Mother's day massacre

My name is Toni Francisca De La Cruz. My badge number is 14188; I'm an officer for the Traffic Bureau of North Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department but most of my assignments are Vice under the same department. My blood type is B. I’m not allergic to penicillin and my religion is Catholic. I enjoy motorcycling, ice hockey, drunken backyard mattress fights and romantic long walks on the beach. Please disregard what my driver’s license reads, I'm actually not a donor. I was only feeling generous that day so tell the boys at the morgue to keep their hands off the organs, I'm taking them with me.

This audio recording is for my friends and family and it’s intended to sooth the grieving. I will try my best to tell my story truthfully and accurately with hopes of clearing my name and explaining some of my actions that you may have read about or find your self currently investigating. This recording is also intended for my fellow officers who may have been assigned this lovely investigation in hopes you will carry on my investigation work and follow up on the leads that I will share with you in these recordings. 

   

In the case that you retrieve this audio recording and I'm no longer living. Half of all my assets shall go to my partner and best friend Officer Nicole Denise Bailey. Nicole, I'm not coming back so you know what to do, thank you, I love you. The other half shall go to my two younger siblings Natalia Esmeralda De la Cruz and Carlos Emmanuel De la Cruz. The rest of you all can suck it.

Great, now that all the legal lingo is out of the way lets go over why you're here on this gorgeous Sunday morning. Ladies and gentlemen as I'm recording this audio tape my trunk is loaded with two pounds of liquid diethyl, petrol and paraffin all broken up and blended in eight three liter jugs. Those of you who paid attention in chemistry class know that this is enough juice to burn down the state house times two. I'm sitting in my vehicle parked behind the upscale and very popular Bath House called Devine Destines at 391 Sahara Avenue. In case your unfamiliar, this is the place where men go to discreetly satisfy their late night fetishes. For further elaborations on what happens behind these doors please direct your attention to our good friend and colleague Investigator Chapman in South Towers Narcotic Division. 

This building is approximately eleven years old, its 1925sq and the business grosses roughly nine thousand per day depending on the weather and what girls are working of course. My mother owns this building and the business and in about thirty-four minutes when the clock reads midnight May 12 this building and everything in will be burnt to ashes. 

I know what your thinking and I know this sounds like a terrible thing to do to your mother on Mother's Day but the truth is she'll be expecting one of her many properties to fall as she does on this day every year. She just doesn't know which one until she sees it on the news in the morning. And when she comes tomorrow with her band of insurance adjusters and liability attorneys she'll know exactly who's behind this. When her Sergio Rossi high heels are clogged in soot and her lungs are filled with airborne ash particles she'll know this is a gift from me, Toni her dearest daughter. 

When this investigation gets rolling and the TV news and print gets the spinning the real villain in this story will never be exposed. You won’t learn of all the teenage girls that have been trafficked and worked all through my mother’s underground prostitution circuit here in Nevada. The media will never cover the blackmail and extortion in the political arena here. You’ll never hear how my mother uses her underground circuits to sway local and state elections her way. She’s a madam sworn to secrecy but her client rolodex and transaction records grants her enough power to just about run all over the state

As much as the media will try to spin this into an act of terror it’s not. It’s simply just a small mother and daughter disagreement that's all. If the department chooses to continue with my Vegas organized crime investigations you'll learn that my mother is a giant here in Clark County and to get the attention of giants unfortunately sometimes you got to burn s**t...like buildings and such…End recording 

Checklist. I have my

Signed terry Sawchuk hockey goalie mask 

Looped Guns N Roses sweet child of mine CD

Department regulated sports bra, chuck taylors and lucky army fatigue shorts.

Ghostbusters book bag with enough juice to burn this place down ten times over.

Oh and the sweet b***h short barrel shotgun to help me clear the building. 

I pick and open the back door. Places like this always have back doors to sneak in their VIPs. Once I’m in I walk up to the DJ flash my sweet b***h and hand him my Guns N Roses CD, put on my mask then let two shots off in the ceiling. Wait about thirty seconds for the panic to burst out into the parking lot and the building should be all mine.  But every year in each building theirs’s a hero.

“Drop your weapon and leave now and the Madam might spare your life!”

“Oh is that right?” I replied through the mask

“Damn right that’s what I said, sister.” The brave middle-aged man said

“I’m not your sister.” I jumped off the dance stage to get closer to this year’s hero “And your not my got damn brother.” I said to him nose to nose with my finger jabbing his chest. 

“Do you even know who your robbing?”

“Who the f**k said I was robbing you Sherlock?”

The man paused while slowly backing up…” Well what’s with the gun?”

“What’s with all these questions?” I asked

“The Iron Madam owns this place. I’m sure you heard of her” Said the hero “And when she finds out what’s going on here she’ll come looking for you.”

“That is my exact intentions Sherlock. Get your lazy a*s on the phone and you call her. You tell Anya Da La Cruz her dearest daughter is gonna burn down every business she owns in Vegas then tell her after that I’m moving to Carson City and burn down her businesses there too.”

“Your wacko” He replied 

I lifted my face mask over my forehead “Slightly” Then shot in the direction of his feet.

“Your gonna burn for this.” He said as he ran for the exit 

She's got eyes of the bluest skies 

As if they thought of rain
I hate to look into those eyes
And see an ounce of pain
Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place
Where as a child I'd hide
And pray for the thunder
And the rain
To quietly pass me by