Becca scanned the article, the writer waxing poetic about Maureen’s dedication and commitment to helping others. Over the years, Maureen worked for half a dozen nonprofits, using her financial connections to raise millions. She earned money for health care and education programs for teenagers and low-income mothers. In an effort to break the cycle of incarceration, she created a nonprofit that helped connect fatherless young men to male mentors.

Mrs. Wilson could be content with organizing galas or hobnobbing with celebrities. Instead, she spends her days in run-down classrooms and fading downtown office buildings working alongside students, young mothers and ex-cons. “My goal is to make an impact; to be on the ground floor, working with the kids and their families, getting to know who they are, learning about their hopes and dreams and doing everything in my power to make them come true.”

“Mrs. Wilson is our hero,” said sixteen-year old Gustavo Trevino, from South Central Los Angeles. “All of us love coming to the center. I’m learning how to develop apps for smartphones and Mrs. Wilson helped me land a summer internship in Silicon Valley. Without her, none of this would be possible.”

Becca scanned the pages in the file. Nothing indicated why Mo had ended up on the streets. But there was always a trigger in someone’s life, something pivotal that caused their downward spiral. “Any arrests? Or psychiatric episodes?” Becca asked.

Wishard tossed down more pieces of paper. “It appears Maureen didn’t play well with others. There was a roommate in college who filed a complaint with the university charging her with harassment and intimidation. A few weeks later it was dismissed. A year after that, a colleague at a start-up in Brooklyn filed harassment charges with the NYPD, which coincided with Maureen’s relocation to the West Coast. From what I’ve gathered, she was on her best behavior for years. Nothing unusual. She got married, worked various jobs. Had her son.”

“I can’t believe she left him behind,” Becca said.

“Yeah, he was eleven when she left. He’s thirteen now,” Wishard said, not pleased with the interruption. Becca kept quiet. This was important. If Mo cared for this child, bonded with him and their relationship were threatened, it could be enough to cause her to snap.