My name is Lizzie Cunningham. Elizabeth to some. Crazy Head Doc to others. EMS lady. Cop.
When I came to Los Santos at the end of January of 2020, I had hoped to live a quiet life. Go to work, help people, make some friends here and there, but as I soon realised, quiet is not in Los Santos’ vocabulary.
In fact, say the word ‘quiet’, you’re guaranteed that all hell will break loose.
My first real contact in the city was Ajax Hades. I still see him speed around the corner with the ambulance and landing against a light pole to come and pick me up because I called 911. Ajax was my rock, my big brother, teaching me everything about being an EMS there was to know, and I took it and ran with it. Perfected it for myself, and those who I taught to be an EMS.
I met Ross Anubis and Roxanne Rowdy. Alfie Walker. We sort of created our own little family and had each other’s backs.
Through my work as EMS, I became friends with Scott Johnson, and James Mercer, and Scott was a big fan of James and I.
My work as a psychiatrist… well, I thought it was going to be easy. And yes, I’ve had easy cases such as clearing people for duty or talking to them about grief. Love. Loss. Life. Just below the surface, day to day things that people were struggling with. For most, I don’t even have notes because they just wanted someone to talk to.
Trooper Callum White was my first patient. He was struggling with the recent death of his mother, and I later figured out that he was Ajax’ son. I helped him, hang out with him and he taught me how to drive. On the day that I got him cleared for duty, he texted me that he liked me and I texted him back that I liked him too. 3 hours later, he died in the line of duty.
Death is a part of life. I know that. But for it to happen so soon, a friend, I was taken aback by it, but, I couldn’t let this impact my life that bad. I was a new EMS, a new psychiatrist, and I should just keep my head up and be a light for everyone.
James Mercer was Callum’s friend, so we bonded as we talked about Callum. And eventually started to hang around more, he made me feel safe. Scott Johnson was our biggest supporter. Mercer was a workaholic, it was quite difficult to get him off duty and he loved his car, a T-20, a lot. A lot of people in the city didn’t like him, but he was a good cop. I missed him when the city prevented him from coming in due to headaches.
Mercer introduced me to Jessie Johnson, who then brought a friend to me as a patient. A lot of people had been worried about him and it was tough, in the beginning, because he didn’t trust me, but we worked things out. Zane McClain’s diagnosis was Dissociative Identity Disorder, and I just knew that this city, and how the police force worked, and how our own mental health system worked (non-existent) was going to make it hard on him.
When I started to discover more and more about Zane, and his alter, I tried getting the help from police, especially because his alter was so violent and kidnapped Zane’s friends to hurt them to prove a point to Zane. His alter stabbed me, twice, because I tried to stop him. It wasn’t until Zane’s alter involved another patient of mine to get to me that all of a sudden, I had more help from the police because this patient of mine was special.
Said patient is still alive and won’t be named, but they have a long history involving other people and cities. What drives them is injustice and trying to create a harmonious atmosphere between different factions, all the while suppressing some of their more darker impulses. This patient kidnapped me, sedated me, and removed a piece of skin from my leg in order to make a doll out of it. I’m still traumatized by it, despite them having sedated me, I sometimes still wake up screaming, with the machete embedded in my leg, and hurting so bad.
Mercer was left alone with this patient at MRPD after the fact, and he shot this patient. Resulting in him getting suspended, and likely getting fired and trialed for attempted murder, but Mercer decided to end his own life after I broke up with him.
I still feel guilty. I had promised Mercer that I wouldn’t leave him, but after this traumatic event, I needed him more than ever and he wasn’t around. We could have supported each other, and he wasn’t there. I was falling apart and left him. It was likely the last straw for him, with his professional life on the line, and his girlfriend leaving him.
It was my fault. If I hadn’t taken on this patient, he wouldn’t have shot them in the cells and he would still be here.
My patient also liked to play games and she had employed Nathan Dunkley, a blood, to help with a game. Up until that point, I thought that Nathan Dunkley was an okay guy. I knew he was a criminal, but he was one of the good ones. Always friendly and agreeable. To me, anyway. After this game, Nathan lashed out to me. He started to stalk me and threathening me in text messages, and after I finally managed to talk to him, I figured out that he was scared. Scared that my patient would go after his girlfriend.
It was my fault he got involved and that he feared for his girlfriend. I don’t think I ever apologized to him, but it’s too late now. Both he and his girlfriend are dead now, unrelated to my patient.
But Zane… he was a great guy. He was kind and funny, very excited about cars, and a great mechanic. He wanted to be a mechanic so bad but his alter kept screwing him over. I wanted to try my absolute best that he was going to be safe, given the right tools and that he was going to get it all under control, all the while I was still trying to figure out why the alter came back now.
Zane became a good friend.
I received the help of Elliot Shaw with Zane, and Scott Johnson. I told them both what Zane’s alter was capable of, and Zane’s story was met with scepticism – which is only natural because Dissociative Identity Disorder is a controversial subject even amongst psychiatrists.
Ajax Hades died during this time, he was murdered. My emotional sponge gone. My mentor. My brother. My friend. His murderer released on parole, and then picked up again for parole violation.
Zane’s alter killed Elliot Shaw, and that’s when things started to really get complicated.
I no longer had access to Zane as my patient, my then boss at Pillbox decided she wanted to have a go at him as a psychiatrist, and I feared for Zane being abandoned and alone in prison because of this. I didn’t know how he was doing, but I just knew he wasn’t doing well.
The court had ordered him to get mandatory help, which he never received and they never made sure of it. After spending months and months in jail, Zane broke out of prison and I was so happy for that. He could spend time with his friends and family, and be out in the open, he didn’t have to be scared anymore.
I spoke to him once or twice, before Scott found out about him and then I tried to help them to get Zane to turn himself in, or, if I continued to see him I’d be arrested and lose everything I’ve worked for.
It’s funny. A few weeks later my other patient reminded me of our game of morals where Nathan Dunkley had been involved, and this was the same sort of situation. And I choose for my job. Not the person. Selfish.
I’m so selfish.
Zane and I had come close to figuring things out, and managing his alter. The court knew that Zane had mental health issues, but didn’t follow up with their sentence. After Zane was caught and brought back to prison, his conviction got overturned and they were going for the death sentence.
The city of Los Santos executed a man with mental health issues for murdering the Sheriff and didn’t even remember doing it because it wasn’t him who did it.
People get murdered all the time in this city. How unfair is it that they don’t get the death sentence? Or 6124 months in jail, including time in custody after his death sentence was decided. I checked the logs after his death when I became a deputy for BCSO because I was curious.
How is this fair? How is this justice? People who murder people get 500 months. Why were they going so hard after a man with mental health issues? Is it because his alter killed a beloved Sherrif? Is it because he was mentally unstable? Zane wasn’t even allowed parole.
I had a lot going on during all of this; Jack Proctor was an EMS and we started dating right after Mercer’s death. I fled into his arms, for safety, literally. He was my rock. I didn’t see it at the time, but Jack Proctor was bad for me. For weeks, I tried to be a good girlfriend and making sure he was alright. That all his needs were taken care of and that he wouldn’t get angry and hurt himself.
That he wouldn’t kill himself.
He often threatened to ‘pull a mercer’ whilst saying that he wasn’t like Mercer and would always be there for me. And he was.
Jack derailed after I told him about Zane and my other patient. Went into full protection mode and it ate him up from the inside. I tried my best to please him, and fearing that he’d leave me, I asked him to marry me.
I did everything in my power to make sure Jack was alright. I made sure that everyone around me would see the good Jack. Even if he was following me around and keeping tabs on me.
Jack’s behaviour was my fault. If it hadn’t been for my work as a psychiatrist with Zane and my other patient, then he would have been fine. He told me this numerous of times, and he was right.
I didn’t want to be alone, even if it was with someone who wasn’t treating me right. I diagnosed myself with battered wife syndrome, even though he never physically hurt me, but he left deep mental scars.
I faded away, my job was suffering and after talking to the other patient, I made the biggest decision of my life and left Jack Proctor after he got suspended from SASP for an incident related to my patient – after he got really drunk and threatened me in our garden, threatened my friends in front of us. No longer could I hide who Jack was.
He killed himself in front of Zane a few days later.
A friend who has a history of being a psychopath (and a lawn ornament) and a friend of Zane said that it was a pity that Jack died, as he had wanted to kill him for me.
I wanted to tell him that I wish that he had. But I didn’t, I can’t. I almost tapped into the darkness that Jack had left inside of me and I couldn’t let it win.
I was upset. But it was a relief at the same time. I felt cursed. I am cursed. Jack’s memorial was a great one, and even Zane attended while he had escaped prison. We talked about loss and grief. A re-occuring theme for us. I’m lying if I’d say that the memorial had been hard and unpleasant. I loved hanging out with Zane, Bella and Hank on the pier. Laying in the sun and just talk.
Because for just one moment in time, the world felt at peace, despite everything going on around us.
After Zane’s death, I found something he had slipped in my pocket whilst I was on duty as a CO at some point. It was a note, handwritten by him, about how he was abandoned by the system that was supposed to care for its citizens. I sent it over to the DOJ, but all I got was “I apologize for the late response. I have received your letter and read it. At this time I have no comment, but appreciate your perspective. Sincerely, Travis Tapps.”
The DOJ doesn’t care. Aren’t all government employees supposed to ensure fairness? To care for their citizens and to keep them safe? It’s been months since I sent it to the DOJ and still no reaction. No response, and here I am, sitting with Zane’s last words. His words.
Yes, the city doesn’t have the facilities to take care of people who are struggling with mental health like Zane had. But we managed to get by somehow, before he got screwed over. Bolingbroke is no place for someone like him. It’s no place for anyone who hasn’t committed a crime, but are simply put there because perhaps they’re too much of a handful.
I still don’t know what to do with the note.
On the same day that Zane died, I was confronted by the other patient. Reminiscing about the game we played back in March. What would I do to save a friend? I was so scared of losing all that I had accomplished, all that I had worked so hard for the last few months, that I told them that I legally couldn’t do anything. And I couldn’t. I had to remain within the law. I didn’t want to get into trouble.
Selfish.
The day after, I told them that our arrangement was over.
James Reed came into town in the midst of all of this, and he showed me to have fun, harmless little fun with an innuendo here and there. I offered him a door to my house and eventually put his name on the deed as well; in case something happens to me. I do admit that I have feelings for him, I see that in the way that I’m around him or when I feel the corners of my mouth arch up when someone mentions him, but I am cursed.
I do not wish to inflict any more dread and depression on anyone. I’m afraid that if I do openly admit to him that there are feelings, that he’ll run. Or that I will ruin him and his life, like I have ruined Mercer’s and Jack’s.
I don’t believe he’s looking for a relationship either, so that’s a good thing.
Reed is a great person. He’s a good cop and has taught me a lot as cop probie, and I will do whatever it takes to defend him when needed, because he deserves a good life.
It’s no secret that I get along with most criminals, mainly due to my time as EMS. I met Jacob Stray when I was a corrections deputy and he was instantly crushing on me, and to be honest, I found him refreshing. We often talked about how life wasn’t fair, how the justice system is unjust and how most cops were assholes.
Jacob Stray was disarming and funny. Cute. I never feared for my safety in his presence and he made sure that I was safe on the streets, sending me a text message to not hop on duty when things were getting heated between his gang and others, for example.
We often joked about psych sessions or chiropractic sessions, but I never realized how bad he felt.
Everyone wears a mask and some are better at hiding their true feelings and thoughts behind a smile.
On August 29th, Jacob trained a gun on me. Things happened and I ended up shooting him. Killing him. Jacob was dead. The note he left behind was that he had planned this and that he was sorry that he chose me to pull the trigger.
The Crips found out I am a terrible shot and that I shot Jacob several times, and it were a good couple of days where I didn’t feel safe. It wasn’t until Ricky and Tyler told me that I was okay that I could breathe. Jacob’s lawyer gave me Jacob’s bandana that he’d left me, which confused me.
I occasionally get texts to see if I’m okay. I am not okay. But I am for them. I’m okay for everyone because they need it.
I often wish things were different. That it was okay for EMS or an LEO to have friends who have been arrested; they are not all that bad, and just trying to have fun and make a living. They’re people, just like everybody else.
I wished that the Justice System was better, and would actually do their jobs. Trials. Following up on their sentencing, and keeping in contact with eventual medical professionals.
I often wished that I wasn’t scared of consequences. I could hang with criminals off duty, sure, but some of my friends got fired from the force for corruption. It’s difficult walking the line between what’s good and what’s illegal, and I am too scared.
I am selfish.
I am cursed.
I am dumb.
I want to help everyone and make sure they’re okay, but everyone keeps dying.
Jessie Johnson. Apparently she was seriously ill and didn’t tell anyone. Not even Reed, and I was the one who dealt with that.
I quit EMS for good after Ross Anubis died. He was my right hand. My brain twin.
I lost so many bits and pieces of me lately that I feel scattered. My entire world collapsed and I feel that I’m currently only holding on by a thread.
Kass’ behaviour towards Scott made me unable to sleep, I have started to get nightmares and flashbacks of Jack. I hear Jacob’s laugh, my other patient’s singing London Bridge, and I miss Zane’s sense of humor.
Callum James White – February 8th, 2020
Travis Hunter – March 8th, 2020
Nathan Dunkley – March 28th, 2020
James Jay Mercer – April 10th, 2020
Elliot Shaw – May 4th, 2020
Ajax Jake Hades – June 4th, 2020
Roxanne Rowdy – June 17th, 2020
Jack Proctor – June 18th, 2020
Zane McClain – August 8th, 2020
Jacob Stray – August 29th, 2020
Ross Anubis – September 4th, 2020
Jessie Johnson – September 6th, 2020
Gina Hades – September 13th, 2020
Nester Hades – October 11th, 2020
It’s all my fault.
On October 8th, I had to file a report against my friend who showed unprofessional behaviour in prison and I thought he was going to get a strike, but he got fired. I feel so bad… it’s not my fault that he’s making wrong decisions but I feel so bad… He doesn’t seem to have ill feelings towards me, and even helped me at Pillbox with unruly 10-15s, but… I need to be careful, I think my CO thinks I might go corrupt. And I would never.
I spoke to an honest member of the crew on October 8th, too. I decided to ask him what he thought of me, because he’s honest. He mused about Mercer for a bit, and he was sorry that he had shot Mercer’s left testicle off and I didn’t get to feel it. He said that while he hates cops, he thinks I’m a good person, and that maybe being a cop isn’t what is good for me as a person, as my decisions will make me feel guilty about things. I’m not gonna lie, he was spot on. He was also very appreciative about me being the only one in the city who actively tried to help Zane other than his own family.
I helped with the case against someone after the investigation report triggered me. A witness statement had said that the patient suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder, and the conclusion of the report stated that they wanted him to seek help for his psychosis. There hadn’t been a psychiatrist involved in the entire investigation and I contacted Robert Billig to be his lawyer, and helped him with a psychological evaluation.
The situation didn’t end up turning into another Zane case, which I’m happy about, and patient’s case isn’t as extreme as Zane’s either. But it triggered me.
Ever since I got involved in that and taking him on as my patient, all I can see are my failures. I need to do better.
On October 11th, I arrived at a crime scene where Nester had been shot in the head. Nester. The same Nester who always managed to cheer me up, he hadn’t been the same since the death of Gina, and he’d been reclusive and hard to get hold of. There was no gun at the scene so it’s definitely murder.
I am not doing okay. I just about lost it while I was working on Nester and turning on my work brain didn’t even work. I need a couple of days to see if I can get my mind back in one piece.
I’m really reconsidering my life right now. Is being a cop for me? I’m not going back to EMS as the command staff is just really terrible in keeping things moving, planning and organizing. What would I do without a steady job with a great family of greens and blues behind me?
October 20th,
My god, I don’t know what is going on anymore. I feel so lost, and people think I am not bad at what I do.
I have been getting therapy in Liberty City since August and it doesn’t seem to be helping. The oxygen therapy and brain training, sure. Stupid concussion syndrome.
But I feel lost. How can I help others when I can’t help myself?
October 27,
Poor Reed. He lost his k9 and girlfriend and before I went out of the city to Liberty City he was hyper.
Stormi and I are #teamreed, we will make sure he’s okay.
You know, if I ever die… where should my stuff go? I don’t have anyone.
I don’t have that connection with anyone. I don’t allow myself to. I am cursed.
In any case, I will have to think of who to leave my stuff to. I have a few cars and nearly 600k in the bank… who needs that money?! It’s an insane amount. Reed is on the deed of the house, so I am not worried about that.
October 28, 2020
My patient tried to kill himself, he—
If you’re reading this, then it means that I am no longer here. I didn’t mean to go, but it happened. Scott told me to write this note, so… I dunno if I’ll ever use it. And that’s okay. You’re going to be fine. The sun will still rise every single day and goes to bed every single night.
Take the time to grieve if you so need, but I’d rather you remember me and continue to be nice to others. Live. Kindness is the best currency you have. Sprinkle it around as if it’s glitter!
Love, Lizzie
To the people of Los Santos,
No parent should ever get the phone call that their child has passed away, and unfortunately on the 29th of October this year, Max and I received it.
Lizzie left everything behind that she knew and loved for a life away from everyone, starting over and standing on her own feet, and came to Los Santos in January of 2020. For a whole month her father and I didn’t hear anything from her but after that, we received email updates every few weeks or so.
Max and I were worried, of course, especially when she, as a psychiatrist, got involved with police investigations and got herself hurt in the process. But we don’t blame anyone for that. Lizzie was stubborn, and she was always giving things more than 100%.
When she became an EMS, she grew close to Ajax Hades and Roxanne Rowdy. And built her own little family with Ross Anubis and Alfie Walker. Max and I were amazed by how well she was doing by herself, with the support of her new friends.
We were ecstatic when she mentioned that she had found love in James Mercer. She described him as the strong, silent type with the ability to make things simpler. Lizzie believed in him and she never really got over him after he passed away.
Like with every doctor, they can give good advice to others but, never listen to their own and we saw her waste away for a little while after she had made a bad choice in her personal life. Fortunately, she’d made good friends by then in Scott Johnson, Elliot Shaw and Dallas Shaw. She often mentioned Matilda, Justin and Zane too, how working with them and trying to help them kept her going.
After her somewhat odd career move to become a BCSO deputy, we were really proud of her. We’d like to thank Cas Roberson for his faith in our daughter and James Reed, who taught her everything.
James Reed took Lizzie under his wing and taught her everything she needed to know. He built her confidence back up after her bad decision and she offered him a door, and later, part of the house. Lizzie loved spending time with him and often told us that she was waiting for him to say something, that there was something there but that she didn’t want to make the first move as she was afraid.
Her emails became more sporadic as time went on, especially after she mentioned she had to shoot someone she’d considered a friend. She mentioned something about having nightmares of machetes stuck in her leg and black dominators chasing her – God knows why, but that she was doing fine. She was excited for her future though, Freddie Saturn believed that she would make a good detective and was working towards that.
Lizzie didn’t know when to quit. Which was a part of her that we admired and frustrated us at the same time, but that we also understood after she lost her entire family when she was little. She was a carer and, perhaps, cared too much. She wanted to make sure everyone was okay, no matter the circumstances.
She was all about kindness and to treat others the way you want to be treated. And, in the spirit of that, Max and I will honor her memory. We can only hope that you will join us in continuing her legacy.
Lizzie was cremated. We’ve buried a little of her ashes here in Los Santos and we’ve taken Lizzie home and reunited her with her family.
Show B-37 and PS-2 Lizzie Cunningham 10-7 10-42 for the last time.
Amy Cunningham – Smit