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he looked into the face of evil, also known as Mister Tee to all with a sense of humor, which, fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Jesus Two Bears had inherited from his mother to go along with the gene that would take his life, which he got from his father and his father before him.
    For a long while JT was as ignorant of Mister Tee’s history as Charlie Sanderson was of Melissa and her sister and Big Max, but it would not be long before the lives of them all would be forever entwined, and their secrets revealed to all.
    In spite of what the world would later discover they all had in common, it would be JT who would come to be known as the Pioneer. The very first TOWY.
    Though he would never know that, if he had, JT would have also known that his father, and his grandfather before him, would have been proud he had taken his stand.

1 YEAR, 9 MONTHS AFTER TOWY WEBSITE
     
    Grand Jury Exhibit ‘G ’ Officer Anita Hellstrom’s Notebook From Vehicle Console
     
    Notebook Details (from top): Flowers??, Clairebear – AKA?, Charlie – Sarah, JT, El Culo, 21 Smithfield, (phone # eligible), Who’s Address?, Max Cody, LAX, (scratches eligible)
     

Chapter Four
 
    It was getting harder and harder for Sarah’s mother to keep her daughter out of jail.
    Sarah herself wasn’t particularly concerned. She had always been very good at figuring people out, especially when it came to the line between sympathy and exasperation and exactly how far she could use the former to delay or completely forestall the latter.
    But even Sarah understood a lot of that changed when she turned eighteen.
    Men were easiest, of course. Ironically, the older they were, the better. A lot of the grandpas were just that, grandfatherly, although she suspected, and she would have been right, that the perv never dies within the loins of man. She was pretty sure more than a few of those geezers went home to pop a pill and give it to grandma hard and heavy while imagining her face in their lap, an image that never failed to both fascinate and repulse her.
    It always made her think of her cherry-popper, a British exchange student almost five years her senior who’d taken one look at the fifteen year-old state senator’s daughter and pronounced her “flat out bangin’” and then proceeded to do just that as often as he could sneak past the dogs at her parents’ estate.
    She’d quickly grown tired of his inane blather, which seemed to revolve almost exclusively around her “tight box and rock n roll tits”, another of his rude expressions whose charm eluded her.
    Sarah found men tiresome after that, and in spite of her somewhat slutty reputation at school, due mainly to a small, jealous clique of equally wealthy but much less intelligent fashionistas, she would not do the deed for several more years.
    Which didn’t mean her charms went to waste.
    The younger cops were next behind the grandpas, still easy because they were usually arrogant enough that they thought they could actually get her. But like the envious heathers from the private academy her father insisted she attend, their IQs were usually in the range of room temperature.
    If you lived in the Yukon.
    Worst of all, naturally, were the ladies. No amount of guile ever seemed enough to completely erase her long, chestnut hair and perfect teeth, along with an athletic figure most of them would have given their career for. Indeed, had they looked like Sarah, they would have never gone into law enforcement at all. A thought that crossed more than one mind as reports were being written in vain before the inevitable call from the senator’s chief of staff reminding them there was even more to resent the little bitch for.
    Had just one of them actually taken an interest in what Sarah had to say, they would have discovered a preternaturally mature young woman who was, to put it simply, too smart for her own good.
    She’d been obsessed with suicide ever since she was a child, after finding old albums