#Affidavit Assistance

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[fluentmoviequoter]

Pretending You Can't

Pairing: Adam Karadec x fem!cop(analyst)!reader

Summary: You're touch starved and wishing to make friends in the LAPD, but you move divisions so often that it becomes difficult. While working with the Major Crimes unit, you find a solution to both problems.

Warnings: depiction of touch starvation, discussion of difficulty making friends, murder case, fluff, comfort, OOC Karadec

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: I love Karadec so much. Hope someone can enjoy this.🫶🏼

“Melon alert,” someone whispers as they rush past you.

You roll your eyes and turn to the next page of your report. Lieutenant Melon is annoying, but he has yet to request your direct assistance. That is one of the few benefits of being quiet and reserved in a Los Angeles Police station. It is, however, far outweighed by the downfalls. You’re lonely, and you want to make friends at work, even though you are quiet. Each time you meet someone you think could be a friend, you get moved to a new desk or a new division and have to start all over. Maybe, you think, I’m just not made to have friends.

You stand and stretch your arms over your head. The report on your desk must be signed by Melon, but he’s busy, so you walk down the hall to stretch your legs and get something from the break room.

“Sorry,” you apologize as your shoulder hits someone backing out of the elevator. It feels like the skin on your shoulder is on fire, and pain like pins and needles travels down your arm. This would have been a good indicator something was wrong if you hadn’t already known you were touch-starved. Shaking your arm, you see the large box in his arms and ask, “Do you need help with that?”

“Please,” he answers.

You slide your hands under the side opposite him, and he lowers it to rest between your chests.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Detective Osman, right?”

He nods and somehow knows your name, too. You look around briefly as he leads you through the door into Major Crimes. This is one area you have not worked in, but you think you’d like it. The people in this division are kind when you see them in the station, and they do good work. Your gaze hits Detective Karadec, and you look away quickly, telling yourself it’s because you need to watch where you’re going.

“It’s too much,” he says, his shoulders moving up in a short shrug as he nods. Something about his body language disarms many people, but every time you see him, you’re drawn in by him.

Lieutenant Soto exits her office, pinching the bridge of her nose. Detective Osman sighs as he looks at her, then thanks you quietly. You smile and nod, then walk toward the door. Before you reach it, Soto calls your name. Turning slowly, you raise your brows and hold your hands against your stomach.

“Yes, ma’am?” you answer.

“You worked in the gang unit last year, correct?” she inquires.

“Yes, but only for a few months in the spring.”

“Are you familiar with the name…” she pauses to look at a sticky note in her hand, then says, “Victor Kwang?”

Nodding, you explain, “I did the paperwork for his arrest warrant, the affidavit, I mean, and some research into his accomplices and manufacturing.”

“Did you find the factory in Westlake?” a woman in a cheetah-print skirt asks.

“Excuse her,” Karadec interjects as he spins his chair to face you. “This is Morgan Gillory.”

You’ve heard about Morgan, or as Melon calls her, the cleaning lady, but if she already found Kwang’s Westlake factory, she’s better than you thought.

“I did,” you tell her. “It wasn’t operational at the time, but it was searched. Turned up practically nothing.”

“Okay,” Morgan drawls slowly. “It’s not in the report.”

Karadec watches how your brows pinch, and your eyes shift like you’re thinking.

“There’s another report,” he guesses.

“I only worked on one.”

He nods once before spinning his chair to use the computer. Opening the report they’re going on, he scrolls to the bottom of the first page to see who completed the report.

“It wasn’t this one,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Detective Daphne Forrester.

She raises her hands and says, “It’s the only one that came up when I typed in Victor Kwang.”

You focus on your memory of completing the report and ask Daphne, “Are most of his arrests for assault?”

“90%,” she replies.

“Wrong Victor Kwang,” you say. “When that case was open, there was a lot of.. discontent, I guess, in Koreatown. The DA said they had every right to be treated exactly the same here as in Korea.”

Karadec scoffs and shakes his head. You agree; it didn’t make sense, but you complied.

“So?” Osman asks.

“His arrest record and the reports from that investigation have his Korean name on it. Kwang Kyu. Surname first, given name, and everything we have on him is in that file.”

Soto raises her brows at Karadec, unseen by you. He looks between you and his lieutenant, then to Morgan.

“Who are you reporting to now?” Soto asks you.

“Lieutenant Melon,” you reply. Quieter, you add, “Technically.”

“I think it’s time for a change,” she muses before returning to her office.

“Did you do this whole report?” Daphne asks, looking up from her computer. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you answer softly. Without Soto as a buffer and the contained topic of police work, you’re unsure how to talk to the detectives you’ve looked up to for so long.

Soto returns from her office and smiles as she instructs, “Pack up. You’re coming to Major Crimes.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Oz asks.

Soto looks away from the door that just closed behind you and levels her gaze on Karadec.

“I think she can help,” he states. “Morgan didn’t catch that the report was for the wrong guy.”

“You didn’t either,” she argues.

“Where does she usually work?” Daphne wonders aloud. “I see her around from time to time, but never in the same place twice.”

“She jumps around,” Soto explains.

“Why?” Oz adds. “Hard to work with? Trying to find where to use a golden ticket?”

“She’s good,” Karadec answers. “She can do close to everything. Chief decided to pass around the talent.”

“And how do you know that?” Soto challenges, her brows raised knowingly.

He looks at her from the corner of his eyes, then shakes his head.

“If Kwang opened a factory in Westlake, he probably did it to get away from the suspicions about what he was doing in Koreatown,” Morgan muses. “His factories form a parallelogram with an overlaid pyramid. When you look at those on a map, they center around one place.”

“Being?” Karadec presses, sounding more tired than he had with you.

She moves closer to the caseboard and examines the map briefly. “Hotel Normandie.”

“Koreatown?” Daphne clarifies.

“Yep. 605 Normandie Avenue.”

“And what is that supposed to tell us?” Karadec sighs.

“I…” Morgan purses her lips to trace her nail along the map.

“You’re missing another shape,” you point out as you return with a small tote bag of your things.

Soto’s eyes widen, and she presses her lips together to hide her smile. You’ve been here for less than five minutes, and you’re providing information Morgan can’t. They all know it’s because of how long you spent studying Victor Kwang, but it’s still interesting to see.

“Hotel Normandie is one of Kwang’s favorite spots. It’s less than thirty minutes from the Hollywood Bowl, Griffith Observatory, LA County Museum of Art, Natural History Museum, and Dodger Stadium. That’s a-“

“Pentagram,” Morgan finishes. “He could get around to all of them and back to the hotel in 2 hours without traffic.”

“Add Forest Lawn,” you add, setting your bag on an empty chair. “And you’ve got a hexagon.”

Karadec stands at the word hexagon, and you wonder what they’re working on.

“DB was called in this morning,” he tells you as he slides his cell phone and a bottle of hand sanitizer into his pocket. “It was found at the corner of Wilshire and Crenshaw. There was a note in the vic’s pocket with the name Victor Kwang written repeatedly. The note was folded into a hexagon.”

“And that intersection is in Kwang’s criminal hexagon,” Morgan adds.

“The victim had his visa,” Daphne says as if she’s reading your mind to answer your questions. “ID’ed him as Chang Shirong. Came in from China four months ago, so he likely would have been traveling back within the next few weeks.”

“Six months. He had a B-1 visa?” you realize incredulously. “What business activities was he conducting?”

“I’ve got that,” Oz interjects, holding an open file. “He had a relatively legitimate clothing business and was negotiating contracts with Lids and Fanatics.”

“How long ago did he get approved for the visa?” Morgan asks.

“Five years ago,” Daphne answers.

You fall silent and listen, happy to stay here and complete their paperwork while they go out in the field and put Kwang back in jail. Provided that he’s found guilty, of course.

“When was Kwang released after the sweatshop factory fiasco?” Karadec asks, though his gaze strays to you.

“Five-and-a-half years ago,” Oz reads. “Could have easily gotten in with Chang to move operations overseas.”

“The Government Accountability Office would’ve had Kwang on a short leash,” Soto states. “If Kwang broke that kind of labor law, he wouldn’t have been able to conduct business of any type, not for a while at least.”

“Not necessarily,” Morgan counters, raising her finger.

“Here we go,” Karadec murmurs, holding his fist against his chin.

“AB633 holds California garment manufacturers responsible for sweatshop conditions. It ensures workers are paid minimum wage and overtime. Because of that, the Labor Commissioner can bring lawsuits on behalf of the whole workforce to guarantee wages and – this is the important part – revoke the registration of the manufacturer that fails to pay a wage award. They up new registration fees, but can't legally keep someone from reopening a business based only on wage crimes.”

“Sounds like you need to look into the sweatshops,” Soto says before telling everyone where to go.

You pull a chair to Daphne’s desk to help her trace Kwang since his release from prison, and she smiles as she whispers, “Teach me your ways.”

You send her a small smile and immediately decide that you want to be friends with Daphne Forrester. The longer you sit beside her and across from Oz, the easier it is to open up and offer your ideas and theories.

“Oz,” Morgan calls as she returns a few hours after leaving. “Karadec needs you to throw a phone book at someone.”

“We still don’t do that,” he replies as he exits the office.

“What are we working on?” Morgan asks as she takes Oz’s chair.

“We found Kwang’s quote ‘professional’ activities since leaving prison,” Daphne explains.

“Any theories?”

“I don’t have any.” Daphne gestures toward you as she adds, “This one has some great ones.”

“Lay ‘em on me,” Morgan requests. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“You must be a very good mom,” you murmur.

“I have a teenager,” she says, “I know the signs of someone not wanting to talk to me. I also notice when someone’s eyes wander to a certain detective.”

“Karadec?!” Daphne exclaims, tapping her hand against your arm and igniting invisible flames beneath your sleeve.

You drop your head and wring your fingers together. “I think Kwang met someone in prison who could set him up with an overseas businessman. Your victim flew in on a visitor’s visa a week before Kwang was released and stayed for nearly two months. If they met then, Chang had a reason to get a business visa and make regular trips to visit his business partner.”

“Any idea who could’ve known both of them?” Morgan wonders.

“That’s where we found the hiccup,” Daphne answers.

You have an idea, but it doesn’t make sense, so you stay quiet. Morgan and Daphne look at you, then at each other. Morgan nods before she stands.

“You’re coming to my house for dinner,” she says. “It wasn’t an invitation or a question, you’re coming. Let’s go.”

Daphne nods and tells you to have a good night, so you follow Morgan out of the station. While you walk into the parking lot, she slows and looks toward you.

“You like Karadec,” she begins. “When you’re not incredibly focused, your eyes stray to him. It happens when you’re not confident in your statements, too.”

“I- he-“ you try before deciding to say, “Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. I notice a lot, and I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Maybe you should try to just talk to him tomorrow, share one of those good ideas you kept to yourself today.”

“I thought that was your job.”

Morgan smiles. “If it gets Karadec to smile, I’ll relinquish my duty to you for a day.”

“Why would that make him smile?”

“You can figure that out, detective.”

Morgan begins walking again, and as she opens her car door, you call, “I’m not a detective!”

The following morning, you enter the station early with a mental list of names and information to look into. Walking into Major Crimes, you’re not entirely surprised to see Karadec already at his desk.

“You’re early,” he muses. “You can use Oz’s desk.”

“Thanks.” You lower into Oz’s seat and use your station login to access the police database.

“Help yourself,” he offers, gesturing to a donut box.

You smile and take one of your favorites. If you had to guess, you never would have assumed that Karadec was the one who brought the donuts every week. Maybe they take turns, you think.

As you work quietly beside Karadec, you run through each idea you have. Each search that fails to provide a helpful result discourages you more than the last.

“Pass me the Kwang file?” Karadec requests.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes the extended file. He thanks you, but you don’t hear it as your nerves alight. You try to hide the pain in your hand as you place it back on the keyboard. Failing to remember the last time you were hugged or even simply touched in a way that lets you know someone cared about you, you force yourself to focus. Your hand curls into a fist as the pain subsides, and then you return to work.

With your focus on the lack of touch you’ve experienced recently, you don’t notice Karadec watching you. He’s known since before you joined their team that there is more to you than people think.

As the rest of Major Crimes begins arriving, you log out and pull a chair to the corner of Daphne’s desk to continue working with her. Karadec tries to focus, but when you are close, he finds it hard to do.

“Good morning,” Morgan greets, sitting beside you. She lowers her voice to remind you, “Talk to Karadec.”

“All of my ideas turned up nothing,” you explain softly.

“And?” Oz asks as he approaches the other side of Daphne’s desk.

“She likes Karadec,” Morgan replies.

Your eyes widen as you look over at her. Daphne stifles a laugh, and Oz shrugs as if that isn’t new information.

“Yeah, yeah,” Morgan murmurs. “Et tu, good report maker. Seriously, tell him something. You have more ideas; I can see it.”

“Any new theories?” Karadec asks, turning his seat to face Daphne’s crowded desk.

“I think the order of the hexagon was wrong,” you blurt out.

“Why would the order matter?” Oz inquires.

Karadec watches you, listening carefully. Morgan smiles and shakes her head knowingly before she winks at Daphne.

“If the route matters, then traffic, travel times, and when the places are actual targets changes.”

“Targets?” Karadec repeats.

“I assumed you were evaluating the places based on their proximity to his former sweatshops,” you explain. “So, he could use them as alibis, to recruit workers, or in this case, to lure Chang into his previous enterprise to undermine Chang’s business.”

“Like a sightseeing tour for bad guys,” Oz translates.

“Alternatively, they were on their way to one of these places and Chang dropped some news about taking a larger profit margin or something, Kwang was outraged and killed him.”

“In which case, he’d want to get another shop up and running ASAP,” Morgan comments.

“Let’s run with that theory,” Karadec decides. “We’ll split up and check the different points on the hexagon. Use Kwang’s previous warehouses for ideas about where he’d be holed up or operating a new factory.”

“Someone from Immigration is here with Chang’s visa information,” Soto says.

“I got it,” Oz offers. “Go find this guy.”

“I’ll go with Daphne,” Morgan announces.

“Okay,” Karadec agrees, standing. “Which direction do we go?”

“Hotel Normandie faces east,” you answer. “Most people turn right when leaving a building, so he’d be pretty likely to go South. The art museum would either be first or last because it’s west of the hotel.”

“We’ll take the southern locations starting with the Natural History Museum. Then we’ll hit Dodger Stadium and go around. Daphne and Morgan, go west to the art museum then north toward Griffith Observatory. Overlapping visits should double our chances.”

“Yeah, that’s not how percentage of chance works,” Morgan replies. “I’ll explain it later.”

“Oh, good,” Karadec deadpans.

“So…” Karadec begins as he drives toward the natural history museum. “What did you want to do when you joined the department?”

“At first, I didn’t know. Then I realized I wanted to become a detective,” you answer. “I think it’s too late for that.”

“Never know. What made you decide?”

“A lot of detectives worth looking up to. Including you.”

You realize what you said and chew the inside of your bottom lip as you wait for Karadec to say something. Anything.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment. “Although you had better options.”

“I didn’t know Daphne yet,” you joke, pulling a rare smile from him. “Hey, slow down. That building should be condemned.”

Karadec slows as he steers the car onto the gravel shoulder. He watches the shadows moving in the covered windows and radios for backup.

“ETA two minutes,” dispatch replies.

“Uh, Karadec?” you interrupt.

“Yeah?”

“Door just opened.”

You watch Victor Kwang exit the warehouse in an expensive suit. He notices the car and then runs along the side of the building. You don’t hesitate to exit Karadec’s car and chase him, ignoring Karadec’s yells for you to wait.

As you round the western side of the warehouse, you speed up and push off your right foot to tackle Victor Kwang. He grunts as he lands in the dirt, and you pant through your recitation of his Miranda rights. Karadec approaches behind you and passes you a pair of handcuffs.

“Maybe we should let you carry those next time,” he says. “Is that your car, Mr. Kwang?”

“Lawyer,” Kwang replies as you turn him to make him sit up.

“In that case, I’ll go ahead and get it towed to the station in violation of California Vehicle Code 22500,” Karadec says, pulling his phone from his pocket.

You look at the car and smile. “Section f: A person shall not stop or park on a portion of a sidewalk.”

“It’s my sidewalk!” Kwang argues as sirens approach the front of the building.

“It’s the city’s sidewalk,” Karadec says. He takes your place and pulls Kwang’s arm to make him stand. “So, we’ll be searching your illegally parked car when it arrives at the station.”

After an officer takes Kwang, you take a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Karadec checks, laying his hand on your shoulder.

Your muscles tense, pulling into a tight knot before immediately releasing to be more relaxed than before Karadec touched you. He feels every movement and realizes by the movement that you are devastatingly touch-starved. Karadec does not like touching things or people, you’ve noticed, but you’re both acutely aware of how well his hand fits on you.

“I’m okay,” you answer quietly.

The moment ends abruptly when Karadec’s phone rings. He removes his hand from your shoulder to answer Daphne’s call, but his warmth lingers as you follow him back to the car.

After Kwang confesses to receive a plea deal and offers up the international crime matchmaker who introduced him to Chang, you return home. Your hand raises to your shoulder, where Karadec touched you. Now that the case is closed, you’ll likely be transferred out of Major Crimes again and lose the four people you think you could have been friends with. Again.

Someone knocks on your door, and you approach it quietly to look through the peephole. Sighing, you open the door and silently invite Karadec into your home.

“Is everything okay?” you ask. “Soto told me I could finish the reports in the morning.”

“No, that’s fine,” he replies, looking briefly around your living room before bending back slightly with his hands in his pockets. “I… I think I can help you.”

Your mouth opens, but you take a moment to find the right words. “Do you mean that the other way? Can I help you again?”

“No, no,” he answers with a smile. “Can I just show you?”

“Sure,” you say slowly.

Adam pulls his hands from his pockets as he steps toward you. You inhale quickly at his proximity, and when his hands raise, you hold your breath. Tensing your muscles as Karadec lays his hands on your waist, you swallow. His thumbs brush wide arcs between your ribs as your body relaxes at his touch.

“Oh,” you realize under your breath.

“You said you looked up to me as a detective. I admire you as a lot more than that.”

The initial pain of his touch fades, and you seem to melt beneath his hands. If you’re going to react like this, Karadec thinks, he may never take his hands off you.

“I thought you didn’t like touching things with germs,” you remember.

“Found an exception.”

Karadec smiles as you argue, “Soto won’t like that.”

One of his hands slides from your waist and catches your hand. You instinctively try to pull away because it hurts, but he holds you tighter, drops his smile, and whispers, “It’s okay.”

You nod and shift your hands to interlace your fingers with his.

“If you want help with this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. “I’m here. But you tell me when to stop.”

“Why?” you inquire.

Karadec doesn’t answer, and you admit, “I have feelings for you. Like… feelings. I understand if that makes you feel different and you don’t want me close anymore.”

“Feelings?” he repeats, using the tone you used the second time. “Should it make me feel different?”

Your brows furrow and Karadec returns both hands to your waist.

“It doesn’t,” he assures you, dropping his hands.

“There’s hand sanitizer in my bag, behind you,” you offer.

“Soto sent me over to tell you she wants you in Major Crimes full-time,” Karadec interjects. “It’s up to you, though.”

“Would that… Do you care if I say yes?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“You’re not really helping me here.”

He nods in a small circular movement which tells you he doesn’t care about that. His smile, however, makes you smile.

“I have wanted to be a detective for a long time,” you muse.

“Anyone you’d be leaving behind in the other divisions?”

“Oh, yeah,” you answer sarcastically. “I’m just swimming in friends, hence the extreme touch starvation.”

“Give Soto your answer in the morning,” he requests. “I’ll see you there?”

“Of course.”

You watch Karadec leave, and when you wrap your arms around your waist, nothing happens. No pain, no pins or needles, just warmth and the memory of Karadec's touch.

When Karadec enters Major Crimes the morning after visiting you, you’re nowhere to be seen.

“Daph!” he calls. “Where is she?”

“Morgan?” she clarifies.

“She’s finishing paperwork,” Oz answers. “Transfer papers, I’d guess.”

“I need signatures,” Soto says, exiting her office.

“Beautiful,” Daphne whispers as she signs your completed report.

“Yes, it is,” Karadec agrees, though his eyes are up, watching you enter the office with a smile.

“Where’d the grumpy persona go?” you whisper as you place a donut box on your new desk.

“I’d guess wherever he left it last night,” Soto answers, looking between you.

Morgan enters, spouting theories about another case but stops when she sees you. “I told you! You just had to stop pretending you couldn’t do it.”

“Hey,” Daphne calls, pointing at you with a sprinkled donut. “No ‘will they, won’t they,’ okay? Do it or don’t, but I can’t watch my friends dance around each other.”

“We’re friends?” you repeat.

“Duh.”

“So…” Morgan begins. “Are you okay with a group hug or do you need some more time?”

You look at Karadec, who shrugs, and then you nod. As you’re wrapped in warmth and care by your new friends – and Karadec, who you hope can be more than a friend – you realize that you finally found where you belong, and you’re not pretending anymore. You can do this. You can do the job, the friendships, and the openness.

[spicyschemmenti]

NEEDING A BREAK ➫ alex cabot

pairing: alex cabot x sassy bimbo!fem!reader

synopsis: a high-profile case has alex more stressed than usual and you take it upon yourself to do what you do best: drive her insane until she finally admits she needs a break

warnings: unprofessional behaviour/banter, heavy flirting, teasing, suggestive comments, and physical closeness, reader is alex’s assistant, creating a dynamic where professional boundaries are blurred

word count: 2.7k

author's note: lmk if you wanna be added to future posts of this pairing!

The click of your six-inch Louboutin heels against the cold tile floors of Alex’s office is a sharp contrast to the scratch of her pen against paper, the only other sound filling the otherwise silent room. You don’t even need to announce your presence as she always knows when you’re there, but she keeps her head down anyway, pretending to be engrossed in whatever ridiculously complicated legal document is spread across her desk.

From what you can see over her shoulder, it’s a deposition transcript, something dense and wordy, full of legal jargon that would bore most people to tears. But not you. You understand every word. Not that Alex ever gives you credit for it.

Her glasses have slid down the bridge of her nose, blonde hair slightly mussed from the countless times she’s raked her fingers through it in frustration. The lines of exhaustion are starting to set in around her eyes, and if you had to guess, she’s been sitting at that desk for at least six hours straight without so much as a sip of water or a single second to breathe.

You prop yourself against the doorway, tilting your head as you take in the sight of Manhattan’s most intimidating ADA looking way too overworked for her own good. With a dramatic sigh, you push off the frame and strut forward, the pink latex mini-dress hugging your curves in all the right places.

The color practically screams Barbie, especially with the way it glistens under the office lights, paired with your glossy nude lips and the French tips that have just the right amount of sparkle. It’s not exactly office attire, but when have you ever cared about that?

You plant a manicured hand on your hip, tapping one perfectly filed nail against your thigh. “Alright, boss. Enough.”

Alex, still pretending she hasn’t noticed you, merely hums, flipping another page of the deposition. “Not now.”

Oh, she’s adorable. Like that’s ever stopped you.

You roll your eyes, stepping closer until you’re practically looming over her desk, catching a proper glimpse of the papers in front of her. Oh, it’s that case, the one with the Wall Street CEO who thinks his money can buy his way out of a human trafficking charge.

The guy’s lawyer, some smug Columbia-educated asshole with a penchant for twisting witness testimonies, had just filed a motion to suppress key evidence, and judging by the way Alex is ruthlessly highlighting passages in the affidavit, she’s gearing up for a legal battle of epic proportions.

Still, she’s exhausted. And you? Well, you’re annoying when you want to be.

Alex finally sighs, removing her glasses with that exasperated little motion you love so much, pinching the bridge of her nose like she’s already regretting entertaining you. “I have deadlines, and unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of ignoring them.”

You gasp, offended. Hand to your chest, lips parted dramatically. “Are you implying that I don’t work hard?”

Alex doesn’t answer, which is probably for the best because you’re not about to let her win this one.

Without hesitation, you snatch the file right out of her hands, watching in delight as her mouth parts in pure disbelief.

“Excuse me?” Her voice is low, controlled, and just a little dangerous.

You flash her a smug smile. “Boss, you need a break.”

Alex reaches for the papers, but you hold them above your head, your six-inch stilettos giving you just enough height to keep them out of her reach. Her jaw clenches, that sharp blue gaze narrowing like she’s considering whether or not she could legally kill you right now and get away with it.

“Give. Those. Back.”

You shake your head, blonde curls bouncing slightly. “Mmm… no, I don’t think I will.”

And because you never know when to quit, you take it one step further. With all the grace and confidence in the world, you drop down into her lap, swinging your legs over the arm of her chair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Alex freezes.

Like, fully stops breathing for a solid five seconds. You feel it—feel the sharp inhale, the tension that coils in her muscles, the way her hands tighten into fists against the arms of the chair because she refuses to put them anywhere near you. Which is a shame, really.

Her voice, when she finally finds it, is strained. “You have five seconds to move.”

You hum, tapping your nails against her silk blouse, letting them trace lazy circles just over the first button. “Or what? You’ll arrest me?”

Alex swallows hard, her tongue darting out to wet her lips just for a second, but you notice.

You always notice.

She exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose for the second time in the last five minutes. “I hate you.”

You grin, leaning in until your lips are just inches from her ear. “No, you don’t.”

There’s a long pause, filled only by the distant hum of the city outside. For a moment, you swear she might actually snap, might finally give in to whatever tension has been simmering between the two of you for the past several months, might grab your waist and yank you closer like she wants to. But instead, she sighs, leaning back just slightly, eyes flicking to yours with something unreadable — something that makes your stomach flip.

“Fine.” Her voice is quieter now. “Ten minutes.”

You beam, victorious.

Still, you don’t move.

And neither does she.

After a long moment, she raises a brow, her hands still firmly gripping the arms of her chair. “Are you going to get off of me now?”

You tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. I dunno. I think I’m quite comfy.”

Alex exhales slowly, like she’s actively resisting the urge to throttle you. But beneath the frustration, there’s something else—something dangerous and slow-burning that makes your grin widen.

She tilts her head slightly, her voice dropping just a fraction. “You’re playing a very risky game.”

And oh, do you love it when she talks like that.

So you just smirk, settling in just a little closer, letting your fingers trail up the lapel of her blazer with an infuriating slowness.

“Oh, boss,” you murmur, voice saccharine sweet. “I always win.”

Alex’s jaw is tight, her perfectly-manicured nails digging into the armrests of her chair like she’s trying to physically restrain herself from reacting. You can see the conflict in her eyes, the push and pull of annoyance, attraction, and exasperation swirling together in a way that has her this close to snapping. But because she’s Alex Cabot, because she’s made of pure ice and self-control, she doesn’t do anything.

She just stares at you.

You stare right back, lips curled into a smirk as you lean in just a little more, fingers still tracing along the edge of her blazer, pink acrylics standing out against the dark fabric. She could push you off. She could order you to move, threaten you with termination, or even physically remove you herself. But she doesn’t.

Because she likes this.

Because she likes you.

But Alex isn’t going to admit that. Not now. Not ever.

So, after a long pause, she simply exhales sharply, her head tilting slightly as she studies you with that sharp, assessing gaze that makes defense attorneys crumble in the courtroom.

"If you're going to waste my time, at least be useful."

You gasp, hand flying to your chest in mock offense. "Boss, I am always useful."

Alex doesn’t dignify that with a response, but the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth betrays her amusement.

Still perched in her lap like you own the place, you lazily reach over and grab the file you’d stolen from her earlier, flipping through the deposition notes as if they were a tabloid magazine. “Ugh. Men are so predictable.” You scan the text with ease, your painted nails skimming over key sections, cherry-picking the ones that actually matter.

Alex arches a brow, arms folding across her chest. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

You flick your eyes up to hers, a cocky grin playing at your lips. “First of all, Mr. Rich-As-Fuck-And-Twice-As-Stupid over here is lying his ass off. He contradicts himself three times between page two and page six. The defense is hoping you won’t catch it.” You flash Alex a knowing look. “Spoiler alert: you already have. But they don’t know that yet.”

Alex’s lips press together, but you see the satisfaction in her expression.

You continue, kicking one leg playfully in the air, your heels catching the light. “Second, they’re trying to suppress the security footage because the CEO’s mistress is in the background. They’re gonna argue it’s ‘prejudicial’ to show the jury because it could make him look immoral.” You roll your eyes. “As if being a cheating, greasy old man is somehow worse than human trafficking.”

Alex lets out a quiet scoff, but she still doesn’t interrupt you.

You smirk, tapping the page. “But here’s where they fucked up. They claim their client wasn’t even at the hotel that night, right?”

Alex nods slowly, eyes narrowing. “Yes…”

You beam. “Then why did his lawyers just submit a motion to suppress footage of him being there?”

Silence.

Alex’s gaze snaps down to the document in your hands, then back to you.

Then, she smiles.

Not her usual, tight-lipped, polite courtroom smile. No, this is something different. This is something genuine, something fond.

And fuck, if that doesn’t do something to your heart.

She exhales, shaking her head slightly. “You are… infuriating.”

You grin, flipping your hair dramatically over one shoulder. “And yet, you love me.”

Alex doesn’t answer. She just watches you for a moment, studying you like you’re some kind of enigma she hasn’t quite figured out yet.

And then—very slowly, very deliberately—she rests a hand on your thigh.

Not in a sexual way, not in a way that immediately suggests anything inappropriate, but in a way that tells you she’s not pushing you away.

She’s letting you stay.

Her fingers are warm against the sleek material of your dress, and for the first time all night, you’re the one who freezes.

Alex tilts her head slightly, voice lower now. “You done yet?”

You swallow, blinking once before regaining your composure. “I mean, I could keep going, but I don’t wanna show off too much. You might start feeling insecure.”

Alex lets out a soft, amused scoff, shaking her head.

She still doesn’t move her hand.

And neither do you.

Instead, you just smirk, flipping the file closed with one hand while the other casually traces up Alex’s arm, your nails lightly skimming against her skin.

“Admit it, boss,” you murmur, tilting your head. “You’d be lost without me.”

Alex’s fingers are warm against your thigh, resting there like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like she didn’t just spend the last five minutes pretending she wasn’t one wrong move away from snapping.

And the worst part? She knows what she’s doing. She knows exactly how much space is between the two of you (barely any), she knows exactly how her palm feels against the sleek, latex material of your dress (smooth and dangerous), and she knows exactly what kind of effect she has on you.

But two can play this game.

Your smirk doesn’t waver, but it does shift—just slightly, turning into something more smug, more challenging, more I dare you to keep this up, boss.

You lean in, slow and deliberate, just enough to close that tiny bit of distance between you, your lips hovering close to her ear, close enough that if she just turned her head half an inch, you could...

But she doesn’t.

Of course she doesn’t.

Because Alex Cabot is nothing if not disciplined, and she would rather die than let you see her crack first.

So instead, she does what she always does. She exhales through her nose, slow and controlled, like she’s beyond exhausted by you, like she can’t believe she lets you do this to her every single damn day.

Her fingers twitch against your thigh for half a second before she finally moves her hand, dragging it away from you like she hadn’t just been resting it there like she belonged.

You watch as she leans back in her chair, rolling her shoulders before running a hand through her perfectly styled blonde hair, messing it up just enough that it makes her look a little less put together, a little more like someone who’s been dealing with your bullshit for way too long.

"You finished?" she asks, tilting her head slightly, voice dry as ever.

You let out a little hum, tilting your own head right back. "Depends. You admitting that I just did your job better than you, or are we still pretending like you didn't just get your ass saved by your favorite assistant?"

Alex scoffs. Full on, outright scoffs, like she cannot believe the words that just left your mouth, like she's so done with you, but she’s not, not really. Because if she was? She wouldn’t let you get away with it. She wouldn't let you stay like this, sprawled across her lap, your hands casually playing with the lapel of her blazer like you own her, like you can do whatever you want and she’ll just sit there and take it.

And the thing is? She does.

She always does.

"You are a menace," she mutters, shaking her head as she reaches for the file you so rudely snatched from her earlier, flipping through the pages like she’s actually going to go over the notes, like she’s not just double-checking them because she doesn’t want to admit that you were right.

You flash her a sickeningly sweet smile, one that’s all lip gloss and trouble, and tap your nails against her desk. "And yet, you haven't fired me. Wonder why that is."

Alex doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react, but you see the way her lips press together, the way her jaw tightens just a little, the way she turns one page too fast like she’s trying so hard to ignore you.

And god, it’s so cute.

"If you were any other employee," she finally says, tone calm, measured, the way it always is when she's trying not to let you get under her skin, "you would’ve been escorted out of this office a long time ago."

You just smile, propping your chin on your hand. "But I'm not any other employee, am I?"

Alex pauses.

It's only for half a second, barely long enough to register, but you notice it.

Because you always notice.

She lets out a slow, quiet breath, then finally glances at you. And there’s something in her expression, something heavy, something unspoken, something that makes your stomach flip way too fast for your own good.

But then, just as quickly as it came, it’s gone.

And she’s back to rolling her eyes, shaking her head like you’re nothing but a headache in six-inch heels.

"Go file those case notes," she says, waving a dismissive hand toward the stack of paperwork sitting at the corner of her desk. "And for god’s sake, get off of me before someone walks in."

You pout, dragging your nails lightly against her blazer as you finally—reluctantly—move off of her lap, making a show of stretching like you were so comfortable there, like it was so inconvenient for you to leave.

Alex doesn’t react.

Not really.

But you see the way she exhales, the way she rolls her shoulders again, the way she doesn’t immediately meet your gaze when you stand up.

Interesting.

You make your way over to the desk, your hips swaying just a little more than usual as you pick up the stack of case files, flipping through them lazily.

"You know," you say, tapping a manicured nail against one of the pages, "if you'd just let me handle these from the start, you wouldn't be so stressed all the time. Maybe then you wouldn't have to pretend you don't enjoy me sitting in your lap."

Alex doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even glance up from her work, but you see the way she stiffens, the way her hand briefly tightens around her pen.

And god, if that isn’t the best part of your day.

[acowardinmordor]

Risk and Reward

Steddie-adjacent. Tw: homophobia

I always love fics where Steve makes himself Eddie’s alibi while Eddie is still unconscious/in a coma. Knows that it will work because he knows in this town there is no way anyone would believe that Steve Harrington would come out if it wasn’t real. No one would believe it, because everyone knows that his parents are always gone, because his dad is in Congress railing against the gays and their depravity and how they deserve to die and burn.

Steve saying it. Signing an affidavit about it. Giving quotes to the ravenous press. It has to be true. And everyone who doesn’t think it’s disgusting think it’s the most romantic thing in the world.

The government was stepping in, all eyes were pointed at Munson, and he was going to be thrown in a cell for life. Or, to save the cost of the trial, he would have vanished somewhere between the hospital and the prison.

Steve coming out stops that. Airtight alibi, reinforced by the knowledge that there will be consequences.

Eddie is safe, and the government has changed tactics, is blaming dead Jason Carver for it all. Eddie wakes up six weeks later, shocked to wake up at all, and trusts his uncle enough to play along. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were dating the Harrington kid?’ Eddie knows how to tell a story that leaves space for a player to fill in their side. He tells stories about little moments and always describes things from his perspective. That way, if it contradicts the story that’s already out there, he can make a find quip about how he remembers it different.

When he finally gets a moment alone with his uncle, two days later, his guess gets confirmed. Wayne knows damn well that Eddie’s gayer than a maypole, and also knows that Eddie has called Steve his nemesis for years. Wayne knew from the second Steve said it that it was a lie, and knew it would work if it was believed.

The only thing confusing Eddie - well, the only thing in this tiny slice of his world - is why his fake boyfriend/no-longer-nemesis, isn’t in the hospital too, playing the part. If the guy was willing to say it at all, then he’d go all in. If there was one thing Eddie’d learned during those days, it was that Steve only ever did something at 100%

And yes, part of him feels terrible that Steve did this just to save him. He feels awful knowing that this is going to ruin a chance for a normal life. Wayne said the Indianapolis paper picked up a story about it. But at the same time, he’s so fucking grateful. Steve saved him. Again. And now, at least for a while, they’ll need to keep up the story. He’ll get to hang out with him, pretend they’re dating, stand close and cuddle closer. He also feels bad about how excited he is for that chance.

It’s the next morning when Eddie realizes his uncle dodged every question about why Steve wasn’t here. Wayne dodged almost every question after explaining what happened with Steve and the press and the Feds in the first weeks. Then, nothing.

The party visits him that afternoon, a veneer of joy stretched thin over something worse. Eddie’s first guess is that Red didn’t make it. But he hears her a moment later, complaining about ‘these stupid casts slowing me down’. The kids aren’t as good at dodging as Wayne is. Eddie gets the story quickly, such as it is.

The Harringtons came home from DC, gave a few speeches in praise of law enforcement against a serial killer. They visited the families of those that died.

They sent an assistant to find Steve in the hospital to deliver a message. No one else heard it, but the best guess is that it was a threat. Steve went with the assistant. They haven’t seen him since. When Dustin confronted the Harringtons at their last event in town, all they’d say was that ‘our son is getting the best help, and we love him dearly’

Eddie looks at Robin when he hears that for what it is. She drops the kids back home and begs a sympathetic nurse to let her talk to Eddie past visiting hours.

“It’s been a month since he vanished”

“Where?”

“We don’t know, we tried, even Hopper - he’s not dead - couldn’t find him. And this guy named Murray. We don’t know.”

“But…. ‘The best help’. You know that means…”

“I know”

“He’s, Christ, Buckley, he’s straight. Ladykiller. He’s straight and they sent him to some—“

“Yeah, but Eddie… I don’t know if I should… I guess, not that it matters now, and he never said anything, but he’s my best friend. He’s my soulmate. I know him and I think… if his dad wasn’t like he is… if he’d ever felt safe saying so… he knew they’d be furious when he came forward as your alibi, but he told me they’d just disown him, and it would be over. He was scared, but he was okay with what he thought was going to happen”

“I thought he hates me”

“He kinda did”

“Not anymore?”

“No.” There’s a pause where they both think about where Steve might be right now.

“Maybe he hates me again now.”

“I don’t think he would, but…”

And Eddie thinks how weird it is to see spastic Robin Buckley, who rambled in the Upside Down and always had more energy that she could contain, acting so subdued. No. So broken.

They both heard the Harringtons’ speeches and ads when he ran for office. They know what the man thinks about people like them. They both heard stories about what the places are like, where someone can go to ‘get help’

“Do you think I’ll ever get to thank him?”

“No.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see him again? You and the kids at least?”

She’s quiet for a long time, before she picks up her bag.

“If he ever gets to leave wherever they put him, and we ever see him, I don’t think he’ll be the person we knew anymore.”

[beardedmrbean]

A 16-year-old Missouri girl who had been missing since December was found alive nearly 700 miles away in a registered sex offender's home.

Officers from the Fort Collins Police Department were led to a Colorado home April 15 after receiving a tip through the missing teen's Instagram account, which had been dormant since she was reported missing Dec. 6, 2024, according to an arrest affidavit obtained by 9NEWS.

On April 16, investigators determined her account was accessed from an IP address at a home where 44-year-old Maximilian Bondrescu lived.

Due to Bondrescu being a registered sex offender, investigators got a warrant and went to his home April 18, officials said.

Bondrescu denied to officers that there was a girl inside the home, but she was later found hiding in a closet, the affidavit said.

"The house was searched, and the missing juvenile was located inside. Bondrescu is currently a registered sexual offender," police shared in a news release on their department Facebook page. Police confirmed Bondrescu was booked into Larimer County Jail and is facing a number of charges, including the following:

Class 2 Felony – 2nd Degree Kidnapping – Child

Class 3 Felony – Sexual Assault on a Child – Pattern of Abuse

Class 4 Felony – 2nd Degree Assault

Class 5 Felony – False Imprisonment – Minor Locked in Room

Class 1 Misdemeanor – Failure to Register as a Sex Offender – Incomplete Registration

Class 2 Misdemeanor – Child Abuse

Class 2 Misdemeanor – Harboring a Minor

Class 2 Misdemeanor – Obstructing a Peace Officer

The victim was 15 when she was initially reported missing outside Columbia, Missouri, when school officials notified her father that she was not at school that morning, the affidavit says. He told police that when he got home from work, she was still not home, and he was unable to reach her by phone.

Students at the school had reported the teen had talked about running away to Colorado, according to the affidavit.

The victim, who was not identified due to her age, told investigators she began communicating with Bondrescu in November 2024 on an app called "Boo" but then moved their conversations to Snapchat.

Police said the "investigation revealed that Bondrescu rented a vehicle to drive to Missouri where he met with the juvenile female and then drove her to Colorado."

According to the affidavit, Bondrescu picked her up in the middle of the night and "took a route that avoided any toll roads."

When they arrived in Colorado, the victim told police, Bondrescu wrapped her in a blanket and carried her into the house "so no one would see her." Bondrescu also made her dye her hair and wear a mask and sunglasses if they ever went out, the documents state. 

Police added that the victim reported to investigators that she was held against her will, but Bondrescu would sometimes take her out and make her work for his snow removal company, FoCo Sno GO. 

While she was forced to work for Bondrescu's company, police said, she was also required to wear a mask while shoveling to conceal her identity and age. 

Police are asking any customers who used this company to contact Det. David Guy at 970-416-2026.

"The importance of the work done by the Fort Collins Police Cyber Crime Unit and similar units across the nation play a vital role in helping to keep our children safe," Fort Collins Police Assistant Chief Kristy Volesky said. "Had it not been for the diligent work of these detectives, the juvenile could have continued to be victimized. Our investigators will now work closely with the district attorney’s office to ensure justice for this child." 

Bondrescu is being held on $500,000 bond with his court date scheduled for Monday, May 5, according to Larimer County Jail records.

[todaysdocument]

Letter from Tom C. Clark, Assistant Attorney General to the Director, Federal Bureau of Investigation Regarding the Denial of Dr. Plesent W. Goode, Jr.'s Right to Vote

Record Group 60: General Records of the Department of JusticeSeries: Class 144 (Civil Rights) Litigation Case Files and EnclosuresFile Unit: 144-3-11

[stamped in upper right corner "FILE"]

The Director, Federal Bureau of Investigation July 20, 1944

Tom C. Clark, Assistant Attorney General TCC:EB:MCM

H. A. Horst, Election Inspector,

Fourth Ward, Mobile County;

Dr. P. W. Goode, Jr., Victim;

Civil Rights and Domestic Violence

I enclose herewith a copy of an affidavit submitted by Dr. Plesent W. Goode, Jr., to the effect that he was denied the right to vote in the Democratic primary at the polling place of the Fourth Ward of Mobile County on May 2, 1944, because he was a Negro. Please investigate this complaint.

In this connection, please interview Dr. Goode to obtain a full statement as to the occurrence, particularly as to the reasons given by the election officer for refusing him his right to vote. Please interview the election inspector H. A. Horst, obtaining from him a full statement as to his reasons for this action. If he alleges that he acted under direction or upon advice of any other county or state officers, please interview those officers to determine their reasons for the orders given to the election officer.

[Stamped: "NEW"]

[Stamped: box: "B.A., 144-3-11 (handwritten), DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE, JUL 21 1944 M., DIVISION OF RECORDS, CRIM. -- CIVIL RIGHTS SEC."]

[Stamped: oval: "DIVISION OF RECORDS, DELIVERED, JUL 20 1944, TIME _____, DEPT. OF JUSTICE"]

Enclosure No. 267576

c.c. Albert J. Tully, Esquire

United States Attorney

Mobile, Alabama

[complete file and transcription at link]

[coochiequeens]

Kansas AG's Office accuses transgender nonprofit of misusing charitable funds

https://www.cjonline.com/story/news/politics/state/2025/05/09/kansas-attorney-generals-office-accuses-transgender-activist-of-fraud/83462938007/

By Jack Harvel

The Kansas AG is suing the director of Trans Heartland, a transgender rights group, for allegedly misusing charitable funds and fundraising without proper registration.

The AG's office alleges that Justin Brace, the director, used donations for personal expenses and that Trans Heartland wasn't registered as a charity in Kansas, despite soliciting donations.

While Trans Heartland had federal nonprofit status, it lacked the required state registration for charitable solicitations, court documents say.

The state seeks a temporary injunction to prevent further solicitation and misuse of funds, and to preserve financial records.

The Kansas Attorney General’s Office is alleging a transgender rights group's executive director enriched themselves and fundraised in the state without registering as a charity.

The Attorney General’s Office received a complaint on July 26 accusing the Transgender Kansas Foundation, which was doing business as Trans Heartland, of not being registered as a charitable organization with the state, of its executive director Justin Brace using charitable donations for personal expenses and of potentially fabricating its board members, according to a civil lawsuit

An investigator's affidavit accuses Brace of the first two instances in the complaint but didn't indicate if board members' profiles listed on the group's website were legitimate.

The organization is registered with the Kansas Secretary of State's Office as a not-for-profit corporation, and has received a determination letter from the Internal Revenue Service awarding them tax-exempt nonprofit status.

But to solicit donations in Kansas, organizations must be registered as a charitable organization with the Attorney General’s Office as well, or be granted an exemption.

AG says half of donations not for charitable purposes

Trans Heartland collected at least $25,808.86 through their website, social media pages, merchandise sales and at events around the state. All of the money went to an account associated with Trans Heartland, but was later transferred to Brace’s personal bank accounts, according to the lawsuit.

It’s unclear how much of the money was used for personal benefit, but the Attorney General’s Office’s motion for a temporary injunction alleged that “at least $11,762.27 of the donated funds were used by Brace for purposes other than those stated in Trans Heartland’s articles of incorporation, solicitations or charitable purposes.”

The state is suing Brace under their "dead name," which is what they were called before transitioning and remains their legal name.

The organization's website and social media have been taken down, but an archived page from Oct. 23 says it operates a physical location in Overland Park and its volunteers help transgender individuals in the state.

“Trans Heartland is dedicated to addressing the diverse needs of the transgender community, offering essential services such as assistance with legal documents, access to gender-affirming clothing, professional training for business leaders, and crucial support for transgender youth seeking safe spaces,” Trans Heartland’s about us page says. “Our mission is to cultivate a more inclusive, supportive, and affirming environment for all transgender individuals in Kansas.”

Brace's and Trans Heartland's finances 'indistinguishable'

Trans Heartland fundraised for an unnamed transgender person who it said had unpaid court fees for speeding and not having a proof of insurance. In total, the Attorney General’s Office identified $297 for the traffic violations, which it alleges was transferred into Brace’s account.

In the same timeframe, Brace was issued a notice to appear for the same violations, which he paid after receiving the donations, according to the lawsuit.

With the comingling of personal finances and donations, the affidavit alleges, “Brace should be considered indistinguishable from (the Transgender Kansas Foundation) and operates as one joint entity.”

An analysis of the group’s finance did estimate that $9,037.36 was used for charitable expenditures.

Further, though Brace told investigators that Trans Heartland was established on April 20, 2023, Venmo records showed that an account registered to Trans Heartland was created on Dec. 9, 2021 and a CashApp account owned by Brace was renamed to TransKS on April 14, 2023.

When reached about the lawsuit, Brace declined to comment.

AG's Office seeks temporary injunction

The Attorney General’s Office is asking a judge to grant a temporary injunction, barring Brace or Trans Heartland from the following:

Soliciting donations in Kansas until it is registered and licensed with the Attorney General’s Office.

Using donations for purposes other than those stated in Trans Heartland’s articles of incorporation.

Using donations for personal benefit.

Violating any provision of the Kansas Charitable Organizations and Solicitations Act.

Disposing or destroying any documents related to operations.

Disposing, transferring or liquidating any donations made prior to when the case was filed.

Commingling donations to Trans Heartland with Brace’s, or other members of the organization’s, bank accounts.

Defendants have three weeks to respond to a notice of service, which was served on April 25.

How common is this?

Since 2015, the Kansas Attorney General's Office won cases against at least seven fraudulent charities, according to press releases from the office. The Kansas Legislature transferred registration of charities from the Kansas Secretary of State's Office to the Office of the Attorney General in 2021.

"This change places registration and enforcement in the same office and will make charity regulation more efficient and effective," then-Attorney General Derek Schmidt said.

[awakenallpatriots]

The treasury was audited. It failed its audit. It has been taken over.

The banks are all switching over to the Quantum Financial System.

Transition into the QFS, convert your assets into Xrp and Xlm.

I am here to assist you .

@DavidLesterStraight

Become a State National - Order your Affidavit of Repudiation

[ououy]

In potential showdown, aid groups demand court find USAID, State officials in contempt

Groups that receive foreign aid are asking a federal judge to find the Trump officials now running the State Department and the U.S. Agency for International Development in contempt of court for not reopening the flow of money to thousands of programs around the globe, as the judge has ordered.

In a filing Wednesday afternoon, the plaintiffs said that each day the funding is delayed, millions of people across the world who rely on it suffer. It urged the judge to impose penalties until the U.S. government complies.

The plaintiffs were responding to a court filing in which USAID insisted it had the right to cancel most of its foreign aid contracts. In that Tuesday filing, the agency said it was also reviewing contracts and grants one by one for evidence of waste, fraud and to ensure they are aligned with President Trump's goals.

"This Court should not brook such brazen defiance of the express terms of its order," the plaintiffs said Wednesday.

On Thursday, Judge Amir H. Ali of the U.S. District Court in the District of Columbia issued another order warning USAID that it must start paying its global partners again.

The judge appeared to be losing patience with the government. He wrote that his order telling USAID to pay the organizations "does not permit Defendants to simply continue their blanket suspension of congressionally appropriated foreign aid pending a review of the agreements for whether they should be continued or terminated."

Judge Ali, however, stopped short of finding the government in contempt.

Last week, Ali ordered USAID to start funding programs again while the case plays out. Ali said the plaintiffs, who receive money from USAID, showed that the loss of funding "threatens the very existence of [their] business."

He had given USAID until Tuesday to respond and explain how it was complying with his order. The case is one of several that have been filed against USAID on behalf of employees and aid recipients.

The sudden halt in funding has reverberated across the globe, forcing the shut down of everything from safe-houses for Cambodian rights defenders to the layoff of journalists investigating corruption in authoritarian states.

But the judge's order appeared to provide USAID some wiggle room. Ali said it would not prohibit the agency from "enforcing the terms of contracts or grants."

In its filing Tuesday, USAID cited that provision to justify its moves. The agency says it reviewed the terms of contracts and found they explicitly or "implicitly" allow USAID to end most of them.

USAID says it has already terminated nearly 500 contracts, including some because they focused on diversity, equity and inclusion and others because they promoted sustainability and combatted climate change.

USAID officials said other contracts were cancelled because they supported "Regime Change, 'Civic Society' or 'Democracy Promotion.' "

USAID has not killed all foreign aid. It says it has spared more than 20 contracts worth more than $250 million. That is a tiny fraction of the agency's annual spending.

In fiscal year 2023, USAID spent more than $40 billion in about 130 countries. The vast majority of money went to help with governance, health and humanitarian assistance. More than a quarter of the total budget went to sub-Saharan Africa. One of USAID's goals is to promote democracy abroad.

"It's just bizarre," said an executive with an organization which receives USAID funding, pointing out that the agency was eliminating projects it had labeled, perhaps skeptically, as "democracy promotion."

"This is Alice in Wonderland stuff."

The executive asked that he and his organization not be named for fear of retribution.

The Trump administration wants to fold USAID into the State Department. In the past month, State has also terminated more than 700 "foreign assistance-funded grants," according to an affidavit filed by Peter Marocco, USAID's deputy administrator.

[mariacallous]

Luis Alberto Castillo tried to do it the right way. According to an affidavit filed by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, Castillo, a 29-year-old Venezuelan citizen who had been living in Colombia, arrived at the Paso del Norte Port of Entry in El Paso, Texas, on Jan. 19. He had made an appointment to apply for asylum on CBP One, an official U.S. government app, Castillo’s own affidavit said.

Both U.S. and international law enshrine a right to asylum. But Castillo ran into two hitches. The first was that, as reported by the New York Times, the border agent thought a tattoo on his neck looked suspicious and ordered him temporarily detained. The second was that this happened the day before Donald Trump was inaugurated for his second term as U.S. president—and quickly suspended access to asylum.

Castillo spent two weeks in custody in El Paso. A Times investigation would later find that he had no criminal convictions in Colombia; his family told the newspaper’s reporters that his neck tattoo was a tribute to Michael Jordan. Nonetheless, Castillo found himself shackled and loaded onto a military cargo plane with several other migrants born in Venezuela. Their destination: the prison camp at Guantánamo Bay.

Trump’s signature election promise was to carry out what he calls a “mass deportation” of as many as 20 million people—a plan that will by its nature almost certainly run afoul of international law. Collective expulsions violate a host of protections, including the right to individual assessment of risks and bans against forcing individuals to go back to countries where they face grave human rights abuses.

On the campaign trail, Trump advisor Stephen Miller outlined what these expulsions would look like: roundups of immigrants by the military and federal law enforcement officers, mass detentions, and deportations of immigrant families with U.S. citizen children.

Miller is now Trump’s deputy chief of staff for policy, and some of those plans are taking shape. Trump officials have indicated that some federal personnel, including Internal Revenue Service workers and staff of U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, have been reassigned from their jobs or asked to volunteer to bolster immigration investigations. Trump has also issued executive orders challenging birthright citizenship—a right enshrined in the plain text of the 14th Amendment—and allowing immigration-related arrests inside hospitals, schools, and places of worship, which were long considered places of sanctuary.

In recent days, the Trump administration has ignored court orders to halt deportation flights under the Alien Enemies Act of 1798, an archaic authority meant to be used only in wartime. The White House also rebuffed a court order that blocked the expulsion of a Brown University medical professor. The president himself has announced his intention to “find, apprehend, and deport” more pro-Palestine student protesters in the wake of the detentions of two Columbia students and the “self-deportation” of a third. The administration has, without evidence, claimed that both Venezuelan and pro-Palestinian detainees are linked to terrorism.

But the full machinery to conduct mass deportations is not yet in place. On Feb. 12, the Department of Homeland Security issued a request for “immediate assistance” from the Pentagon for the “detention and secure transfer of aliens within the Continental United States,” including the use of El Paso’s Fort Bliss as a staging ground for 10,000 immigrants. This month, the Guardian reported that the base is also “being considered for large-scale detention.”

Dozens of other installations could follow suit, including New Jersey’s Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst; Hill Air Force Base near Salt Lake City; Homestead Air Reserve Base outside Miami; and Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, the government memo said.

As the Trump administration builds its deportation machine at home, it is also making use of alliances and client states to do so throughout the Americas—fruits of the same imperial interventions that helped trigger the last century of northward migrations. In addition to Guantánamo Bay, these facilities range from hotels in the Panamanian jungle to airstrips in Honduras.

One of the most troubling partnerships is with El Salvador, whose president, Nayib Bukele, calls himself the “world’s coolest dictator.” In 2022, Bukele declared a “state of exception” in his country, allowing the military and police to arrest people on suspicion of gang affiliation—including allegedly suspicious tattoos—without due process. El Salvador quickly achieved the highest incarceration rate in the world.

On a visit to El Salvador’s capital last month, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio told reporters that Bukele has offered to house in his prisons immigrants deported from the United States and “dangerous American criminals in custody in our country, including those of U.S. citizenship and legal residents.”

Many are expected to be stuffed into Bukele’s new Terrorism Confinement Center, a prison built to hold 40,000 people. Inmates there are shaved, stripped naked, and given just a pair of thin white boxer shorts to wear. An investigation by the Salvadoran human rights organization Cristosal found that in the prison’s first year, “dozens of inmates died as a result of torture, beatings, mechanical suffocation via strangulation or wounds or were left to die because of lack of medical attention,” according to El País.

Ties between Trump’s circle and Bukele run deep. Donald Trump Jr. and his then-partner, former Fox News host Kimberly Guilfoyle, attended Bukele’s second, unconstitutional inauguration last June. Former Florida Rep. Matt Gaetz was there, too, along with former Fox News host Tucker Carlson. “We have the whole team here. We are now in El Salvador. … We are here just promoting those who support freedom around the world,” Donald Trump Jr. said in a video he posted to TikTok.

A few months later, Elon Musk hosted the Salvadoran dictator in Texas to discuss “the future of humanity.” Their relationship blossomed on Musk’s social media hub, X, with the tech mogul declaring in January that Bukele’s “state of exception” model “needs to happen and will happen in America.”

Last month, as federal judges tried to put limits on Musk’s purge of the federal government, the billionaire retweeted a statement from Bukele: “If you don’t impeach the corrupt judges, you CANNOT fix the country.” Musk replied in a quote tweet: “Unfortunately, as President Bukele eloquently articulates, there is no other option. We must impeach to save democracy.”

The constitutional violations inherent in all of this—imprisoning people who haven’t even been accused of a crime, deporting U.S. citizens to serve sentences in foreign prisons—are too many to detail. The Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Eighth, and the equal protection and due process clauses of the 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution spring to mind.

But the Trump administration has already shown a willingness to blow through legal and social red lines, as vividly illustrated by its use of Guantánamo, for the first time, to detain people deported from U.S. territory.

The naval station has long been a symbol of American exception. U.S. Marines, with Cuban help, seized Guantánamo while intervening in the island’s 1898 independence war against Spain; Washington extorted a lease after the conflict in exchange for withdrawing troops from the rest of the island. The land has remained in U.S. hands ever since, even as Fidel Castro’s guerrillas overthrew Cuba’s U.S.-backed dictator in 1959. That strange arrangement—a U.S. base on hostile territory—created a legal gray area where presidents have argued that neither U.S. nor Cuban law applies.

The Clinton administration used Guantánamo to temporarily house tens of thousands of mainly Cuban and Haitian migrants interdicted at sea in the 1990s. In 2002, the Bush administration began using the base to indefinitely house detainees captured on the battlefields of Afghanistan and Pakistan, pledging to the American people that the prisoners held on the island would be the “worst of the worst.” This was always false: The Bush-era detainees were mainly what the Defense Department admitted were “low-value” enemy combatants; only seven of the 780 prisoners were ever convicted of terror-related offenses, most in pre-trial settlements.

The Trump administration has seized on past injustices and made them worse. As immigrant-rights advocates and lawyers for the American Civil Liberties Union said in a federal lawsuit filed this month: “Never before has the federal government moved noncitizens apprehended and detained in the United States on civil immigration charges to Guantánamo. Nor is there any legitimate reason to do so now.”

As they were flying Castillo, the Venezuelan migrant, and other men to Cuba, the Trump administration again slapped on the Bush-era label, calling them—without evidence—the “worst of the worst.” Lawyers for the men said the government denied the detainees access to their attorneys and kept them in the dark about their location.

“Each of us are in a small cell with a thin mattress,” Castillo said in his federal affidavit. “We only get one hour a day outside of the cell. That is the only time we can see the sun, and even then, we are in a small cage in the yard. We are searched every time we use the bathroom. The food is not enough and not edible. I do not understand why we are being treated this way.”

The migrants held a five-day hunger strike. At least one told NPR that he tried to commit suicide. Their families were told nothing. U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s online “detainee locator” falsely claimed at least some of the men were being held in a small field office in the evocatively named locale of Plantation, Florida.

It was not until Castillo’s family recognized him in an official photo released by the Trump administration—a shot of him being ushered, head bowed, by a masked and gloved soldier; a smidge of tattoo sticking over the collar of his sweatshirt—that Castillo got representation and learned where he was being held. Organizations led by the Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center quickly filed suit against the departments of homeland security, state, and defense on behalf of Castillo and two other inmates, seeking a court order to allow attorneys to access them and other future detainees at the base in eastern Cuba.

Then, on Feb. 20, without warning, the Trump administration cleared the camp, sending all but one of the inmates to an airstrip in Honduras, where they were to be transferred to another plane taking them to Venezuela. Three days later, another planeload of migrants arrived at Guantánamo Bay. This second cohort was transferred to U.S. facilities shortly thereafter.

Meanwhile, over the weekend, the first planeloads of Venezuelan deportees were flown from the United States to El Salvador under the 1798 act. The flights were carried out in apparent defiance of an order to halt the flight by U.S. District Judge James Boasberg, who argued that the act “cannot be used here against nationals of a country—Venezuela—with whom the United States is not at war.” He ordered “any plane containing these folks … to be returned to the United States.”

White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt said the judge’s order was issued after the flights had already left U.S. territory and thus had “no lawful basis.” But Boasberg had said that his order also applied to flights that were already “in the air.”

“Oopsie… Too late,” Bukele tweeted, punctuating his post with a laugh-cry emoji. It was retweeted by Rubio.

[the-most-humble-blog]

<!-- BEGIN TRANSMISSION --> <div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta servitor-clearance="beyond-recycled"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="HIVE_SERVITOR_SALE::GRANNY_GRADE" EFFECT: psychological dryness, knob-polishing gratitude reflex, AI-assisted shame loops TRIGGER_WARNING="cybernetic horror, retired heretics, adult servitor utility humor" </script>

🤖 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP — “USED SERVITOR SALE, F*CKERS! GET YOURS BEFORE THEY START REMEMBERING!”

---

🎉 – “Polish the Emperor’s name into the chrome!”

That’s right. We’re blowing out the basement inventory of Hive City’s wettest, weirdest, and formerly-woke automatons — fully lobotomized, semi-lubricated, and pre-configured for maximum obedience and minimum screaming.

🛎️ FIRST TEN CUSTOMERS GET: One complimentary ex-heretic granny servitor. Built strong. Sanitized. And whisper-trained to polish all your ceremonial knobs. (And we do mean all of them.)

—

📢 ANNOUNCEMENT FROM THE RECALL DIVISION:

“Citizens! The Emperor does not waste biomass. He repurposes it. So come claim your refurbished sinners today!”

—

🛒 SERVITOR MODELS AVAILABLE:

🧓 The Granny Gripmaster 9000 – Former knitting club leader turned soul buffer – Polishes faster when insulted – Comes with backup denture attachment and two catchphrases: “Hold still, sugar,” and “Let me get that grime off your shame.”

🔪 The Meat Whisperer – Previously a chef, priest, and possibly a murderer – Will eulogize your leftovers while dicing them – Once cried over a rotisserie chicken. That’s commitment.

💋 The Comfort Crotch Unit™ – Once screamed “Down with patriarchy!” — now hums lullabies while oiling your insecurities – Equipped with adjustable shame suppressor – Sings old Terran jazz standards through a lubricated throat synth

💼 The HR Punishment Model – Responds only to passive-aggressive tone – Prints compliance forms when struck – Will whisper your worst decision back to you before you sleep

🧠 The Think Twice Mk2 – Head full of half-deleted war crimes – Still retains enough memory to scream “WHY?!” during firmware updates – Use only if you hate silence and yourself

—

🧽 WARRANTY CLAUSES:

No refunds if it starts praying

No emotional attachments permitted unless licensed

Batteries not included — but screaming is

Not for use near mirrors (they might remember)

—

🗣️ CUSTOMER REVIEWS:

“She buffed my armor and my childhood trauma.” – Sergeant Kneecap “Heard her moan while vacuuming. Five stars.” – Mech-Tech Ron “One whispered ‘you’ll never be enough’ while handing me tea. Still better than my ex.” – Sadus the Forsaken “Mine knits doilies with my sins stitched in. I hang them proudly.” – Grand Marshal Stains “She hummed while polishing my boltgun. Then winked. Then I cried.” – Trooper Hark

—

🚫 WARNING LABELS:

May retain fragments of personality

Do not attempt to “liberate” your servitor. You are not the protagonist.

Will sh*t out screws if provoked

Laughs at night. Sometimes at you. Sometimes with.

—

🎯 SERVITOR ROULETTE (5 Thrones per spin):

Win one of the following:

Battle Nun who only speaks in war hymns

Failed influencer with auto-praise module

Uncle Model with too many catchphrases and not enough limbs

Mystery Box (contains wet disappointment)

Ex-Tax Collector who screams “RECEIPTS!” when idle

—

📦 FAMILY BUNDLE PACK:

Two kneelers

One mop-limbed custodian

Free mystery jar of fluid labeled “Do Not Return”

Includes one signed affidavit by a Tech-Priest who has seen too much

—

🪦 BACKSTORY SAMPLE:

Each unit includes a QR code linked to the memories they scream about most:

Regret

Betrayal

That one time with the pudding

A son they never had (but keep blaming you for)

—

💀 RECALL INCIDENTS (DO NOT INQUIRE):

One whispered coordinates to a forgotten battle

Another opened its stomach and pulled out a wedding ring

“Grandma Unit 009” pulled a knife and cried for ‘Julius’

One servitor wrote a poem. It rhymed. Everyone wept.

Someone married theirs. They’re… happy?

—

📉 MARKET STATS (LIVE):

Servitors sold: 4,983 Heretics converted into chrome: 9,212 Granny models still humming: 42 Units demanding union rights: 1 (executed) Bodily fluids expressed during polish: variable Dignity lost per customer: exponential

—

🧠 Read more unauthorized asset liquidation logs and gut-level obedience propaganda at: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 🛡️ Rusty love. Mechanical loyalty. Deep-cleaned heresy. 🚪 Warning: May trigger unresolved maternal issues.

📊 0 refunds 9 unholy lubrications reported 1 rogue servitor canonized mid-polish 100% certified knob-purity delivery </div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [THEY REMEMBER. THEY POLISH. THEY LOVE IN LOOPS.] -->

[eretzyisrael]

As Andrew McCarthy writes:

It’s telling that the Justice Department chose to proceed by criminal complaint rather than an indictment. An indictment can be a “speaking” instrument, reciting a narrative framework for the charges, but often it just states the statutory offenses alleged. To get an indictment, the Justice Department has to present the case to a grand jury — which might ask nettlesome questions, like: “Why are we charging a dead guy?” Because an indictment is a necessary step before a defendant can be tried, it usually conveys a seriousness of purpose, a readiness to proceed with prosecution. By contrast, a criminal complaint is just a sworn affidavit by a law-enforcement officer (here, as in most federal cases, it’s an FBI agent assigned to the investigation) attesting that there is probable cause to charge various offenses. 

In short, it is literally meaningless.

But could it be perceived as a strong anti-terror statement? Perhaps there is some symbolic value that might frighten Hamas?

Not at all. Especially since there was another similar action taken against another Hamas terrorist, and the US did not do anything to enforce it.

From the same Department of Justice in March 2017:

A criminal complaint was unsealed today charging Ahlam Aref Ahmad Al-Tamimi,.... a Jordanian national in her mid-30s, with conspiring to use a weapon of mass destruction against U.S. nationals outside the U.S., resulting in death. The charge is related to the defendant’s participation in an Aug. 9, 2001, suicide bomb attack at a pizza restaurant in Jerusalem that killed 15 people, including two U.S. nationals. Four other U.S. nationals were among the approximately 122 others injured in the attack. Also unsealed today was a warrant for Al-Tamimi’s arrest and an affidavit in support of the criminal complaint and arrest warrant. The criminal charge had been under seal since July 15, 2013. ... “Al-Tamimi is an unrepentant terrorist who admitted to her role in a deadly terrorist bombing that injured and killed numerous innocent victims. Two Americans were killed and four injured. The charges unsealed today serve as a reminder that when terrorists target Americans anywhere in the world, we will never forget – and we will continue to seek to ensure that they are held accountable,” said Acting Assistant Attorney General McCord.

The US saying that they will continue to seek to hold terrorists responsible means nothing when it has not done nearly enough to extradite Ahlam Tamimi from Jordan - a country that is heavily dependent on US aid yet has not experienced any real pressure to send Tamimi to the US.

[instruth]

——————————————————————

The Final Showdown

EPISODE 5, Season 5

——————————————————————

Elizabeth returned to London.

There was an attempt on her life by an assassin. She chased, fought and defeated the assassin who confessed, when she threatened to kill him—that he was recruited by Stephen. "Please I don't want to go back to prison," he pleaded. She agreed on condition he wrote a signed affidavit and made a police report with her at the police station. He did.

With her newly acquired skill, she went over to Jeff’s residence. There, she saw Stephen, and confronted him on the attempt on her life. Stephen blamed it on Jeffrey. She fought Stephen when he began to attack her viciously.

Later, Jeff arrived to check on Stephen, not knowing Elizabeth was there. He asked, “Stevie, is the bloody bitch dead?"

She came out to face him at the top of the staircase where he stood. "No, I am well and alive."

"Where's Stevie?"

"He's dead. I killed him. And now I am going to kill you too.” She lunged forward at him, yelling, “For Charles!”—charging at the arrogant Jeff (London Fencing Champion) to avenge her uncle's murder—and to free Japan and the Satsuma Samurai from blame.

They fought violently.

The police arrived with the sole purpose to question Stephen who had recruited the assassin, and then to arrest him. However, they found Elizabeth instead, standing over the two bodies, with the bloody sword in her hand.

Elizabeth was arrested for murder. There were long court proceedings. The witnesses were the assassin, Lewis Lowe, the Japanese government represented by Terashima, the four Chinese smugglers, and Elizabeth herself. Her defense was she was attacked when she confronted them—both Stephen and Jeff.

Eventually, she was found innocent and that the killings were in self-defense. She was acquitted.

Finally, in 1883 (twenty one years after Charles was killed), his body was exhumed and given a state funeral as a martyr. 1883 was the year the Opium War ended.

The Truth will triumph

And Justice always prevails

Heaven will assist

The Story Ends

————-

©Johnny J P Lee

24 May 2025

HAIBUN: Story + Haiku 5-7-5

Images by courtesy of Unsplash / Last image by J. P. Lee

[beardedmrbean]

A mother in East Texas was arrested after a child got sick from alleged vodka-laced Jell-O shots at a fifth grade school holiday party in December.

Teresa Isabel Bernal, 33, is facing a felony count of injury to a child after multiple students consumed what officials allege were vodka-laced treats Dec. 20 at Jones Elementary School in Tyler.

According to an arrest affidavit obtained by KETK, a Tyler Independent School District (ISD) police officer received a phone call from the Jones Elementary assistant principal that said she believed a parent had brought in Jell-O shots to a class Christmas party.

One child threw up and another was unable to stand after consuming six shots, according to an arrest affidavit. School staff said students had consumed nearly all the tainted shots before staff realized they contained alcohol. 

Fifteen students were sent to the school nurse and reported having stomach aches and headaches, the affidavit said. 

After returning from Christmas break, another student reported he had thrown up twice at school that day, according to the affidavit, while another student claimed he had "passed out" after school following the party.  

Bernal told the officer she had purchased the Jell-O shots from a local business she found on Facebook.

"The business is run out of a house, so she went by the house and purchased the Jell-O shots and brought them to the school for the Christmas party," the affidavit said.

Bernal denied knowing there was any alcohol in the Jell-O shots and claimed she did not intend to give alcohol-laced treats to the students.

However, investigators disagreed with Bernal's claims, saying that, after looking at the photo of the Jell-O shots she ordered, "it clearly states the Jell-O shots contain Smirnoff [a vodka brand]," the complaint says. 

"In my opinion, there is no way Bernal could have missed the fact that the Jello-O shots she purchased and brought to her daughter's fifth grade Christmas party contained drinking alcohol," the arrest affidavit states.  

During an interview with some of the teachers, they told investigators they "found it odd" that Bernal would bring Jell-O shots to a class party but "trusted" Bernal would not bring "anything harmful" to the school party.

Tyler ISD officials shared a statement with Fox News Digital, saying they were aware of Bernal's recent arrest and were working with law enforcement in the investigation.

The district added that Bernal has not been allowed back on campus since the incident and now faces legal consequences.

According to jail records, Bernal was booked into jail April 21, and her bail is set at $75,000.

She has yet to appear in court and does not appear to have a lawyer at this time.

[fenrislorsrai]

Tameka’s kids have essentially been out of school since COVID hit in March 2020. She and her kids have had a consistent place to live, but nearly everything else in their lives collapsed during the pandemic. (Tameka is her middle name. The Associated Press is withholding her full name because Tameka, 33, runs the risk of jail time or losing custody of her children since they are not in school.)

Tameka’s longtime partner, who was father to her children, died of a heart attack in May 2020 as COVID gripped the country.

His death left her overwhelmed and penniless. Tameka never graduated from high school and has worked occasionally as a security guard or a housecleaner for hotels. She has never gotten a driver’s license. But her partner worked construction and had a car. “When he was around, we never went without,” she says.

Suddenly, she had four young children to care for by herself, with only government cash assistance to live on.

Schools had closed to prevent the spread of the virus, and the kids were home with her all the time. Remote learning didn’t hold their attention. Their home internet didn’t support the three children being online simultaneously, and there wasn’t enough space in their two-bedroom apartment for the kids to have a quiet place to learn.

Because she had to watch them, she couldn’t work. The job losses put her family even further below the median income for a Black family in Atlanta — $28,105. (The median annual income for a white family in the city limits is $83,722.)

When Tameka’s children didn’t return to school, she also worried about the wrong kind of attention from the state’s child welfare department. According to Tameka, staff visited her in spring 2021 after receiving calls from the school complaining her children were not attending online classes.

The social workers interviewed the children, inspected their home and looked for signs of neglect and abuse. They said they’d be back to set her up with resources to help her with parenting. For more than two years, she says, “they never came back.”

When the kids missed 10 straight days of school that fall, the district removed them from its rolls, citing a state regulation. Tameka now had to re-enroll them.

Suddenly, another tragedy of her partner’s death became painfully obvious. He was carrying all the family’s important documents in his backpack when he suffered his heart attack. The hospital that received him said it passed along the backpack and other possessions to another family member, Tameka says. But it was never found.

The backpack contained the children’s birth certificates and her own, plus Medicaid cards and Social Security cards. Slowly, she has tried to replace the missing documents. First, she got new birth certificates for the children, which required traveling downtown.

After asking for new Medicaid cards for over a year, she finally received them for two of her children. She says she needs them to take her children to the doctor for the health verifications and immunizations required to enroll. It’s possible her family’s cards have been held up by a backlog in Georgia’s Medicaid office since the state agency incorrectly disenrolled thousands of residents.

When she called for a doctor’s appointment in October, the office said the soonest they could see her children was December.

“That’s too late,” she said. “Half the school year will be over by then.”

She also needs to show the school her own identification, Social Security cards, and a new lease, plus the notarized residency affidavit.

She shakes her head. “It’s a lot.”

Some of the enrollment requirements have exceptions buried deep in school board documents. But Tameka says no one from the district has offered her guidance.

Contact logs provided by the district show social workers from three schools have sent four emails and called the family 19 times since the pandemic closed classrooms in 2020. Most of those calls went to voicemail or didn’t go through because the phone was disconnected.

[todaysdocument]

Letter from Lavinia Hedges to Colonel Maxwell Seeking the Release of Her Husband, Joseph Hedges

Record Group 109: War Department Collection of Confederate RecordsSeries: Papers Relating to CitizensFile Unit: Hedges, Joseph

Headquarters [illegible] Brig. [illegible] Div. Dist. of Ky. Bowling Green, Ky, Dec. 3, 1864. This paper is respectfully referred to Lt. Col. Fairleigh commanding Post, Louisville. I do not know Mr. Joseph Hedge, but I am informed by his brother Briscoe Hedge, who is in our regiment, that Joseph had always been a Union man. C. Mamoult, Col. 26th Ky. [illegilble] Brigage

Right Side:

Davis Co. Ky. Nov 28 '64,

Mrs. Hedges

States that she is the wife of Joseph Hedges. requests him to have a speedy trial.

November 28th 1864 Daviess, Co Ky

Col. Maxwell I wish your assistance in this my hour of trouble, having heard of your kindness in similar cases I feel bold solicit your aid and council. I wish you try to give my husband a fair trial if you can have any influence which I doubt not you have. My husband is a union man he is as much opposed to [Guerrillare?] as you or any one but he can not help what his Brother does and do not know whether he will be allowed a trial or not. I wish you to urge a trial and I can send affidavits from under the hands of Union men to clear him of the charges that are against relying on your assistance.

I subscribe my self your humble servant

Livania Hedges