#bethers

we start with malcolm hawke, mob boss who ruled the saints in the late 70s on through the 80s, and generally thought to be the saints last great leader, as they took a sharp decline following his sudden disappearance in 1989. one of the most well-known names of organized crime

maurevar carver, born icarus callaghan, who went from rooting out corruption in police forces to going undercover into the saints to defecting and joining malcolm instead of killing him. disappeared alongside him, only to resurface around 2006, by some reports, working overnight shifts at a 24-hour convenience store, of all places

leandra amell, heiress and acclaimed singer, whose brief affair in the 80s with malcolm and maurevar made national headlines, to much more scandal than any of her previous flings. rumors flew again in 2001 when she reappeared, young daughter bethany in tow, though no amount of gossip kept her from sliding back into music and making an honest name for herself once again. attempts to ask her about her 12-year hiatus, and the father of her child, went fruitless

jasper hawke, self-proclaimed child of malcolm (though nobody has been able to properly prove his story one way or another) and the youngest leader the saints had in decades. his arrival in stilwater in 2005 marked the start of a sharp uptick in violent crime, resulting in the saints wiping out the rival gangs that had pushed in over the years. an assassination gone wrong- or right- put him in a coma for nearly four years, during which time the saints were pushed back into near-dormancy once again. after recovering, though, he took back his hold over the city, and remained in power until vanishing off the map in 2018

bethany amell, wayward daughter of leandra, well-known to be gifted musically and academically, though wasting her talents on a life of crime. bethanys struggles with her mother and a string of boarding schools were well-documented, culminating in running away in 2009 to join a local street gang. over the next few years, she gradually made her way to stilwater, where she latched onto the saints. not long after, jasper openly claimed her as his sister, adding more public intrigue onto leandras continued secrecy. she took over the saints after his disappearance

on the same schedule, a third. “dear mister jasper, we did family trees today in history. it took the teacher almost the entire class time to figure out i was making everything up. i probably shouldn’t have said that my dad is in witness protection because he witnessed a brutal murder. i got a b though”

“dear mister jasper, i hope you had a nice day today. i wonder if that would involve more explosions than normal for you or less?”

“dear mister jasper, the girl beside me in language arts copied off my test and told the teacher i cheated off of her. i got a 0, so i punched her in the nose the way i saw you do to a reporter in an interview last week. i think you would be proud of me. mom wasn’t” he does, in fact, feel a small swell of pride at this nameless kid standing up for themselves, as he shelves this card with the rest, under a tabloid clipping proclaiming ‘leandra amell’s out-of-control daughter suspended- again! jazz icon refuses to comment on preteen’s violent rampage’

“dear mister jasper, i heard my favorite song on the radio and wondered if my dad was listening to it too”

“dear mister jasper, mom visited the school today and gave a speech about following your dreams, and made me stand up and sing to demonstrate a point. i didn't get swallowed up by the earth, so i can't say i'm following my dreams”

“dear mister jasper, do you ever get scared of things? i have a math test tomorrow and if i get three wrong then my gpa will drop and i won’t get into the college mom wants. i’m also scared of eels. they’re creepy”

only a few days later comes the apparent follow-up, “dear mister jasper, do gangsters accept apprentices like in hogwarts? or maybe interns? i think i could be a good intern even though i don’t know what interns do. my report cards say i’m a fast learner”

“dear mister jasper, it was my birthday today. my roommate gave me fuzzy socks that her cousin sent her for her birthday last month and a card made from notebook paper. mom sent her love. at least i think she did. she didn’t say anything to me”

“dear mister jasper, today i saw a young mom with a baby and i wanted to ask her when she would get bored of it and put it in a boarding school. i couldn’t leave my field trip group though. we were at the art museum. it was nice”

“dear mister jasper, i tried to draw the saints logo. i think i did a good job on the shading. i want you to have it, and only a little bit because i already got in trouble for having a saints t-shirt” he pins the lopsided fleur-de-lis, carefully lined in glittery purple gel pen, to the wall above the desk

“dear mister jasper, my teacher wants us to write a letter to our dads for fathers day. i think you are more fun and would probably be a better dad than whoever my dad is. mom never tells me when i ask”

“dear mister jasper, mom had a party today and made me play a song for everyone. i wrote it myself and they all said it sounded nice. i will tell you a secret though: the lyrics are in italian i learned from the exchange student across the hall and they’re about telling my mom to sit on a cactus. among other things. it makes it easier to smile in front of everyone”

“dear mister jasper, you ran away from your home when you became a saint, right? how did you know where to go? or when to leave? were you afraid? did you pack a lot? the documentary i watched said you only had a dog, a gun and a hundred dollars. i don’t know if i think that is true but i have a stuffed cow, a pair of scissors, and fourteen dollars and seventy-three cents”

“i think i know where this is going and i don’t like it one bit, kid. wish you would put a return address that didn’t come out to some random fast food joint for once...” he mutters into his drink

sure enough, the next postcard comes, “dear mister jasper, i am leaving today to find a new family. i hope yours makes you happy”

he gives a grim sigh and sets it with the others. the next day the gas station newspaper stand shouts to anyone who will look down that bethany amell has been reported missing. ice crystals grow along his ribs and the small part of him that still believes in higher powers prays for more cards to come. it’s a full three weeks before he shuffles through his daily mail to find a familiar looping scrawl,

"dear mister jasper, i wonder if you got scared when new strangers cared more than old family. did you feel guilty, too?"

another several cards come through over time, narrating in brief a journey across half the country that- to his dismay- mirror the one he’d taken himself almost five years earlier. the kid moves in a wide arc around stilwater, though, wandering aimlessly and getting wrapped up in more obscure gangs

at length, ‘the kid’ starts to confirm their identity

"dear mister jasper hawke, she said i abandoned her on tv today. didn't expect that to feel like i got shot again"

he vaguely remembers hearing something like that, possibly from leandra- one of the other saints had an interview on the tv in the other room while he was trying and failing to take a nap. maybe it was her, maybe it was some other woman. either way, he thinks, if he ever meets this kid in person he’s taking custody on the spot

"dear mister jasper hawke, she always told me not to cry about my problems if it doesn't change anything. is it dumb that i keep writing these? i know she's right, but there's no one else to tell"

"dear mister jasper hawke, it's my birthday today. saw on the tv that she has a dog now. she takes it everywhere. i hope it gets taken away"

he distinctly remembers flipping through a checkout-line magazine and passing over a picture of leandra with a purse dog. one of the hairless glorified rats with a toupee of wispy white fur, sticking its head out from under her arm and staring directly into the camera with soulless beady eyes

with every new hint that drops, he doubles down on efforts to pinning down just where bethany is and who she’s running with. it takes months- she’s clever enough to stay out of the spotlight, smarter than he’d been. she wouldn’t be going and getting herself put on a bomb-rigged yacht anytime soon. eventually, though, a heist goes sour, her so-called new family leaves her to take the fall, and she lands herself squarely in the county jail

never one to pass up an opportunity, he pens a letter of his own, one that’s been building up in the back of his mind for almost three years

nothing fancy, there’s no earth-shattering revelations like ‘hey i think you’re my long-lost baby sister’ or ‘you had two dads and two older siblings and a twin and your asshole mother took you away from all of them because she was a selfish bitch’ or ‘if you’ve ever had an inexplicable craving for apple pie on your birthday it’s because our family has always celebrated with pie instead of cake’. just a constructed persona letting her know that she has someone watching out for her. that she’s not nearly as alone as she feels.

it’s a good month before the next postcard arrives. “dear mister jasper, i think i got punk’d by jehova’s witnesses. also state-funded cafeterias are terrible. i’m pretty sure you already knew that though”

he pins that one to the wall after a good laugh and immediately sits down to fire back, “dear miss bethany, i’m not religious. try again”

"dear mister jasper, i am impressed and mildly concerned. did stilwater have a slow week, or did you hire a private detective to read your fan mail"

"dear miss bethany, you’d be surprised how much free time there is at my job. got a lot of underlings, now, who i can just delegate to. besides, detectives charge too much and take too long to do their work"

they trade postcards back and forth for a short bit before a lengthy silence follows his last response. eventually she turns up again, in a new city, flying new colors.

"dear mister jasper, a girl kissed me today. when she asked me if it was okay, i panicked and left without a word"

"dear miss bethany, it happens. i did the same thing. she'll probably be okay with if it you explain to her, or you can leave it and move on. both work" this one he sends in an envelope, with $50 and an extra note- "i know staying on your feet on your own is hard. if you feel like it, come find me someday"

she doesn’t, although they keep talking anyways. it’s another two years before the subject comes up again, this time from bethany, in a scrawled card that reads only,