He such a promising boy--well educated, raised in one of the more affluent, Italian-American dominated suburbs of Jersey. He went to Mass with his mother on a regular basis and impressed his father by getting accepted into a notable college. After graduation, though ... well, six years of hard work capped by a lengthy dissertation tends to stress a man out.

And so it was that toward the end of May of 1999 that the newly graduated Trinus found himself in the midst of one hell of a party in Atlantic City. A Psy.D. was nice and all, but damned if he didn't need to unwind. As with most stories, one hit led to another, and next thing this bright young man knew he was doing lines in the bathroom--which was all well and good, considering how well he continued to function, but all good things must come to an end.

Trin's end came in August 2009 in the form of an undercover cop. Luckily (or so he thought at the time) he had a good lawyer--the district attorney, a favor bought at a high price from family connections --who cut him a deal: get his nose clean, and get the hell outta Jersey. Fair enough.

And then came the catch: Hathian, LA. He didn't know of Hathian, and he didn't want to, but he knew he didn't exactly have a choice unless he wanted to do time and be an embarrassment to his whole family. He found the local college with relative ease, and decided that if he was looking for a fresh start he might as well try using that degree he'd blown away.

((More details to come, but there's the gist of it.))