Quartich wasn't the one who killed her, yet he was the one who got sentenced to fifteen years in prison for her death. Paz Socorro had been the love of his life, her, and his precious, darling child. They had been his light. They had been his everything. Every time he came home from the marine base, he went right to his baby, his precious child. Some, which had been swiftly dealt with, had even called his relationship with his child unhealthy, but they were just jealous, in his opinion. In Quaritch's opinion, no love would ever be enough for his darling baby, but... then, he had come home one ordinary afternoon to bloody murder, his wife killed, slashed, torn apart on the kitchen floor, and his darling baby still in their cradle, fast asleep. He had done the first thing he could think of. He had run, taken his kid, and run. He was apprehended by the police four days later when they threatened to take his child. They had taken them anyway, ripped his child from his possessive, protective hold, and given his precious child into the care of Child Protective Services.

Quaritch had never felt more lucky to have his squad. They, Lyle, Z-Dog, Lopez, Mansk, Prager, Warren, Brown, Ja, Walker, Zhang, and Sean, had kept him informed, had given him photos of his kid, had brought him yearbooks, and assignments and things his darling child thought they had lost. They had kept him sane, bringing him what he needed and building him a case while he dominated his prison block. Fifteen years later, Quaritch was released, a few months early, for good behavior. It had taken everything in him not to go immediately to his darling child's last known location through the foster system. His poor kid had been bounced from house to house to house, never staying longer than a year in one place. He knew he had to take this slow, form a distance before his squad, and he moved in, snatched up his kid, and became a perfect family again. For now, he was content following his darling child around. He would find a reason to approach his child