Chapter 9
2003

The sight in front of Sydney threatened to make her sick, but she couldn't pull her eyes from the pictures. She had to burn every inch of the pictures into her memory. Of the twelve pictures, one stood out from the rest for Sydney. Besides being the worst of the twelve, this picture caused the most pain.

Images of twelve fallen comrades, whom Sydney would never know, were displayed. These pictures were not the happy family photos that would be hung on the walls of homes. The pictures would never be inside wallets, ready to be shown to any willing person. These pictures were the last pictures taken of these twelve heroes. These pictures depicted the way the twelve agents were killed. By Derevko.

Blood was a common theme in many of the pictures, but it was not always present. Five agents had been shot, three agents in the head, two agents in the heart. Four agents had been stabbed several times each. Two agents had been strangled, leaving thin burn marks around their necks. And one agent had been burned to death. That agent's name was William Vaughn.

The picture showed an unrecognizable charred man. What was left were mostly blackened bones. There must have been connective tissue left to hold the bones together, but it wasn't visible through the blackness. His jaw was open, presumedly from screaming.

Sydney let her tears flow freely as she saw for the first time the destruction her mother had caused. The pain, suffering, and grief that had been induced by her mother. Seeing these pictures, Sydney mourned the deaths of these agents. Her guilt coursed through her veins as she thought of the moment when she had forgiven her mother. When Sydney thought that she had her mother back. She now realized she never had that mother. And now wished she never had had a mother at all.

Though there wasn't much left of William Vaughn's face, she could see the pain he felt his last moments. She knew from the few stories Vaughn had told of his father, that he was a great man, and an even better father. Sydney imagined what went through William Vaughn's mind as he realized he was dying. His wife and his son. He wouldn't be there for the birthdays, anniversaries, and baseball games. He wouldn't grow old with his beautiful wife. He wouldn't be able to see his little boy turn into a man. Would his son even remember him?

Sydney took a deep breath, trying to abate her tears. She got up slowly to grab a tissue from the hotel bathroom. After she cleaned her face Sydney returned to the bed, pictures scattered on top of the comforter. She gathered the twelve pictures and slid them into a manilla envelop and sealed it. On the front of the envelop was her name and her old address. Sydney carefully went downstairs of the Reno Hilton Hotel and mailed the pictures.

She hoped this would help bring justice for the twelve agents and their families.