Damaged by Elizabeth McMahen

“I’ve known him since we were kids. My dad worked for his.”
     
    I’d been assigned to someone who knew Jack better than anyone else, and was thus the best person I could’ve possibly hoped to find out information from. It made sense though, Jackson wouldn’t have trusted just anyone to keep me safe, someone who knew him for a long time would’ve been the perfect protector in his mind.
     
    I made a gutsy decision to act like I knew about Jackson’s father in an attempt to lead Hulk to give me information thinking he was just talking about things I already knew.
     
    “Your dad worked for his? You didn’t want to follow in his footsteps?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t balk.
     
    “Work for Tony? Nah, I wanted to live to see thirty. I knew Jackson was planning to go out on his own and I always planned to go with him.”
     
    Ah ha! A name. Tony. Jackson’s dad’s name was Tony. A common name in Hartsdale, where the majority of the occupants had some degree of Italian blood. I asked Hulk a few more vague questions about his work and got him talking about his crazy ex-girlfriend.
     
    Around nine I faked a yawn and went up the stairs. I grabbed my laptop from the office and took it into the bedroom and climbed into bed. Once I was settled I turned on the computer, clicked on the internet icon, and typed “Tony Hart” into the search engine. I didn’t get anything that seemed to be connected to Jackson’s father, and I frowned. Why would both Jackson and his father not appear anywhere on the internet? Surely at some point there would be an article or something mentioning them. I thought about everything I’d learned about Jack’s father from Hulk and rethought my search parameters.
     
    I typed “Tony Hartsdale Crime” into the search engine. A few pictures came up and were attached to articles. I clicked on the first one and read. By the end of the article my hand was over my mouth and my stomach was sinking. According to the article Tony Alteri was a known crime boss who had been accused of a vast array of crimes but every time his cases made it to trial witnesses disappeared or evidence was misplaced or mishandled. At first I didn’t want to believe that this man could possibly be Jackson’s father but I couldn’t deny the resemblance. The next search I did was for “Tony Alteri and Jackson.”
     
    I’d began to suspect that Jackson Hart wasn’t his real name, and my suspicions were confirmed when a picture of an article from 20 years ago popped up. The main section of the article was too small and fuzzy to read but I could read the by-line and the caption under the photo just fine. In the picture a young Jackson stood beside his father outside a church wearing all black and looking grim. Jackson was standing a few feet from his father and turned slightly but I could still tell that it was him. According to the article the picture was of Anthony Alteri and his son, Alessandro Jackson Alteri at the funeral for Anna Jackson Alteri. The by-line read “Alteri Family Mourns Passing of Wife and Mother; Another Victim of the Crime War.”
     
    I vaguely remembered all of the chaos and fear of that time. I’d been young, about 8 years old when the crime families started battling each other over territory. There had been a strict curfew at night and I hadn’t been allowed to play outside. My mom and I went to visit my grandmother, who’d recently been diagnosed with cancer. I’d assumed we went because of my grandmother being ill but I’m sure the danger had a lot to do with it too.
     
    I turned off my computer after erasing the search history and collapsed back on the pillows. Alessandro Jackson Alteri, that was his real name. I assumed he changed it to distance himself from his father, but that didn’t stop him from following in his footsteps. I just couldn’t process the new information. Jackson, or Alessandro, was the son of the biggest crime boss in the city. No wonder he was so cold and