Mike

-*From The How Did We Get Here Series*-

**Now**: Mrs. Roland lowered her head in both exhaustion and sadness. Her beautiful brand new home on the outskirts of a small town in rural Georgia known as Tannersville had gone up in flames just 2 hours ago. She was in shock and the pounding on the outside of the tornado shelter was beginning to break her out of it. The fire company needed to confirm that she was ok, after all.

**Before**: The Smith family always celebrated the big holidays. The 4th of July was no different. Brian Smith had his various assortment of fireworks ready to launch. The wind was picking up but he felt fairly certain that they would be quite safe.

-*From The How Did We Get Here Series*-

**Now**: Jennifer Turco kneeled down to give her father a kiss on his forehead. Josh was doing the right thing after all. This type of job needed to be done. If not by him, then who? Jennifer replaced her protective eyewear before bringing the thermal imaging device up within her view. It still showed six heat signatures. The expected and anticipated number. Josh turned his gaze up to his youngest daughter looking for the signal he needed. A confirmation that all six siblings were currently at home. Jennifer looked down at him and nodded. Josh caught the gesture and quietly moved his thumb from the green ABORT button to press the light red COMMIT button. The trailer suddenly erupted into a massive fireball flinging bodies here and there and breaking every window and other pieces that could be broken.The sound of a bouncing metal propane tank off to their left. Five feet away from Jennifer, a smoking and burnt male torso landed on an old wooden pallet and bounced away from her. A faint scream filled the air from what seemed like a few blocks away. The small subdivision was awake now. She could barely notice the slight smile in her dad’s gaze, but it was there. It was all better now. Everything was going to be just fine.

**Before**: Jennifer knew that Doug Jones was a child molester. In fact, the whole neighborhood knew. The problem was proof. All she had was gut instincts. The way he looked at the girls as they made their way home from school passing his, what she would swear, had to be a meth lab trailer. It made the neighborhood look like it had been transplanted from Detroit. She would talk to her ex-military father and see what he thought about this “problem.” Perhaps daddy could kill two birds with one stone on this one?