mission was accomplished. It would only take me two or three weeks to get rid of him. I knew it wasn’t her pimp who made her a victim. She, by her own flaws, made herself a victim. She gave herself to whatever person walked up. Getting rid of him wouldn’t fix that. She would only continue to find worse and worse scumbags to try to please and be victimized by. I needed to get her out of Miami, in hopes she would live long enough for her brain to reroute to where she could resist people, recognize danger, avoid risks, pursue normal goals each day in an organized way, and take care of herself like a normal person. I never imagined it would not be Miami scumbags in open shirts as I feared at the time, but soulless predatory halfwits employed by the taxpayer half way across the state, in a heroin-addled white-trash shithole called Seminole County, who would do her in for their own sport and amusement. They would be wearing suits and ties, they would be equipped with nearly unlimited resources designed to make sport of a young person, and they would be dumber and more evil than any pervert who ever pulled up a picture of 16-year-old Mandi Jackson on backpage.com. A different culture meant a different costume. But government employees are still aging mediocre men with crude ambitions. And she was still something the slowest hungriest predators could catch.