guilty
Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time; a look into all aspects of a guilty verdict from the burden of proof to conviction to the judge’s sentence and more.
scammers inc.
CINDERELLA WILLIAMS How can two sex sites look so eerily similar? My trolling for subsequent sex sites was uncanny. The following site I stumbled upon was a carbon copy of the first. Many models had either left the previous site to join the new one or joined both. Each website was comparable to the treatment of their clients. Chat for fifteen minutes and cut off, never to see them again. Of course, the model answered none of my questions and real names? Strictly taboo.
By Peter Bowden5 years ago in Criminal
The woman who only got 12 years for multiple counts of rape and murder.
Karla Leanna Homolka, also known as Leanne Teale, or Leanne Bordelais, was born on May 4, 1970 in Port Credit, Canada. She was the oldest of three daughters. Karla seemed to be a normal kid. She was pretty, popular, everyone loved her. She was said to love animals and worked in a vet's office. However, she really wasn't as normal as she wanted the world to think. As an adult, Karla would confess to throwing her friend's pet hamster out of a two story window and laughing about it as her friend cried. When she was 17, she went to a pet convention and met the man who would be her husband, Paul Bernardo. Paul was 23 years old and a college student.
By Sara Wilson5 years ago in Criminal
How DNA captured its first monster
Lynda Mann was an attractive 15-year-old English teenager who lived in Narborough, a village near Leicester, with her step-father, mother and her older sister Susan. Lynda also performed well in school and enjoyed studying different foreign languages. On November 21, 1983, she had lined up a babysitting job to earn some extra money. Her parents expected her to return home after 6 p.m.
By Marc Hoover5 years ago in Criminal
Real neuro-criminal law: At what age are you fully responsible?
Today I am returning to a classical topic and also one that is very close to my current research. I have to admit a mistake right at the beginning: I have always criticized the exaggerated statements of leading brain researchers who called for nothing less than a revolution in criminal law. In my criticism, I mentioned several times that there is still no country with a “neuro-criminal law”.
By AddictiveWritings5 years ago in Criminal
Unfortunately For Chris
From a young age, I remember having to deal with death. Something you learned, where I grew up, is that people die. Most of the time it would happen when you least expect it, but death was a constant part of life that no one had any control over. When I was eight, I watched a young man suffocate to death on our neighbor’s lawn while two police officers stood over him and watched. His name was Chris. The young man, not the neighbor. Our neighbor always went by Mr. Rice, even by my parents.
By Chennea Russell5 years ago in Criminal
Yellow Cab vs. Yellow Pedicab
I saw the picture above in a law students' Facebook group where the moderator asked the members of the group if the owner of Yellow Pedicab who is also selling pizza may be held liable for infringement and/or unfair competition if Yellow Cab Pizza pursue a case against it. The moderator likewise asked the group to provide legal basis.
By Olivia Marlene5 years ago in Criminal
The Misunderstanding
Matt sat on a bench at the metro station, idly watching passengers disembark into the pouring rain. From the shelter of his covered seat, their reactions as they stepped out into the tempest made him smile; hoods that had been pulled down for the ride, lay draped, lifeless and sopping, only to be whipped again overhead with a sharp crack of fabric and spray of mist. The faces, bright with the anticipation of an arrival soon faltered to a grimace as they shrugged down their shoulders and joined the bustling throngs of travelers wandering in their intended directions.
By R.D. Tollak5 years ago in Criminal
Maybe It Was Fate?
Another blurry day passing. Amongst the other days that fall into the category of I cannot wait for this day to end. Along with all the numbing details of my life I’d wish I’d forget, the rain begins to intensify on my walk home. It has gone from the light sprinkle I seen when it first started to this downpour of misery from heaven I am now in. Only a few miles to go, lucky me. It isn’t out of the ordinary to find this friend of mine I call misery on my way home. She has become quiet the friend. Last week I was chased by a dog and lost my keys half way home. This week I would be out of my mind to hope for a glimmer of sunshine. Its seems almost lonely without her. She is after all the only excitement I find day after day. Everybody needs the fear of death to really live and I have more than my fair share on just my walks home. This night was no different. Trailing in the distance was a shape I couldn’t quite make out at first. After all, it is Just another exciting night where I am kept on edge keeping an eye out for roaming monstrous dogs. Each glance back brought this figure a bit closer which put me closer to the edge in my anticipation of another life threatening chase. Of course, to no surprise of my own I found myself waking in the middle of the sidewalk with no idea what happened. However, the pain my head was in gave me a bit of a clue. That and my missing wallet. Maybe it was in my dazed confusion that I thought I had a glimmer of hope but I should have known better. As I looked around to get a better picture of what had happened my confusion brought the delusion that I had maybe just maybe caught a glimpse of luck. A little black book with names inside. I figured at the very least I could get my wallet back and hopefully my rent money. The rest of my journey home was riddled with dizziness an the freezing rain. My cell phone was shattered in the attack, or at least I thought so. At home I bandaged my head and changed my bloody shirt. There was no need for a shower since the rain washed away everything but my misery. I thought about calling the police but the rash of unsolved robberies in the neighborhood was enough to kill that hope. The news was on and my throbbing head was enough to keep me form changing the channel. I thumbed through the little black book I found and seen names and symbols that peeked my attention. Then I thought I was hurt more than I first believed as I seen the same symbol on the news that was in the book. Another robbery victim had come forward with evidence that was left after their thumping and seemed to detail the same clues I had in my own hands. Then, the questions poured in, I don’t know why I’m my dizzy state that I thought that it would be a better idea to search out these clues than to go to the police but staring at this symbol gave me a confidence that I dint have before. Or maybe it was just desperation but either way I was intent on finding whoever left their calling card and a gash on my head to remember them by. The night was just as gloomy as the walk home. The thunder outside and throbbing pain seemed to sync. The thunder teamed with my pain where like constant knocking a my door. When I’d wake to see who it was the noise and pain where just fast enough to make me miss their appearance but just loud enough to keep me from getting enough rest. The morning came and my headache woke me once again. This time without the thunder. The day had cleared which looking back on my life was never a good sign. A clear day was like a omen, a path for my old friend to come a pay me a visit and bring to me what I knew most these last few months. Out the door and on my way to get my rent money back I took a look at this little black book. Now that my head was getting back to the normal amount of confusion that my life was riddled with as I stumbled through the pages there was an foreign language and in the middle of the book I caught wind of something I hadn’t seen before a receipt from the old Chinese restaurant down the street from my work. I figured I could at least get the security cameras footage and it could lead me further along on this path of trouble. At least I have the company of misery to keep me from going too far.
By frank gutierrez5 years ago in Criminal
