“I am not what the current age of man would call a ‘people person,’” he said, frowning. “I have never been terribly social. If I had the skill, I would say words to you that would put you at ease and assure you that you are in no immediate peril of my wrath.”
“Your actions have already done so,” I said.
The wispiest shade of a smile line touched the corners of his eyes. “Ah. You have a certain amount of perception, then.”
“I used to think so,” I said. “Then I started getting older and realized how clueless I am.”
“The beginning of wisdom, or so Socrates would have it,” Hades said. “He says so every time we have brunch.”
“Wow,” I said. “Socrates is, uh, down here?”
Hades arched an eyebrow. He lifted his free hand, palm up.
“Right,” I said. “Sorry. Um. Do you mind if I ask . . . ?”
“His fate, in the Underworld?” Hades said.
I nodded.
Hades’ mouth ticked up at one corner. “People question him.”
The dog took note that it was no longer being petted, and the nearest head lifted up to nudge itself beneath Hades’ hand again. The Lord of the Underworld absentmindedly went back to petting it, like any man might with his dog.

Amanda's birth via Priscilla's timeline prior to Storm Front
~13-17 14* BSF: Amanda Beckitt born.  [Age:0]

[2,4-7* 3 years BSF] What I could see was the Beckitt family. Husband, wife, daughter, a little girl maybe ten or eleven years old. [Age: 10-11]
She is "in her late teens or early twenties" in DM which takes place about 3 years after SF. [Age 18-23] [~16-17]

Quote

Murphy's jaw tensed, little motions at the corners of her face. Then she said, "Greg and Helen Beckitt. Three years ago, their daughter, Amanda, was killed in a cross fire.
Johnny Marcone's thugs were shooting it out with some of the Jamaican gang that was trying to muscle in on the territory back then. One of them shot the little girl. She lived for three weeks in intensive care and died when they took her off life support."
I didn't say anything. But I thought of Mrs. Beckitt's numb face and dead eyes.
"The Beckitts attempted to lodge a wrongful death suit against Johnny Marcone, but Marcone's lawyers were too good. They got it thrown out before it even went to court. And they never found the man who shot the little girl. Word has it that Marcone offered to pay them blood money. Make reparation. But they turned him down."

~3-4 BSF: Marco Vargassi decides Marcone has become a threat to his father Tony's organization and tries to stage his death. Amanda Beckitt, daughter of Helen and Greg, is shot.  She is about 10 or 11 at the time, and she is in her late teens to early twenties in DM.  Tony Vargassi bribes the medical examiner to forge Amanda's death certificate to protect his son.  The Vargassis are still in power at the time of "Restoration of Faith."

~2-3 BSF: Marcone learns of Amanda Beckitt, two years after her "death." per Marcone in DM

~2 BSF: Marcone topples the Vargassis and founds his own empire.

@BillyYank Marcone was a Marine. [Age>17 when he entered service]

I looked over my shoulder to see a very, very young-looking Marcone.
He wasn't wearing a business suit. He had on jeans and a black leather jacket. His hair was longish, a little mussed, and he also sported a stubble of beard that gave him the kind of rakish look that would attract attention from the girls who fantasized about indulging with a bad boy. [Age:?] [BSF]

"Gentleman" Johnny Marcone had been the thug to emerge on top of the pile after the Vargassi family had dissolved into internal strife. The police department saw Marcone as a mixed blessing, after years of merciless struggle and bloody exchanges with the Vargassis.

Gentleman Johnny Marcone didn't look like the sort of man who would have my legs broken or my jaw wired shut. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, and there were lines from sun and smiling etched into the corners of his eyes. His eyes were the green of well-worn dollar bills. He seemed more like a college football coach: good-looking, tanned, athletic, and enthusiastic. The impression was reinforced by the men he kept with him.

25 BSF, October 31:  Harry is born.  Harry's mother, now Margaret Gwendolyn Dresden, dies in childbirth.  She is murdered by a ritual entropy curse, courtesy of Lord Raith. [Harry's Age SF=25]

My double slipped around me and got in my way before I could leave the circle of light. "Hold it. You really don't want to do this."
"I'm tired. I feel like shit. I'm hurt. And what I really don't want is to waste any more time dreaming about you." I narrowed my eyes at my double. "Now get out of my way." I turned to my right and started walking toward the nearest edge of the circle. My double slipped in front of me again, apparently without needing to cross the intervening space.
"It isn't that simple, Harry. No matter where you go, there you are."

I felt my smile harden, and I peered past the spotlights to the
dias. "Bianca, dear, there you are. This was a costume party, was it not? A masquerade? And we were all supposed to come dressed as something we weren't? If I misread the invitation, I apologize."

The crowd parted at one side, and Thomas and Justine came to us, blazes of pale skin and brilliant color amidst the scarlet and black. "There you are," Thomas said. He glanced down at my goblet and let out a sigh. "I'm glad I found you in time."
"In time for what?" I asked.
"To warn you," he said. He flicked a hand at the refreshments table. "The wine is poisoned."

Then I was in a new place. In the dark. Cold stone chilled me where I lay upon it. All around me where the whispers of things moving in the shadows. Scaly rasps. Soft, hungry hisses, together with the gleam of malevolent eyes. My heart pounded in my throat.
"There you are," whispered one of the voices. "I watched them have you, you know."

I sat there, too tired to move, until the lights began to dim. I vaguely remember feeling Ebenezar heft me off the ground and get my arm across his shoulders. The Gatekeeper murmured something, and Billy answered him. I woke up back at my place, in bed. Billy, who had been dozing in a chair next to the bed, woke up with a snort and said, "Hey, there you are. You thirsty?"

“Martin and Susan are seeing what they can get off the disk,” I said. “They’ll contact me as soon as they know something. Meantime, I’ll get a couple hours horizontal, then start hitting my contacts. Go to the Council and ask them for help.”
“That bunch of heartless, gutless, spineless old pricks,” she said.
I found myself smiling, a little, at my coffee.
“Are they going to give it to you?” Murphy asked.
“Maybe. It’s complicated,” I said. “Are you going to get CPD to help me?”
Her eyes darkened. “Maybe. It’s complicated.”
I spread my hands in a “there you are” gesture, and she nodded. She rose and paced over to the sink to put her cup down. “What can I do to help?”

“There you are,” she said irritably. “I’ve been calling your house all evening, Harry.”
“Sorry, Mrs. S,” I said. “I’ve been out.”
I don’t think she could make out the words very well, but she wasn’t stupid. “Obviously you’ve been out,” she said. “What happened to your nice new door? It’s wide-open! If we get another one of those freak thunderstorms, the rain will pour right in and we’ll have mold climbing up the walls before you can say Jack Robinson.”

Stan hadn’t deserved it. He hadn’t been looking for it. And that creature, that demon, had murdered him. I felt my jaw begin to ache as it clenched harder and harder. I could feel my rapid pulse beating behind my eyes. There was a terrible pressure inside my head and inside my chest, and with it came a rising wave of anger, and something darker and deadlier than anger that came welling up like a great wave from an unlit sea.
It. Wasn’t. Right.
No, it wasn’t. But the world wasn’t a fair place, was it? And I had more reason to know it than most people twice my age. The world wasn’t nice, and it wasn’t fair. People who didn’t deserve it suffered and died every single day. So what? So somebody ought to do something about it.
My right arm and shoulder burned like fire as I felt my right hand slowly form a tight fist. The knuckles popped one by one. They hadn’t ever done that before. I turned to face the creature’s image in the reflection. It was crouched over Stan’s corpse, its talons tapping lightly on the dead man’s open eyes, its mouth still stretched into that horrible, wide smile.
And when it saw the look on my face, its smile widened and its eyes narrowed.
“Ahhhh,” it said. “Ahhhhh. There you are.”

“Well, that’s what I mean,” I said. “The scale still isn’t balanced. And I don’t think you send people back just for kicks.”
Uriel regarded me pleasantly. He said nothing.
“So you did it for a reason. Something you couldn’t have gotten with your seven whispered words.”
“Perhaps it was to balance the situation with Molly,” he said.
I snorted. “Yeah. I bet all the time you go around solving your problems one by one, in neat little rows. I bet you never, ever try to hit two birds with one stone.”
Uriel regarded me pleasantly. He said nothing.
“I’m headed for the great beyond, and you still won’t give me a straight answer?” I demanded, smiling.
Uriel regarded me pleasantly. He said nothing. A lot. I laughed again.
“Tell you what, big guy. Just tell me something. Something useful. I’ll be happy with whatever I get.”
He pursed his lips and thought about it for a moment. Then he said, “No matter where you go, there you are.” I blinked. “Goodness,” I said. “Buckaroo Banzai?”
 “Confucius,” he said.

“Harry,” Thomas said.
“Harry, easy, easy. You’re safe.” There were lights in my eyes. They weren’t pleasant. I squinted against them until I could see Thomas’s upside-down head looming over me.
“There you are,” Thomas said. “We were getting worried.”
He lifted his hands from my arms and gave the side of my face something somewhere between a pat and a slap. “You weren’t waking up.”