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Coming home after another exhausting swim practice, Kris found the door unlocked. His paw still on the doorknob, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. It would be so much easier if he could just walk away, or go visit a friend, anything but go home. But it was the middle of the week, most of his friends had things to do, family things, and while most of them would welcome him, he always felt a fifth wheel. Steeling himself for what he was about to face, he turned the knob and walked into the apartment.

As he expected, his father was waiting for him, sitting on the couch a beer in one paw and a cigarette in the other, the rest of the six pack sitting on the table by his knee. The discarded empty bottles told Kris he was better off not being noticed, so he made as little noise as possible, tucked his head down and headed for his bedroom. He only got a few steps down the hallway before a slurred voice brought him to a halt. "What, you not even going to say hi to your old man? You too good for that now?"

His dad sounded drunk but probably not drunk enough; if Kris ignored him, he'd likely come pounding on the bedroom door. Trying to avoid a scene, Kris turned around and said in his brightest, happiest sounding voice, "Hi, dad, how was your day?" He even managed to force a smile, though it didn't touch his eyes. "Mine was really rough; I had an algebra test and an English test, then Coach decided to push us harder than usual at practice."

Edmund drained the last few swallows from his beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the table. "Cheerful little shit. Bet you're real pleased with yourself, aren't ya?" He pulled another beer from the package and popped it open, taking long drag off the cigarette.

Seeing the "cheerful" didn't work, Kris went for "concerned." "You know, they say you shouldn't drink alone; maybe you should call one of your buddies?" Then realizing his mistake, as his father leveled bloodshot eyes on him, he tried to beat a hasty retreat. "I have homework; I should probably get that done," he stammered as he backed down the hallway, trying to get to the relative safety of his room. He wasn't fast enough.

With a roar suitable for a lion, Edmund surged to his feet, knocking the table over and spilling beer all over the area rug, his cigarette falling to smolder on the hardwood. He started towards Kris, yelling, "It's your damned fault I gotta drink alone! Duke can't come within 100 meters of you! All because you pulled some stupid stunt! It's all your damned fault, and you know it!" The rage in his eyes was almost overpowering.

Something inside Kris shifted. Maybe it was hormones, maybe he'd just had enough, but whatever it was a give him the courage to stand up to his father for the first time. Instead of trying to get away, he dropped his backpack to the floor and advanced on the older raccoon, anger lighting his own eyes. "It was not my fault. Duke is sick. He is a rotten old pervert who likes little boys. And you let him into the house!" His paws were clenched into fists and tears of frustration and anger were streaming down his face as he confronted the older man. However, at just barely 16 years of age, with no fighting experience to speak of, he was no match for his father.

Edmond's arm lashed out, and an open palmed blow landed on the side of Kris's face, rocking the boy's head sideways and shoving his muzzle around. "Don't you ever speak to me like that again! Ever since your mother got that restraining order, you've been acting all high and mighty, like you're too good for your old man. Well, it's about time you learned your lesson." He reached out again with his left paw, trying to grab Kris by the shoulder, his right paw fumbling with his belt buckle. "It's about time that you felt the lash of my belt. Your mother was too softhearted; she wouldn't let me punish you like you deserved. Well, she's not here to stop me now."

Kris recovered quickly enough to dodge the outstretched paw, grab his backpack, and bolt for his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He shoved his desk chair under the doorknob and backed away from the door, fumbling in his backpack for the cell phone his mother had given him. His fingers closed around it as his father reached the door. Trembling fingers hit speed dial as a loud thud hit the outside of his door. He lifted the phone to his ear as another thud echoed through the room and his chair moved about 4 inches. He heard ringing over the line as his father's arm entered the room through the crack in the door and jerked the chair out of the way. Kris felt his windowsill against his backside, having backed as far as he could from the doorway, when a second ring echoed down the line. His enraged father entered the room, stormed up to him, pushed his right paw into Kris's chest hard enough to pin him to the window, and with his left paw took the phone from his unresisting fingers.

* * * * *

Still damp from the shower Venn pulled a T-shirt over his head and tucked it into his pants, he was just fastening the button when his phone started ringing. "Hang on, I'm coming," he said grabbing his socks and heading out of the bathroom. The second ring echoed through his house, and he mumbled, "I said, I'm coming." He picked the phone up before he could ring a third time. "O'Brien," he said by way of both greeting and identification.

A heavily slurred voice demanded, "Who is this?"

Venn rolled his eyes, tempted to hang up but some sound in the background made him pause and answer the question. "This is Vincent O'Brien. Is there a reason you were trying to contact me?" He heard it again cloth rustling and a soft whimper that made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up.

The slurred voice came back again. "You're that Goddamned horse, aren't you? You're the whole reason he's been acting like this, putting stupid notions in his head, like he can just go around screwing guys. All you fucking faggots are after the kits these days. Well, ya can't have mine!"

Venn's eyes widened: Who the hell...? But he didn't have long to wait for the answer. Another voice came over the line, sounding small and far away, but he recognized it in an instant. "Dad, you can't ju--" Kris cut off mid-word, sounding like the breath had been forced from him. Venn's phone made an ominous cracking sound as the casing began to give under the pressure of his grip.

"The hell I can't! You're my son. He has no ri--" the slurred voice cut off in a howl of pain, followed almost immediately by, "Fucking bit me, you little bas--" then the line went dead.

Venn stood there for a few moments, dumbfounded, moving the phone from his ear to stare at it as if somehow it held the answer to his unspoken questions. He knew their address; Clawdia had made sure of that when she filed the restraining order against Duke. It was just down the hill in the apartment complex only a mile or so from his house. He should call Clawdia, or Dayle, or any of this friends on the police force for backup, but as he went to push the buttons on his phone it cracked and crumbled in his paw. Useless, he let it fall to the floor, mind awhirl with the possibilities of what was happening to Kris right now. Without another thought, he bolted out the door leaving it swinging wide-open behind him as he ran down the drive and straight down the center of the street in his bare paws.

He'd never run so fast in his life, but never had any race been more important. The kit's life might hang in the balance. He heard the squeal of breaks and didn't even spare glance as cars swerved to miss him, his mind set on one thing: Get to Kris as fast as possible.

His paws started to slip a bit as rocks and small bits of debris cut the tender soles, but he didn't slow down. He was breathing fast and heavy, legs and arms both pumping hard to try to get as much speed as possible out of them, when he ran around the last corner and saw the building ahead. The streets in this neighborhood were quiet, but his straining ears worked to pick up any sound as he wrenched the door to the apartment building open. Foregoing the elevator, he scrambled up two flights of stairs and burst through the fire door into a hallway crowded with people. The sounds of shouting and blows were clearly audible in the hallway, and it only enraged him further. He pushed a few people aside unceremoniously, and the rest parted for him, leaving a clear pathway to the door the sounds were coming from. He didn't even pause, just lowered his shoulder, shut his eyes, and plowed through the door. He could feel an ache in the shoulder as he paused for a moment in the entryway to orient on the sound better.

Here a grunt, a sound of something hitting flesh and a pain-filled whimper. Like a heat-seeking missile, he turned towards the sound. There was the kits phone in pieces down the hallway lying just outside a door that was off the top hinge. Not knowing what to expect, he crept down the hall, put his back to the wall, and peeked around the corner, just like he would if he were entering an armed suspect's residence.

The room he looked into was a typical teenaged boy' s room -- bed in the far corner from the door beside the window, desk at the foot of the bed, bureau across from it, and a closed-door, presumably a closet. A small trash can by the desk had been tipped over, spilling a drift of used tissue, and a pile of unwashed clothes overflowed the basket beside the bureau. The only thing out of place was the desk chair, overturned, on the opposite side of the room from the desk, as if it had been hastily shoved aside. All of this, Venn took in without really registering it.

His main focus was on the bed. Kris lay bent over, his back up, his toes on the floor, and his knees tucked under the edge of the bed. His tail was tucked down between his legs, and his forepaws were over his head and neck, as if he was using his arms to try to shield those vulnerable spots.

On the far side of Kris stood his father, the older raccoon's attention completely focused on the boy as he raised his arm holding a doubled over leather belt in preparation to bring it down on that prone body again. Now that Venn was actually in the room, he could hear Edmond's labored breathing and the snarled words to came between each harsh breath. "You will not be a little faggot, even if I have to beat it out of you."

Everything seemed to go very still for Venn. He assessed his target, noting position, strengths, weaknesses, then moved as if on autopilot. He was silent death, sleek and lethal, as he passed the boy to grab the older raccoon by his upraised arm and spin him to slam into the bureau. The startled raccoon raised his other arm as if to try to cushion himself from the impact but Venn simply hooked his arm around the raccoon's and forced him harder against the dresser.

The impact drove the air for from Edmund's lungs, leaving him limp and weak, his cheek pressed against the surface of the wood with the heavy weight of the horse on his back. He struggled feebly, but it was like the struggles of a bug trying to escape a playful kitten. Venn shifted his grip on the raccoon's right arm, then tightened his arms, forcing Edmund's elbows together. Keeping him there was as simple as leaning in, which put his muzzle so temptingly close to the raccoon's ears that he couldn't resist. In a harsh voice, he whispered, "Real tough guy, aren't ya? Beating on your own boy, just because he's gay." He snorted disdainfully. "If this is how a real man acts," he sneered the two words showing his disgust for the and the raccoon, "then I'm glad I'm a faggot!" He emphasized the last word by shoving his groin against Edmond's ass... not that he was aroused, but he knew it would drive the point home.

Behind him, he heard the soft rustle of clothing and painful whimpers as Kris let himself slide down to the floor and crawled under his own bed. His focus changed again; instead of taunting Edmund, he turned his head to follow the painful movements of the boy on the floor.

In his hyper-focused state, Venn had missed a few things, such as the sound of sirens and the commotion in the hallway. While he was focused on holding Edmund immobile and trying to make a visual assessment of Kris's injuries, a large bear dressed in a police uniform came through what was left of the door, followed by Dayle, both holding guns and seeming ready for anything.

Edmund didn't even bother to struggle when Venn let him go; he simply let the dresser hold him up and tried to get his breath back. Venn took two steps away placing himself in front of the window and raised both hands to show he was unarmed. The bear, an officer he recognized from the precinct gym, took charge of Edmund collecting his wrists to be cuffed and starting to read his rights. Dayle also holstered his gun and approached Venn cautiously. "What the hell, man; you promised not to take this into your own hands." the agitated snow leopard snapped at his partner.

"That was before I got a phone call from this drunk asshole here while he was beating his kit," Venn stated dryly.

The cat hissed a few words that were unrecognizable but carried a world of meaning. "You're kidding me. How stupid can some morons be?"

Before Venn could respond, a calm demanding female voice insisted on being let into the room. The officer guarding the door politely attempted to bar her entrance. "Let the police handle it, ma'am; we've got everything under control." Venn and Dayle looked toward the sound in time to see Officer Heinrich, an even-tempered German Shepherd, backed into a corner by a fierce-looking, diminutive feline.

"Officer, you will stand aside and let me into that room so I can see to my kit. I can see from here you already have the miscreant apprehended, and my ex-husband is hardly likely to try attacking me with three officers in the room and a dozen more outside the door."

She'd paused to take a breath, about to add something more, when Venn called out, "It's all right Heinrich, that's the mother."

Edmond, forgotten by all but the bear, suddenly started yelling, "I want to press charges! That horse broke into my house and assaulted me! I want him arrested!" He struggled (far too late) to throw the bear off with no visible signs of succeeding.

"Edmund, shut up." Clawdia said as she passed by him. "I've told you before, and I'm telling you again: Just because your father beat you, it does not give you the right to beat our child."

"He's not even really your kit!" Edmund sneered at back at her.

Clawdia looked taken aback for a moment, then pulled herself up to her full height and calmly retorted, "I'm more a mother to him than you are a father."

* * * * *

Chief Arendse put one meaty paw on each of his formidable hips and stared up into Venn's eyes. "What do you have to say for yourself, O'Brien?" The rhino's tusk jutted forward as he bobbed his muzzle at the horse.

Stoically, Venn stood his ground. "That I stopped what could have been a homicide, or at least the severe beating of a minor?" He stood at attention, his own paws forcibly loose at his sides, even though he wanted to shove the large male out of his way and run back into the room, where the paramedics were trying to coax Kris from his hiding place under his bed.

A snort brought the warmth of the Chief's breath to his nostrils, "Off duty, you ran out of your house, half-dressed, with no weapon, into a situation that you knew was volatile, without calling for backup or even calling the mother!" HIs usually dark gray hide turned an interesting shade of purple when his blood pressure rose, as it was doing now. "How irresponsible can you be? I should fire you for gross stupidity on the spot!"

From the corner of his eye, Venn saw the paramedics leave the boys room, one them shrugging at Clawdia and saying something in a soft voice which had that formidable lady turning to head into the bedroom herself.

"O'Brien!" Chief huffed, "O'Brien! Damn it, horse, I am talking to you!"

Venn jerked his head back around to look at the chief once more. "Sorry, Chief."

"Look, lad, I know you are emotionally involved with this situation, and my heart goes out to you," the Chief said in an uncustomarily soft tone of voice, then continued in his usual gruff growl. "But think before you act! I don't want to attend your funeral!" He cuffed Venn upside the head, just hard enough to mess the stallions already frizzy mane. "Now... tell me what happened?"

* * * * *

Venn had just gotten to the point in his narrative where he had pushed Edmund up against the dresser when he was interrupted by a polite clearing of the throat. "Excuse me, Chief. I hate interrupt, but could I borrow Vincent for a few minutes?" Clawdia's gaze moved from the rhino to the horse. "Kris is refusing to let the paramedics look at him until he knows you're okay. He won't even come out from under the bed for me. Could you try, please?"

The chief noisily cleared his throat and glared at several officers standing nearby who had stopped talking to listen, all of whom suddenly had something much more pressing to do in another part of the apartment. "Go on, lad; I'll read the rest in your report."

Having been released by his superior, Venn had to restrain himself from running to the room, instead obediently following Clawdia in that direction. While the rest of the apartment was loud with the bustle of too many bodies doing too many tasks at the same time, the boy's room was silent, only the occasional whimper from under the bed to indicate anyone was there at all. Clawdia stopped just outside the doorway where two uniformed Dalmatian paramedics stood holding their medical gear, ready to swing into action the moment their patient came into view. She motioned the horse forward into the room, her eyes clouded with sadness. "Please, Vincent, see if you can get him to come out?"

Partly to see under the bed and partly because it hurt to stand on his feet any longer, Venn got down on his paws and knees to creep into the room. He heard soft gasps from the two paramedics when they got a look at his torn soles, but he ignored them as unimportant for the moment. As he got closer to the end of the bed, he tilted his shoulders down and his head sideways to peer into the darkness. At first, he didn't see the raccoon, his eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the dimness of the confined space. Or rather, he saw him but mistook him for a bundle of cloth, until the cloth whimpered.

Moving with the utmost care Venn crept closer to the bed, lay down on his stomach and slowly extended his left arm toward the boy. "Kris." His voice sounded strange, and he had to fight past the lump in his throat to get the words out. "Kris, it's me. Your mom said you were asking for me." His fingers encountered soft fur and stopped right there, just barely touching the traumatized raccoon.

The boy jerked suddenly, letting out a painful whimper as he pulled away from Venn before turning his head so Venn could see his wild, frightened eyes. More used to the dimness, he blinked a few times and in a broken voice whispered, "C-coach?" as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Yeah, Kris, it's me." He tried to keep the anger that he was feeling at Edmund out of his voice; it wouldn't do to scare Kris anymore than he already was.

"C-Coach, I-I called you. Just like mom said." Slowly, the boys paw shifted from under his body so he could reach out and touch Venn's outstretched paw.

It was all Venn could do not to cry at the sound of pain and fear in Kris's voice. "It's all right, Kris; you did exactly what you were supposed to do." He closed his fingers around the boy's trembling paw and squeezed gently. "I need you to come out from under the bed now, Kris. Can you do that for me?"

"I-I don't know. It hurts so much to move." The boy choked back a sob which had Venn grinding his teeth in frustration.

"Stay there, don't move; we'll move the bed instead. Okay?" Venn started to pull his arm out from under the bed but the boy clung to his paw with nearly a death grip. "It's okay, Kris, I won't let go." He turned his head and used his best parade ground voice to holler. "I need Heinrich in here, now!"

He could have called for his partner, but he knew Dayle had kits of his own and would be thinking about how he'd react if someone did this to one of them. Heinrich was safer; he had a more steady personality and would be able to follow directions without letting his horror of the situation show on his face. It didn't take long, just a few moments, before he heard the shepherd's boots on the hardwood behind him.

"What you need, O'Brien?"

"Can you lift the foot of the bed and let me slide closer to the wall?" He tried to keep his request as simple as possible. Venn moved his body as close as he could to the leg of the bed so he could slide under it as soon as Heinrich lifted.

There was another moment's pause while the Shepherd considered the situation before responding, "Yeah, I can do that, but you're going to have to move pretty quick, and the head of the bed's gonna come out at an angle." He felt the dog straddle him one boot on either side of his body as he worked to find purchase for his forepaws. "Ready on three."

Venn nodded to the dog then turned his attention back to Kris. "You ready?" At a nod from Kris he tightened his grip on the boy's fingers and managed a tight-lipped smile. "Watch your feet." And waited until the boy shifted his legs away from the head of the bed, grinding his teeth again as it pulled another pained whimper from his already sore throat. "On three. One. Two. Three!"

Heinrich lifted the foot of the bed and stepped back over Venn's body as the horse scooted forward without getting off his belly until he was far enough forward for the dog to set the bed behind him.

As the light from the overhead fixture fell on Kris, Venn got a good view of him for the first time, and he had to bite his tongue, hard. Over his head he heard Heinrich's soft intake of breath as he mirrored Venn's horror.

Kris was still in his school uniform, which only made it worse. The white shirt was stained with blood and torn along the boy's sides where the belt had cut through the thin material. Through the holes in the shirt, they could see blood soaked fur that was already drying into horrible, tangled mats.

Heinrich uttered some choice words under his breath, then moved to pull the head of the bed into the room, leaving Kris completely exposed. The Shepherd backed up against the wall between the bureau and the closet, nearly falling over the clothes basket as the paramedics rushed past him. One of the Dalmatian's climbed over the bed and knelt by Kris's hips, while the other sat on the edge of the bed and kept her feet tucked under it where she could hand her partner whatever he needed from the cases beside her.

Venn could hear Heinrich talking in a low voice (presumably to Clawdia) behind him, but his attention was mostly focused on Kris. "How you doing, Kris?" He got up on his knees and crouched close to the kit's head trying to be as little in the way as possible while the paramedics did their thing.

"I think," Kris said trying to lighten Venn's mood, "I'm going to need a new shirt."

For a moment, Venn couldn't believe his ears. Was the kit seriously trying to make a joke? When Kris stuck his tongue out at the horse, he blinked, shook his head, and laughed. "You'll live."

Once the paramedics had taken care of the worst of Kris's injuries, doing their best not to hurt him more than they had to, they turned their attention to Venn. The horse protested that he was fine, until Kris entered the discussion. "Coach, you got hurt because of me; please, let them take a look at you." The sad look in the boy's eyes undid him and he nodded, shifting so the paramedics could see to his abused feet.

"You'll both need to go to the hospital. You need stitches, and I think you have a broken rib young man... and you, sir, have lacerations bad enough they need stitches, which you shouldn't be walking on." She looked from Kris to Venn as she categorized their injuries. "Who wants the stretcher first?" Her gaze met with two obstinate pairs of eyes.

"I'm fine." Venn commented.

"I'm not going unless Coach goes." Came Kris's immediate reply.

"Gentlemen, you both need to come with us. It is important to get things looked at where we can treat the problems properly." She kept her sweet smile and her cheerful demeanor as she tried to argue with a pair of stones.

"She's right, Kris, you need to go."

"I said, I am not going unless you do, Coach."

"But I'm fine."

This back and forth went on a few more times as she watched, slowly losing her patience. Finally, exasperated by her two would-be patients, the female Dalmatian stepped outside the room and politely interrupted a soft-voiced conversation between Clawdia and Dayle. "I'm sorry interrupt, ma'am, but could you come in and explain to your kit he needs to go to the hospital? He keeps insisting he won't go unless the horse does, and the horse keeps insisting that the boy should go but he doesn't need to. It's most frustrating."

Clawdia rolled her eyes, and Dayle chuckled, patting the Dalmatian on her shoulder, "If you can hold on a moment, I'll get the chief to tell the horse's ass that he needs to go to the hospital; that should solve your problem." He turned to accomplish his self-appointed task, leaving the two females with a slight nod of his head.

"I am so sorry. Kris does have a mind of his own, and when he gets an idea into his head, it's almost impossible to change his mind." Clawdia smiled fondly, "Reminds me of his father, when he was younger." She sighed as the reality of the current situation came back to her mind and shook her head. "He really was a good man when he was younger. Circumstances just conspired against him."

Dalmatian nodded slowly, "I understand, ma'am; it's hard to think the ones we once loved could fall so far."

"What's this I hear? O'Brien's refusing to go to the hospital? I'll take care a' that!" The ladies each stepped to one side of the door as the rhino headed between them. "O'Brien! You're getting a free ride to the hospital, courtesy these here nice paramedics. I want those feet checked out before you even think of standing up on them again." The rhino used his bulk to try and intimidate the horse by standing over him, but Venn knew the chief too well.

He looked at Kris, who was still lying on the floor with his wounds barely covered, then back up to the chief and nodded once. "Yes, sir."

"Good man. Perhaps you can keep this young lad company on the ride over."

"I'll do my best, sir."

His mission accomplished, the chief turned and headed back out past the ladies muttering something about the positioning of Venn's anatomy and how someone needed to help him right it.

Giggling, the female paramedic went back into the room, this time toting a stretcher. "All right, young man; let's see if we can get you onto this with as little pain as possible. Then my partner can see about finding a wheelchair for your friend."

* * * * *

It was finally quiet. The doctors had come and gone. Kris had fallen asleep some time before they were finished stitching up Venn's pawpads. Now, the horse lay in a hospital bed, his legs propped up by supports so that he was forced to rest them. They were keeping Kris overnight for observation, and at his request, Venn was staying as well, in the same room. Clawdia sat in a chair by the kit's head still looking as composed as always. "Vincent, thank you. I don't think I said that." She was holding the kit's paw and stroking the back of it lightly. Kris was on his belly, unable due to the damage to his back to sleep any other way.

Not sure what to say, Venn just nodded. He was feeling the effects of the painkillers the doctors had given him,starting to find it hard to keep his eyes open.

"I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't gotten there so quickly." There was a catch in her voice that made Venn frown and focus a little more on the feline.

"The guys were only a few minutes behind me. I'm sure everything would have turned out... much the same." He couldn't bring himself to suggest that the outcome of the day's events was fine. Having your only child beaten by your crazed ex-husband was hardly anyone's idea of fine. However, she was right: Things could've been much worse.

"You know what I mean, Vincent. You didn't have to come running at his call, but you did, and for that, I thank you." She was silent for a while, seemingly lost in thought, long enough for Venn's eyes to jerk closed once more. "Now I have a difficult situation. What am I going to do with him?" She lifted the kit's fingers to her lips and kissed them softly. "He has to finish school, and I refuse to transfer him again when he's just made friends. But I have obligations elsewhere, making it necessary for me to be out of town most of the time. I'd ask the Foxworthy's but I don't want them to have to change plans to accommodate us. I don't know anyone else in the area that I trust to leave him with." She grew silent again mentally wrestling with the problem.

"He could stay with me." Did he really just say that? Venn thought for a moment. The idea had its merits: He did have his own enclosed pool, which would cut down on the boy's having to travel to school first thing in the morning for his own practice. His house was big enough, with the spare bedroom on the main floor.

"Vincent, are you sure about that? Or is it just the drugs talking?"

"No, really. I have the space for him, and it would give him a few advantages. That is, if you don't think the idea is completely ridiculous."

"I hadn't thought about it, but you do have a point... and he does trust you. I think it could work. That is, if you don't mind me invading every weekend."

"We might have to set up a cot somewhere, but I'm sure we could manage." Venn yawned hugely, then added, "We can talk about in the morning, if you'd like." His eyes had closed by this point, and no amount of willpower was forcing them back open. He thought he heard her soft agreement, but he wasn't quite sure, as darkness settled in and he knew nothing more.

* * * * *

Senator's Grandson Beaten by Father!

Sen. Blackwood's grandson, one Kristopher Blackwood, was taken to hospital last night with multiple lacerations and a broken rib after an incident involving his father. Police arrived on the scene after several calls from local residents reporting the sound of blows and screaming from Blackwood's apartment. Our own Stacy Lemieux caught up with one of the officers, a Constable Dayle Anderssen, who provided the following statement.

"We arrived on the scene in time to apprehend Mr. Edmund Blackwood in act of physically assaulting his 16-year-old son, Kristopher. This is not the first occasion that we are aware of in which Mr. Blackwood has endangered the life of his own son. I can't tell you the exact details, but I can tell you charges are being filed, and alternate accommodation is being arranged for the boy."

We will be following this story closely and bring you updates as they arise. Rest assured, Offspring Protective Services is involved in the case and will be pursuing the harshest penalty possible when the case comes to trial.

The Senator's office reached out with the following information on the case. "Sen. Blackwood is most distressed over the news that her grandson has been placed in danger by the court system. She is drafting a bill that would allow Offspring Protective Services to evaluate troubled families and make better choices to a place in the offspring with the parent most suited to guarding their safety, regardless of that parent's species."

Youth advocacy groups cite that this is a huge step for species equality and mixed families everywhere.