you're the laziness of afternoon

Beth awoke on Monday morning in her own bed to Daryl's deep voice softly rumbling in her ear, "Ba-abe – I'm gettin' up, d'you want breakfast?"

She got up with the boys and volunteered to make waffles and hash browns while the coffee brewed and Daryl and Malachi got ready for the day. Then they all ate breakfast together at the small dining table before the boys headed out, Daryl leaving a lingering kiss on Beth's lips before he stepped out the door. She spent the rest of the morning sipping coffee and cleaning up from breakfast, then she lazily moved about to showering and putting on some clothes. The TV played at a low volume to fill the silence of the empty apartment, but she mostly sang aloud to herself as she walked around and went about her morning.

There was nothing new on any of the news sites pertaining to her or her family, and the TV was playing all the same old reruns and game shows that it normally did on Monday mornings. She occupied herself with reading for a while and playing around on the guitar, and when lunch time rolled around, she made a sandwich and sat down to watch Sixteen Candles on a whim.

The movie ended and she lazily scrolled through the menu of other movie titles, preparing to turn the TV off altogether and move back to reading. But then her phone vibrated and she found a text message from Clementine, asking what she was doing. She quickly texted back that she wasn't doing anything, to which Clem replied within seconds that she was working in the lobby and bored out of her mind because she was ahead in her classes and had nothing to fill her time. Beth eagerly took the offer to get out of the apartment for a bit and agreed to come down and keep Clem company for a while.

The lobby was quiet and empty, and Beth only passed one other tenant on her way down the stairs. She kept her head low and didn't make eye contact, letting out a breath of relief when she reached the ground floor and spotted Clem behind the desk. The tawny-skinned girl smiled when she saw Beth approaching and offered an empty chair beside her.

"Hey," she greeted as Beth sat down and gazed at the assortment of magazines sitting on the desk, and the computer screen that displayed one of Clem's social media sites. She had a Starbucks cup in her hand, sipping absent-mindedly as her other hand flipped through pages of the magazine in front of her.

"Wow, you really are bored down here, huh?" Beth commented, reaching over and sliding one of the magazines toward her on the surface of the desk. The stack appeared to consist mostly of Cosmopolitan and Teen Vogue, with a couple issues of Rolling Stone and American Art Collector at the bottom. She couldn't see what the cover of the magazine Clem was reading said, but she saw a lot of astrology symbols on the pages.

"Yeah," Clem replied. "I was writing a paper, but I'm waiting to hear back from one of my mom's friends in another state – she collects art and she's like, an expert on some of the stuff I'm writing about. But she's a full-time lawyer so I think it might be a while until she gets back to me."

"Oh, she must be pretty busy," Beth said. "Bummer."

"Yeah, I hate waiting. You must be bored, too, if you wanted to come down here and hang out with me. This place is always a ghost town towards the end of the month," Clem said.

Beth shrugged. "Not like I got anythin' better to do."

Clem chuckled softly, flipping through her magazine. "Not with your boyfriend at work all day."

Beth smirked. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Clem shook her head, gazing down at the magazine pages. "I know you're still laying low, but isn't it getting pretty old just sitting around the apartment all day? I think I'd go crazy without a job or something, or some kinda reason to get outta the house."

Beth's smirk quickly faded and she wanted to say yes, and that she wished she had a job or school or something, because she felt more useless now than she ever had before. But she just shook her head and replied, "Kinda like a vacation. After a really long time without one. Gets boring sometimes, but I don't really think I'm ready for… more yet."

Clem glanced over at her and nodded in understanding. "Oh, I see. Yeah, I get that."

Beth raised her eyebrows, fingers lingering on the page of the magazine before her as she looked over at Clem and said, "I'll be gettin' outta the house all weekend – Daryl's asked me t'go camping with him an' Mal."

"Really? Just the three of you?" Clem asked, eyes lighting up with intrigue.

"No, with his friends, Dwight an' Sherry. The ones I just met at the bar," Beth explained. "They're really nice."

"Where are you guys gonna go?"

"Somewhere up in the Catskills, I guess. I dunno – I've never been. Have you?"

Clem shrugged. "Couple times when I was younger, but it's been years. There really isn't anything out there, like civilization-wise. It's all just really small towns and wilderness. I don't think I could be away from the city like that, even for a night. No internet, no cell service…"

Beth chuckled. "We're only spendin' two nights up there. I think it'll be fun, I'm excited."

"Sounds fun," Clem agreed. "Just not my thing. Too many places to go missing and never be found."

Beth laughed and rolled her eyes, growing used to Clem's sarcastic comments.

Clem smiled, tucking some of her kinky, black hair behind her ear. "So how'd your date at the bar go, anyway? Anything exciting happen?" She was gazing back down at the open magazine in front of her.

"Oh, I was gonna text you about it but then I figured it'd be better t'tell you in person," Beth grinned excitedly.

Clem's eyes widened briefly and she looked over at Beth expectantly. "It was that good? What happened?"

Beth raised her eyebrows and explained, "Well, everything was pretty normal with Dwight an' Sherry. But then these guys came in. I guess they're infamous for causin' trouble around there. One of 'em surprised me when I was at the jukebox, he tried ta grab my leg – but I used that move from the class. And I almost broke his arm!"

Clem stared at Beth in surprise, then grinned. "Seriously?"

Beth nodded, still smiling proudly. "Yeah, then Daryl came over an' almost got into it with both of the guys. But they kicked 'em out before anything happened. It was… kinda awesome."

Clem chuckled. "Wow, I wish somebody would've recorded that. What stopped you from breaking his arm?"

Beth laughed aloud, leaning back into her chair. "Daryl pulled him away before I could really do anythin' else. I dunno that I could stomach breakin' somebody's bones, though. I was jus' kinda holdin' him there. It was the first thing I thought t'do."

Clem gazed at Beth thoughtfully, then said, "Wow, look at that. You've come pretty far in such a short amount of time."

Beth smiled sheepishly and shrugged, knowing that the other girl was subtly comparing the night with Austin to this situation.

"I think," Clem said, smirking and looking back down to her magazine. "That the people you surround yourself with makes all the difference. And I think you chose the right ones at the right time."

Beth watched Clem silently for a moment, mulling on her words as the other girl skimmed the magazine before her, turning the page. Then she said quietly, "Yeah, I'm startin' to think that, too."

Except I didn't choose any of you, she thought, picking up the magazine she'd left open on the desk and holding it in front of her to lazily read while she relaxed into the desk chair. I chose Daryl – kind of. He was my only option and I was desperate to be safe. But now it is a choice. All of you kinda came in a package deal. But it still feels… right. Normal. Somehow.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, while the two girls sat in their chairs and skimmed over the magazines in their hands, Beth asked, "How's things with your parents? Still… bad?"

She saw Clem shrug from the corner of her eye, but the tawny-skinned girl didn't look up as she mumbled, "Same as always. It's a little quieter now since my dad's on a business trip. But he'll be back next week, so I'm just trying to enjoy the peace and quiet while I can."

"Oh," Beth said quietly, glancing up but quickly back down to her magazine.

"So, how's Mal taking the new relationship? He's stoked about it, right?" Clem asked, and Beth looked over at her to see that she was still reading her magazine, a casual tone to her voice.

"Well," Beth muttered hesitantly. "He's… not exactly stoked. I mean, he doesn't seem to not like me or anythin', he just needs some time. I think. Why – did Carol say something?"

Clem furrowed her brow and shrugged. "No, I was just wondering. Well, she sorta said something the other day about questions and kids not understanding stuff – but, to be honest, I stopped listening like, halfway through."

Beth laughed and she saw Clem smirk, finally looking up from her magazine to meet her gaze.

"Yeah, she was sayin' the same thing to us," Beth said, smile fading. "We tried to explain it to him. I don't… think he really cares that we're together. He just – he can't really understand the situation quite yet. There's like, a lotta conversations that Daryl needs to have with him."

A lot of conversations that don't involve me, she thought. And I'm glad they don't. I just want Daryl to be okay with her being gone. And Mal.

"Ah," Clem said, sipping her Starbucks drink and nodding knowingly. "Dead mom stuff."

Beth raised her eyebrows and didn't say anything, but the look she exchanged with Clem said it all. They seemed to silently agree to leave it at that, and Beth was grateful because she was feeling a bit exhausted with thinking and talking about Daryl's dead ex-girlfriend for the time being.

A couple of minutes later, Clem was talking about her classes and telling a funny story about a weird kid that had tried to hit on her a few days ago. Beth set down her magazine and relaxed into the cushiony desk chair, gazing absent-mindedly at Clem while she talked, both of them smiling and laughing at the funny parts. Clem continued to flip through her astrology magazine while she talked. Beth went on to ask about the latest "gossip" among the girls, and Clem assured her that there was nothing exciting going on. But then they talked about Rosita and Spencer and their subtle social media posts, which Clem brought up on the computer to show Beth. Then they got distracted with scrolling through some celebrity's social media accounts, and Clem asked why Beth didn't have an account. Beth shrugged, changing the subject to ask about one of the photos she saw on the screen.

After a while of sitting together and chatting, occupying themselves with social media and magazines, the girls settled into a content silence. They both seemed to have found interesting articles in their magazines, and Beth was fiddling with a strand of her hair while she gazed down at the open magazine in her lap, reading women's "deepest" confessions. She absent-mindedly braided the part of her hair just above her left ear, and when she realized it, she felt a strange nostalgia for the farm. Her momma had taught her how to braid hair.

Then Clem's voice was breaking the silence of the lobby, grabbing Beth's attention. "What's your birthday?"

Without thinking, Beth replied, "August twenty-third. Why?"

Clem pointed her finger to a paragraph in her magazine and looked over at Beth. "'Cause I wanted to know your sign. Virgo. I'm a Capricorn."

"Oh," Beth said, smirking. "Yeah, Virgo… My sister always made fun a me for readin' horoscopes. She said it's all nonsense."

Clem shrugged, eyes skimming over the words of the paragraph at the end of her finger. "Yeah well, it probably is, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy it all the same. What's Daryl's birthday again? April? May something?"

Beth immediately replied, "May third. He's a Taurus."

Clem snickered, flipping through the pages of her magazine in search of a particular article. "Stubborn, possessive, devoted to his routine – yeah, I had a feeling he was a Taurus."

The girls shared a laugh and Beth watched curiously as the other girl found whatever page she'd been looking for, laying the magazine out flat on the surface of the desk.

"Here we go – wanna hear you and Daryl's horoscope?" She asked, glancing over at Beth with her finger pointed to a paragraph on the page.

Beth nodded, smiling. "For the month or what?"

Clem looked back down at her magazine and replied, "Here, I'll read your overall love compatibility first. Then I'll read your horoscope for October."

Beth smiled wider, excited. "Okay, what's it say?"

Clem began to read aloud from the page, "'Taurus is ruled by Venus, and Virgo is ruled by Mercury. Both of these planets are close to the sun, so they're closely related even though they seem very different. Venus is physical, so it's about romance and sensuality, which are both very important to Taurus. Virgo is very good at understanding other people and can easily learn to be the romantic and sensual partner that Taurus loves and needs. Both signs value creature comforts and often show their affection in the form of gifts and shared, intimate secrets…' blah blah blah, Earth signs, we know that already… You're both seeking security and consistency, obviously…"

Beth listened, nodding occasionally. She was still smiling, letting herself take a small, guilty pleasure in relating to what the horoscope said. She had to admit that it wasn't completely off-base so far. And it reminded her of a better time: a distant time, when she'd sit in her bedroom and look up her and Jimmy's "star compatibility."

"Ooh, here's a sex horoscope – wanna hear that?" Clem smirked mischievously, glancing over at Beth.

Beth giggled and shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Clem laughed, then read aloud, "'The Virgo partner is usually ashamed to show their sexuality, or their body for that matter. This is where Taurus gets in the picture as a hero, setting their Virgo free. The gift of Taurus is their ability to relax their sexual partner by giving them just enough attention, as well as obsessing over their satisfaction.' Ooh, that sounds pretty hot 'n heavy."

Beth blushed lightly and giggled again. "I wasn't exactly a virgin, though."

Clem shrugged. "Virgin-ish… Okay, and then this part says, 'Virgo doesn't trust anyone with ease. It is not easy for them to open up to such an enormous field of possibility when they most often feel rather small. Taurus is much more relaxed and gives importance to sex and open communication, so if Virgo doesn't open up with their Taurus partner, it will not be easy for Taurus to believe their honesty or fully trust them… In general, Taurus is there to teach Virgo about love, tenderness and sexuality. Virgo needs to be flexible enough to value their Taurus and give them the intellectual view on things that they might idealize. Their relationship could be a match made in heaven, but only if they can both overcome their deep distrust and natural fear of being hurt. If they do give in and fall madly in love, they have the potential to be the combination of a clear heart – Taurus – and a clear mind – Virgo…' Damn, that sounds pretty intense."

A little too close to home, Beth thought with a small pang of guilt.

But she feigned a smile and nodded. "It might be nonsense, but it's awfully accurate nonsense."

Clem shrugged and looked up, still smirking. "Eh, they say people can find relation in anything if they're really looking for it. But I dunno, sometimes it's kinda creepy how on-point it is."

"So what should I expect from the stars in the coming month?" Beth asked, picking up her magazine and opening it once again as something to keep her hands busy.

Clem looked back down to her magazine, pausing for a moment, then she summarized as she read, "Well, according to this, your life is going to get 'emotional and confrontational' in the beginning of October, and you and your partner will be searching for security in 'finances and emotions.' Oh, and during the full moon, there will be a 'climax in sex and intimacy' – ooh la-la. October will be a month that Virgo learns a lot about themselves, and the full moon is supposed to bring 'dark secrets to the surface.' Well, that sounds ominous… Seems like you and Daryl are gonna have an interesting time with Libra season and the full moon."

Beth listened and tried to find the humor in Clem's words, but she couldn't shake the feeling of dread spreading through her whole body. She told herself it was just a silly horoscope, it was all nonsense. But something was telling her that it was going to end up being far more precise than she ever wanted.

"Well, let's hope that part doesn't come true," she said with a faint half-smile as Clem continued reading. "I don't need any more excitement or 'dark secrets.' Just the security part."

Her paranoia was kicking in again. What if the universe was trying to warn her that her secret would come to light? Should she take the cue and spill her soul to Daryl before he found out some other way?

"Damn, my horoscope isn't nearly as steamy as yours," Clem commented a couple moments later, snapping Beth from her momentary trance. Clem sighed and closed the magazine, sliding it across the desk. "Whatever. Halloween's coming up, and so are Pumpkin Spice Lattes. There's not much that can bring me down this month."

Beth smiled and chuckled, watching as Clem moved back to the computer and began scrolling through her social media. She went back to reading short articles in Cosmopolitan while Clem chatted about some of her classmates, occasionally venting about her parents. At one point, she brought up the next self-defense class and Beth explained that she and Daryl likely wouldn't be there, and that Carol had talked about not being there either. Clem expressed her disappointment, but then Beth told her about the possibility of Tara and Rosita teaching the class for a day and she quickly cheered up, laughing at the prospect.

The girls sat with each other for a couple of hours, passing the time together as the sun moved across the cloudless sky outside. Then Clem got a phone call from her boss, explaining that a maintenance man would be arriving shortly and that he needed her to file some paperwork for him. Beth took her cue to leave and exchanged a light hug with Clem before heading back upstairs and retreating behind the locked door of apartment 3A.

After having a snack and making a fresh pitcher of sweet tea, Beth relaxed on the couch with her glass and watched TV. She grabbed a rubber band from the bathroom and redid the small braid above her left ear, tucking it back and running her fingertips over the tufts of hair with satisfaction. In an inexplicable way, it made her feel just a little more like who she was supposed to be. Even though she was still trying to figure out who that was – which was something she'd originally thought she wouldn't have to worry about until she was long gone from the country. But Daryl and Mal had come into the picture and changed all of that. It was becoming just as important as her imminent escape.

Her mind was still racing from the eventful weekend, and now she was thinking about the horoscope stuff, too – even though it was a bit childish and she knew it. No matter how childish it might be to believe in "nonsense" like that, though, she also knew there was some stark truth behind it. For the millionth time, she was battling with herself on when and how to tell Daryl the truth. It was no longer a question of 'if.' She had to, or else he'd find out on his own. And she was getting sick of thinking about all the horrible outcomes that would arise from him finding out that she'd lied for so long.

But how could she explain something when she was still struggling to make sense of it herself?

When she checked her phone, she found a text from Daryl. It read:

Gonna be home about an hour late. Picking up some stuff for the trip. Let me know if you need anything. Can't wait to see ya.

Beth's mind slowed a little and her tensed shoulders relaxed once she read his message, and she quickly sent a text back. Now she was curious to see what he would be bringing home. It would only be a few short hours until she'd find out.

With the TV still on but playing commercials, she half-heartedly began going through the routine of checking the news headlines on her phone. She knew there probably wouldn't be anything new posted since she'd checked earlier, but it always worked to ease her mind a little when she started to get caught up in her paranoia and guilt. Sure enough, the national news was nothing more than the usual. She scrolled through until she started seeing the same articles as earlier, then she moved to the Georgia news website. Theirs wasn't much different, and she scrolled down, skimming the words and subtopics. She was about to click over to the Atlanta news when she stopped – her eyes quickly darted back to the words she'd just skimmed over.

It was a small link off to the side of the page, just like last time, and it read: "The Search For the Truth About Wanted Beth Greene Continues." Beth didn't even have to check for the author of the article because she immediately knew.

Jenny Jones, she thought, tapping the link and listening to her own heartbeat speeding up in her ears as the article loaded on the phone's small screen. What did you find out now, Mrs. Jones? Are you gonna be the one to eventually put my face on national news?

It was a mixture of excitement, anticipation, deep dread, and teeth-grinding anxiety as Beth proceeded to read the small font on her screen. She struggled to keep her hands steady so she could focus on the words while she read:

Atlanta, GA – Sept. 25, 2017
In the ten days since publishing my first article about Hershel Greene, his illegal operation, and his fugitive daughter, Beth Greene, there have been no updates on the Greene case. At least not publicly. According to unnamed sources, the DEA and FBI seized control of all investigations surrounding the Greene Family just one week after the farm was busted on August 26th. However, investigation of the farm has halted, though the yellow Caution tape remains around the property. And as of the last 24 hours, there's been no police activity in or around the Senoia Baptist Church, leading most to believe that the investigation has been ended indefinitely.

Meanwhile, the Greenes' judicial case has only just begun as they await the next steps of court proceedings. Prosecution and defense alike have been working strenuously to compile evidence and continue the long process of preparing for the trials of Maggie Greene-Rhee and her husband. As well as preparing for the sentencing of Hershel Greene.

Which brings about a large question: why did this investigation end so abruptly? In 16 years of reporting, I have never seen a case of this scale and complexity being treated in the manner that authorities are treating the Greene case. Needless to say, the Greene's property is massive, and when you consider the addition of the church, it is not realistically possible to gather every viable piece of evidence in one short month for a criminal case of this size. Especially when there are multiple sources reporting that forensic investigation teams were only on the scene for a total of 12 hours. And in a situation like this, forensic evidence and analysis is the most crucial type of evidence that can be collected. Is it possible for them to have thoroughly and properly examined every detail of the crime scene when they spent so little time on such a large and overwhelming property?

Although there have been no public updates on the Greene's intricate and mysterious case, there has been an influx of tips about Beth Greene's whereabouts, as well as information about the Greene operation. In the last ten days, I've personally received at least two dozen emails pertaining to tips about Beth Greene and her family, all of which have been forwarded to the proper authorities for investigation. However, those same authorities refuse to make comments or answer questions about Beth Greene or the prematurely-closed investigation of the farm and church.

Never underestimate the power of journalism, though. After some digging and several long talks with various anonymous sources, it seems that there has been a cataclysmic wave sweeping through the Georgia law enforcement system. Sources inside Atlanta and Senoia Police Departments report that there has been a lot of confusion amidst the Greene investigation. It is confirmed that multiple authorities working the case have been taken off, barred from information or involvement, while more and more outsiders have been brought in and given confidential assignments.

Since the arrests made on August 26th, approximately five of the arresting officers have been promoted, while three have been transferred to different counties. Det. Dawn Lerner, the lead detective in the sting operation that led to Hershel Greene's arrest, has been reassigned to another case and is currently awaiting news on the status of a requested transfer to an undisclosed location. She has refused to answer calls or emails for comment.

As for Detective Rick Grimes, who is still comatose inside Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta, things are beginning to look up. Det. Grimes' doctors report that he is improving every day, and they are optimistic that he will eventually wake up. His wife, Lori, and young son, Carl, continue to beg the public for tips or information on Beth Greene's whereabouts. It is reported that Lori Grimes has agreed to be a character witness for her husband and his partner, Det. Shane Walsh, in the upcoming trial. She has also voiced her desire for the judge to consider a death penalty sentencing for Hershel Greene, as well as for his eldest daughter, Maggie. Though any information on a possible death sentence will not be definite until much later into the trial, and Hershel Greene's sentencing is still months away. When I reached out to the DA about this particular detail, they refused to comment. Tomorrow will mark one full month that Det. Grimes has been unresponsive.

According to anonymous sources who have worked inside, and alongside, the Greene case, there are loads of evidence that have been essentially abandoned on the Greenes' property. Police reportedly seized multiple computers from the farmhouse, as well as from the Senoia Baptist Church, and at least half a dozen file cabinets from both locations. However, the infamous Hershel Greene apparently worked with stealth, and was more than careful not to leave any sort of incriminating trail in his wake. Authorities have been vigilantly searching for viable evidence, but sources report that they are continuously coming up empty-handed. As of yet, the most incriminating evidence that has been seized is the hundreds of thousands of dollars of methamphetamine, as well as the millions of dollars of production equipment and chemicals, all of which were found inside various barns and cellars throughout the Greenes' extensive property.

Which leaves those mountains of evidence that no one is paying attention to. What could they contain? What kind of details are investigators overlooking? Have authorities made a mistake in allowing the federal government to step in and take charge of this complex case?

Despite the miles and miles of yellow Caution tape surrounding the acres of Hershel Greene's property, there has been no activity of any sort around the premises for days. The land is reportedly hanging in a sort of ownership limbo, waiting for the government to send in a cleanup crew and approve its resale once the trial is finished. If you step inside the large, white farmhouse on the Greene property, wade through the overturned tables and scattered contents of emptied drawers and take a right, you'll see a large, ornate cross hanging on the wall of the dining room. Less than twenty feet away from that cross are two bloodstains in the carpet, presumably belonging to Detectives Shane Walsh and Rick Grimes. Up the stairs, on the second floor of the house and just across the hall from Beth Greene's lifelong bedroom, sits a small study, its walls soundproofed with thick insulation that was specially built into that one particular room of the house. And inside that study lies nearly every secret Hershel Greene ever kept hidden, from his emptied safe that once held family heirlooms and thousands of dollars, to the small corkboard on the wall that seemingly displayed his young children's crayon drawings. Inside the locked drawers of his desk are years of dark secrets and details, all of which are begging the question: did Hershel's family really know everything? Or was he keeping just as much hidden from those closest to him as he was keeping from the public?

Among the piles and piles of evidence that the FBI and DEA considered "inconclusive" or "irrelevant" is a thick file folder containing several college applications, stored away inside one of those locked desk drawers. These desk drawers were bashed open and dumped out within the first week of the investigation, only for the majority of their contents to be shuffled through and tossed aside as unrelated. As I stated in my previous article, there are no public records, or even a trace, of a college application with any of the Greene children's names on it. However, in this thick file folder that was thrown to the side by law enforcement is a stack of applications to study abroad and attend prestigious universities overseas – and they all have Bethany Greene's name on them. From applications to colleges in several parts of Europe, to handwritten letters requesting help from former colleagues or asking for recommendations. Inside Hershel Greene's desk is a treasure trove of mystery, and the biggest one of all is why all these applications never made it to the post office.

With the small pieces of evidence that have been presented so far, we are left with nothing but more questions. Did Hershel Greene intend to send his youngest daughter overseas, to another country, for further education? Or was he planning something more? What stopped him from sending her far away, and why didn't he do the same for the older children? Was it an attempt at protecting young Beth Greene? And if so… what was he protecting her from? We know there was some sort of dispute going on involving Hershel's operation and rival drug dealers. But who were those rival dealers? Why isn't law enforcement looking farther into the murders of Annette and Shawn Greene? Why was their case closed so quickly and so indecisively, and why is there so much evidence yet again being left abandoned? And is the DEA looking into the other side of this drug war? Are they actively seeking the other possible kingpin? What if Hershel Greene is actually the least dangerous of whatever ring of operations he and his family were involved in?

If you're wondering what any of this has to do with young fugitive, Beth Greene, and the murder of Det. Walsh, the most important question that needs to be made clear is this: Why did Beth Greene feel the need to shoot that officer?

With as little as we know about Hershel's youngest daughter, we have to scrutinize every new piece of information that comes to light. From an outsider's perspective, it doesn't make sense to assume a teenage girl would murder an officer of the law in cold blood. Perhaps she was raised to be lethal – this is a fair point. But there has been no evidence to support such a story. Thus far, Beth Greene appears no different than the ideal Southern American teenager. On that same note, we must also consider the extents that the family went to in order to maintain their godly appearance to the public; but it stands to reason that such values were not solely for show when it came to young Beth. From reports of nearly every person who ever knew her on a personal level, she was well-meaning, harmless, and devoted to God and her family. So what would cause a girl like this to aim a Beretta 92 at a detective and squeeze the trigger?

My theory: fear. The prodigal daughter was raised in an environment of terror, forced to keep up a constant lie as she watched half her family get slaughtered in a drug war she most likely didn't fully understand. This thought may seem off-the-wall to most of you for the time being, but special consideration must always be taken when addressing the lives of our most tender-aged citizens. She may have been a legal adult, but just barely. And despite her book smarts, she could've just as easily been raised to remain ignorant to the illicit activities going on around her.

There are countless questions when it comes to the truth about this mysterious case. It is undoubtedly one of the most complex and captivating cases I have ever encountered during my 16-year career, and though I know authorities are doing their best to serve the public and keep up with the tireless hours of work that goes into a prosecution like this, I cannot allow these questions to remain unanswered. Stay tuned to WSAV for more updates as I continue to dig into the Greene case and work to discover the truth about the missing and wanted Beth Greene – and where she could be.

If you have any tips or information to report about Beth Greene, please call the toll-free number listed below immediately.

Beth's hands were trembling as she held the phone, no matter how hard she tried to steady them. There were no tears in her eyes, yet her vision was still becoming blurry. The information she'd just taken in began to really process, and despite Jenny Jones' professional, journalistic tone, it was hitting her hard.

This woman had gone into Beth's home back in Georgia. She'd walked through the dining room where Beth had seen her daddy for the last time. She'd walked up the stairs that Beth had raced down beside Maggie. She'd probably gone into Beth's bedroom, seen the bed she'd slept in and the guitar she'd played. And then she'd gone into Hershel's study. She'd rifled through his papers. She'd looked at his corkboard – the one that had a crayon drawing of a horse from when Beth was five.

She'd found college applications that Beth had no idea had ever existed. College applications with her name on it.

Brainwashedbrainwashedbrainwashed.

Beth thought of the tattered diary she'd been forced to burn, and for a split-second, she was torn, because half of her was thankful to Maggie for making her destroy it so that the police hadn't taken it in and used it… but the other half was angry that it hadn't been sitting in her bedroom, waiting to be found by Jenny Jones. Mostly, she was just angry. Disappointed. Overwhelmed with these new facts. She felt cheated. What else had her daddy been hiding from her? What other plans had he made for her life and failed to inform her of? Or failed to go through with?

She might never know now. She'd never find out the full truth. Lori Grimes wanted the Greene's put to death – and that thought sent a cold terror through Beth's body. What if they did it? What if they killed her daddy and her sister? She knew she'd probably never see them again anyway, but knowing they were executed would be a whole other pain that she didn't want to even begin to imagine. How could she possibly go on knowing she was the last Greene left? Knowing that the truth about her family, about the life she'd known, had died with her daddy and sister? Knowing that they'd died alone and miserable, put down like they were nothing more than sick animals? Knowing that the media had painted them as horrible, evil people?

She shut her eyes tightly and dropped the phone onto the couch cushion. Her hands trembled as she held them out before her, unsure of what to do with them. Her stomach churned angrily, tensing into a painful knot.

She recalled that ominous conversation with Maggie after the murders, how she'd mentioned that their daddy was "looking into other options" – so Maggie knew about the college applications, too. Why didn't she just tell Beth exactly what options he was looking into? And why didn't Maggie push their daddy to send them in, to go through with it? Why did she let him keep her there while everything crumbled around them? Then again, Maggie had only ever had so much say in how things worked. Maybe she'd tried, but… was their daddy too damn stubborn to go through with it?

Why didn't he send them in? She thought desperately. Why did he keep me there if he knew how bad things were getting? If he knew there was a chance to get me out? Why? WHY?! They're going to kill him – they're gonna kill my daddy because he tried to keep us safe.

She suddenly felt light-headed, even though she was sitting down, and her chest was getting tighter and tighter. Her heart was thumping hard, racing like she'd just run a mile. Her breath began coming in shorter gasps, and then it was like a hand was clenching onto her lungs and squeezing. She gasped harder, struggled to catch her breath, to clear her vision of the black dots. Her head felt like it was ninety-percent air now, and she leaned over to lie down on the couch, to make her body horizontal in hopes that it would help. For a moment, she thought she might be dying.

Then a memory flashed in her mind: that day in the barn. Her daddy, splattered with Randall's blood, blue eyes wild and fiery. And his voice, deep and calm somehow, despite the chaos.

"What I wouldn't do to keep you two safe."

And then her sister. Maggie's defiant voice, reminding her, "We've all got jobs to do."

Her heart rate slowed and the hand gripping her lungs loosened its grasp until she could take in a full breath again. She wasn't sure how long it had felt like she was dying, but it had seemed like an eternity. Now that it passed, though, she realized it had been momentary. She didn't understand it. The anxiety had become truly overwhelming and she'd felt… terrified. A fear that had stolen the air from her lungs.

At the heart of all the anger and disappointment, it was just fear.

But she sat up and rubbed her eyes, then massaged her temples and tried to push it all out of her mind. Even though that was well past impossible by now.

He did it to protect me, she thought, still making sense of this new information. Daddy was trying to protect me. He wanted to send me away – somewhere safe. But something happened… plans changed. He never meant for me to stay. I knew it. I knew he wanted more for me.

She spent the rest of the afternoon lying on her bed and staring at the photo of her family, continuously trying to make sense of everything in her head. But she knew that it was all a giant puzzle, and she only had a handful of the pieces. She still wasn't sure if she wanted all the answers, let alone the ones that Jenny Jones would inevitably uncover.

Daryl arrived home about an hour later than usual, like he'd said in his text message. And he had Mal in tow, as well as multiple shopping bags hanging off his arms. With more than enough time to prepare, Beth already had dinner ready and waiting, and she rushed to the front door to help the boys unload.

In her hours alone since reading Jenny Jones' newest article, she'd spent time trying to process things, as well as scouring other news sites and assuring herself that her story wasn't getting any more media attention. Once it was time to start cooking dinner, she had alleviated her mind and eased her nerves, and now, more than anything else, she craved another relaxing evening with the boys. She just wanted to feel that sense of normalcy again, even if her daddy's secrets were looming heavy at the back of her mind.

She helped Mal unpack his things while he excitedly told her about his day, and then she guided him toward the bedroom while Daryl hung up his vest and unpacked his backpack. When she joined him again, he was holding a shoebox and looking at her expectantly.

"What's that?" She asked, smiling.

He pulled off the lid and held the box out for her to see. "Got ya some hikin' boots. For the trip."

Beth's smile immediately grew wider as she gazed down into the shoebox to see a brand new pair of women's hiking boots in her size. She reached out and took the box from him, holding it closer to pull one of the boots out with her other hand and admire it.

"Oh, Daryl, these are perfect," she said, looking up and meeting his bashful gaze. "Thank you. How'd you know my size?"

He smirked and shrugged. "Checked yer other pair ta find out. No big deal. Couldn't have ya walkin' around out there in those city boots." He gestured toward her bedroom and she knew he was referring to the black boots she'd been wearing.

She placed the boot back in its box and moved to set them aside, but when she looked back up, Daryl was taking a step closer and holding out something else for her. She furrowed her brow quizzically and tentatively reached out to take the small, black band from his outstretched hand.

"What – you got me somethin' else?" She asked, beginning to blush as she turned the black band over in her hands and quickly realized it was a bracelet. The black leather band was connected to a large, silver cross.

"I can take it back if ya don't like it," he muttered, stroking his chin nervously as he watched her inspect the bracelet. "Jus' – thought it might be nicer'an that bandana you been wearin'. Not that I don't like the bandana, but – ya know. This seems more yer style."

She smirked and her heart leapt. She quickly untied and slipped off the bandana from her left wrist. "My style, huh?" She said, setting the bandana aside and putting on the cross bracelet. It was about the same width, covering her scar perfectly, and the cross was worn sideways, spanning from one side of her wrist to the other. Her smirk grew into a full smile as she gazed down at it, then she looked up to find Daryl still watching her and stroking his chin, studying her.

"Yeah. Looks more you," he mumbled, gazing at the bracelet and then tentatively meeting her eyes again. "I'ono. I saw it an' it reminded me of ya. An' I know you believe in that stuff, so it seemed a li'l nicer than what ya been wearing."

Beth blushed lightly, unable to stop smiling. "'That stuff'? You mean God? There is a big cross hanging in my room, ya know…"

She raised her eyebrows teasingly and he grunted, giving her a half-smile. "Yeah. Dunno what it says about me that I keep fallin' fer Jesus freaks – I ain't ever gonna understand that religion stuff." He shrugged. "But I get it. You believe in somethin'."

Her smile faltered for a split-second and she realized she'd thoughtlessly brought up Lucy, but then her stomach did a little flutter. He's falling for me, too?

She nodded and rested her right hand over the silver cross on her left wrist. "Yeah. I do."

Daryl paused, briefly glancing at her lips, then mumbled so quietly that Beth almost didn't catch it, "And… maybe I do, too."

Her lips spread into a grin and she quickly stepped forward, leaning up on her tiptoes to capture his lips in an eager kiss. He reflexively wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned into her, deepening the kiss. They both seemed to relax, all the tension from the day melting from their muscles as they embraced each other.

It wasn't until a few moments later, when Daryl was in the bedroom with Mal getting ready for dinner, that Beth really began to think about it. She gazed down at the cross bracelet on her wrist and slowly came to the realization that Daryl was seeing the real her, even beneath her shoddy disguise. Which made her wonder how long it would take him to spot all the other lies.

She managed to shake off most of her intrusive thoughts once she was sitting down and eating with the boys. Malachi's playful chatter helped cheer her up a bit, and though she could see Daryl flashing her a concerned glance every now and then, she chose to ignore it. He seemed to take the hint, though he almost appeared relieved when she was finally laughing with them and joining the conversation. She reminded herself to stop letting her emotions show so obviously – especially around someone as observant as Daryl.

After dinner, they helped each other clean up as usual while Mal continued talking about his day with Carol and excitedly asking for details about their upcoming trip. When Daryl began to grow frustrated with answering questions and repeating himself, he suggested they watch a movie or read together. But Mal requested that "Rosie" play music for them because he "felt like dancing." Daryl shook his head, smiling the whole time, and gave Beth an expectant look – they silently agreed that maybe some dancing would release the toddler's extra energy.

As she stepped into her bedroom to grab her guitar, she heard Mal chirping up with another question for his dad, and she almost tuned it out before she caught his words, "Dad, did um, did my mom know how ta pway music?"

She paused on her way back out to the living room, listening as Daryl hesitated. He quickly replied, but it was evident in his tone that he'd been caught off-guard. "Uh – no, bud. But she did um, she did other stuff. She wrote poems, an' uh – she was real talented."

Mal replied with a simple, "Oh."

Before he could ask any follow-up questions, Beth left her bedroom and joined the boys in the living room again, taking her usual seat on the couch. Mal's face lit up when he saw the guitar, and he immediately began clapping and rushing over to gently tug on Beth's arm and request a song.

Beth spent the next hour playing kids' songs and old classics that she knew by heart, singing and smiling while she and Daryl watched Mal dance around happily, singing along when he knew the words. Her heart felt lighter than it had all day and when she looked over at Daryl, she caught him gazing at her wistfully, a smirk on his face. She flashed him a crooked half-smile, tilting her head to the side, then turned back to Mal and laughed as she watched the toddler attempt a poorly coordinated cartwheel.

Her fingers eventually started to ache and she stopped playing, setting the guitar down beside her and standing up. She cracked her knuckles and glanced at Daryl before looking pointedly at Mal and announcing, "Okay, how about some reading or somethin'? I think that's enough dancing for one night, what d'you think?"

She looked over to Daryl again and he nodded, but when she saw Mal's face, she found him quickly growing upset. His smile disappeared and he frowned, brow creasing.

"What – why-y? Pway another!" He whined.

"Maybe one more, but I'm gettin' kinda tired, Mal," Beth explained gently. Daryl watched from beside her, leaning forward and preparing to step in.

Mal pouted, small arms hanging at his sides in defeat as he stared up at Beth angrily. "But I wanna dance more!"

Daryl cleared his throat but the toddler ignored him, and Beth replied, "We can dance more tomorrow, I promise. Let's do somethin' else until bed time – "

Mal grunted angrily and rushed over to Beth's guitar, grabbing it and beginning to pick it up as he whined, "No! I want music!"

Daryl stood up to move in and scold his son, but Beth was closer, and she instinctively reached out to pull the toddler's hands off her guitar. She kept a firm but gentle voice as she told him, "Mal, don't touch it. It's not a toy."

Mal whined again, louder and angrier, and yanked his hands away from Beth. He stomped his foot and Daryl stepped forward, gently grabbing his son by the arm and attempting to pull him away from the instrument. "Mal, don't talk ta her like that, and don't touch stuff that – "

But Mal ignored him and stared up at Beth defiantly, loudly proclaiming, "Yer not my mom! I don't have ta listen to you!"

Beth froze, mouth dropping open. She quickly looked to Daryl, at a complete loss for words, and she saw that he appeared just as taken aback as she was.

But then his face grew angry and he spoke a little louder and a lot firmer, "Malachi Luciano! Go to your room! She may not be yer mom, but she is an adult, and you will respect her."

Mal grunted in frustration but he knew better than to argue with his dad any longer. Without another glance at "Rosie," he turned and stomped out of the living room, down the hall to his bedroom. Daryl followed to make sure he was doing as he was told, then returned to the living room with an apologetic expression on his face.

Unsure of what to do with herself, Beth had picked up the guitar and was walking to her bedroom to put it back, but Daryl stopped her next to the couch. She found it difficult to look up into his eyes at the moment – she felt an indescribable guilt for something she couldn't quite explain. The toddler's outburst felt like a sign that she had overstayed her welcome.

"Hey – I'm sorry he said that," Daryl quickly explained, voice lowered. He reached out and gently grasped her arm, studying her face as she avoided his gaze. "He's just actin' out. That's how toddlers are – they're like tiny teenagers. Mood swings left an' right. He didn't mean it."

She shrugged and feigned a weak smile, returning his gaze for a brief second. "No, I understand. Don't feel bad, it's not your fault. I'm – I shouldn't've tried ta discipline him. That's not my place."

Daryl shook his head, brow furrowed as he let her pull her arm from his grasp and step past him to enter her bedroom. She felt him watching her while she walked over and returned the guitar to its spot, and he said, "Wasn't really disciplinin' him. He was just havin' a tantrum – trust me. He's pretty tame for his age, but it still comes through. Couple months ago, he threw a fit 'cause I wouldn't let 'im make one a those uh, escape ropes. Ya know, out of tied-together sheets. He saw it in a cartoon an' wanted ta scale down the side of our building. Cried fer three hours when I untied all his knots an' locked his window."

Beth tried not to, but a soft giggle escaped from her mouth and she shook her head, looking away from Daryl. "Yeah, but this is different, Daryl. It's not a random tantrum, he's mad because he thinks I'm trying t'take his mom's place."

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. "That's not true. He's… confused. I'm workin' on it, I swear. But it takes time – he's tryin' ta process everything. Carol said he had a lot more questions today. I knew somethin' like this was comin'… I'm the dick fer puttin' you in the middle of it."

Beth stared back at him incredulously. "No, you're not. You just – we just…"

But she didn't know what she was trying to say. They both felt equally guilty, but at the end of the day, they both knew that the bulk of Mal's issues had to be resolved by Daryl and Daryl alone. A tense silence filled the space between them and she tentatively stepped forward, closer to him.

He scratched his stubbly jaw and stroked his chin thoughtfully, watching her. Then he said, "Don't beat yerself up. Alright? It's one of… many tantrums ta come. So if yer in it for the long haul – well, ya best be ready for more a this nonsense. I'll do what I gotta do ta keep it under control, though."

She gazed down at her socks, chewing the inside of her cheek and letting his words settle over her. Then she nodded weakly and met his eyes. At the heart of the issue, she knew he was right. She wanted to go apologize to Mal – for intruding, for overstepping. For lying. But she knew that this would be better handled by his father.

Daryl hesitantly closed the remaining distance between them when she didn't say anything for a few long seconds, and when she felt his calloused hand gently tipping her chin up so that her eyes would meet his, she didn't resist. She just gazed up at him helplessly, her features heavy with unspoken apologies. He briefly reciprocated her look of concern, then leaned down to softly kiss her on the lips.

When he pulled back and she opened her eyes, he was faintly smiling. A reassuring expression. His hand fell away from her chin and back to his side, and he mumbled, "How 'bout… I go have a talk with 'im, put 'im ta bed. Then me an' you can watch a movie."

Beth couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth. She shrugged bashfully. "That sounds nice."

His smile became more genuine and he nodded, reaching out and squeezing her hand affectionately as he prepared to turn and leave the room. "Pick a good one. You'll have plenty a time ta choose."

She nodded and watched him give one last reassuring look before he turned and left the bedroom to head down the hall and join Mal. She waited for a long moment, listening to his footsteps fade out and the sound of his and Mal's muffled voices soon after.

Unable to help herself, she stepped out of the bedroom and walked softly down the hall to the bathroom door, stopping just outside. She had to go to the bathroom anyway, but she wandered down a little farther until she was a couple feet away from the boys' bedroom door, which was ajar. Their voices became clear when she got closer, and her eyes remained on the bathroom, intending to go inside and then back to her bedroom.

But she simply couldn't resist the urge to hear what Daryl intended on telling Mal. She was afraid he might scold the toddler, which would only make her feel worse and probably make Mal resent her more. But she was also curious – was this going to be the first of many private talks about their dear, departed Lucy?

Sure enough, she could hear them talking about "moms" and "girlfriends," and Mal was understandably full of questions. After a few moments, she was relieved to hear that Daryl was speaking gently, and Mal wasn't whining or arguing, but rather begging for more answers. Beth had no idea that her guitar playing would incite such a conversation, but it sounded like Mal had begun to question everything around him in terms of how it related to the mother he couldn't remember. She started to think that maybe she'd only been a catalyst for something that was inevitably going to come up eventually.

Then she heard Daryl's voice, low and tinged with sadness. He said, "Son… I got somethin' ta read to ya."

"About my mom?" Mal's voice was eager.

There was a hesitant pause, then Daryl said, "Yeah. I know you like music, but – well, poems are like songs without the guitars or drums. D'you – would you like to, uh… hear a poem yer momma wrote?"

"Yes, yes!" Mal immediately said. "Are you gonna read it to me, Dad? Did she really write it? Herself? My mom?!"

"Yes, Mal," Daryl replied patiently, and then Beth heard the sound of heavy footsteps crossing the bedroom followed by the sound of a drawer opening. A few seconds later, the footsteps were receding and Daryl grunted, then spoke again. "She wrote this – son, yer mother wrote this when she was still pregnant with you."

"Really?! When I was in her belly?" Mal asked excitedly.

Daryl chuckled faintly. "Yeah, when you were in her belly. We were so excited ta meet you – we spent four months pickin' out just the right name for ya."

Mal laughed happily and said, "You did?! Dad, I like my name!"

Daryl chuckled again. "Good, son. I'm glad. Now – this poem is, um…" Beth heard the familiar sound of pages fluttering, a book being opened and leafed through. "This poem is for you, Malachi. She wrote this when you were in 'er belly – but she wanted you ta know how much she loved you. Even before she ever met ya."

"She wrote it – for me?!" Mal repeated, voice full of awe. "It's 'bout me?"

"Yeah," Daryl replied, then he cleared his throat. "Now, sit still an' listen, I'm gonna read it to ya – okay?"

Mal's voice didn't chime in again, and Beth hesitated where she stood.

Daryl's voice was low and steady, but there was a heaviness behind it that was being pushed back as he read aloud. "'To my baby boy, my firstborn son, my Malachi: you are the only man that God truly made just for me. You were formed by my blood and your father's love…'"

Beth quickly stepped away and disappeared inside the bathroom. She had already eavesdropped, and this moment felt like something private between a father and a son that even she shouldn't intrude on. She'd intruded enough already. Not to mention, a small, shameful part of her had no desire to hear Daryl's dead ex-girlfriend's poetry.

She knew it was immature and insecure of her to feel a tinge of jealousy at something so petty, but she decided it was just another sign that she needed to remember her place in the boys' lives. She had encouraged Daryl to tell Mal more about his mom anyway, and that's what he was doing. She could only pray that it helped the toddler find the closure he needed, and that it wouldn't incite any more tantrums directed towards her.

She returned to her bedroom and shut the door, her head and chest feeling heavier than usual. No matter how happy spending time with Daryl and Mal made her, she couldn't keep pushing off all the anxiety and the fear. The guilt. The ever-growing weight of all her lies resting atop her shoulders.

The urge to tell Daryl the truth was ever-growing, too. It nipped at the surface harder every day, and Beth kept asking herself: when would be the right time? How deep was too deep, before there was no coming back? Was there a point where he wouldn't understand, no matter how she tried to explain it to him? Maybe there was no redeeming herself. She'd already, done too much, she'd hurt too many people, she'd taken it too far.

Was Jenny Jones her last hope? Could this mysterious reporter be Beth's last chance at redemption, both publicly and privately? Or would it even matter, when all was said and done? The prosecutors didn't seem to give a rat's ass what circumstances drove Beth to shooting Det. Walsh – just like they hadn't given a rat's ass who killed Annette and Shawn, or why.

Just like Daryl wouldn't give a rat's ass why "Rosie" had lied to him for so long.

But she had run. She'd fled. She'd hid. She'd broken so many damn laws. And who was going to listen to one, lesser-known reporter over an entire team of detectives and prosecutors? What did the state of Georgia care if they locked up an eighteen-year-old girl for life, or sentenced her father and older sister to death row? As long as they had a face to put on their papers when they printed the headline, "Justice For Slain Det. Shane Walsh." Beth could already picture it.

With her mind racing and battling itself left and right, she absent-mindedly picked up her phone. At first, she thought maybe she could distract herself. But then she was reflexively navigating her way back to the Georgia news site, scrolling down to that article link from before, as a spontaneous idea popped into her head.

She quickly found Jenny Jones' info at the bottom of the article and clicked the "Contact Author" link. It displayed a public email address for Jenny Jones, and Beth copied it before opening up her email. She clicked the "Compose New Message" button and pasted Jenny's email address into the "Send To" line. Then she typed out a message, her fingers flying across the small touchscreen.

She got three sentences typed out, then she paused and read over what she'd typed:

"Dear Mrs. Jones,
You are right. The police do not know the whole story, they do not have all the facts. Not even Beth Greene herself has all the facts."

She read it again. And again. Her fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating in her desire to type more.

Then she highlighted the entire message and pressed "Delete." She quickly closed her email and locked her phone screen, tossing the phone aside on her bed and heaving a frustrated sigh. She buried her face into the pillow, her daddy's sad, blue eyes quickly appearing in the blacks of her eyelids. Then she waited and listened for the sound of Daryl's footsteps in the hall while her mind continued to race.

I can't risk it, she thought. I'll just have to pray to God that Jenny Jones can figure it out on her own… And that no one stops her before she does.

to be continued…

A/N: The bracelet Daryl gives Beth in this chapter is the same one she wears in season 2/3 of the show. I included a photo with the chapter on AO3. I took info from multiple astrology websites and summarized my own "horoscopes" for Taurus and Virgo - I think those signs fit these versions of Beth and Daryl really well so I wanted to include some astrology stuff because I'm very cheesy.
Let me know what you thought and see y'all next Sunday! Ch 55 will be the follow-up appointment with Dr. Dana and then... time for the camping trip! :)
And we WILL eventually be seeing where Jenny Jones is getting all her info and "anonymous sources" from ;) Let's just say that her methods aren't always conventional - or 100% legal lmao.