ride, the deputy would ask the body "Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone? We could have made it, free and clear. No one would have known. WHY?" Back, at the school, when the diggers would ask the police chief, to let them dig a bit deeper. Reason: "This dirt is not packed, firm, as it should be. If we dig a bit deeper, I think we will find something." Ten minutes after the police chief said "Go ahead." The diggers found the remains. This is when Mr. Brown would say "THAT is what the man meant, when he said "Desecration"." Even Tami and I could see that the police chief was surprised at the discovery. So was 95% of the town. No one could believe that their families had gone to class, over a graveyard. According to the medical examiner, the news was, even, worse. Due to the advanced state of decay, of the remains, the ONLY causes, of death,which could be ruled out, were gun-shots, and stabbing. When dental records came back, maybe eight families, who had spent decades, hoping that daughters were alive, and just living, in other parts, of the world, would face a bitter reality. Their daughters pictures came OFF of the missing persons lists. The girls had, never, left home. Not alive, that is. While the spirits, of the Avenging Angels, were no-longer dragging the two-lane black top, others were preparing to use this road, for "other purposes", when state politicians would announce "We may, now, proceed with the latest, state-run, casino." Locals were most vocal, in asking "WHAT do we need ANOTHER casino for?" When the politician said "Revenue!". The politician knew when to "exit, stage right", even as the assembly would state "We need MANUFACTURING jobs, not more gambling." Tami, myself, Mr. Brown, and Mr. Blue, would agree, on one thing. Over the next month, the person, in town, with the hardest job, would be the head-stone maker. As many as a dozen head-stones would have to be carved. ALL with dates, of death, half a century ago. Cause of death would have to read "Open/Unknown". While the Avenging Angels had been brought to justice, this was little consolation, either for the girls families, or for those, whose family members the Angels had run down. When Tami did some discreet checking, with some, of Mr. Brown's contacts, my partner would learn that ALL that immigration law changes were doing was increasing bitterness, against the federal government. It was NOT that people felt that illegal aliens should be given "sanctuary", in the U.S.. The opposition was to the new process, of splitting families up, for deportation. In THEORY, the process was to re-unite families, SOUTH of the border. The REALITY was that, to many families, the fate, of members, NOT arriving. Fates remained unknown. As Mr. Brown would remind us "We were asked to consult, on a case, about drag racers speeding down a two-lane black top. THIS is what our agency was contracted to do. The rest is beyond our control. Remember: We are DETECTIVES. Not gods!"