From as far back as I can remember, I hated the name Sammy, or Sam, or anything other than my given name of Samuel. My mom named me after a profit in the Bible and he wasn't called little Sammy that I know of. I don't think people picked on him either like they did me. Maybe it's because I was shorter than most everyone my age? I don't know.My mom began calling me Spike when I was maybe five, because she liked to listen to the old radio comedy featuring Spike Jones and seeing our last name was Jones, it just kind of stuck, if you follow me. I didn't much care for my middle name either. Everett. Samuel Everett Jones. Sounds like a lay preacher's name and I sure as heck ain't no saint.Sure, I went to church and catechism, like all the other Lutheran kids, but I never really plugged into it, or so I thought. Years later I would come to realize most of my true values were because of my church teachings, seeing the church became my guardian after my parents and three older sisters died in what I later learned was caused by a drunk driver, who just so happened to be a county judge.I was nearly eighteen when a long time friend of my parents told me the whole thing was covered up and the judge is still actively pursuing justice at the Harris County court house in Houston, Texas. Judge Roy Buckhannon is his name and I vowed right then to kill the man who stole my family from me. Judge Roy as he's fondly known is familiar with me, believe it or not because I was arrested when I was fifteen as an accessory in a grand theft auto case. I spent three years in juvenile correction and that is where I learned everything I know about guns, knife fighting, hand to hand combat, picking locks, how to get away with rape, breaking and entering and not leave a trace, ATM machines - well, you name it and I learned it

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