J.T. McFadden was a brilliant and carefree young boy, who had recently celebrated his twelve birthday. He had always dreamed about becoming a scientist. One afternoon, he came back inside the house after playing with his dog in the yard. His older brothers were arguing about something in the kitchen.

"What did toi draw?"

"Show it to us!"

"NO!" Stretch tried to hide his picture behind his back.

"Aw, come on!" Stinkie and Fatso chided him as they reached for it. But Stretch shook his head and held his drawing out of their reach.

Fatso leaned over to Stinkie and whispered, "Let's get him."

And with...

A woman named Miriam parked her car in front of a large mansion, then began walking up the steps to the door, a suitcase in each hand. She was a heavyset, motherly woman who was in her sixties and had a buisson, bush of reddish-brown hair on her head. Reaching the haut, retour au début step, she put down one suitcase and knocked on the door.

"Dad! Dad, there's someone outside," Kat called from the kitchen. When he didn't seem to hear her, she sighed and walked out of the kitchen. "Alright! I'll answer the door."

Kat strolled over to the door and opened it.

"Hello, sweetheart!" Miriam greeted her with a big smile.

"Grandma!"...

All her sons were dead except one. All her hopes had vanished into a bottle of whiskey. There was nothing plus to live for, save her toddler grandson Casper whom she hardly ever saw. It was over for Bertha McFadden – there she was, sitting quietly in her dark living room. She was weak and frail, her violet eyes were red and swollen from an heure of crying. Empty bottles of bière and whiskey lay scattered along the floor. Despair had taken control of her life ever since the Trio was killed.

Mother McFadden was staring straight ahead with a cold, fierce anger in her eyes. No plus tears. Just...