Debra – Jennifer Carpenter

Debra Morgan Jennifer Carpenter

Debra, Dexter’s step sister is a tough, ambitious cop who is desperate to become a homicide detective in spite of constant antagonism from her boss, the head of the division.

Jennifer Leann Carpenter was born 7th December 1979 at 3AM in Louisville, Kentucky. For education she went to St. Raphael Elementary School, Walden School and Sacred Heart Academy. Jennifer always knew that acting was something that she wanted to pursue. Her aunt would actively encourage her to pursue this dream. While at the Walden School she played Helena in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream“. At age 8 she played Tiny Tim at the annual Dickens on Main Street celebration and held the role for three years. For college, Jennifer attended Juilliard in New York City since the age of 18. “I went to school. I went to Juilliard. You spend 13 hours a day on voice and speech. In 2002 Jennifer portrayed Mary Warren in the Broadway production of Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible“, also starring Liam Neeson and Laura Linney. Linney, calling her the finest young actress she’s ever known, was so taken by Carpenter’s performance that she suggested her to the casting directors of “The Exorcism of Emily Rose“. While she is best known for dramatic roles, Jennifer says that she loved this role and the experience of working in “White Chicks“. The film lead Carpenter to her first TV series, Danny DeVito’s “Queen B” (2003), in which she co-starred alongside Alicia Silverstone. Unfortunately only a pilot was filmed because Fox did not end up picking up the show. Carpenter moved on to star in “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” (2005) alongside close friend Laura Linney in a role that made her both a household name as well as an acclaimed character actress. Her impressive performance made TV produces take notice and so she was shortly cast as Debra Morgan in Showtime’s risque and brilliant new series, “Dexter“. Later in 2008 she made the horror movie “Quarantine” (2008) where she plays the TV reporter Angela Vidal who is going to interview and make a reportage of some fire fighters. She and her cameraman follows the fire fighers to a small apartment building and that’s when stuff starts to become frightening. This was a remake of the Spanish film “[Rec]” (2007) and both versions got a lot of viewers and people were positive about Jennifer’s part.

Rita Bennet – Julie Benz

Rita Bennet Julie Benz

Rita is Dexter’s sweet, naïve and emotionally downtrodden girlfriend, a struggling single mom with two kids. To Dexter, Julie is a kindred, damaged spirit and the two form a sweet courtship that provides a strange sense of normalcy in his upside-down world.

Julie Benz is best known for her role as the evil vampire ‘Darla’ which she originated on The WB’s Buffy The Vampire Slayer and continued on the hit series Angel. A WB favorite, she also had a recurring role on the cult series Roswell. Benz’s other television roles include the lead in the dramatic thriller Circle Of Friends for Lifetime, starring with Marsha Mason in the Hallmark feature The Long Shot and starring in the Dream Works/Steven Spielberg miniseries, Taken, for the Sci Fi Channel. Her episodic work includes: Navy:NCIS, Peacemakers, King Of Queens, Supernatural and CSI: Miami. Benz’s film work includes a starring role in the independent film Kill Your Darlings, a dark “road trip” comedy about suicide; she appeared with Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets; played ‘Ursula’ in George Of The Jungle 2, and starred with Rose McGowan in the Tri-Star feature Jawbreaker. Benz recently co-starred with Bill Bellamy and Shemar Moore in the Sony/ Screen Gem feature The Brothers. Benz can also be heard as the voice of ‘Captain Miranda Keys’ in the popular video game Halo 2.

Born in Pennsylvania, Julie Benz’s father is a Pittsburgh surgeon and her mother is a figure ice skater. The family settled in nearby Murrysville, when Julie was two, and she started ice skating at age three. She competed in the 1988 U.S. Championships in junior ice dancing with her partner David Schilling, coming in 13th. Her older brother and sister, Jeffrey and Jennifer, were in the 1987 U.S. Junior Champions in ice dancing and competed internationally. When Julie was 14, she had a bad stress fracture and had to take time off. By 1989, with her figure skating career over, Julie turned to acting and got involved in the local theater where she got a role in the play “Street Law”. Her first movie role was a small, credited, speaking part in in the Black Cat episode in the Dario Argento/George A. Romero co-direction horror flick, Due occhi diabolici (1990) playing in one scene alongside Harvey Keitel. A year later, she got a role on a TV show called “Hi Honey, I’m Home”. After graduating from high school, Julie entered New York University to study acting there. After graduation, Julie moved to Los Angeles to further pursue her career and landed some small roles in movies and TV shows including a guest appearance on “Married with Children” (1987) and in the Aaron Spelling TV pilot Crosstown Traffic. In 1996, Julie auditioned for the role of “Buffy” in the series “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (1997), but lost out to Sarah Michelle Gellar. However, she was offered a small role as a vampire girl in which she did such a good job that her part was expanded to a few more episodes in playing the vampire “Darla”.


Dexter – Michael C. Hall

Dexter Michael C Hall

Dexter is an extremely likeable, charming blood splatter expert for the Miami Police Department. But hiding beneath the mundane exterior hides a different Dexter, one obsessed with meting his own twisted brand of justice by stalking and murdering the guilty. He’s the perfect psychopath for the job because, in his own words, he cares “.about people as much as he cares about lawn furniture.”

Michael Carlyle Hall was born on February 1, 1971 and raised in Raleigh, North Carolina. His father, William Hall, an employee of IBM, died from prostate cancer when Hall was only 11-years old. “At that age, my father’s death was a real marker. Certainly, for a young boy, there’s no good age, but I think I was on the cusp of a time in my life where I was starting to reach puberty, to relate to my father–or as a result, I was becoming more like him. To have him … Something gets frozen. As you revisit it for the rest of your life, it’s sort of this slow but hopefully sure crawling-out of that frozen moment.” Michael’s mother, Janice Hall, a guidance counselor, earned her doctorate in education after his father passed. Hall grew up an only child, a sister having died in infancy before his birth. “There was a very one-on-one, immediate family relationship, my mom and I”, he says.

A formally trained stage actor, Michael C. Hall made an indelible impression as younger brother ‘David Fisher’ on HBO’s groundbreaking series Six Feet Under. During the series’ five year run, Hall earned an Emmy Award nomination for Best Performance by a Leading Actor in a Drama Series and the AFI Male Television ‘Actor of the Year’ Award. A North Carolina native and graduate of New York University’s Master of Fine Arts program in acting, Hall has appeared in nearly a dozen major stage productions. He made his Broadway debut as the emcee in Cabaret, directed by Sam Mendes and most recently starred as Billy Flynn in Chicago. Off-Broadway, Hall starred opposite Alec Baldwin and Angela Bassett in Macbeth, directed by George C. Wolfe and Cymbeline with Liev Schreiber for the New York Shakespeare Festival. Other performances include Timon of Athens and Henry V at the Public Theater, The English Teachers for Manhattan Class Company, the Manhattan Theater Club’s production of Corpus Christi, directed by Joe Mantello and Skylight at the Mark Taper Forum.

Early on in life, Michael C. Hall discovered acting, cutting his teeth in “What Love Is” while in the second grade. When he was in fifth grade, he began singing in a boy’s choir, then graduated to musicals in high school, performing in all the old standards – “The Sound of Music,” “Oklahoma!” and “Fiddler on the Roof.” He was also a member of a chamber choir that spent 10 weeks touring Austria. “There was always an impulse to perform in one way or another. Most of my experiences performing growing up were doing musicals, singing, being in choirs–I sang in choirs when I was in college as well. I was a choir geek the first couple of years. Then I became a theater geek. I took an acting class my sophomore year and realized that in terms of [my] enthusiasm and aptitude, it was definitely the thing.” After graduation, Hall attended Earlham College in Richmond, Indiana in 1993, a liberal arts school from which he assumed he would emerge as a lawyer. Instead, Michael began taking acting classes and thinking about performing as a viable, yet riskier, career. He finished his studies at Earlham as one of only three theater majors, an unenviable position for someone looking to find acting work. Hall found some cache when he ventured to New York to attend grad school at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, earning a master’s of fine arts in 1996. Across the continent, he appeared in David Hare’s Skylight at the Mark Taper Forum. But his big break – on the stage at least – came when he was in a workshop performance of Stephen Sondheim’s musical Wiseguys (later renamed Bounce for its Broadway run), directed by Sam Mendes, who later directed Hall in Cabaret.

During his run on Six Feet Under, Hall found little time to do other acting, though he did occasional work on stage. In 2002, Hall was cast in a brief stint as Billy Flynn in a Broadway production of the always-popular Chicago opposite wife Amy Spangler (the couple separated in 2006). He had a supporting role as an FBI agent hunting a computer engineer (Ben Affleck) trying to recover his erased memory in John Woo’s Paycheck (2003) and appeared in the made-for-television indie drama Bereft (2004). In 2005, Hall said goodbye to Six Feet Under when the show finished its fifth and final season. Though unsure of what his next step was, Hall was certain he didn’t want to jump right onto another television show – until he read the script for Showtime’s Dexter, a darkly comic drama about a blood-splatter technician in the Miami Police Department who moonlights as a serial killer who hunts other killers who have managed to slip through the judicial cracks. “Looking back, I guess it was kind of nuts to go straight into something else after Six Feet Under, but I recognized that Dexter would give me a chance to do something really different in a significant way,” Hall says. “I couldn’t pass it up.” The challenge of playing such a complex and ambiguous character piqued Hall’s interest right away, particularly Dexter’s inability to express authentic human emotions, giving him the opportunity to portray one of the most controversial and talked-about television characters in recent memory. While at the 67th Annual Golden Globes Awards, Michael C. Hall won Best Actor in a Drama series for his work in the fourth season of Dexter. John Lithgow who played the Trinity Killer in season four also took home Best Supporting Actor so it was a huge win for the show.

In late 2009 Michael was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a cancer of the lymphatic system, which is part of the body’s immune system. In a statement Michael said “I feel fortunate to have been diagnosed with an imminently treatable and curable condition, and I thank my doctors and nurses for their expertise and care.”

Dexter Is Delicious

Dexter Morgan has always lived a happy homicidal life. He keeps his dark urges in check by adhering to one stead fast rule…he only kills very bad people. But now Dexter is experiencing some major life changes—don’t we all?—and they’re mostly wrapped up in the eight-pound curiosity that is his newborn daughter. Family bliss is cut short, however, when Dexter is summoned to investigate the disappearance of a seventeen-year-old girl who has been running with a bizarre group of goths who fancy themselves to be vampires. As Dexter gets closer to the truth of what happened to the missing girl, he realizes they are not really vampires so much as cannibals. And, most disturbing…these people have decided they would really like to eat Dexter. The book begins nine months after the end of Dexter by Design with the birth of Lily Anne Morgan, the daughter of Dexter and Rita Morgan. His daughter’s birth has brought remarkable changes in Dexter; apart from feeling genuine love and emotions for the first time he also does not feel his Dark Passenger’s compulsion to kill and vows to swear off his dark hobby in order to be a better father for his daughter. Soon after Dexter is called to a crime scene by his sister Deb, who is in the middle of a jurisdictional fight with the FBI who claim that a kidnapping has taken place. Dexter believes that the large quantity of blood found there was planted, and that the missing girl in question is faking her disappearance in order to get money from her parents. Dexter runs tests and discovers that the blood type does not match the missing girl, Samantha Aldovar. Deb and Dex go to the private school Samantha attends and talk to her principal, who at first is reluctant to divulge any information. This changes when the principal discovers that Tyler Spanos, a wild child and Samantha’s friend, is also missing. Dexter’s brother Brian shows up — Dexter has neglected to inform Rita that he even has a brother. And it looks like he wants to become part of Dexter’s happy family. Dexter’s stepkids Cody and Astor adore Brian and he shares Dexter’s compulsion to kill.

Lindsay never fails to come up with uniquely weird mysteries for Dexter to solve and serves them up with a huge and satisfying dose of Dexter’s inner turmoil.

I DID EVENTUALLY GET THE DUCT TAPE OFF MY WRISTS. AFTER all, I was surrounded by cops, and it
would have been terribly wrong for so many sworn officers of the law to keep me tied up as if I was
some kind of—well, to be honest, I actually was some kind of, but I was trying really hard not to be one
anymore. And since they did not know what I had been, it made sense that sooner or later one of them
would take pity on me and cut me loose. And one of them finally did: It was Weems, the gigantic man
from the tribal police. He came over and looked at me, a very large smile growing on his very large face,
and shook his head. “Why you standing there with your hands all taped up?” he said. “Nobody love you
no more?”
“I guess I’m just a low priority,” I said. “Except to the mosquitoes.”
He laughed, a high-pitched and overly joyful sound that went on for several seconds—much too long,
in my still-taped opinion, and just when I was thinking of saying something rather sharp he pulled out a
huge pocketknife and flipped the blade open. “Let’s get you slapping flies again,” he said, and motioned
with the blade for me to turn around.
I was happy to oblige, and very quickly he laid the edge of the knife onto the tape binding my wrists.
The knife was apparently very sharp; there was almost no pressure at all, and the tape burst open. I
brought my hands in front of me and peeled off the tape. It also peeled off most of the hair on my wrists,
but since my first swat at the back of my neck squashed at least six mosquitoes, it seemed like a good
“Thank you very much,” I said. “No problem,” he told me in that soft, high voice. “Nobody oughta be all bound up like that.” He
laughed at his own great wit and I, thinking it was the least I could do in return for his kindness, gave him
a small sample of my very best fake smile.
“Bound up,” I said. “That’s very good.” I might have been laying it on a bit thick, but I was grateful,
and in any case my head still hurt too much for any really good comeback to blossom in it.
It wouldn’t have mattered in any case, because Weems was no longer paying attention. He had gone
very still, tilted his nose up into the air, and half closed his eyes as if he were hearing something calling his
name in the far distance.
“What is it?” I said.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Smoke,” he said. “Somebody got an
illegal fire going out there.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the heart of the Everglades. “This time of year, that’s not good.”
I didn’t smell anything except the standard loamy Everglades aroma, plus sweat and a faint trace of
gunpowder that still hung in the air, but I was certainly not going to argue with my rescuer. Besides, I
would have been arguing with his back, since he had already spun away and headed off toward the edge
of the clearing. I watched him go, rubbing my wrists and taking my terrible vengeance on the mosquitoes.
There was really not a great deal more to see around the trailer. The regular cops were frog-marching
the cannibals away to durance vile, and the viler the better, as far as I was concerned. The SRT guys
were standing around one of their own, probably the one who had made the shot that took off Kukarov’
s face; his expression was a combination of ebbing adrenaline and shock, and his fellow shooters
watched him protectively.
Altogether, the excitement was fading and it was clearly time for Dexter’s Departure. The only
problem, of course, was that I had no transportation, and depending on the kindness of strangers is
always an iffy thing. Depending on the kindness of family is often much worse, of course, but it still
seemed like the best bet, so I went to look for Deborah.
My sister was sitting in the front seat of her car trying to be sensitive, nurturing, and supportive of
Samantha Aldovar. These were not things that came naturally to her, and it would have been tough
sledding even if Samantha were willing to play along. She was not, of course, and the two of them were
rapidly approaching an emotional impasse when I slid into the backseat.
“I’m not going to be all right,” Samantha was saying. “Why do you keep saying that like I’m some
kind of ree-tard?”
“You’ve had a really big shock, Samantha,” Debs said, and in spite of the fact that she clearly meant
to be soothing, I could almost hear quotation marks around her words, as if she was reading from The
Rescued Hostage Handbook. “But it’s over now.”

“I don’t want it over, goddamn it,” she said. She looked back at me as I closed the car door. “You
bastard,” she said to me.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said.
“You brought them here,” she said. “This was all a setup.”
I shook my head. “Nope,” I said. “I have no idea how they found us.”
“Riiiiight,” she sneered.
“Really,” I said, and I turned to Debs. “How did you find us?”
Deborah shrugged. “Chutsky came out to wait with me. When the carpet van came, he slapped a
tracer on it.” It made sense: Her boyfriend, Chutsky, a semiretired intelligence operative, would certainly
have the right sort of toys for that. “So they carried you out and drove away; we stayed back and
followed. When we all got out here in the swamp, I called in for SRT. I really hoped we’d get Bobby
Acosta, too, but we couldn’t wait.” She looked back at Samantha. “Saving you was the highest priority
we had, Samantha.”
“For fuck’s sake, I didn’t want to be saved,” Samantha said. “When are you going to get that?”
Deborah opened her mouth, and Samantha rode right over her with, “And if you say I’m going to be all
right again, I swear to God I’ll scream.”
To be honest, it would have been a relief if she had screamed. I was so tired of Samantha’s carping
that I was ready to scream myself, and I could see that my sister was not far behind me. But apparently
Debs still nurtured the delusion that she had rescued an unwilling victim from a terrible experience, and so even though I could see her knuckles turn white with the effort of refraining from strangling Samantha,
Deborah kept her cool.
“Samantha,” she said very deliberately. “It’s perfectly natural for you to be a little confused right now
about what you’re feeling.”
“I am so totally not confused,” Samantha said. “I’m feeling pissed off, and I wish you hadn’t found
me. Is that perfectly natural, too?”
“Yes,” Deborah said, although I could see a little doubt creeping into her face. “In a hostage situation,
the victim often starts to feel an emotional bond with her captors.”
“You sound like you’re reading that,” Samantha said, and I had to admire her insight, even though her
tone still set my teeth on edge.
“I’m going to recommend that your parents get you some counseling—” Deborah said.
“Oh, great, a shrink,” Samantha said. “That’s all I need.”
“It will help you if you can talk to somebody about all that’s happened to you,” Deborah said.
“Sure, I can’t wait to talk about all that’s happened to me,” Samantha said, and she turned and
looked right at me. “I want to talk about all of it, because some stuff happened that was, you know,
totally against my will, and everybody is really going to want to hear about that.”
I felt a sharp and very unwelcome shock—not so much at what she said, but at the fact that she was
saying it to me. There was no way to mistake what she meant; but would she really tell everyone about
our little ecstasy-inspired interlude, and claim it was against her will? It hadn’t occurred to me that she
would—after all, it was kind of a private thing, and it hadn’t actually been my will, either. I hadn’t put the
drugs into the water bottle, and it certainly wasn’t something I would ever brag about. But an awful sinking feeling began to bloom in my stomach as her threat began to hit home. If she
claimed it had been against her will—technically speaking, the word for that was “rape,” and although it
was really quite far outside my normal area of interest, I was pretty sure the law frowned on it, nearly as
much as some other things I had done. If that word came up, I knew that none of my clever and
wonderful excuses would count for anything. And I could not really blame anyone for believing it; older
man about to die, penned up with young woman, no one would ever know—it was a picture that wrote
its own caption. Perfectly believable—and totally unforgivable, even if I thought I’d been about to die. I
had never heard a rape defense based on extenuating circumstances, and I was pretty sure it wouldn’t
And no matter what I said, even if Dexter’s eloquence overflowed the bounds of human speech and
moved the marble statue of justice to tears—the very best outcome would be he-said/she-said, and I
would still be a guy who’d taken advantage of a helpless captive girl, and I knew very well what
everyone would think of me. After all, I had cheered aloud every time I heard about older married men
losing their jobs and their families for having sex with younger women—and that was exactly what I had
done. Even if I convinced everyone that the drugs made me do it and it really wasn’t my fault, I would be
finished. Drug-induced teen sex party sounded more like a tabloid headline than an explanation.
And not even the greatest lawyer who had ever lived could get me off the hook with Rita. There was
still a lot I did not understand about human beings, but I had seen enough daytime drama to figure this
one out. Rita might not believe I had committed rape, but that wouldn’t matter. She would not care if I
had been bound hand and foot, drugged, and then forced to have sex at gunpoint. She would divorce me
when she found out, and she would raise Lily Anne without me. I would be all alone, out in the cold
without roast pork, with no Cody and Astor, and no Lily Anne to brighten my days; Dex-Daddy
No family, no job—nothing. She would probably even take custody of my fillet knives. It was terrible,
hideous, unthinkable; everything I cared about yanked away, my entire life flung into the Dumpster—and
all because I’d been drugged? It was far beyond unfair. And some of this must have shown on my face,
because Samantha kept looking at me, and she began to nod her head.
“That’s right,” she said. “You just think about that.”
I looked back at Samantha and I did think about it. And I wondered if just this once I could dispose
of somebody because of something they hadn’t done yet; proactive playtime.
But luckily for Samantha, before I could even reach for the duct tape Deborah decided to impose
herself again in the role of compassionate rescuer. “All right,” she said. “This can all wait. Let’s just get
you home to your parents now.” And she put her hand on Samantha’s shoulder.
Naturally enough, Samantha pushed the hand off as if it were a loathsome insect. “Great,” she said. “I
can’t fucking wait.”
“Put your seat belt on,” Deborah told her, and, completely as an afterthought, she turned to me and
said, “I guess you can ride along.”
I almost told her, No, don’t bother, I will stay here and feed mosquitoes, but at the last second I
remembered that Deborah’s record with sarcasm was not good, so I just nodded and buckled up. Deborah called the dispatcher and said, “I’ve got the Aldovar girl. I’m taking her home,” and
Samantha muttered, “Big whoopee-shit.” Deborah just glanced at her with something that looked like a
rictus but was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile, and then she put the car in gear, and I had a
little over half an hour to sit in the backseat and picture my life splintering into a million decorative shards.
It was a terribly depressing picture—Dexter Disenfranchised, tossed on the scrap heap, stripped of his
carefully built costume and all its comfy props—flung naked and unloved into the cold and lonely world,
and I could see no way to avoid it. I’d had to go down on my knees and beg just to get Samantha to do
nothing while I tried to escape—and she had been neutral then. Now that she was peeved with me, there
was nothing I could possibly do to stop her from telling, short of actual vivisection. I couldn’t even give
her back to the cannibals; with Kukarov dead and the rest of the group either captured or on the run,
there would be no one left to eat her. The picture was grim and very clear: Samantha’s fantasy was over,
she blamed me, and she would take her terrible revenge—and there was nothing I could do about it.
I have never really had an appetite for irony, but I couldn’t help but see more than a little of it here:
After all I had done, willingly and joyfully, and now I would be brought down by a sulking young woman
and a bottle of water? It was so subtly ludicrous that only the French could truly appreciate it.
Just to underline my predicament and her own determination, Samantha turned and glared at me every
few miles as we drove the long, depressing way to her home, back along Route 41 and then over
LeJeune and into the Grove to the Aldovars’ house. And just to remind me that even the worst joke has
a punch line, when we turned down Samantha’s street and approached her house, Deborah muttered,
“Shit,” and I hunched forward and looked through the windshield at what appeared to be a carnival in
front of the house. “That goddamned son of a bitch,” she said, and she smacked the steering wheel with the palm of her
“Who?” I said, and I admit I was eager to see somebody else take a little heat.
“Captain Matthews,” she snarled. “When I called it in, he got the whole fucking press corps here so he
can hug Samantha and jut his fucking chin at the cameras.”
And sure enough, as Deborah brought the car to a stop in front of the Aldovars’ house, Captain Matthews appeared at the passenger door as if by magic, and reached in to help a still-sullen Samantha
out of the car as flashbulbs popped and even the horde of savage reporters murmured, “Awwww.” The
captain flung a protective arm around her shoulders and then waved commandingly at the crowd to move
aside and let them through—a truly great moment in the history of irony, since Matthews had summoned
them all here to watch this exact moment, and now he was pretending he wanted them to leave him alone
while he comforted Samantha. I admired the performance so much that for a full minute I only worried
about my future two or three times.
Deborah did not seem quite as impressed as I was. She trailed along behind Matthews with a wicked
scowl on her face, shoving at any reporter foolish enough to get in her way, and generally acting like she
had just been indicted for waterboarding. I followed the happy little group through the crowd until
Matthews reached the front door, where Mr. and Mrs. Aldovar were waiting to smother their wayward
daughter with hugs and kisses and tears. It was an extremely touching scene, and Captain Matthews
played it perfectly, as if he had been rehearsing for months. He stood beside the family group and
beamed at them as the parents snuffled and Samantha scowled and finally, when he could sense that the
reporters were reaching the end of their attention span, he stepped in front of them and held up a hand.
Just before he spoke to the crowd, he leaned over to Deborah and said, “Don’t worry, Morgan; I
won’t make you say anything this time.”
“Yes, sir,” she said through her teeth.
“Just try to look proud and humble,” he told her, and he patted her shoulder and smiled at her as the
cameras rolled. Deborah showed him her teeth, and he turned back to the crowd. “I told you we would find her,” Matthews told the crowd in a manly growl, “and we found her!” He
turned around and looked at the Aldovar trio so the reporters would get a shot of him gloating
protectively at them. Then he turned back around and gave a short speech of praise for himself. Of
course there was no word about Dexter’s terrible sacrifice, nor even Deborah’s diligence, but perhaps
that would have been too much to expect. It went on predictably enough for a little longer, but finally the
Aldovars went in their house, the reporters got tired of the captain’s chin, and Deborah grabbed my arm,
pulled me through the crowd to her car, and took me home.