know
verb
have developed a relationship with (someone) through meeting and spending time with them; be familiar or friendly with.
June 2005
Bay County Press, Alabama
Harlowe Mills was reported to be in court today following multiple meetings with the judge to discuss charges, at the behest of Bay County District Attorney, Luke Evans, for the youngest Mills alleged involvement in her father and brother's crimes.
Her father, Jason Mills, was found to be the serial killer known as "The Ghost of the Coast" who was at large for about 11 years until the FBI discovered him in 1998.
Brian Mills, Ms. Mills older brother, was tried as an adult, and found guilty in 2000 for charges related to willingly assisting and participating in crimes with his father, despite being only 15 at the time of his arrest.
Since Mills was charged, the D.A has worked tirelessly to charge Ms. Mills as well in crimes related to the brutal murder of 25 women around the Gulf Coast.
"They were all involved" D.A. Evans can be quoted saying in a recent interview, "We have evidence. Jason Mills was sick, and he would take his children on hunts with him, and they participated in his crimes. The city, and surrounding areas are safer without any Mills walking around."
Now 18, Ms. Mills has remained relatively out of the media, and seems to have left the area completely. Though the cry for Mills to be held accountable for possible involvement in the aforementioned cases comes from the voices of many, Mills has found herself some support from an anonymous donor, providing her with top representation from The Big Apple, a source tells the press.
Ms. Mills was 11 in 1998, and present in the home, when, according to responding officers, the Mills family took investigating FBI agents hostage for several hours. The agents were eventually able to detain Brian Mills, but Jason Mills was killed in the crossfire.
We will continue to report developments on this trial as they arise.
Present Day
I am Harlowe Mills
His hand holding her wrist loosens and falls.
She could see the gears in his head begin moving instantly as his eyes subtly dart from side to side.
It was like he was... reading, no doubt using his eidetic memory to recall in verbatim files, articles, and text book entries he has read in the past.
She watches his micro expressions, and tries to guess where in her story he is, as he puts those pieces together from his experiences with her over the last few months.
It's clear to her whatever the FBI knows has been stored in his head the whole time, and she doesn't have to say anything.
So, she waits, until-there-his eyes grow wide as he makes some sort of realization.
"The phone calls." He says, looking at her.
She doesn't move.
"It's Brian," he says, mostly to himself, and tucks his hair behind his ears deep in thought.
"Do you... do you talk to him?" He looks up at her.
The anger from earlier is gone, and is replaced with confusion, but the flicker of fear remains.
"No" she says with caution. "He goes through spells where he calls me sometimes, but I never answer."
She can see the millions of questions in his eyes, but the ones he chooses perplexes her.
"Michelle's not just your friend."
"She's my lawyer" Max confirms, "she got hooked up for life as an interning L1 when my case came across the table. She helped get me out of a lot of trouble."
"And... Malcolm Bright?"
"His mom heard about my situation and... for obvious reasons, was sympathetic. She handled my court costs, and has helped me in countless other ways over the years. The Whitley's are like family to me, but I wasn't lying when I said he had worked with Michelle before..." (see note at bottom of page for notes if you are unfamiliar with the Whitley's from Prodigal Son.)
She feels exposed, but powerful at the same time, her tongue working at the side of her cheek.
Understanding flooded Spencer's face, and he tilts his head back to think some more.
"I've read the court documents." He whispers. "What they tried to accuse you of. What they... proved you did."
"Yeah?" Was all she could say.
She wanted to hear him say it.
As if on que, Spencer spouts, "You told the court you had no recollection of assisting in any of the crimes, and had blank spots in your memory, though you acknowledged being aware they were doing 'something bad...'
He looks at her, then looks away, recalling the information from thin air, "You were evaluated multiple times and they confirmed that memory loss would be evident due to obvious symptoms of CPSD, but no one could prove you actually did anything to any of those women... the part that hurt your case though was your behavior during the hostage situation."
Max nods her head as if to tell him to keep going.
"They tried to say you put FBI agents in danger and resisted arrest. But your legal team was able to discredit their reports and the judge threw out the case."
He let out a sigh and looked at her, reading her face.
She saw the corner of his mouth twitch, and she knew he was seeing her in a different way for the first time.
He let in a breath and continued quoting case reports, but Max's vision and hearing blur and she is back in the court room, watching one of the agents from that night on the stand...
"After being invited into the home by Mills for routine questioning, Mills and his son subdued my partner and I, tied us to chairs in the basement, and threatened us with our own guns." The agent says.
"Subdued?" Asks the prosecution.
"We were pistol whipped. We were there for several hours."
"Where was Ms. Mills at the time of your... detainment."
"I didn't see her until Mills called her down. After we came to in the basement."
"Do you remember anything else from the time between being detained and the defendant coming down to the basement."
"Yeah, Mills Jr. played a couple rounds of Russian roulette with us with my partners gun." The agent said incredulously.
"I know this was a difficult time for you Agent Davis. That's why we are here today, to make sure justice is served." The prosecutor says smugly, "-and to prevent it from happening again."
Davis only glared back at the lawyer.
"What was Ms. Mills perceived state of mind at the time she came down to the basement, did she look scared, upset?"
"She was just a little girl." The agent said, shaking his head and looking at the defendant.
Today, she was older, still petite, and had the same reddish brown hair framing her severe face.
"If you are having a hard time remembering your report of the defendants actions on that night, may I direct you to read from your report again. The highlighted line on page 12?"
The agent looks down in defeat at the papers in front of him, his report of the night in question.
"Child appeared bored." He says robotically, eyes flicking back up to the prosecutor.
"Bored?" The prosecution repeats, "can you explain what you meant by that?"
The agent looks at Max apologetically.
"She looked like he was about to ask her to take out the trash for something."
"What happened after she made it into the basement."
"The elder Mills handed Ms. Mills my gun and Jr. told her she had to 'take care of the pigs' to 'make up for the thing with the red head.'
"Objection!" the defense yells, "motion to strike the last word from the record as it was agreed to be inadmissible in court.
"Granted," the judge says.
"I'm sorry," says the agent.
"Prosecution, please continue," the judge says.
The prosecuting lawyer smiles and says,"And how did the defendant respond?"
"She...she rolled her eyes and started... looking at the gun. She opened the chamber and checked the bullets."
"And what happened next."
The agent further reported that Brian placed his firearm on a nearby table, and began assisting his father in the far corner of the basement sharpening tools, and organizing storage bags, leaving Harlowe with the agents.
"What did you perceive was about to happen next?" The prosecutor asks the agent.
"It looked like Ms. Mills was going to kill us and then they were going to put us in bags and dump us like the rest of those women." says the Agent Davis, numbly.
"So how is it that you broke free from your restraints, and are sitting with us today?" The persecutor asked, almost as a taunt.
"We thought we were done for," tears were visibly welling in the agents eyes, but she saved us.," he blurts the last part out.
"Agent, please answer the question as stated, how were you able to break free of your restraints and subdue the suspects? And let me remind you that you are under oath, and you are free to refer to your report from that night if you are having trouble composing yourself."
The agent made a sniff, to gather himself, he turned a few pages in the document before him, taking note of the words written in the report before looking back up again and saying, "Can you restate the question."
"I am asking you to describe, in detail like you did in the report before you, how Ms. Mills responded to the situation in the basement, and how the events leading up to you regaining control of the scene occurred."
The agent sighed, and looked at the girl once more, before turning back to the prosecutor.
He began to ramble, there was no use in giving glib responses anymore, they read his report, the profile, everything.
"The Mill men were in the back... getting things ready, and Ms. Mills was stone faced. It was unnerving to see a little girl holding a gun like that, standing in front of us with her head cocked. It was like she was studying everything about us. She didn't say anything for a while.
She eventually crouched down to a squat and held the pistol over her shoulder like she played with them all the time."
"Objection" the defending lawyer says, "Witness is stating as a fact my client's perceived comfortability with guns without any evidence."
"Sustained." The judge says, "Continue, agent."
The agent gulped and said, "She then looked me right in the eyes and said; 'Do you want to live?"
He visibly shutters after he says this, "I told her I had a little girl almost her age that I very much so want to get back to. She looked over her shoulder at her family, and whispered 'You'll have about 3 seconds if you're quick, and can make it the gun before Brian."
The agent continues, "It almost sounded like a game to her, she pointed the gun at us both jokingly after that, like she wanted to see our reaction, but then she gently undid my restraints. I immediately ran for the the gun. I got to it before the men even knew what was going on..." Agent Davis clears his throat and says,
"I yelled at the Mills men to put their hands up and to get on the ground, but they just stood there looking confused, not at me, but behind me. When I turned, the little Mills girl had the gun raised in both hands at the two Mills men. I told her, 'you're safe now, drop the gun and we will handle it from here, but she didn't even acknowledge me. I must have repeated it several times but she slowly crept around me and towards the men."
With this the agent faltered, shaking his head, and putting a hand over his mouth, as if he had said something foul.
The persecutor continues for him, "page 15 of your report says the following, Jason Mills was shot by Harlowe Mills, she defied orders of this agent to stand down until Mills senior had been terminated. She then fired the gun again, shooting Brian Mills in the leg, subduing him, it was only then that she dropped the weapon and complied with this agents orders." He flicked the file closed.
The court room was silent for a beat. "So, agent, is it true that Ms. Mills killed her father and injured her brother despite federal agents having control of the scene."
"She was under duress, she didn't understand what she was doing," agent David tries.
"I call that resisting arrest and endangering a federal scene." The prosecutor says with candor, he turns to face the judge this time saying, "She knew exactly what she was doing."
"Objection" calls the defense.
"What normal little girl resists the good guys like that, you're honor?"
"Objection!" the defense calls again, louder.
"She was just a little girl." The agent croaks, again.
"...and what would stop her from doing it again if the whim struck her?" the prosecutor yells.
It should have mattered that the defense was able to discredit the agents with questions like, "is it not in your training to make sure all individuals in a hostile situation are unarmed as a first step in securing a scene? Why did you not first secure the gun from the child in the room?"
But it didn't.
The agents answer of, "we underestimated her," was what was printed on the headlines the next day reporting that the judge ruled Harlowe legally having no responsibility for any of the crimes.
It didn't stop the world from believing that she was just like them and got away with it all.
June 2005
Bay County Press, Alabama
"We underestimated her:" Updates on the Mill Case...
...Though there are many things money can't buy, fortunately for Harlow Mills it does pay for legal fees, assistance in creating a new identity, (reportedly) going to college, and most importantly, staying hidden.
But will Ms. Mills stay hidden? Only time can tell.
Her attention began to slowly return to the present, by the hum of Spencer's voice saying, "During your evaluations over the years the psychologists found you to be highly intelligent and sensitive, but you often gave answers you anticipated they wanted you to give, giving them a hard time pin pointing a full profile.
They decided that you most likely would disassociate during some of the events to cope, which explained some of the memory gaps, and lack of emotion when talking about certain events. This is extremely common with people who have experienced trauma, particularly in CPSD..." he trailed off.
"Hey." He says when she doesn't respond, putting a hand on each of her shoulders to bring her back to him.
He could tell she was mentally somewhere else.
It works and her eyes focus back on his as he continues, "The D.A, and all of those other people were wrong. You aren't like them."
She scoffs in response, looking down.
"I've— I've killed people too," he starts, but she rolls her eyes back to his.
"Oh please, Spencer. You shooting psychopaths on orders is not same," she says.
His eyes narrow as he says, "While many find my profession honorable it is definitely not the sum of my character. I've had my share of moral failure, you know that."
She leans close into his face this time, eyes locked with his. The words hiss out of her before she can help it, "But did you like it?"
He leans back from her, shocked at her sudden movement, and blinks a few times before finally saying, "As far as I'm concerned, anything you did before getting out of that house was just to survive."
She stands straight again, taking his words in for a moment... but there was more, and she needed it to be out in the open, once and for all.
"You're not listening to me Spencer." She says with a sigh.
She wanted to throw her hands in the air but she didn't have the energy. She's never even talked about these things in this way with Michelle.
"Ok." He put his hands up in surrender. "You're right. I'm listening now, whatever you want to say."
"They... the lawyers got me out of any prosecution because, well, they were good. But it doesn't mean that there wasn't something to to D.A's case..."
Spencer doesn't respond, only nods letting her know he wouldn't interrupt.
"As far as I know, I really didn't do anything to any of those women, but there is a piece in the back of my head..." she touches her head as if trying to physically pull something out, "that wonders what if I did, and I'm just forgetting.. but no matter how well I'm able to block everything else out, I remember killing him, my dad."
She swallows, "I knew when I let the agent go I should have dropped the gun. My dad and brother were defenseless. But I wanted to do it, and... I had wanted to do it for a while. Sometimes I still think about it, and it doesn't make me sad... I replay it in my head, and it makes me happy..." she moves her hand from her head to her chest.
"Something isn't right in me Spencer." She shakes her head. "It feels like there is something in me, that's trapped, something evil, and I'm afraid one day it will get out." A tear rolls down her otherwise stoney face.
Spencer's face softens and he shakes his head. 'Hey..." he says, he reaches for her hand but she flinches away.
"Why do you think you did it?" He continues, "before everyone else got in involved and muddled it up. Why do you think you did it?"
"I'd like to think it was because I did not want them to hurt anyone else, but I should have let the agent handle it," she says.
Spencer interjects, "People aren't meant to go through things like that. It's not natural... so when these things happen, our feelings about it get complicated, especially when it happens to us as a child. You simply didn't trust that the agents could make it go away. I imagine you spent a lot of your life up until that point 'handling things.' You're still like that...I know you, ok, and—"
"You know what I wanted you to know." She says flatly, cutting him off.
His mouth sets in a determined manner, "I know that you smile at strangers, and get little tears in your eyes when you see kids. I know that you love hydrangeas, and bumblebees, and I know that you gave Max Brenner a really good life," he wets his lips, eyes becoming glassy, "because when you are given the choice, you make good things happen. You make people happy and help them feel safe, even with the weight of the world on your shoulders. You do it every day you go into work and do therapy with your kids. I know that you get to decide and define who you are, not anyone else."
Her lip quivers, but she does not give up her resolve. "I know you want to think the best of me," she says "because you've had a fun few months, but none of this was real Spencer." She eyes him darkly before continuing...
"Surely you can see how ironic we are right? The first person I am involved with in any sort of long term capacity is a damn BAU agent with the FBI? I'm not saying I did it on purpose, but you can't ignore that there was obviously a part of me excited by the fact that I could work one over on you. You can't tell me you are not thinking that right now? I think a sick part of me did all of this because I wanted you to catch me."
She lets out a disbelieving laugh, but his face is calm, almost amused.
"When did you find out I was FBI?" He asks.
"When I found your badge thing." She says, not understanding his point.
"February 26th of this year."
She was silent, but he smiles and bites the right side of his lip.
"So you didn't know last year on October 31st when I saw you walking into your apartment from the hallway in a Pirate costume, and you blushed when you saw me staring." he asks, and her eye brows furrow.
"Or on January 12th this year when you held the front door open for me because I was behind you and you couldn't look me in the eyes after I smiled at you."
"I don't remember..." she starts to say but he continues, his eidetic memory firing, once more.
"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you don't remember, but I do. Just like I remember the time exactly one year ago from tomorrow, to the date, when we happened to be on the same subway... you dropped your pen, and it rolled over to me. I kicked it back and made a lame joke about inertia, and you kept looking over at me when you thought I was distracted by my book."
"That's just normal neighbor stuff Spencer, we've lived practically on top of each other for—"
"No it wasn't. I'm a profiler remember? I have more, but I will stop there. You're not as good at hiding as you think you are when the stakes are lower. Everything you do in your life might be to try and pretend to be normal, but you're not. Neither am I." He scoots closer to her from his seat, and and she doesn't move away.
"But there are times when I am with you that I am... or at least feel like I could be... normal." He reaches for her hand again and this time she lets him.
"And I'm not going to pretend that this isn't scary... But right now you're safe. And I feel safe with you. I do know who you are, and I know that you and I have always been an option..." he's looking at her with such intent now that she wants to run away, but she can't.
"... and if you think for a second that you are going to make me believe that you some how manipulated, or charmed your way into my life, and what he have isn't real," he smiles as he says the last part, "You're wrong."
She leans in to him a little, partly because she likes what he is saying, and partly because she feels as if she could collapse from exhaustion.
Her muscles loosen, and she can feel one of the corners of her mouth turning up.
"Besides," he says gently pulling her the rest of the way, "you're clearly avoidant attached" he laughs a little, and her head collapses on his shoulder as he embraces her, "you've tried to push me away more than work one over on me."
She responds by sinking into him more.
They're like that for a while.
"I still think something is wrong with me," she says, finally, resting her head on his shoulder, "that I'm bad."
"You're just as bad as I am," he says in her ear.
"You're not. You're the strongest person I know," she says, a second tear rolling down her face and onto his shoulder, "you didn't deserve any of that, or any or this."
"Neither did you," he says simply.
"I just want to be normal," she says.
"I know," he responds.
"I'm sorry I hit you," her shoulders shake as a sob comes out, "I wouldn't do that on purpose."
"Maybe now that you've gotten it off your chest you'll be able to rest."
She feels him start to play with the hem of her shirt after some time, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger...
"Can I still call you Max?" he asks, after they had been silent for a while.
"I like Max" she says, her voice cracking.
"Yeah, me too." he says.
✈️
"The first secret of getting what you want is knowing what you want."-Arthur D. Hlavaty
Background on Malcom Bright that is important to know if you haven't watched Prodigal Son:
He comes from a very wealthy old money New York family (on his moms side)
His dad was a prolific serial killer called "the Surgeon," who was a brilliant psychopathic doctor who saved many people, but also murdered many people.
He was young when his dad was arrested… I think around 9 or 10.
Bright has CPSD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and (I think) Major Depressive Disorder, which results is dissociative episodes, hand tremors, and fuzzy flashback memories related to some of his dad's crimes. (Basically, a very similar story to Max's)
He goes by Malcom Bright professionally to distance himself from his fathers name.
He was in the FBI as a profiler for many years, but his unorthodox (risky, and borderline unethical) measures at solving cases got him kicked out.
He now works with the NYPD as a consultant for the homicide division.
He is a sweet guy but really dark.
He also chains himself up at night to sleep because he has such bad night terrors, so there is that.
