Franklin Pierce, the man formerly known as Francis Andrews, was a simple man. Just over the age of 60, he was still a relatively handsome fellow, in good shape, and with a friendly disposition; it was easy to imagine him as quite the catch in his younger days. He had a good job at the Oakland City bank as a branch manager and was currently 14 years sober, after the accident that wrecked his first family, and he now had a good life with his second wife, Julia. She knew very little of his past life, only the need to know facts; their home was as simple as they themselves, a charming three bed, two bath, house of brick, with a back patio and a jacuzzi. They had no children, but were kept company by two cats and a jubilant, friendly Labrador named Chester.

Julia had gone to bed for the night, Chester was sitting at Franklin's feet and began beating his tail when a knock came at the door. Franklin looked up in surprise then glanced at the clock. It was 10 o' clock at night. Their next door neighbors were good friends and often dropped by unannounced but this was awfully late for Bob or Kelly to be calling. A sensible person, Frank opened the side table next to his easy chair and withdrew his .38 revolver. It wasn't a particularly powerful weapon, but it was good for home defense, and it could stop the average intruder in his or her tracks. Keeping the gun in the pocket of his pajama pants and his hand on the handle, he went to the door and opened it. To his surprise, Allison Blake stood on the other side.

"Marshal Blake- Chester, stop that, it's Allison!" Franklin reprimanded to his dog, who was behind him, hunkered low and growling uncharacteristically. "Chester, sit!"

"Hey, Frank," Allison greeted with an apologetic smile as he directed his attention back to her after chastising his dog. "I'm sorry, I know it's late, but can we come in?"

"We? Who else is-" Frank went silent, suddenly understanding his dogs unusual growls as his gaze fell upon the infamous profile with the long ear tips and the narrow white lensed eyes

"It's important." Allison surmised, glancing back at her companion.

A few minutes later Blake and Pierce were sitting at opposite sides of the dining table. Their companion remained a silhouette in the shadows of the room, occasionally moving about, glancing around and inspecting things, furniture, wall paper, and family photos. He'd offered them a drink and Allison had asked for water, her compatriot didn't even reply to the offer. Now, as they finally settled into their seats the Batman turned to regard Franklin Piece. The old man's dog was not hunkered down at Frank's feet, with his tail between his legs, staring at the caped crusader as if he were a phantom from the bowels of the abyss. Mr. Pierce reached down and stroked the dog's head, trying not to show just how unnerved he actually was. He felt as if he were staring into the barrel of a gun.

"You may already be aware, Mr. Pierce, that Pamela Isley is being considered for rehabilitation and release." He began, his tone a low gravel, flat and emotionless.

"Pam's being reformed?" He asked, lifting his head, a hopeful tone in his voice.

"We don't know that." Allison interjected. "The doctors hope so, but we can't say for sure. Remember, Frank, this woman has tried to kill you; three times in fact."

"That woman is my daughter, Marshal, and I'm partially responsible for her being in that place." He replied solemnly, looking at Allison with a slightly offended expression.

"Explain." The dark figure growled from the shadows.

Frank glanced up at the order, then he sighed and hung his head. "Michelle and I... We had a good life. A really good life. She made a lot of money in her job, and back then I was in accounting for a major firm and- Well, life was easy. But, I was a recovering alcoholic, and staying off the sauce wasn't so easy. I buried myself in work, spent long hours out with friends from AA. We'd go bowling, billiards, jazz clubs, pretty much anything to try and avoid going to the bar for a few beers after work.

As he lifted his head he seemed to have aged several years. New wrinkles seemed to appear upon his skin and his eyes held a deep sadness that voice alone could not express. "It was a mistake. I tried so hard to keep myself clean for my family, but in doing so I neglected them. Michelle grew resentful for it, and Pam- Well, I wasn't there to be a father for her. She had a neglectful dad, and while she was brilliant, she wasn't anything special to look at when she was young. She had bad luck with boys in school, and she was picked on for being a know-it-all and a teacher's pet. Michelle always told her the other kids were jealous, they didn't understand, didn't appreciate her talent; she just kept feeding Pam all this self-indulgent crap and I was too damn stupid to sit up and take notice!"

Allison leaned over at this and rubbed Frank's back gently. "Come on, Frank, it's not your fault this happened... Middle school is a tough time for most any kid."

"Hers didn't have to be this bad, though. I should have been there for her. Finally, Michelle confronted me; she told me if I didn't start spending time with my daughter I might lose her forever... So I did everything I could to make it up to Pammy, but, I just made things worse. I just wanted to make up for it all, so I gave her everything. I helped make sure she got into a private high school. I took her shopping on weekends. I bought her a weekend at a spa before her first day of high school, and bought her a pet-"

"A rabbit?" The dark knight asked abruptly.

Frank looked up, his bushy eyebrows raised in surprise. "Yes- Yes it was a rabbit."

"She spoke of it... though she claimed she got it when she was still a little girl."

"No.. It was a birthday present on her 15 birthday. She loved that rabbit..."

The crusader's eyes narrowed at these words, his head shifting off to the right in thought. "Was it killed?"

"Ou- our neighbors dog." Mr. Pierce answered in a stunned stammer, "But how did you...?"

"She's brought all of this up during her therapy. She's made it extremely difficult to know what is real and what's make believe in her world." The Batman explained, turning his gaze back on Pierce. "You said you bought her things, but, what about other men? Boyfriends."

"Well, like I said, she wasn't anything special when she was younger, but as she grew she blossomed—no pun intended there—she turned into a real beauty as she got into her teens, she was even asked to the junior prom by the football teams lead running back."

"And what did he do for her?"

"Nothing. She turned him down." Pierce replied with a scowl that still seemed to hold some bewildered confusion, even after all these years. "It stunned her mother and I. This guy was perfect, good athlete, great student, I heard he actually graduated valedictorian... But Pamela said she could do better, said she deserved better. Actually, she said she wanted a man who-"

"Worshiped her." the Batman deduced, his tone taking on an icy disapproval. "It makes sense...The way her mother coddled her when you weren't there, and you pampered her once you were... But what happened to change it all, Pierce?"

"I.. I don't know..." Franklin stammered, unnerved once more by the dark clad man's sudden intensity. "It just... It got worse, escalated... She got conceded, full of herself. She'd come home with straight A's and if we didn't heap praise upon her, didn't reward her, she'd lash out."

"Physically?"

"No. Never physically. She'd do other things... Rumors, mostly. She'd let slip a suggestion of infidelity, or criminal behavior, something to get our friends and neighbors talking behind our backs, something to embarrass us."

"Hmm..." The Bat turned away from Isley's father and looked out the window into Mr. Pierce's front yard. A faint twitch of a smile crossed his lips and left just as quickly as he noticed how curiously barren Pierce's yard actually was, the only decorative presence in the yard was a small trio of lawn gnomes along the front walk way; there were no bushes, no trees, no large plant life to be used against him in the event of the unthinkable. Briefly the vigilante wondered whether the Marshal service told Pierce not to have any plants in his yard, or if it was Frank's own intelligence that told him not to provide his would-be killer with any potential assistance. "Mr. Pierce... What led you to start drinking again?"

"How do you know all this!?" Frank exclaimed in shocked astonishment, his mouth hanging open slightly.

Slowly, the Batman turned to face him. His mouth was a grim line, his eyes veiled behind the opaque white lenses, leaving his features void of emotion. This time, however, his tone was lighter and softer, not quite so abrupt and ruthless. "I know that on the night your wife died you were well beyond the legal limit. You had a car accident, it was negligence, nothing you'd planned or wanted to have happen. Michelle Isley was killed, and your daughter left the house just a few months later, immediately after graduating from high school a year early."

For a moment Franklin Pierce, along with his Marshal guardian, seemed visibly perturbed by the depth of Batman's knowledge of his old life. After a few seconds the Bat rolled his shoulders forward and the cloak rustled, seeming to jar the two people from their shocked stupor like a hypnotist snapping his fingers.

"Uhm, well..." Franklin stammered, then his head sagged in returning defeat.

"Frank, you don't have to answer that." Allison said, standing up. The marshal seemed to have regained her nerve. Batman's icy stare didn't make her back down this time. When he looked at her she stared right at him. "I think you've asked Mr. Pierce enough questions for one night."

"No. No, Allison, it's all right. If all this can help determine if Pammy really can be helped then I'll do it." Frank said, looking between the marshal and the vigilante before taking a deep breath. "You have to understand I was- I was not a strong willed man. Actually, I was a door mat, and I think that's why Michelle liked me. She was big on the whole power of women thing, and having a man who would bend over backwards to do what she wanted seemed to make her happy. I never understood why so many people paid so much money for her marriage counseling, she had such a hot streak, she hardly seemed like the right person to be giving other people advice on their love lives."

The bat grunted and Pierce took it as a hint for him to speed up story time.

"Sorry! Anyway, I... Well, Pamela was getting worse. On her 17th birthday we bought her a car, but it was 'unacceptable.' You see, by this point she was really getting into the whole 'Going Green' movement, and she wasn't happy with a sports car that sucked up gas so fast. It was the first time she ever threatened me with physical violence, she didn't do anything, but the threat alone was enough-"

"What was it?"

"Huh?"

The vigilante leaned closed, his eyes locking with elderly mans. "What did she threaten to do..?"

"I- I don't really know, Batman, I'm sorry. She didn't threaten like a normal person, it wasn't like 'I'm going to strangle you in your sleep' or 'I'm so mad I could kill you' or anything like that-"

"What. Did. She. Say?" he growled, impatience building in his voice.

Pierce cleared his throat, then flicked his tongue over his dry lips. "She... She said she ought to mulch me."

"Mulch you?" Allison interrupted, looking confused. "What sort of threat is that? Is that even a threat, it sounds like she's threatening to make you go fertilize the garden..."

"Coming from Pamela Isley, that most definitely is a threat, Marshal Blake." Batman growled, his eyes roaming the room as the wheels in his mind began to turn once more. "But this was still years before Jason Woodrue used her as his guinea pig, long before I would expect her to be using such remarks as threats."

"So why was she using them?" Allison asked, her brow furrowing in growing confusion with each new piece of Frank's story.

"I don't know." the dark knight replied tersely, then his eyes returned to their host. "Go on, Mr. Pierce."

"Well... That was the last straw for me. I told Michelle I wanted to get Pamela help, that she needed therapy.. Michelle... She lost it. She said she was the only therapist Pamela needed, said I didn't know what I was talking about, that I was just an over-bearing fool. Well, I backed off, but I didn't let it go. Over the next few weeks it just kept getting worse, Michelle was just reinforcing Pamela's over-bearing behavior and I... I was too scared to make it happen on my own so I--"

"Needed some liquid courage." Allison voiced, giving Frank an expression of apologetic sympathy as he nodded in agreement with her statement.

"I went to one of my favorite watering holes and had a few. I was surprised, I didn't do the usual drinking myself stupid. I actually kept control of myself, or so I thought... I was only there about 20 minutes, but I had a few stiff drinks while I told the bar tender about the problems back home. He suggested I get Pam and Michelle out of the house, said it would be easier for us all to talk if we were away from the house, none of us standing on our home turf, as it were. I thought it seemed like a good idea." Franklin explained, leaning forward in his seat as he told the final chapter of the saga. "So I got in the car... Drove home just fine, no swerving, no cross lanes, didn't have any trouble. I thought I was okay. So I marched inside and I told them we were all going out to the park. The girls liked it there; it had this little gazebo we always went to on the fourth of July, when Pam was young, and we'd watch the fireworks. I figured we could go there and have a peaceful conversation about our family issues..."

Frank stalled for a moment, a reminiscent smile on his aged face as he remembered happier times for his family, then he sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. "I think- I guess I just hadn't really been hit by the booze yet. When I got back in the car I was still driving okay, but, after a a few miles things started getting more difficult, and Michelle and I were arguing, and it was starting to get foggy... I didn't mean for it to happen. I just- the road was slick, and I couldn't gage the distance."

For a moment he trailed off, unable to continue, his eyes closed and his head drooping. In a rare moment of kindness the vigilante waited, allowing the elderly man to regain himself before continuing. "I don't know what happened... I just remember sound, Michelle yelling in my ear, demanding to know if I'd been drinking, and I lied of course and then... Then Pamela was yelling. Stop. Stop daddy; look out... Last thing I saw was guard rail. We just... We hit it straight on. I woke up in the hospital.. Pam was in the same room... She wouldn't even talk to me. She woke up before I did, found out about Michelle before me... She blamed me; and she had every right to."