First off, if you clicked on this story-Thank You! This is a "Long Time Listener, First Time Caller" sort out deal being that this is my first fanfic story. So I'll give the spiel that I've come to know and love from my time reading on here:

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CRIMINAL MINDS THE SHOW OR THE CHARACTERS (but darn do the own me)

This will be a multi-chapter piece, and is rated M for later chapters which will then be said as mmmmmmm.

Don't be afraid to let your brain talk and your fingers type. Any review is an appreciated review.

BTW this is without BETA. please please please let me know if I need it!

Nobody ever told her.

Staring at one of her many computer screens, Penelope Garcia sat wide eyed and unmoving as her brain tried to make sense of what she just read.

A LOCAL HERO'S SECRET REVEALED

Her eyes scanned the words of the article hoping for a chance that she was mistaken. Maybe she didn't read it right. Except by the end of the third read she had memorized whole sentences as if she was going on an audition and it was her script. The words stayed the same every time. Maybe the journalist was wrong and got their story mixed up. Happens all the time. Except, of course, to journalists who are in the courtroom for all of the proceedings and heard the same details over and over again. Which was the story of THIS particular journalist.

Finally moving her fingers which were hovering above the keyboard, Penelope began to search the name of the journalist.

"Well, we will just see if you check out as a credible source with a little thing called a background ch-oh jeez. I'm actually arguing with myself. The words haven't changed and these are proven facts Penny!"

Penelope snapped her mouth shut realizing she was now arguing and talking aloud to herself. She might dress crazy but she didn't need people thinking she actually was crazy. Unless they already thought that, in which case nobody ever said purr about it. They accepted her as a girl with too many colors and too many computers. One of which was currently showing her something she really didn't want to see.

It dawned on her that all of these the questions and ramblings were just distractions. Roadblocks she was putting up in order to fend off the inevitable truth.

"Focus Garcia, Fo...cus," she whispered to herself as she let out an exhale that was long overdue.

She scanned the article again, noticing that while it was short, it packed a punch. To the untrained eye, the journalist had merely stated the facts and added extra words for flavor. But to her, each statement took her mind back through time trying to find a starting point solid enough for her to hold on to. She was by no means a profiler, but she had picked up a few things in her years at the BAU. And she couldn't stop her mind, or her heart, from making the ugly connections.

Reluctantly, Penelope expanded the page to full view in order to see a picture on the right-hand side of the article. Before allowing herself a full glimpse, she quickly closed her eyes, knowing that she wasn't ready just yet. Her hand shook a little, but remained on the mouse.

"Reality...hurts sometimes," Penelope said to herself as she slowly open her eyes and fixated on the image before her. She released a sigh of sympathy. Not for the monster in the picture but for the boy-the man-that she knew. That she thought she knew.

Although clouded by unshed tears that began to swell up in her eyes, Penelope examined the words along the left side of the picture.

. . . As seen here, local youth center director and beacon of the community Carl Buford is now having additional charges added to his already startling murder charges. Court interviews of local community members, both adults and children, revealed several accusations of child molestation. Further investigation has proven that, in fact, Buford did perform acts of molestation on these children, some dating all the way back to the time of the second murder victim. Members of this Chicago community are outraged and appalled. . .

"And so am I," Penelope stated as she let a few uncontrollable tears roll down her cheek.

Having had enough of reading the same words repeatedly, she finally closed the article page. Unfortunately this only shoved her closer to the land of questions that she had. Before she could let her self dwell upon the deeper and sadder ones, she decided to linger with the question she thought of first. The question that nagged at her since her flight back from Chicago.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"