The B.A Team

B.A Balackus
25 Free Man Street
Dry Beaver Creek
VA75&75

June 16, 2014
Inspector Jaque Clouseau
Chief Of Police
145 Rue Justice
Paris, France
1A2 R3T


Dear Inspector Clouseau

I am deeply saddened to inform you that the Mona Lisa, is no more. On the bright side, a very vibrant 92 year old woman is safe. This was my doing. Before you get mad at me I believe you should hear my argument and the morale dillema I felt in the situation. On one hand, there was the most prized painting in the world. Yet on the other hand, I had a life that hung in the balance.

I saved Ada because she is a human being. At the end of the day human life is more scintillationg than that of paintings. One cannot put a price on human life, which is why I saved her. The second point I'd like to raise is the fact that we all know everything there is to know about the Mona Lisa, so it would be fairly easy to create a duplicate. The dimension are 30 by 21 and everyone knows the ambiguous smile. Therefore it would be easy to create a rather intricate and almost perfect replica.

The last reason, and probably the most important reason, as to why I saved Ada Artlover is because my mother would be nowhere without her.  Through conversation with her it came to m realization that she was a proffessor that my mother greatly admired in her younger years. She was my mother's mentor in many ways and it was because of her that my mother got into the line of work that she did. That is why this woman, to me, is more important than the Mona Lisa. I haven't gotten a chance to thank her for all she did for my mother, and this was my way of doing it.

Please understand and empathize with my decision on this one, as it is too late to do anything about it now.
Yours sincerely
Lutsha Bata

Nooooooooo!!!! Not The Hospital...

The smell of antiseptic, chloroform, disinfectant and a variety of different odors attack my nostrils. The pungent odor overwhelms my nostrils, causing my eyes to water. No matter how much I’d like to leave right now, I know that is not an option. I just have to sit there in that cold, hard steel chair and wait. Wait until the news of my mother’s condition is disclosed to me and my family waiting there. Huge concern for my mother filled my thoughts. Yet an element of irritation was creeping into my being as well from the constant reassurance from my grandmother that “everything’s going to be ok.” Although I commend her for her efforts, it didn’t do much to quell my anxiety. I hate hospitals. Being in an out of them in my younger years has slightly scarred me but also forced me to subconsciously boycott all forms of hospitals and clinics. The only reason I am here, right now, is for my mother. Pens clicking, footsteps of people with purpose and medical monitors’ are beeping periodically. These are some of the noises that fill the hospital. Discomfort creeps in. The Nike shoes that I’m wearing are a size too small. But worst of all, nobody has given me any news on the condition of my mother! We have been sitting here for hours, so the least they could do is keep us updated. Pangs of pain are going through my head right now. A headache ensues. The last thing I need right now, has happened. I dearly hope that this whole ordeal comes to an end very soon. But most of all, I hope my mother is alright.