HART, Silas P

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full name Silas Patrick Hart date of birth 14.01.91 home town Boston, MASS current city NYC, NY education BA | University of Boston occupation Bomb technician for FBI ________________________________________ My family and I had lived beside the Harts for fifteen years. Our kids grew up together - Silas and Cleo.. the best of friends till they were around thirteen and the hormones kicked in. Grace and I were in the PTA together, we were also quite close. We'd often go for lunch and go together to the meetings. My Greg and her Lloyd got along well enough to sip at a beer at a barbeque. I suppose when Silas was in his mid-teens things changed. For a family that lived so comfortably there was a lot of yelling. I would be sitting in our living room and I could hear them. I don't know what they were fighting about exactly. But Cleo said Silas went a bit off. He wasn't showing up for classes, when he did he was late and red-eyed. You could tell things weren't going well. I guess he left or got kicked out as soon as he turned eighteen, we don't know much of it. Greg was the one who called the police. Grace and Lloyd, gased themselves in their car. It didn't look suspicious, but it didn't look suicidal.. we'd always see them on the streets, and they'd smile. But I suppose what you see in public and what you see in private are two completely different things. It was ruled suicide two weeks later. Grace had cancer - in her bones, her blood, liver, everywhere. Lloyd didn't have anyone else but her - with Silas estranged - I guess he decided it wasn't worth it. - Linda Harper ________________________________ Mia started to get annoying when I was eighteen and got kicked out of home.. yea, I don't know why I didn't see it then, it was really quite fucking clear. You know, when I got kicked out it was pretty legitimate. Cut off from everything, I rotated three outfits for two years and worked at the local gym. That bugged her I think. That I went from showering her, to a July desert. Then my 'rents died, and I inherited all their assets. I was naive and thought I could win her back over, so I purposed to the greedy bitch. She accepted, we moved into my family's home (creepy as fuck, by the way). And that's when shit really went downhill. I don't know why I thought it was a sane idea to have a joint bank account. Do you know how many Birkhams she had? Anyway, my job became really demanding. And I get that maybe she was feeling attention starved.. it doesn't excuse it, but I was barely around so I do understand.. or I would have if she went and joined a fucking book club rather than become a thirsty little hoe. I hired a PI. I knew she was doing it, it was obvious. But getting evidence was neccessary for a quick divorce. Ya da ya da ya da, thank fuck for prenups. ________________________________ Job title: Bomb technician Description: Inspect, neutralize, transport, and destroy bombs Education: Boston University BA | OMEMS Training Necessary Skills: fit, keeps calm under pressure, quick thinker, risk taker Employer: FBI Salary: $40,000 ________________________________ ________________________________________ your name ciara play-by patty o'donnell member group resident