Inspiration 14

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The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.

Psalm 51:17

Redemption and forgiveness? I have always been taught that the only unforgivable sin is the rejection of the Holy Spirit. That, of course, means Heavenly forgiveness. What about humans? When Jesus's disciples asked Him how often they should forgive their brothers, He replied, "Seventy times seven." That does not mean 490 times. That means as often as they ask. How much can a person endure before s/he cannot find it inside to forgive? We are, after all, human, not divine. I know there are a couple of people in my life that have hurt me so deeply that I have a hard time forgiving them. One of them, just when I think maybe he's given up being a horse's ass, he does something else just to rub salt into the already deep wounds. Of course, none of them have ever asked for forgiveness. This is a struggle we all have. We've all been hurt, some more than others. How do my characters in Broken deal with asking for forgiveness and/or forgiving?

"Kim, take off," ordered Kyle.

"No. I'm not gonna let you and your slugs hurt Christopher. There are five of you."

Kyle snarled, "Kim, take off!"

"What part of no did you not understand, the N or the O? I'm not leaving."

"Beasley, get her out of here," ordered Kyle. One of his cohorts started toward Kim.

"Touch me. I dare you." Kim held up a can of pepper spray that was attached to her keychain. She stood and aimed for the boy's face.

"Man, this is getting out of hand. That asshole doesn't have to know we failed," said the one called Beasley.

"Kyle, you forced me into this," Christopher said, shaking his head and looking at the water. "Did you five skin-heads beat, rape, and leave Neely Rivers for dead?" He stood beside Kim.

"Who is Neely Rivers?" asked Kyle.

"She owned a tattoo parlor in New Orleans."

Kyle took a step back. "Everybody, leave!" he commanded. "Go!"

After the other four boys walked away, Kyle asked, "What do you know about that?"

"The victim lived and identified your tattoo." That's why I had the creepy feeling when Kim told me you got a tat like your dad's. He pointed to the other boy's chest. "The other twelve women died."

"Kim, I wish you'd leave," Kyle mumbled.

"Not a snowball's chance in Hell." She put one hand on her hip.

Kyle gave his twin a desperate look.

She shook her head firmly and puckered her lips. "This is worse than I dreamed. God! Kyle, talk to me."

He huffed. "I don't know anything about any other twelve women. That was my first job." He pointed toward where his friends had walked. "They weren't even there. I didn't kill the woman although I was supposed to. A cop named Lloyd gave us money to do it. He also gave us money tonight to find you and beat you to a pulp." He shook his head. "I can't do that to the guy that was kissing my sister."

Kim snorted. "Warped, Kyle. Warped," she muttered.

"Kyle, you have no idea what you're really mixed up in, do you?" Christopher said.

"Maybe you should tell me because"—He widened his eyes that looked like the early morning sky and sought matching ones—"I'm not quite the slug my sister thinks I am."

Brow furrowed, Christopher said, "Kyle, this Lloyd guy has killed five law enforcement officers, my aunt included. Obviously, my dad was right. He was behind the art thefts and twelve dead women. He's Latrice Descartes's son."

"L…Latrice? That crazy woman my dad talked about?" He put a hand to his lips and mumbled through his fingers. "The one that tried to summon a demon?"

Christopher nodded and Courtney put clenched fists to her mouth, eyes wide with fear.

The look on Kyle's face was thinly veiled terror. He started rubbing his tattoo as if trying to get it off. "Oh, God! What have I done?" He sank to the sand and sobbed, "What…Have…I…Done?"

The temperature moderated to the balmy coastal spring night.

Kim and Christopher went to Kyle. "Kyle," Christopher said, "come with me to my grandparents' house. My dad can fix this."

"I'll go to jail. That'll kill my mom."

"Trust me, Kyle. My dad'll help. He's your godfather, after all. This man wants to kill him, too. Are you sure he was a cop?"

"Yeah, a state trooper."

"Please, go with Christopher, Kyle," begged Kim. "I'll go with you."

Christopher reiterated, "Please, Kyle. You can save lives now. You have to help."

Kyle nodded. The three teenagers headed back to the Reynolds's beach home...

Larkin slammed the front door and threw her purse onto the entry hall table before she screamed, "Christopher Lance Reynolds!"

Although Christopher was nearly a foot taller than his mother, he shrank in the wake of her fury. He looked at her with her big doe-like eyes and said, "Momma, take it easy."

"Don't you 'Momma' me! How could you put yourself at risk like this?" Larkin stopped her tirade as she noticed the other two children present. "What is going on?" she demanded.

Christopher said calmly, "I think I'll wait for Daddy to get here."

"How did Ray know you had sneaked out? Did the officers call him?"

"No ma'am." Christopher shook his head. "I did."

Larkin looked at the other two teenagers. "Kim?"

"Hello, Dr. Reynolds."

"Kyle?"

The person who seemed to be in the most distress in the entire room looked at Larkin. She thought, Lord! The boy looks just like Robert. He did not speak but sat on the fireplace hearth and dropped his eyes back to the floor.

Larkin demanded, "How are the two of you mixed up in this?"

"We are not," said Kimberly, "except that Christopher sneaked out to meet me. Don't be too mad at him. It's hard being under such scrutiny. I still remember how hard it was having so much security around before Dad died. Kyle, well, I guess he would rather talk to Chief Reynolds."

Larkin got closer to Kyle. She took in the boy's appearance and could not help but notice his tattoo. "No," she breathed as she knelt beside him and lifted his chin. "Please, tell me it wasn't you."

Kyle tried to turn away from Larkin, but she held his chin firmly. "Look at me," she said softly.

Kyle choked, "I can't. It was me. I did it."

Deanna Blackwell looked tired as she came into the room where her son and her late husband's old friend sat. Saul Blackwell accompanied his wife and carried Tate asleep on his shoulder.

"Okay," Deanna said in great irritation. "Let's get to it."

Ray stood. "Deanna, sit down."

"It's that bad, is it?"

"Please," insisted Ray. He stepped to the foot of the stairs and called, "Larkin, I need you."

Larkin came down the stairs. "What do you need?"

"Put Tate somewhere to sleep. This is gonna take a little while." He looked back at Deanna. "You should know Kim is upstairs with Courtney."

Deanna looked confused. "She was spending the night at a slumber party."

Ray grunted, "She was meeting Christopher and now she is asleep in the room with Courtney, but Kim is not the issue right now."

Larkin took Tate from Saul. He sat down beside his wife whose knuckles were turning white from the grip she had on the arm of the sofa.

Ray turned to Kyle. "Kyle, New Orleans is out of my jurisdiction. The only thing I can do is take you back there. However, by now, you realize you're mixed up in something far worse than one attack on one woman. Kyle, I can't help you if you aren't totally honest with me."

"Why would you want to help me? I'm a horrible person. I'm as evil as this wicked two-headed serpent." Kyle hit himself in the chest.

"No, you're not. You're a lost boy who happens to be the son of an old friend of mine. You're my godson."

Kyle laughed a hollow laugh. "Mr. Reynolds, you have no idea what my father actually thought of you."

"Yes, I do, Kyle. I know. We can talk about that later. We need to deal with your legal problem first. Tell me about Lloyd."

"Okay." The boy heaved a heavy sigh. "I guess I've been driving Mom crazy for a couple of years now. I started getting in trouble at school, fights and stuff."

Ray turned to Deanna. "Why didn't you call me?"

She sighed. "I wanted my family to work it out. Saul wanted to be a father to the twins."

"I understand, and you were completely correct. Kyle, why didn't you call me?"

The boy shrugged.

Ray huffed. "Tell me your story."

"Then, I started hanging out with older guys. To get into their little gang, I had to get this ugly haircut and a ghastly tattoo. Although most of them had the ugliest bald eagle I've ever seen, I couldn't think of one worse than Dad's, so I got a duplicate. Then, they took me to New Orleans where we met up with this older man. He was as skin-headed as all of us. He wore a state trooper's uniform and said his name was Lloyd. He paid us to rough up and…" Kyle stopped.

"Go on, Kyle. Just say it and get it over with," encouraged Ray.

Kyle breathed deeply. "Rape the lady that owned Timeless Tattoos. He took me to the side and told me if I really wanted to be in, I had to kill her. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill her. I guess I'm not a killer." He sighed. "And she was so beautiful. How could anybody kill something so lovely? All I could do was stare at her. And I heard this voice telling me to stop."

"Kyle," asked Deanna in tears, "are you saying you beat and raped that woman?"

Kyle groaned, "Yes."

"Oh, my God! Ray, what do we do?" Deanna asked in distress.

Ray looked at Kyle. "Kyle, what do we do?"

"Put me in jail. But that's not all about Lloyd. He was here tonight, and he found me with some other guys that are a part of this group. He paid us to find Christopher and beat him up. He didn't want him dead, just hurt."

"Why didn't you do it?" asked Ray.

"When we found him, he was kissing my sister. I would never hurt somebody that Kim likes. I love my sister."

"Of course, you do," Ray said. "You're twins. That's a very special bond."

"Christopher said you think this Lloyd guy is the one who killed Detective Gautier and the other cops and that he might be Latrice Descartes's son. I swear I didn't know anything like that, Mr. Reynolds."

"I believe that, Kyle. I think he deliberately sought you out, too. The only way he could get even with Robert was to corrupt you."

Kyle snorted.

Ray asked, "Is there something else, Kyle?"

"I can't tell you this in front of my mother. I just can't. Dad hurt her enough when he was alive."

"Kyle," Deanna said, "I knew everything about your father."

"I doubt it," Kyle said.

"Me too," agreed Ray.

"Can it be any worse than his being a philandering son-of-a-bitch?" asked Deanna.

"Yes," Kyle and Ray said together.

"Then, you had better tell me now."

Kyle hesitantly said, "New Orleans wasn't the first time I interacted with Lloyd. He was younger, and he had hair; but it was the same state trooper. He used to guard Dad.

"I caught Dad having sex once, Mom. It was in his Baton Rouge office when I got dropped off after baseball practice. Practice got called off because a storm came up. I was a lot earlier than I was supposed to be."

"Dear, God! You could only have been ten at the most," cried Deanna, holding both sides of her head with its now short dark hair. "Of course, some of his bodyguards would've had to have known about his sexual exploits. How could he? Which one was she, the one who was killed with him?"

Kyle looked at Ray for some sign of encouragement and received a slight nod. As if holding his breath Kyle said, "Mom, it wasn't a she. It was Lloyd."

"No," said Deanna. "A whoremonger, yes, but no. Ray?"

"The boy's right. I didn't know who he was involved with, but that letter you gave me at the wake"—Ray puffed out a long breath—"it makes sense. This guy planned to ruin Robert politically. That's where it would hurt him the most, but Mia put a kink in that plan."

Deanna asked while grinding her teeth, "Did either of them do anything to you, Kyle?"

Kyle laughed sarcastically. "Other than threaten me and swear me to secrecy? If Dad had ever even hugged me, it might have shown he cared. He did confess to me that he had only ever loved one person in his whole life."

"And who was that?"

Kyle shook his head. "I can't. I just can't."

"Well, you had damned well better!" Deanna's voice rose.

Kyle shook his head again.

"Me," Ray said barely above a whisper.

Deanna looked flabbergasted. "Ray, you and Robert?"

"No." He held up his hand in a stop motion.

"No, Mom," said Kyle. "It was definitely unrequited love." The bitterness in his voice was not lost on the adults.

"Oh, God, Kyle, what do we do? Saul?"

"I'm not a criminal attorney, honey, but I can find one."

Kyle seemed to ignore his stepfather. "Mr. Reynolds, Christopher said you would help me. Please, tell me what to do. You're my godfather. You said at Dad's wake if I ever needed you…"

"All right," he cut the boy off. "First, you stop disrespecting Saul. He's trying to help you right now." Ray glared at Kyle.

"Yes, sir."

"You turn yourself in and tell the New Orleans police exactly what you told me. Can you give a description of this Lloyd to a sketch artist?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do that. Kyle, do you swear that Neely Rivers was the only attack you were involved in?"

"Yes, sir. Why?"

"All the other women died, Kyle"

"I swear to God I didn't kill anybody!" Kyle looked toward his stepfather. "I swear," he repeated. Saul nodded at the boy.

Ray continued, "All right. Kyle, you were fifteen when this happened, right?"

"Yes, sir, barely."

"Technically, you were, and are, a juvenile, but the crime was very heinous. If you help catch a cop killer, I'm sure your sentence can be lightened. However, a lot will depend on what Neely wants done to you. Kyle, Neely just married my brother. You'll have to face her."

As Raif slowly revolved around the dance floor with Neely held close to him, his phone rang. Raif laughed. "My brother has the worst timing ever."

"How do you know it's Ray?" asked Neely.

"Nobody else would be calling."

"We were only dancing."

"Maybe you were only dancing, but I was planning what I wanted to do to you in about five minutes."

"In that case, talk to your brother, and I'll meet you in our room."

While Neely scampered off to put on something to make sure Raif followed through with his plans, Raif answered his phone, "Yes, Ray?"

"I think you need to come home for at least a day or so."

"What's up?"

"We have one of Neely's attackers."

"What? You actually caught one?"

"Sort of. Christopher caught him. The kid, and I mean kid, can identify Lloyd. He paid them."

"Kid? How old?"

"When it happened, he had just turned fifteen."

"What aren't you saying?"

"I hope you're sitting down."

"Ray, stop stalling."

"God! It's Kyle LaFontaine."

"What the hell did you say?"

Raif and Neely walked into an expectant crowd, none more anxious than Kyle LaFontaine. When Neely walked into the room, their eyes met. He could not break his gaze.

Neely said softly, "Everybody, leave us." She held Raif's hand firmly. "Not you. I need you to stay."

Everyone except Neely, Raif, and Kyle left the room. Still, Kyle was transfixed by Neely's face. She let go of Raif's hand and walked to the boy who sat at the end of the sofa. She sat beside him. She looked at his angelic face and wondered, is this really the same face I saw a year and half ago?

Neely said softly, "We never officially met. I'm Neely Rivers Gautier. I understand you're Kyle LaFontaine." Kyle dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Kyle, look at me," she ordered.

"I can't. I'm too ashamed. I'm so sorry." The boy started to cry.

"Look. At. Me," Neely said assertively. "You had no trouble looking at me once. You can look at me now."

Kyle raised his eyes to Neely's. "All right," she said. "Now, Kyle, tell me what you did."

"Do I have to say it all again? I just want to throw up."

"So, throw up, but I want to hear you say it."

Kyle complied. "I came into your shop with four other guys. Lloyd paid us to beat you up and rape you. I was supposed to kill you. We told you we wanted 'MOM' tattoos, and you asked to see cash up front and I.D. You asked if we had any particular style in mind. I told you yes and grabbed your wrist. When you started to scream, I hit you. While some of the others locked the door and turned off your lights, I dragged you behind the counter with the help of one of the others. You fought hard; we kept hitting you. I'm the one who tore off your clothes. I was first. We all raped you. We kicked you and I started to strangle you, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill you. I guess you passed out. We ransacked your shop and left. I'm so sorry."

Neely said, "Kyle, what do you want me to do?"

"Forgive me, but do whatever you need to do. I deserve to go away forever."

"Yes, you do." She stood and walked to the window to stare out at the darkness. "Part of me wants to let you rot in jail. You know, for what you did, you most likely would be tried as an adult. You would be somebody's plaything for a long time."

The boy gasped. "No. Not that. No."

She turned back from the window and stared at him. "Kyle, do you believe in Jesus?"

With a look of utter confoundedness Kyle asked, "What?"

Neely repeated her question.

"I used to when I was a little boy," Kyle said.

"Do you remember what He said about the people who crucified him?"

Kyle shook his head.

Neely said, "He asked God to forgive them because they didn't know what they were doing."

"They didn't deserve to be forgiven."

"None of us do, Kyle. Have you asked Him to forgive you?"

"Why would He?"

"Because He said He would if we ask. You need to seek His forgiveness before mine. But, Kyle, an evil man used you. He manipulated an angry, sad, lonely little boy into doing a wicked thing. However, you're still responsible for your own actions." She took a deep breath.

"I've thought about this all the way from Hawaii. This is my proposal for you: If you'll help put this evil man away, and if you'll go into intense counseling, I'll hold off on testifying against you. You do realize that there is no statute of limitations on forcible rape in Louisiana?'

He shook his head, eyes filled with fear.

Neely nodded. "I also want you to give up the names of the other members of the gang. Some of them are over eighteen. I'm sure Lloyd used some form of coercion on the kids, but, Kyle, one of the older ones came to Hawaii to do something else to me—the one that did that last thing to me. I know you remember it."

He blurted, "I tried to stop him."

"I know you did. That's why I'm offering you this one chance."

"Are you serious?" His pale blue eyes stretched wide in amazement. "You won't testify against me?"

"Yes. Kyle, there's nothing I can do if the state still charges you, except refuse to testify. I think if you help them, they'll cut you a lot of slack. We're talking about a cop killer." She took another steadying breath. "Kyle, I can't remember any of their faces but yours. I didn't recognize the guy's face in Hawaii, but his voice. I know that if I don't testify against you, I can't testify against them either. It's up to you to help me now. Help me put these evil people away. Please?"

"Of course, I'll do it. I'll do whatever you ask. Mrs. Gautier, may I ask something else of you?"

"What?" she said with a scowl on her face.

"You're a tattoo artist." Kyle pulled off his shirt. "Do you know how to get this evil thing off me?"

"I do."

"Will you take it off?"

"It'll hurt."

"I don't care. I want it gone."

She rubbed her hand across her lips. "Yes, Kyle, I'll help you."

Raif stared at his wife in amazement as he asked, "Are you and Larkin two sides of the same coin?"

"Why?" She looked up at him as he stood behind her.

"I heard what you proposed to Kyle. I know what Larkin forgave Dupree and me."

"Maybe we are. Maybe I'm your side of the coin while Larkin is Ray's side of the coin."

The judge called court recessed for the day. "It's my understanding the prosecution's next witness is a minor. I won't have this child subjected to what in my opinion is tantamount to torture on different days. Court reconvenes at nine A.M. tomorrow. Tomorrow there will be no cameras or sketch artists in my courtroom. The minor witness will be protected as much as possible."

"What kid is testifying?" whispered Lloyd to Chambliss.

"The LaFontaine kid. Don't worry about the little hoodlum."

"Is he the one who brought that last charge?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. It's your word against his."

"Have you seen that kid?"

"No, and neither have you. Shut up."

"Kyle, we're about to go back further. You said earlier under oath that Officer Palermo raped you. Is that a true statement?"

"Yes."

"We need to hear what happened. Do you need a break before we start?"

"No. I wanna get it over with."

"Very well. Please, tell the court what happened when you were ten years old." Desmond again blocked Lloyd's line of sight with Kyle.

"One day our baseball practice got cancelled because of rain. My coach was supposed to drop me off at my dad's Baton Rouge office. He dropped me off an hour early. Nobody was in the outer office, so I went on to my dad's inner office. I didn't knock." He shrugged. "I was ten. When I walked in, Officer Palermo was having sex with my dad."

The murmuring started again. The judge pounded his gavel and ordered, "Bailiff, clear the courtroom. Kyle, is your mother present?"

"Yes, sir."

"Point her out."

"Mrs. Blackwell." Kyle pointed toward Deanna.

"Mrs. Blackwell, you may stay."

"Please!" begged Kyle. "Please, let Courtney stay? I need her here. Please?"

"Courtney!" snapped the judge.

"Yes, sir?" Courtney replied.

"Are you the ginger ale girlfriend?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you already heard Kyle's story?"

"Yes, sir."

"Stay with Mrs. Blackwell. Everybody else, out! We will resume at one o'clock. Kyle, even if you don't need a break, I do. If you need to vomit, do it during the break." I might have to myself. "Jurors, have lunch, and return with a jacket. I don't know why it's so cold in here." The judge stomped from the bench. He himself felt nauseous. He had voted for Robert LaFontaine. The thought of him possibly being present when another person sexually molested his child turned Judge Gillette's stomach...

After Lloyd was taken back to his cell, Chambliss visited him. He said, "Show me your abdomen, Lloyd."

Palermo shrugged. "I don't have a baphomet." He showed his midsection to his lawyer. "You already knew that from photos."

"You have some scarring. Tattoo removal?"

"I was knifed. Check the records."

"Lloyd, either you're innocent, or you're the best damned liar I've ever met."

Lloyd smirked. "My friends have paid you to make the jury believe the former."

Chambliss turned to leave but looked back. "Why is it always so damned cold near you until you began bawling your eyes out in court? Do you know how guilty that made you look?"

Lloyd shrugged. "Maybe it showed I'm not a heartless rapist and killer, but a man who could show compassion for a child such as Kyle."

After several days of deliberation, the jury delivered its verdict. Judge Gillette read the slip of paper handed to him. He looked strangely at the jury. He addressed the jurors, "Madame Foreperson, is this the unanimous decision of the jury?"

"Yes, Your Honor," replied a middle-aged professional-looking woman with short dark graying hair.

"And there is no dissent?" Judge Gillette scanned each juror and made eye contact with each person.

"No, Your Honor," replied the woman again.

Judge Gillette looked a bit dismayed as he addressed Lloyd Palermo. "Will the defendant, please, rise and face the jury?"

Palermo and Chambliss stood and turned toward the jury.

Judge Gillette asked, "Madame Foreperson, in the matter of the State of Louisiana versus Lloyd Palermo how do you find?"

The room became icy. There was total silence as the woman replied, "Not guilty on all counts."

Judge Gillette asked once again, "So say you all?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

There was still, stunned silence in the courtroom as Judge Carter Gillette turned to Lloyd Palermo. "Mr. Palermo, consider yourself lucky that I was judge and not jury. You're free to go."

"Kyle, you'll be eighteen in a couple of weeks, and I'll be eighteen in a couple of months. Technically, we'll be adults."

"Technically," countered Kyle, "you'll always be your daddy's little girl. Frankly, I'd like to be with you forever, not piss off your dad and have him kill me."

"He's right," said a deep masculine voice as Lloyd Palermo slid in beside Kyle. "Listen to him." A cold wind accompanied his arrival.

Both young people uttered gasps, and Kyle's eyes misted. Courtney pulled out her phone.

"Put the phone up," commanded Palermo. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just wanna talk to you, Kyle. I have to talk to you."

"And say what—'I'm sorry?'" asked Kyle, quirking an eyebrow and dipping one corner of his mouth.

"All right," said Palermo. "I'm sorry. Now, please just talk to me without making a scene. I promise after this you will never see me again. I've sent letters to everyone else, but you I needed to see face to face."

"Why? Do you believe confession is good for the soul?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps both you and I need closure."

 38

A Broken and Contrite Spirit

Dear Mr. Gautier,

What a blessed man you are! You should've died at the hand of my mother, but you were her biggest mistake. Grandmomma also warned her not to use a twin. Court records showed she thought that meant a Gemini, but you're a Capricorn. You've had a Hand guiding you forever. Who am I to usurp that Authority? Yet, I tried.

I regretted killing your wife. She was exquisite and formidable. Her death was meant to make your brother suffer. You were to follow her; however, the more I watched you and the more I saw you handle whatever was thrown at you, the more I admired you. In all the years I planned my revenge, many wanted to kill your brother, but not you. Does anyone hate you? I have never found one. I have found a few who resent you for having a black son-in-law. Deep-rooted prejudices die hard.

I'm sorry to cheat you of the satisfaction of seeing your pain end. Nevertheless, you have nothing to fear from me anymore. I hope your life with the beautiful Rose Tattoo is thorn-free. You deserve it. You have endured as heroically as Job. You are a man of true faith. Remember that God restored Job, plus much more. May your fate be the same!

Lloyd Palermo

"A broken and contrite spirit," whispered Raif. "This is much better than a jury conviction and death sentence."

Ray asked, "Raif, are you all right? How can this be better?"

"He was penitent, Ray. Maybe, just maybe, in those final seconds he was forgiven."

Kyle and Raif made eye contact. Kyle gave a slight nod, and Raif smiled at him.

Ray shook his head. "You truly do have the capacity to forgive even him."

"Don't you, Ray?" Raif said with wide blue eyes. "When I pray, 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,' I mean it. I'm asking God to forgive me the same way I forgive others. If I can't forgive, how can I expect to be forgiven? My sin, as much as Lloyd's, pounded those nails through the hands of Christ. I pray that he prayed to be forgiven." Indicating with his own folded piece of mail, Raif said, "Read your letter, so this nightmare can be over."

Cover by Christopher Chambers.

The characters as I see them: Raifords, Larkin, Neely, Deanna, Saul, Kyle, Courtney, Christopher, Kimberly, Lloyd.