No Saving the Woman Who Killed My Daughter
Eight years ago, my daughter, Joey Porter, was stuck in the desert of death.
Her GPS had blinked out, and she ran out of supplies. She kept calling for me for over a dozen hours over the walkie-talkie.
The only rescue team was an hour's flight away from her, only to get intercepted halfway there.
Later on, I found out that my wife, Ruby Shaw, spent 800 thousand dollars bribing the dispatch center, rerouting the rescue team's flight route just so they could save Ruby's younger brother, Howard Shaw, instead.
Howard had had too much to drink at that time, causing him to lose his way outside the resort that was located at the edge of the desert. When he was found, it turned out that he was about a mile away from the resort.
But the rescue team never came for Joey, who waited for them till she was dehydrated and, later on, died in the desert.
Since then, I've quit my job and made this living hell my new home. For the next eight years, I work as a desert guide, ultimately saving over 100 people.
Every inch of the dunes and the hidden sand currents are engraved into my mind.
Today, my partner decides to give me a rescue order that's worth an astronomical amount. He urges me to pack my things and set off immediately.
I glance at the photo, only to see a familiar face. That's when I turn off my walkie-talkie and get up to my feet before heading outside.
"I can't save this person."