Lola was raised in a small seaside town in County Kerry. Her father worked on the docks, her mother kept the family home and a little vegetable patch. Life was quiet but not always easy — the kind of place where everybody knew your name, and gossip travelled faster than the wind.

She wasn’t the type to be content sitting still. From a young age, she had a streak of independence and a nose for trouble. While other kids dreamed of moving away, Lola wanted to make her town better. That led her down the road of public service.

At 22, after a stint working in her uncle’s pub, Lola joined An Garda Síochána. She was posted in her home county, starting as a uniformed officer. It was a job that was equal parts mundane and dangerous: one day she’d be sorting out sheep blocking a road, the next she’d be dealing with drunk brawls, domestic disputes, or smugglers running goods through the coast.

After nearly 7 years in the Garda, Lola felt restless. She’d always admired the idea of the “American Dream” — a place where you could be more than where you were born. She also felt worn down by small-town life: the same faces, the same problems, the same ceilings she kept hitting.

A visit to a cousin in Boston sealed the deal. She loved the energy, the diversity, the sense that everyone was chasing something bigger. A few months later, she resigned her badge and booked a one-way flight.