Fortunately, after a month, the authorities agreed that Mo wasn’t a suicide risk, and she was released into the general population. She preferred this to being sent to a mental hospital. The last thing Mo wanted was to be drugged up and shuffling around like some kind of mindless zombie. She made that clear when the ghoulish lawyer turned up.

“I won’t let them poison my body and mind with their toxic chemicals. I won’t allow them to alter my thinking.”

“I have to disagree with you, Mrs. Wilson. One of these facilities would be the best possible place. You would be able to get specialized, individualized care.”

Mo wasn’t budging. “I’m not pleading insanity, Graham, so shut up and find a new defense.”

“Maureen, I need you to work with me. I am trying to ensure you don’t get the goddamn death penalty.”

She’d already lost faith in this idiot before he even stepped into the room. The charges against her were bogus. If this man possessed an ounce of intelligence, he would see that. His incompetence was quite astounding, something she felt compelled to share when she fired him. She watched him sputter and spin, his chiseled, overly spray-tanned features contorting. “If you do this, your father won’t continue to fund your defense. As it is, you have caused him great embarrassment. I’m your last chance, Maureen.”

Mo laughed. She wasn’t interested in his threats. She decided the best course of action was to defend herself. The courts weren’t making this easy, but Mo wasn’t in any rush. In her short time in jail, she’d come across some truly bright souls, girls who were desperately in need of guidance and mentorship.

Of course, she missed the Tribe. Mo’s family played such a huge role in her growth and development over the years. Losing them was unfortunate. Still, she firmly believed one must not dwell on the past. It wasn’t as if everyone had died in vain. Mo and the Tribe’s message was out there.

Mo wasn’t sure at first. She was worried Nate and Ash and Becca would somehow pervert Mo and the Tribe’s mission. It wasn’t until the letters began to arrive that she recognized this might be different. People sent her letters from all over the world. Many of them were from angry pathetic souls, people who called Mo a monster, and a sick bitch, and all kinds of horrifying names. But there were hundreds of others who offered encouragement, understanding, and prayers. People pleaded with her to write them, wanting to know more about her way of living.