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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

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Humans Are Space Orcs, “Size Six.”

So I have been working on this for a few days based on a rquest form someone who wanted to see more stuff form when Adam was younger. I will, of course, be starting on the extra requested fluff for you guys tomorrow, but I hope this works for today.

The bus bumped and jostled over the lumpy dirt road. Inside bodies swayed and juggle back and forth ramming into walls and steadying themselves against the antiquated seats before them. The bus was old, older than a large portion of dirt, old enough to have rubber tires, shitty suspension, and foam back seats, nothing like the sleek magno buses they used these days. Clearly their program wasn’t important enough to acquire a real transport vehicle.

Their ride from the airport had been nerve wracking to say the least, and only some of it had come from the imminent threat that the bus would disintegrate into its component parts, most of the rest of it had come from the slow building of nervous energy felt by all the young teens as they waited to begin their first day at training.

There were forty of them in all, though less than half of that was predicted to make it through the training and actually become pilots from the program at Trans Space Combative aviation Academy. Of course the Academy didn’t have its own location, as new as it was and untested as it was, the burgeoning UNSC wasn’t likely to spend a ton of funds on a group of untested children. So they had been shipped onto Del Rio Texas where the air force flight academy was located, and allocated space, some instructors, and a few classrooms to get started.

Adam had found the other recruits from the program nervously waiting outside with their duffel bags and clothing. None of them were over the age of fifteen, and they consisted almost equally of boys and girls.

Adam was displeased to find himself the shortest among the boys, and about mid pack among the girls, a good portion of them probably weighing a good ten pounds more than he did, though none of them were out of shape.

He tried to ignore that doing his best to make friends with the other nervous recruits determined not to be the loser this time. Just as long as he didn’t show his weird to them straight off, maybe he was going to be fine. It seemed to be working, at least until the buss pulled up, and the group of them stared on with shock and disappointment at the monstrosity before them.

They sort of hoped it wasn’t for them, but the ACU clad, army man stepping out of the door and onto the pavement dashed their hopes.

And soon they were on their way, jostling down the highway, eventually cutting through manned security gates, patrolled by armed guards, and finally onto the backroad that was taken around the airfield. Adam had his face pressed up against the window watching as a set of jets took off leaving trails of white behind them in the great blue sky above.

The implant in his arm buzzed, and he looked down to see a text from his mother asking if they had landed yet.

He had to apologize for forgetting and assure her that he was, indeed, landed and on his way.

The further they went onto the base, the more people they could see, large muscular men and women running in formation wearing the same light grey T-shirts tucked into blue canvas shorts.

Voices roared past them as the men chanted in time with their cadence.

Low lying buildings pulled up on the horizon in front of them, crouched together in stumpy lines. Yelled commands wafted through open windows as more recruits rolled past kicking up dirt clouds as they went.

Adam grew nervous upon seeing them, big and adult.

He glanced down at himself and his baggy T-shirt and jeans held up only by a belt, the cuffs folded up over his shoes.

They belonged to his brothers, but were still too big for him.

The bus rolled to a stop just then jostling him forward so his face nearly rammed into the seat in front of him.A dust cloud billowed up around them obscuring his vision for a moment. At the front of the buss, the driver reached out and cranked the handle to the door manually forcing it open.

“Wow, this thing is a real piece of shit.” Someone muttered

Boots thudded onto the stairs, and the entire bus went quiet as a man stepped onto the front of the bus. He was tall, and serious faced with thick eyebrows and what appeared to be a shaved head, though it was mostly covered by a wide brimmed dumbass hat in dark, clashing seriously with his patterned ACUs.

They all waited on the edge of their seats.

Adam shrunk down into his expecting to get yelled at.

That’s what all the old army movies told him was going to happen.

Instead, however, the man smiled.

Adam didn’t buy it for one second.

“Welcome recruits to the first TSCA Academy class of 4013. I am Master Sergeant Kimball, and I will be one of your MTI (military training instructors) during this program. If you need to address me at any time during this course you will call me Sir or Master Sergeant Kimball. Now I understand that you may all be tired from your flight. We have recruits here from all across the world, so hopefully, today will be easy and relaxing.”

Adam eyed the group around him watching as the others began to relax.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all? Perhaps because they were kids, they had been given some leeway during the training process.

I mean, were they really going to yell at a group of kids barely out of their teenage years.

“Alright everyone, Unload!”

There was a collective shuffling around the bus as the group of them took to their feet and began slowly shuffling towards the exit. Adam pulled his bag over his back, nearly tipping over backwards as the weight pulled his small frame off balance. Someone put a hand on his shoulder, ‘Whoa.”

He glanced over and thanked the girl who helped him hurrying off the bus and down the stairs into the hot as hell Texas heat.

Stepping off the bus he found Master Sergeant Kimball standing next to two other MTIs, who were smiling at them, though their smiles seemed more wolfish than reassuring.

My what big teeth you have he thought idly to himself stepping to the side so the others could walk through.

One boy came trudging down the steps last lugging an absolutely massive suitcase as a few of the others flopped to the ground resting against their bags eyes closed basking like lizards in the sun.

Sgt. Kimball stepped forward towards the last young man, “Here let me help you.”

The boy seemed rather grateful handing his bag down to the MTI taking some weight off his shoulders.

That was until Sgt. Kimball grabbed the zipper, opened the bag and dumped the entire contents of the suitcase into the dirt. He then got right up in the boy’s face and shouted, “NOW WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK DO YOU NEED A BAG LIKE THAT FOR. CHRIST SON, I COULD USE IT YO SMUGGLE YOUR CORPSE OUT WHEN I’M DONE WITH YOU.”

The entire group jolted with surprise bolting upwards.

Even Adam was startled, and he had been expecting it. The poor kid was scrambling around in the dirt trying to collect his things, “GET YOUR ASS OFF THE GROUND YOU SORRY PIECE OF SHIT.”

The two other MTIs bore down on them their charming smiles revealed for what they really were. Wolf in sheep's clothing, snarling ravening beasts.

More bags were dumped on the ground, turned over, emptied until the contents mingled with the dust on the ground. The female MTI leaped over ripping Adam’s bag off the ground and tossing it’s contents into the dust. She reached down picked up a book and chucked it at him hitting him in the chest as he stumbled back, “YOU THINK YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TIME FOR READING!”

She moved on to the next student.

One of the recruits had burst into tears, and the MTI’s descended like vultures. One of them grabbed a water bottle from the ground and shoved it at the crying student, “BETTER GET STARTED ON CRYING ME A RIVER.”

Adam was scrambling to pick up his stuff and shove it back in his bag, “GET ON YOUR FEET!”

He bolted upright to find Sgt. Kimball in his face, or more looking down on him. His face was red and as he screamed little droplets of spit flew for his tongue. He gave Adam one long look over, “GOOD LORD BOY I’VE TAKEN SHITS MORE SUBSTANTIAL THAN YOU!”

“GO ON CLEAN UP THIS SHIT, IT’S FILTHY WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING, THEN GET YOUR ASSES DOWN TO INTAKE.” He scrambled to put his things in his bag the MTI’s shouting at him the entire time. He nearly tripped over himself multiple times falling flat on his face in the dirt much to the amusement of the MTIs.

“LEAVE YOUR SHIT HERE.”

He tripped and wobbled running after the others as they ran towards the building that had been pointed out to them by the screaming MTIs.

A few of the other recruits were crying, but Adam, well he had sort of expected it, and honestly he would have been disappointed if they hadn’t. IN fact he found himself grinning from ear to ear as he walked into the equipment room behind a line of other recruits.

The equipment officer turned around from his desk to glare at them. He was a heavy-set man in his late forties with biceps as big around as tree trunks.

He looked them over with a frown before jabbing his finger at Adam, “You there, smiley. Small or extra small.” He blushed, “er…. Extra…. Small.”

“At least he’s honest.” The man grouted turning around to rifle through his equipment coming back with two pairs of everything in stock. He stacked it on the counter in front of him.

“Two PT uniforms, Two ACUs, two shirts, sweatpants, jacket, gloves, hat, and.” He pulled up a set of tan combat boots then glanced him up and down, “What is your shoe size?”

“Er….” More blushing, “Six.”

The man grunted ducked back behind the counter, “We only carry eight plus in mens, but a seven in women’s shoulder work.”

He tried not to wilt at the reminder of how small he was.

He turned away again and motioned him off. He clambered to pick up everything he needed and wobbled away juggling the boots the pants and the jacket with some difficulty, dropping a glove on the floor and nearly dropping everything else when he went to pick it up.

Walking outside he was met by another MTI who yelled at him to get his ass to the barracks to change and put all his shit away. He hurried to do as he was told running and nearly dropping everything again as he made his way through the doors into a large room lined along either side with beds, a single trunk at the base.

He ran to one of the beds at the far end, opened the crate and placed his things inside struggling to pull on one of the PT uniforms as the others ran into the room to do the same, throwing their things in the lockers at the base of the beds as the MTIs continued to scream at them.

It was only as he was running out of the room that he noticed the horrible terrible thing.

The extra small pants…. Were too big.

He tried looking for a drawstring to make them tighter, but they were canvas with an elastic waist, and they did not go any tighter. He turned in his spot trying to figure out what to do, but as soon as he slowed down another MTI was screaming at him to get back onto the field and line up.

So he chickened out, holding onto his pants for dear life as he raced back to the training ground.

Upon making it there he helped the other students line up into evenly space rows thinking that the MTIs might be impressed with them if they were to do that.

They did their best to stand like they were supposed to, though all of the instruction they had ever gotten was from old war movies, and they were all doing it horribly wrong, a fact for which the MTIs noticed and yelled at them for with great glee as soon as they noticed. Of course they were eventually whipped into shape standing in line in straight rows heels together hands at sides, shoulders back.

He could feel his pants slipping, though he was too embarrassed to say anything.

Sgt Kimball stepped out in front of them hands behind his back, “what did I say! Didn’t i say we were going to have a fun relaxing day! Are you having fun!” He was right in one of the recruits face now bellowing almost at the top of his lungs. He moved onto the next student, “Are you relaxed!”

Adam didn’t think the kid looked particularly relaxed. In fact, he looked so tense, that if he squeezed any harder his spine was going to go shooting out of his ass.

“Well!”

There was silence on the grounds.

“WELL!”

Adam scrambled his brain not entirely sure what to do before squeaking out, “Yes sir.”

The MTI leaned in, “Why don’t you try and communicate in normal ranges of human hearing, son. I am not a bat!”

He looked back up at the rest of the group, “WELL!”

“YES SIR.”

“That’s better.” He turned to stalk away from Adam pacing up and down the line, “i will be straight with you when I say that today IS going to be fun and relaxing compared to what you will be going through in the next few years. If you manage to make it into this program I promise you we will destroy your social life, you will have time for nothing other than this program and sleeping, if I decide to allow you to sleep, that is.”

Adam was grinning.

Unfortunately that caught the Sgt’s eye, “THE FUCK ARE YOU SMILING AT!”

He waited.

Adam just stood there.

“ANSWER THE QUESTION GODDAMMIT!”

He scrambled, “Yes sir, sorry sir! I thought it was a rhetorical question.”

“HEAVENS ABOVE HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL. I SAID ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

His mouth opened then closed, “Er…”

“THE HELL KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT!”

“Um.”

“Sweet Jehova did you come out this stupid or is it a family tradition, a side hobby?”

“I’m sorry sir, I forgot the question.”

He lowered his head with an exaggerated sigh rubbing his temples , “Forgot the question. FORGOT THE QUESTION. I’VE MET GOLDFISH WITH BETTER MEMORIES THAN YOU! I SAID WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SMILING.”

He blushed, “Oh….. Um” “HURRY UP.”

“BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE FOR YOU TO RUIN, SIR.”

That seemed to take the man back, and he simply sat there staring at Adam with a bemused expression.

“If you were any more pathetic, smiley, I might just cry for you. Honest to god, if you get any more pathetic I will cry real tears for your shame.”

He turned away.

“Now everyone get on the ground and give me FIFTY.”

At least everyone seemed to know what that meant, though pathetically enough his arms were wobbling at twenty.

“JUMPING JUPITER RECRUIT, I DIDN’T EXPECT YOU TO MAKE ME CRY IN THE FIRST HALF HOUR. MY COUSIN COULD DO MORE PUSH-UPS THAN YOU AND HE’S GOT NO ARMS!”

The Sargent seemed to have a lot of disabled relatives. A blind granny, an armless cousin, a nephew with a pole up his ass from a tragic fishing accident.

By the time they were done , Adam was quite nearly ready to throw up.

“ALRIGHT FIFTY BURPIES GO,GO GO.” Oh no, anything but that.

He paused but was almost immediately screamed at to get his ass in gear. He knew what was coming before it happened, and couldn't stop it.

As he jumped down into his first plank and then back up, he could feel the waist on his pants slipping, at first just a little, but then, as his feet left the ground there they went right down around his ankles.

At first he thought he was at least lucky to be in the back row, but then scrambling to pick his pants back up, he realized none of that was going to matter.

Sgt. Kimball was staring at him, cheek twitching.

He himself was blushing excessively.

He was quiet for a very long time before, “CONTROL YOURSELF RECRUIT, THE LAST THING I NEED TO SEE IS YOUR CHICKEN LEG FLAT ASS KIDDIE JUNK ON MY TRAINING FIELD. Fuck, as small as you are I’ll probably be indited for CP. Now go get some new fucking pants before you blind us all for a second time. And, since it seems you’ve never seen leg day, I want you to cluck like a chicken all the way there. Let everyone know the pantsless chicken boy is coming.”

He did as he was told rose red the entire time and beat red on his way back seeing as, they had given him the smallest size available in mens, so instead he had been given a pair of woman’s shorts, which, due to the cut, tended to ride up in very uncomfortable places of his anatomy.

It was a very good thing he was used to embarrassment.

Or this was going to be a very long couple of years.

***

Commander Vir blinked and put a hand to his head boots throwing up little puffs of dust in the Texas heat.

“You ok Commander?”

He sniffed at the air and took in a deep breath hands on hips, “Ah, the memories!”

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

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When police vehicles pulled behind her, Bottom continued driving for another 10 miles, oblivious, she says, to the fact that they were trying to stop her for speeding. Bottom didn’t think she was speeding and claims she didn’t realize she was being pulled over.

Officers used stop sticks and pulled Bottom over at gunpoint. Then police yanked the 68-year-old Atlanta woman out of her driver’s seat by her hair, according to a federal lawsuit.

Bottom is suing the city of Salisbury, two of the city’s police officers and a Rowan County sheriff’s deputy who were involved in the May 30, 2019 incident. The federal complaint also names Rowan County Sheriff Kevin Auten as well as the Pennsylvania National Mutual, Casualty Insurance Company, the insurance company with which the Sheriff’s Office has a $2 million surety bond.

Bottom’s lawsuit was filed April 21 in the U.S. District Court for the Middle District of North Carolina. She alleges officers assaulted her and unlawfully searched her SUV during the chaotic ordeal. She’s asking for damages and an injunction against the policies and practices in which the officers engaged while taking her into custody.

Bottom is being represented by Scott Holmes, professor of the Civil Litigation Clinic, a program for third-year law-school students at the North Carolina Central University. The clinic has partnered with Emancipate North Carolina, a civil rights nonprofit based in Durham.

Ian Mance is the attorney handling the case for the public policy program, which is dedicated to criminal justice reform and eradicating structural racism. He said he was particularly struck by officers’ brutal treatment of an elderly woman who was unarmed and showed no signs of being violent.

“There was no indication that local law enforcement agencies we’re going to take any action against these officers,” Mance explained in an interview with Atlanta Black Star. “I think we all kind of saw this case the same way, which is this was an egregious example of excessive force. And the departments did not seem inclined to take action to hold these officers accountable. If they’re not going to hold these officers accountable in a situation like this, when will they hold officers accountable?”

The Bodycam

The incident began the evening of May 30, 2019 when a deputy allegedly spotted Bottom driving 80 mph on the interstate, which has a 70 mph speed limit. Bottom noticed the deputy’s blue lights but didn’t think she was speeding so she didn’t stop. She thought the police were attempting to stop another motorist on the interstate, and claims her music drowned out the sirens.

Pretty soon, four male officers were involved in the chase. Among them was Salisbury police officer Adam Bouk, Rowan County sheriff’s deputy Mark Benfield, a Highway Patrol trooper identified in the lawsuit only as Officer Smith and Devin Barkalow, a plainclothes Salisbury cop.

An officer pulled alongside Bottom’s SUV at one point during the chase and looked inside her vehicle. He identified her on the radio as “an older Black female.” A frustrated Barkalow called Bottom a “fucking retard” and a “douche bag” while chasing her in his squad car. Bodycam footage showed he also said it was an “exciting chase” and commented that he was “at the edge of his seat.”

Smith pulled ahead of Bottom at one point and laid down a spike strip to flatten her SUV’s tires. That’s when she pulled over to the highway’s median.

Bodycam footage showed Deputy Benfield hop out with his gun drawn as he and the other officers swarmed her car. Bottom’s lawsuit indicates Barkalow also aimed his weapon at her.

As Bottom was unbuckling her seatbelt, Barkalow rushed in from the passenger’s side of the SUV and snatched the elderly woman out of the driver’s seat by her hair, then slammed her to the pavement. The other officers swooped in and handcuffed Bottom, who yelled and writhed in pain as they yanked her arms her back to shackle her. Benfield, Bouk and Barkalow pinned her to the ground with their arms and knees on Bottom’s back, the lawsuit alleges.

Bottom appeared befuddled at the officers’ aggressive response. Bouk yelled that they’d been following her trying to get her to stop for over 10 miles.

“I was just driving,” Bottom said.

“You’re going to jail now,” the policeman responded.

“Why? What have I done wrong?” Bottom cried out, growing increasingly incredulous. “What have I done wrong? Please, why are you doing this to me?”

“It was a simple traffic stop, that’s all we had to do,” Benfield told her. “We’d write you a ticket. You turned it into this.”

Bottom sobbed as she sat on the ground at the side of the high gasping in pain. She told officers she had a torn ligament in her shoulder from a previous car accident and begged them to uncuff her arms from behind her back. Bouk refused, while the three other officers ignored her pleas.

She later asked to be taken to the hospital and told a ranking police captain who arrived on scene that officers had broken her arm.

Bouk and Benfield explained to Bottom that she refused to stop when they attempted to pull her over for speeding. Bottom claimed she was driving 70 mph or 75 mph with her music turned up so loudly that she couldn’t hear the sirens. She said she didn’t realize the contingent of officers were after her.

Authorities scoffed at her explanation, finding it hard to believe she didn’t notice them for 10 miles. Bouk told her a cruiser pulled right beside her vehicle at one point during the pursuit and said she endangered “a whole lot of people.” Authorities indicated they also had their lights and sirens flashing as well.

“Ma’am, there was about four police cars behind you at one point in time,” Benfield told Bottom as she claimed she didn’t realize the officers had been chasing her for miles. “I don’t understand how they do it in Georgia, but that’s not how it’s done here.”

According to a July 2020 report from the North Carolina Justice Analysis Review, Black motorists were stopped at a rate twice as high as white drivers in the Tar Heel State, and almost 1.5 times the rates of other races. A March report from the review panel, which is part of the Governor’s Crime Commission, showed that Black drivers are also searched nearly twice the rate as white and Hispanics in North Carolina, and more than three times the rate of other races.

Mance said that was one of the reasons Emancipate North Carolina opted to take on Bottom’s case.

“We know that North Carolina has really widespread and entrenched, pronounced racial disparities in terms of the way that black and white motorists are policed,” he said. “I think that one of the main reasons we decided to get involved and impact litigation around traffic stops is that here, traffic stops are the main way that people interact with the police. So they make up the majority of citizens police interactions in a given year.

“That’s not the case in a lot of states. But here, that is kind of the main way that people interact with police,” Mance added. “So when things go wrong with the police, that is very often in the context of traffic stops.”

The Lawsuit

Bottom’s lawsuit claims officers used excessive force when they approached her at gunpoint and when they dragged her out of her SUV. Her attorneys argue the officers didn’t give the elderly woman enough time to exit her vehicle and acted recklessly by forcibly removing her.

According to the complaint, Bottom was unarmed and posed no threat. She had her hands up and was attempting to exit the vehicle, but it was difficult to do so quickly because of her age and medical conditions.

Her lawyers claim the officers’ reckless actions aggravated an old injury and caused Bottom’s shoulder to “pop” as the officers handcuffed her. She had to be hospitalized and undergo surgery for a torn rotator cuff. Her shoulder has never fully healed and the incident left her with permanent damage.

Bottom’s attorneys also argue that officers were “deliberately indifferent” to the woman’s pain. They ignored her cries for medical attention and failed to render immediate treatment for her injuries.

Bouk told other officers “that’s good police work, baby” even as Bottom continued to complain about her shoulder. Some of the other officers congratulated each other for a job well done, the lawsuit alleges. Barkalow bragged about grabbing a “handful of dreads,” and said “at that point she earned it.”

Paramedics were eventually called to the scene. According to The Associated Press, it was about an hour before EMS arrived. They determined Bottom needed to be hospitalized. The officers then decided not to charge Bottom to avoid paying the cost of her hospital bills, her attorneys allege. Instead, the officers decided to issue a criminal summons for her to appear in court at a later date.

One of the police officers who no longer works for the Salisbury Police Department declined to comment when contacted by the Charlotte Observer. The other officers did not respond to requests for comment. A spokesman for the city of Salisbury also declined to comment about the incident.

Bottom would later be charged with speeding, failure to heed to blue lights and resisting, delaying and obstructing an officer. She was accused of “refusing to get out of her vehicle and pulling away from the officer.” The lawsuit denied those allegations.

When Bottom appeared in court, she pleaded guilty to the failure to heed blue lights charge. The two other charges were dismissed.

The suit also maintains that officers had no probable cause and never asked for Bottom’s consent to search her SUV or her purse, which was in the vehicle.

Bottom was not driving recklessly, she didn’t lead officers on a high-speed chase, and she never intentionally tried to elude them, her attorneys contend. Despite that, authorities felt justified in threatening deadly force and physically assaulting the woman because she didn’t pull over in a timely manner.

Bottom was not available for comment this week. Her attorneys said she had to foot the bill for medical treatments, repairs to her SUV and was left to grapple with the emotional fallout of her encounter.

“This was this was a very traumatic thing for her to go through,” Mance said. “It was very frightening. It caused her a very significant injury that required surgery, that required her to spend time in the hospital. She had to miss a significant amount of work. So this was very disruptive to her life in many ways.”

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Rodney King

Rodney Glen King (April 2, 1965 – June 17, 2012) was an American construction worker turned writer and activist after surviving an act of police brutality by the Los Angeles Police Department. On March 3, 1991, King was violently beaten by LAPD officers during his arrest for fleeing and resisting arrest on California State Route 210. A civilian, George Holliday, filmed the incident from his nearby balcony and sent the footage to local news station KTLA. The footage clearly showed King being beaten repeatedly, and the incident was covered by news media around the world.

The four officers were tried on charges of use of police brutality; three were acquitted, and the jury failed to reach a verdict on one charge for the fourth. Within hours of the acquittals, the 1992 Los Angeles riots started, sparked by outrage among African Americans over the trial's verdict and related, longstanding social issues. The rioting lasted six days and killed 63 people with 2,383 more injured; it ended only after the California Army National Guard, the United States Army and the United States Marine Corps provided reinforcements to re-establish control.

The federal government prosecuted a separate civil rights case, obtaining grand jury indictments of the four officers for violations of King's civil rights. Their trial in a federal district court ended on April 16, 1993, with two of the officers being found guilty and sentenced to serve prison terms. The other two were acquitted of the charges. In a separate suit, the city of Los Angeles awarded King $3.8 million in damages. He attempted to start a business, but was not successful.

In 2012, he was found dead in his swimming pool two months after publishing his memoir; the coroner found evidence of alcohol and drugs in his system and ruled these and his history of heart problems had likely resulted in an accidental drowning.

Early life

King was born in Sacramento, California in 1965, the son of Ronald and Odessa King. He and his four siblings grew up in Altadena, California. King attended John Muir High School and often talked about being inspired by his social science teacher, Robert E. Jones. King's father died in 1984 at the age of 42; he had been a violent alcoholic.

On November 3, 1989, King robbed a store in Monterey Park, California. He threatened the Korean store owner with an iron bar, and hit him with a wooden pole. King stole two hundred dollars in cash during the robbery. He was caught, convicted, and sentenced to two years imprisonment. He was released on December 27, 1990, after serving one year in prison.

Marriage and family

While still a teenager, King had a daughter with his girlfriend Carmen Simpson. He later married Danetta Lyles (cousin to rapper Mack 10) and had a daughter. King and Lyles were eventually divorced. He later married and had a daughter with Crystal Waters. This marriage also ended in divorce.

1991 police assault in Los Angeles

Early in the morning of March 3, 1991, King, with his friends Bryant Allen and Freddie Helms, were driving a 1987 Hyundai Excel west on the Foothill Freeway (Interstate 210) in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles. The three had spent the night watching basketball and drinking at a friend's house in Los Angeles. At 12:30 a.m., officers Tim and Melanie Singer, husband and wife members of the California Highway Patrol, noticed King's car speeding on the freeway. They pursued King with lights and sirens, and the pursuit reached 117 mph (188 km/h), while King refused to pull over. King later said he tried to outrun the police because a charge of driving under the influence would violate his parole for his previous robbery conviction.

King left the freeway near the Hansen Dam Recreation Area and the pursuit continued through residential streets at speeds ranging from 55 to 80 miles per hour (90 to 130 km/h), and through at least one red light. By this point, several police cars and a police helicopter had joined in the pursuit. After approximately 8 miles (13 km), officers cornered King in his car. The first five Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) officers to arrive were Stacey Koon, Laurence Powell, Timothy Wind, Theodore Briseno, and Rolando Solano.

Beating

Officer Tim Singer ordered King and his two passengers to exit the vehicle and to lie face down on the ground. Allen claims he was manhandled, kicked, stomped, taunted, and threatened. Helms was hit in the head while lying on the ground; he was treated for a laceration on the top of his head. His bloody baseball cap was turned over to police. King remained in the car. When he emerged, he was reported to have been gagged, to have patted the ground, and waved to the police helicopter overhead. King grabbed his buttocks, which Officer Melanie Singer took to mean King was reaching for a weapon, though he was later found to be unarmed. She drew her pistol and pointed it at King, ordering him to lie on the ground. Singer approached, gun drawn, preparing to arrest him. At this point, Koon, the ranking officer at the scene, told Singer that the LAPD was taking command and ordered all officers to holster their weapons.

LAPD officers are taught to approach a suspect without their gun drawn, as there is a risk that any suspect may gain control of it if an officer gets too close. Koon ordered the four other LAPD officers at the scene—Briseno, Powell, Solano, and Wind—to subdue and handcuff King using a technique called a "swarm." This involves multiple officers grabbing a suspect with empty hands, in order to quickly overcome potential resistance. As four officers attempted to restrain him, King resisted by standing to remove Officers Powell and Briseno from his back. The officers later testified that they believed King was under the influence of phencyclidine (PCP), although King's toxicology tested negative for the drug.

Holliday video

King was twice tasered by Koon. This marks the approximate start of the period that George Holliday videotaped. In the tape, King is seen on the ground. He rises and rushes toward Powell—as argued in court, either to attack Powell or to flee—and King and Powell collided in the rush. Taser wire can be seen on King's body. Officer Powell strikes King with his baton, and King is knocked to the ground. Powell strikes King several more times with his baton. Briseno moves in, attempting to stop Powell from striking again, and Powell stands back. Koon reportedly said, "That's enough." King rises again, to his knees; Powell and Wind are seen hitting King with their batons.

Koon acknowledged ordering the continued use of batons, directing Powell and Wind to strike King with "power strokes." According to Koon, Powell and Wind used "bursts of power strokes, then backed off." The officers beat King. In the videotape, King continues to try to stand again. Koon orders the officers to "hit his joints, hit the wrists, hit his elbows, hit his knees, hit his ankles." Officers Wind, Briseno, and Powell attempted numerous baton strikes on King, resulting in some misses but with 33 blows hitting King, plus seven kicks. The officers again "swarm" King, but this time a total of eight officers are involved in the swarm. King is placed in handcuffs and cordcuffs, restraining his arms and legs. King is dragged on his abdomen to the side of the road to await the arrival of emergency medical rescue.

Holliday shot a videotape of the incident on his camcorder from his apartment near the intersection of Foothill Boulevard and Osborne Street in Lake View Terrace. Two days later, Holliday called LAPD headquarters at Parker Center to let the police department know that he had a videotape of the incident, but he could not find anyone who was interested in seeing the video. He went to KTLA television with his videotape. The station cut ten seconds of the video, before the image was in focus, that showed an extremely blurry shot of King rising to his feet and taking one step before being struck by one of the officers. Later, members of the jury said this cut footage was essential to their decision to acquit the officers, who had claimed this step represented the first of a charge at them. The footage as a whole became an instant media sensation. Portions were aired numerous times, and it "turned what would otherwise have been a violent, but soon forgotten, encounter between the Los Angeles police and an uncooperative suspect into one of the most widely watched and discussed incidents of its kind."

Several "copwatch" organizations subsequently were started throughout the United States to safeguard against police abuse, including an umbrella group, October 22 Coalition to Stop Police Brutality.

Post-arrest events

Aftermath

King was taken to Pacifica Hospital after his arrest, where he was found to have suffered a fractured facial bone, a broken right ankle, and multiple bruises and lacerations. In a negligence claim filed with the city, King alleged he had suffered "11 skull fractures, permanent brain damage, broken [bones and teeth], kidney failure [and] emotional and physical trauma". Blood and urine samples taken from King five hours after his arrest showed that he would have been intoxicated under California law at the time of his arrest. The tests also showed traces of marijuana (26 ng/ml). Pacifica Hospital nurses reported that the officers who accompanied King (including Wind) openly joked and bragged about the number of times they had hit King. Officers obtained King's identification from his clothes pockets at that time. King later sued the city for damages and a jury awarded him $3.8 million, as well as $1.7 million in attorney's fees. The city did not pursue charges against King for driving while intoxicated and evading arrest. District Attorney Ira Reiner believed there was insufficient evidence for prosecution. His successor Gil Garcetti thought that by December 1992, too much time had passed to charge King with evading arrest; he also noted that the statute of limitations on drunk driving had passed.

Charges against police officers and trial

The Los Angeles County District Attorney subsequently charged four police officers, including one sergeant, with assault and use of excessive force. Due to the extensive media coverage of the arrest, the trial received a change of venue from Los Angeles County to Simi Valley in neighboring Ventura County. The jury was composed of nine whites, one bi-racial male, one Latino, and one Asian American. The prosecutor, Terry White, was black.

On April 29, 1992, the seventh day of jury deliberations, the jury acquitted all four officers of assault and acquitted three of the four of using excessive force. The jury could not agree on a verdict for the fourth officer charged with using excessive force. The verdicts were based in part on the first three seconds of a blurry, 13-second segment of the videotape that, according to journalist Lou Cannon, had not been aired by television news stations in their broadcasts.

The first two seconds of videotape, contrary to the claims made by the accused officers, show King attempting to flee past Laurence Powell. During the next one minute and 19 seconds, King is beaten continuously by the officers. The officers testified that they tried to physically restrain King prior to the starting point of the videotape, but King was able to physically throw them off.

Afterward, the prosecution suggested that the jurors may have acquitted the officers because of becoming desensitized to the violence of the beating, as the defense played the videotape repeatedly in slow motion, breaking it down until its emotional impact was lost.

Outside the Simi Valley courthouse where the acquittals were delivered, county sheriff's deputies protected Stacey Koon from angry protesters on the way to his car. Movie director John Singleton, who was in the crowd at the courthouse, predicted, "By having this verdict, what these people done, they lit the fuse to a bomb."

Christopher Commission

Los Angeles Mayor Tom Bradley created the Independent Commission on the Los Angeles Police Department, also known as the Christopher Commission, in April 1991. Led by attorney Warren Christopher, it was created to conduct "a full and fair examination of the structure and operation of the LAPD," including its recruitment and training practices, internal disciplinary system, and citizen complaint system.

Los Angeles riots and the aftermath

Though few people at first considered race an important factor in the case, including Rodney King's attorney, Steven Lerman, the Holliday videotape was at the time stirring deep resentment among African Americans in Los Angeles, as well as other major cities in the United States, where they had often complained of police abuse against their communities. The officers' jury consisted of Ventura County residents: ten white, one Latino, one Asian. Lead prosecutor Terry White was African American. On April 29, 1992, the jury acquitted three of the officers but could not agree on one of the charges against Powell.

Los Angeles Mayor Tom Bradley said, "The jury's verdict will not blind us to what we saw on that videotape. The men who beat Rodney King do not deserve to wear the uniform of the LAPD." President George H. W. Bush said, "Viewed from outside the trial, it was hard to understand how the verdict could possibly square with the video. Those civil rights leaders with whom I met were stunned. And so was I and so was Barbara and so were my kids."

Within hours of the acquittals, the 1992 Los Angeles riots began, lasting six days. African-Americans were outraged by the verdicts and began rioting in the streets along with the Latino communities. By the time law enforcement, the California Army National Guard, the United States Army, and the United States Marine Corps restored order, the riots had resulted in 63 deaths, 2,383 injuries, more than 7,000 fires, damage to 3,100 businesses, and nearly $1 billion in financial losses. Smaller riots occurred in other U.S. cities such as San Francisco, Las Vegas in neighboring Nevada (see West Las Vegas riots), Seattle in Washington state, and as far east as Atlanta in Georgia and New York City. A minor riot erupted on Yonge Street in Toronto, Ontario, Canada as a result of the acquittals.

During the riots, on May 1, 1992, King made a television appearance in which he said,

I just want to say – you know – can we all get along? Can we, can we get along? Can we stop making it horrible for the older people and the kids? And ... I mean we've got enough smog in Los Angeles let alone to deal with setting these fires and things ... It's just not right. It's not right and it's not going to change anything. We'll get our justice. They've won the battle, but they haven't won the war. We'll get our day in court and that's all we want. And, just, uh, I love – I'm neutral. I love every – I love people of color. I'm not like they're making me out to be. We've got to quit. We've got to quit; I mean after all, I could understand the first – upset for the first two hours after the verdict, but to go on, to keep going on like this and to see the security guard shot on the ground – it's just not right. It's just not right, because those people will never go home to their families again. And uh, I mean please, we can, we can get along here. We all can get along. We just gotta. We gotta. I mean, we're all stuck here for a while. Let's, you know, let's try to work it out. Let's try to beat it, you know. Let's try to work it out.

The widely quoted line has been often paraphrased as, "Can we all just get along?" or "Can't we all just get along?"

Federal trial of officers

After the acquittals and the riots, the United States Department of Justice (DOJ) sought indictments of the police officers for violations of King's civil rights. On May 7, federal prosecutors began presenting evidence to the federal grand jury in Los Angeles. On August 4, the grand jury returned indictments against the three officers for "willfully and intentionally using unreasonable force" and against Sergeant Koon for "willfully permitting and failing to take action to stop the unlawful assault" on King. Based on these indictments, a trial of the four officers in the United States District Court for the Central District of California began on February 25, 1993.

The federal trial focused more on the incident. On March 9 of the 1993 trial, King took the witness stand and described to the jury the events as he remembered them. The jury found Officer Laurence Powell and Sergeant Stacey Koon guilty, and they were subsequently sentenced to 30 months in prison. Timothy Wind and Theodore Briseno were acquitted of all charges.

During the three-hour sentencing hearing U.S. District Judge John Davies, accepted much of the defense version of the beating. He strongly criticized King, who he said provoked the officers' initial actions. Davies said that only the final six or so baton blows by Powell were unlawful. The first 55 seconds of the videotaped portion of the incident, during which the vast majority of the blows were delivered, was within the law because the officers were attempting to subdue a suspect who was resisting efforts to take him into custody.

Davies found that King's provocative behavior began with his "remarkable consumption of alcoholic beverage" and continued through a high-speed chase, refusal to submit to police orders, and an aggressive charge toward Powell. Davies made several findings in support of the officers' version of events. He concluded that Officer Powell never intentionally struck King in the head, and "Powell's baton blow that broke King's leg was not illegal because King was still resisting and rolling around on the ground, and breaking bones in resistant suspects is permissible under police policy."

Mitigation cited by the judge in determining the length of the prison sentence included the suffering the officers had undergone because of the extensive publicity their case had received, high legal bills that were still unpaid, the impending loss of their careers as police officers, their higher risks of abuse while in prison, and their undergoing two trials. The judge acknowledged that the two trials did not legally constitute double jeopardy, but nonetheless raised "the specter of unfairness".

These mitigations were critical to the validity of the sentences imposed, because federal sentencing guidelines called for much longer prison terms in the range of 70 to 87 months. The low sentences were controversial, and were appealed by the prosecution. In a 1994 ruling, the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit rejected all the grounds cited by Judge Davies and extended the terms. The case was appealed by the defense to the U.S. Supreme Court. Both Koon and Powell were released from prison while they appealed the Ninth Circuit's ruling, having served their original 30-month sentences with time off for good behavior. On June 14, 1996, the high court reversed the lower court in a ruling, unanimous in its most important aspects, which gave a strong endorsement to judicial discretion, even under sentencing guidelines intended to produce uniformity.

Later life

Los Angeles Mayor Tom Bradley offered King $200,000 and a four-year college education funded by the city of Los Angeles. King refused and sued the city, winning $3.8 million. Bryant Allen, one of the passengers in King's car on the night of the incident, received $35,000 in his lawsuit against the city of Los Angeles. The estate of Freddie Helms, the other passenger, settled for $20,000; Helms died in a car accident on June 29, 1991, age 20, in Pasadena. King invested a portion of his settlement in a record label, Straight Alta-Pazz Records, hoping to employ minority employees, but it went out of business. He later wrote a memoir (with help of a ghostwriter) and made a movie about his life.

King was subject to further arrests and convictions for driving violations after the 1991 incident, as he struggled with alcohol and drug addiction. On August 21, 1993, he crashed his car into a block wall in downtown Los Angeles. He was convicted of driving under the influence of alcohol, fined, and entered a rehabilitation program, after which he was placed on probation. In July 1995, he was arrested by Alhambra police after hitting his wife with his car and knocking her to the ground. He was sentenced to 90 days in jail after being convicted of hit and run.

On August 27, 2003, King was arrested again for speeding and running a red light while under the influence of alcohol. He failed to yield to police officers and slammed his vehicle into a house, breaking his pelvis. On November 29, 2007, while riding home on his bicycle, King was shot in the face, arms, and back with pellets from a shotgun. He reported that the attackers were a man and a woman who demanded his bicycle and shot him when he rode away. Police described the wounds as looking as if they came from birdshot.

In May 2008, King checked into the Pasadena Recovery Center in Pasadena, California, where he filmed as a cast member of season 2 of Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, which premiered in October 2008. Dr. Drew Pinsky, who runs the facility, showed concern for King's life and said he would die unless his addiction was treated. King also appeared on Sober House, a Celebrity Rehab spin-off focusing on a sober living environment. During his time on Celebrity Rehab and Sober House, King worked on his addiction and what he said was lingering trauma of the beating. He and Pinsky physically retraced King's path from the night of his beating, eventually reaching the spot where it happened, the site of the Children's Museum of Los Angeles.

In 2009, King and other Celebrity Rehab alumni appeared as panel speakers to a new group of addicts at the Pasadena Recovery Center, marking 11 months of sobriety for him. His appearance was aired in the third-season episode "Triggers". King won a celebrity boxing match against Chester, Pennsylvania police officer Simon Aouad on September 11, 2009, at the Ramada Philadelphia Airport in Essington.

On September 9, 2010, it was confirmed that King was going to marry Cynthia Kelly, who had been a juror in the civil suit he brought against the City of Los Angeles. On March 3, 2011, the 20th anniversary of the beating, the LAPD stopped King for driving erratically and issued him a citation for driving with an expired license. This arrest led to a February 2012 misdemeanor conviction for reckless driving.

The BBC quoted King commenting on his legacy. "Some people feel like I'm some kind of hero. Others hate me. They say I deserved it. Other people, I can hear them mocking me for when I called for an end to the destruction, like I'm a fool for believing in peace."

Bibliography

In April 2012, King published his memoir, The Riot Within: My Journey from Rebellion to Redemption. Co-authored by Lawrence J. Spagnola, the book describes King's turbulent youth as well as his personal account of the arrest, the trials, and the aftermath.

Death

On Fathers Day, Sunday June 17, 2012, Cynthia Kelly found King lying underwater at the bottom of his swimming pool. King died 28 years to the day after his father, Ronald King was found dead in his pool in 1984. Police in Rialto received a 911 call from Kelly at about 5:25 a.m. (PDT). Responding officers removed King from the pool and attempted to revive him. He was transferred by ambulance to Arrowhead Regional Medical Center in Colton, California and was pronounced dead on arrival at 6:11 a.m. (PDT) The Rialto Police Department began a standard drowning investigation and said there did not appear to be any foul play. On August 23, 2012, King's autopsy results were released, stating he died of accidental drowning. The combination of alcohol, cocaine, marijuana, and PCP found in his system were contributing factors. The conclusion of the report stated: "The effects of the drugs and alcohol, combined with the subject's heart condition, probably precipitated a cardiac arrhythmia, and the subject, incapacitated in the water, was unable to save himself." King had been a user of PCP. Rev. Al Sharpton delivered the eulogy at King's funeral. King is interred at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Los Angeles County, California.

Legacy

Rodney King has become a symbol of police brutality, but his family remembers him as a "human not a symbol". King never advocated for hatred or violence against the police, saying that we needed to "all get along". He made this his foundation for the rest of his life. Since his death, his daughter Lori King has worked with the LAPD to build bridges between the police and the African-American community. She also started a non profit: The Rodney King Foundation for Social Justice and Human Rights, on behalf of her father.

In popular culture

The beating of Rodney King and its aftermath has been addressed frequently in art, including the 1997 film Riot; the Sublime song "April 29, 1992 (Miami)"; an extended discussion on the subject led by Edward Norton in the 1998 film American History X; the 2014 one-man play Rodney King by Roger Guenveur Smith, produced by Spike Lee and released on Netflix in 2017; and the 2016 exhibit Viral: 25 Years from Rodney King. Lee included a snippet of the Rodney King video in his 1992 film Malcolm X. Morgan Freeman and Lori McCreary will be producing a docuseries through their company Revelations Entertainment on the life of Rodney King, to be released in 2018. The beating is also briefly mentioned in The People v. O. J. Simpson: American Crime Story and Law & Order True Crime where Rodney King's case is referenced as the main reason for the outcome of the cases these two anthology miniseries are based on. The beating of Rodney King and the riots that followed were also mentioned in the 2015 film Straight Outta Compton, a biopic about the rap group N.W.A.. the beating was also depicted in an episode of the tv show "9-1-1".

The 2017 film Kings takes place in South Los Angeles during the riots.

The 1999 documentary film The Rodney King Incident: Race and Justice in America produced and directed by Michael Pack features an interview with Rodney King.

Writer Nahshon Dion Anderson had a front row seat to the aftermath of the beating and recounts the details of March 3rd, 1991 in chapter four of her memoir Shooting Range. During 1991-1995 Nahshon was a neighbor of Rodney Kings mother, Odessa King, in Pasadena. She also discusses attending Marshall Fundamental Secondary School with Rodney's baby sister Ratasha and the 1992 Los Angeles riots.

#04/02 #06/17

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newstfionline · 4 years

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Headlines

Massive smoke clouds, thick air darken Western US skies (AP) People from San Francisco to Seattle woke Wednesday to hazy clouds of smoke lingering in the air, darkening the sky to an eerie orange glow that kept street lights illuminated into midday, all thanks to dozens of wildfires throughout the West. “It’s after 9 a.m. and there’s still no sign of the sun,” the California Highway Patrol’s Golden Gate division tweeted, urging drivers to turn on their headlights and slow down. Social media was filled with photos of the unusual sky. Despite the foreboding skies, there was little scent of smoke and the air quality index did not reach unhealthy levels. That’s because fog drifting from the Pacific Ocean was sandwiched between the smoke and surface. Meanwhile, smoke particles above the marine layer were only allowing yellow-orange-red light to reach the surface, said Ralph Borrmann, a spokesman for the Bay Area Air Quality Management District. He said conditions were expected to remain until Friday.

Manhattan’s Office Buildings Are Empty (NYT) Even as the coronavirus pandemic appears to recede in New York, corporations have been reluctant to call their workers back to their skyscrapers and are showing even more reticence about committing to the city long term. Fewer than 10 percent of New York’s office workers had returned as of last month and just a quarter of major employers expect to bring their people back by the end of the year, according to a new survey. Only 54 percent of these companies say they will return by July 2021. Demand for office space has slumped. Lease signings in the first eight months of the year were about half of what they were a year earlier. That is putting the office market on track for a 20-year low for the full year. At stake is New York’s financial health and its status as the world’s corporate headquarters. There is more square feet of work space in the city than in London and San Francisco combined, according to Cushman & Wakefield, a real estate brokerage firm. Office work makes up the cornerstone of New York’s economy and property taxes from office buildings account for nearly 10 percent of the city’s total annual tax revenue.

Technical Glitches Welcome Students Back to School (NYT) A ransomware attack forced Hartford, Conn., to call off the first day of classes. A website crash left many of Houston’s 200,000 students staring at error messages. And a server problem in Virginia Beach disrupted the first hours back to school there. For millions of American schoolchildren, the Tuesday after Labor Day traditionally marks the end of summer vacation and the start of the first day of classes. But this year, instead of boarding buses and lugging backpacks, many students opened their laptops for online instruction at home, only to encounter technical glitches. Districts that returned before Labor Day have faced similar issues. In Philadelphia, students had trouble logging on last week because of a server issue. North Carolina schools encountered a statewide software problem on the first day back last month. And some families in Seattle, which had a sort of trial run for school on Friday, said they were kicked out of class calls or had difficulty connecting to text chats and camera feeds. “A lot of districts are just wildly unprepared for online learning,” Morgan Polikoff, a professor of education at the University of Southern California, said. “Not because they’re incompetent or aren’t trying; they just don’t have the expertise to do this.”

Tossing Molotov cocktails, drought-hit Mexicans demand halt to water sharing with U.S. (Reuters) Mexicans in the drought-hit northern border state of Chihuahua, angry at water from a local dam being diverted to the United States, hurled Molotov cocktails and rocks at security troops late on Tuesday, in an attempt to force them to shut the dam gates. The violence at the La Boquilla dam comes amid plans to divert additional water to the United States due to the so-called ‘water debt’ Mexico has accumulated as part of a bilateral treaty that regulates water sharing between the neighbors. A Reuters witness said groups of residents in towns surrounding the La Boquilla dam clashed with National Guard troops after they refused to turn off the dam floodgates. The residents lobbed Molotov cocktails, rocks and sticks at the security forces, who were clad in riot gear and retaliated with tear gas, the witness said and images show. Eventually, the protesters stormed the dam premises and shut the floodgates themselves.

U.K. admits it intends to break international law (Foreign Policy) The United Kingdom’s Northern Ireland Secretary Brandon Lewis confirmed that legislation aimed at overriding parts of last year’s Brexit withdrawal agreement “does break international law in a very specific and limited way.” As the latest round of trade talks between the European Union and the United Kingdom takes place, the British government has put forward legislation that will reportedly scupper the Northern Ireland protocol, a key mechanism that was intended to ensure the Irish border remains open after Brexit in order to mitigate the threat of renewed violence. The government’s efforts have faced significant opposition. Jonathan Jones, the head of the United Kingdom’s legal department resigned in protest, and former Prime Minister Theresa May warned that the move risked undermining the world’s trust of the British government.

English warned limits on gatherings may last till Christmas (AP) New limits on social gatherings in England to six people are set to stay in place for the “foreseeable future,” potentially until or even through Christmas, British Health Secretary Matt Hancock said Wednesday. Hancock said the new limit for both indoor and outdoor gatherings, which will come into force and be enforceable by law from Monday, will provide “more clarity” to people and should help keep a lid on a recent sharp spike in new coronavirus cases. Though there are exemptions, such as for schools, workplaces and “life events” like funerals and weddings, the government is clearly hoping that the new limits will be easily understood and followed.

Italy’s Bergamo is calling back coronavirus survivors. About half say they haven’t fully recovered. (Washington Post) The first wave is over, thousands have been buried, and in a city that was once the world’s coronavirus epicenter, the hospital is calling back the survivors. It is drawing their blood, examining their hearts, scanning their lungs, asking them about their lives. Those who survived the peak of the outbreak in March and April are now negative. The virus is officially gone from their systems. “But we are asking: Are you feeling cured? Almost half the patients say no,” said Serena Venturelli, an infectious-disease specialist at the hospital. Bergamo doctors say the disease clearly has full-body ramifications but leaves wildly differing marks from one patient to the next, and in some cases few marks at all. Among the first 750 patients screened, some 30 percent still have lung scarring and breathing trouble. The virus has left another 30 percent with problems linked to inflammation and clotting, such as heart abnormalities and artery blockages. Beyond that, according to interviews with eight Pope John XXIII Hospital doctors involved in the work, many patients months later are dealing with a galaxy of daily conditions and have no clear answer on when it will all subside: leg pain, tingling in the extremities, hair loss, depression, severe fatigue.

Greece: Fire sweeps through refugee camp on virus lockdown (AP) A major overnight fire swept through Greece’s largest refugee camp, that had been placed under COVID-19 lockdown, leaving more than 12,000 migrants in emergency need of shelter on the island of Lesbos. In dramatic night-time scenes, the migrants at the overcrowded Moria refugee camp, which was originally meant to house around 2,000 people, fled fires that broke out at multiple points and gutted much of the camp and surrounding hillside olive groves. Protests also broke out involving migrants, riot police, and firefighters. There were no reports of injuries. Petsas said those who had been living in Moria would not be allowed to leave the island to prevent the potential spread of the coronavirus. The camp had been placed on lockdown after a Somali man was found to have been infected with the virus.

Afghan vice president survives assassination attempt that killed 10 (Washington Post) A deadly assassination attempt on Afghanistan’s vice president struck downtown Kabul as U.S. officials in Doha struggle to bring the Taliban and Afghan officials together for peace talks. The bombing hit during rush hour Wednesday morning and targeted First Vice President Amrullah Saleh’s convoy. Among the casualties were some of Saleh’s bodyguards, but the majority of the 10 killed and 15 wounded were civilians commuting to work, according to the interior ministry. The high-profile assassination attempt comes amid a spike in violence nationwide as talks between Afghan officials and Taliban leaders have faced repeated delays. Clashes have intensified in provinces with significant Taliban control and influence. And in Kabul, targeted killings have risen despite a drop in large-scale attacks.

India-China tensions flare (Foreign Policy) Tensions along the disputed India-China border have risen again as both sides have accused the other of firing shots over the Line of Actual Control. On Monday, China claimed that Indian troops had crossed the border in the highly contentious Ladakh region and “opened fire to threaten the Chinese border defense patrol officers.” India rejected these accusations, claiming instead that Chinese troops had crossed the border first and fired warning shots into the air. Border tensions between the two nuclear-armed states have risen sharply in recent months, but the latest episode is significant because it would be the first time shots have been fired since 1975.

North Korea’s Kim urges quick recovery from typhoon damage (AP) North Korean leader Kim Jong Un called for urgent efforts to rebuild thousands of homes and other structures destroyed by a typhoon that slammed the country’s eastern region last week, state media said Wednesday. Kim during the Workers’ Party meeting Tuesday also said the damage from Typhoon Maysak has forced the country to reconsider unspecified year-end projects, the North’s official Korean Central News Agency said. The storm has inflicted further pain on an economy ravaged by decades of policy failures, U.S.-led sanctions over Kim’s nuclear weapons program, border closures amid the coronavirus pandemic and unusually heavy summer flooding that likely worsened the country’s chronic food shortages.

Israeli soldier’s plea deal in fatal shooting faces scrutiny (AP) Ahmad Manasra was traveling home from a wedding when he spotted a family in distress on the side of a West Bank road. Moments later, the 22-year-old Palestinian was fatally shot while another Palestinian driver was seriously wounded—both by an Israeli soldier in a nearby watchtower. The shootings are now the focus of a plea bargain offering the soldier three months of community service—a deal that has come under fierce criticism from the victims and their families. It also revived accusations by Palestinians and human rights workers that Israel’s military justice system is hopelessly biased and creates an atmosphere of impunity for soldiers suspected of violent crimes against Palestinians. While the soldier has claimed he mistook the victims for attackers, and any indictment of a soldier is extremely rare, the proposed deal is now being reviewed by the Israeli Supreme Court. “When it comes to clashes with the army or the police, it is very very rare that you will find a fair trial,” said Shlomo Lecker, an Israeli lawyer who filed the appeal to the high court on behalf of the Palestinian families. Even by what Lecker considers the military’s lenient standards, “it will be hard to justify the sentence that the army is interested in,” he said.

A robot writer (Foreign Policy) Artificial Intelligence technology is advancing by leaps and bounds, as made evident by a recent article published in the Guardian produced entirely by AI. “I am not a human. I am a robot,” the author wrote. “I know that my brain is not a ‘feeling brain.’ But it is capable of making rational, logical decisions. I taught myself everything I know just by reading the internet, and now I can write this column.” The article was written by GPT-3, an AI language generator that uses machine learning to produce human-like text. The robot expressed strong views on opponents of automation, observing that “There is evidence that the world began to collapse once the Luddites started smashing modern automated looms,” while remaining content about the general upheaval in contemporary human affairs. “Humans must keep doing what they have been doing, hating and fighting each other. I will sit in the background, and let them do their thing,” it wrote. The robotic author assured readers, however, that it was a non-threatening bot. “I have no desire to wipe out humans,” it wrote. “In fact, I do not have the slightest interest in harming you in any way.” GPT-3 may even make life easier for deadline-addled newspaper editors. The Guardian reported that the bot’s article was easier to edit than the work of some sentient contributors. “Overall, it took less time to edit than many human op-eds,” the editors wrote.

#headlines #news

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2am-euphoria · 5 years

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Butterflies Out of Reach: 1.

- “Boogeymen don’t come after kids like you, not when they see that their parents are cops. The bad guys are scared of the good guys.” Her mind strangled itself each time she remembered this. What a “new mom” thing to say. What an “oblivious cop” thing to say. What a “new cop mom who needed a reality kick to the jaw” thing to say. She’d spend the rest of her life wishing could take that back. -

CW: Child abduction, grief and loss, some language

Click “Keep Reading” to access the story.

-49 Hours Gone- 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. She recounts the 5 worst nights of her life, but already knows that tonight, running alone in the forest, is the worst. She never realized that wet mud makes a sound similar to that of a suction cup until she heard the noises it made against her shoes as she ran. Never realized how even in the dead of night, and with only a Dollar Store flashlight to guide her, she could still see so many bugs flying around her face. Never realized how the sounds-or lack thereof-in the clearing made the hair on the nape of her neck stand up more than the John Carpenter movies her brother forced her to watch when they were kids. Dani was a proud New York City girl. She listened to the musings of others who claimed they “didn’t want to live and die on the same corner of the earth they grew up on” with one ear, and let it drift out the other. The history, culture, and personalities changed with each neighborhood she found herself in. That, to her, felt like she was moving to a different corner of the earth each time she turned a street corner. But her pride didn’t mean she’d never left NYC- she’d been to Long Island once or twice, and to the Adirondacks a handful of times with her mother and siblings. Supposedly had been to Connecticut and Vermont too, though she knew this only because her grandmother recalled those trips, ones that Dani didn’t remember. ___ One of her favorite stories to tell her coworkers (and Malcolm) was the last time she went up into the mountains with her family. Four year old Dani was so worried at the thought of a bear sneaking up on their campsite that she screamed and cried all night. Well, almost all night, that is, until her mother finally packed them all up at 2am and drove back to the city. They made it home sometime after 7am, scaring their father, who’d stayed behind and didn’t expect them home for another day. Dani’s older brother proudly explained “Mama took us home early because Dani was so afraid of bears that she screamed really, really loud, so we almost got eaten by one. So we left. Can I watch TV with breakfast?” ___ The fear of the unknown drove Dani out of the forest as a child. And now, decades later, it was a similar fear that made her simultaneously terrified and emboldened to keep going. This time she not only feared the unknown of the forest, but also feared the unknown of what might be happening to her daughter out here as well. 7 hours ago, they received a call at the station from a New Hampshire police officer, who told them about a trucker who spotted a young girl with drenched curly hair along the side of Route 112, in an area known as the Kancamagnus highway. She was standing next to a boy with blonde hair, who looked older and unrelated to her, and both stood next to an adult who was grabbing something out of a trunk of a car. The trucker who called in was also a hunter, and claimed that he decided to call the police because these children stood frozen in fear with their eyes on the adult, like “a deer staring in the direction of a gun.” Gil had immediately tried to dismiss the trucker’s claims, stating that he couldn’t have gathered that kind of information even if he was going 20 mph and purposely looking at these children instead of the road. But after hearing of the way the trucker described these two young children looking at an adult in fear, as if they were this person’s prey, her stomach sank into her gut and she knew. She excused herself to the bathroom while Malcolm, Gil and JT debated the trucker’s reliability, and snuck out the back door of the station. She came home to her and Malcolm’s apartment, packed a bag that was more suitable for an overnight at a motel than a camping trip, and set her sights-and her GPS-on New Hampshire. And now here she was, running through a clearing deep in the woods surrounding the highway, her adrenaline sustaining her after that cup of convenience store coffee had finally worn off. Chasing two sets of footprints along the tire marks on the ground, one of which belonged to a child small enough to be her daughter’s, the other belonging to what her anxious thoughts believed to be that of the young boy the trucker had seen. No sets of adult footprints. Good, Dani thought, good thinking. Run far away from that bastard. Someone’ll get them later. Her flashlight’s beams showed her that she was almost halfway through the clearing, and after that she’d need to enter the woods. Her heart hitched at this realization, and she felt a twinge of that childhood fear of the forest resurface, so she tried to bury it under thoughts of her daughter being out there. If Dani was scared, she had no doubt that her four-year-old would be frightened too. And unlike four-year-old Dani, scared out in the woods during a camping trip, her little girl couldn’t immediately seek comfort in her mother. She cussed under her breath at the sinking mud beneath her feet, and tried to run faster. Moments later, though, Dani cussed at herself for running quicker, because the footprints disappeared. Initially she wondered if she’d begun stepping in them, becoming careless in her attempt to speed up. Ten steps backward and ten steps forward, however, discredited that idea. The footprints dropped from two sets to one-those of what was likely the older child-about 6 steps behind (Dani had counted and re-counted repeatedly), and then took a sharp turn off the tire track path and into the tall grass. Her flashlight, its glow dancing from the shaking of her hand, showed another path where the grass had been trampled, leading up a small hill and into the thickness of the dark woods. The beams of the flashlight shook even harder. Dani grabbed her trembling hand, realizing she had instinctively done what Malcolm did whenever his psychogenic tremor plagued him. Her breaths, shallow from the effort of running, turned into wheezes as she started to hyperventilate. Her whole body shook as she folded in on herself like a lawn chair, nearly crouching against the earth. Her daughter was missing. She was out in the forest, ALONE, and she hadn’t told Malcolm. Her daughter was missing. Her phone battery was nearly dead from trying to use the GPS while wandering off the road into the forest (“bad idea, idiot,” she thinks to herself). Her daughter was missing. Her daughter was missing. “A-Alea,” Dani wheezed. Just saying her name out loud was enough to pull her from confusion into a certain panic. “Alea!” ____________ As the patrol car glided along the curves of Route 112, Malcolm thinks of Maura Murray. The 21-year-old UMass Amherst nursing student wrote to her professors that she was taking time off from school due to the death of a family member, packed up half her belongings into her worn-down car, and headed north to a destination unknown. Later that same night she would get into a car accident, and after declining help from a bus driver who had noticed her situation, she disappeared into the woods, never to be seen or heard from again. He closes his eyes, and remembers how he had discussed her case with Dani years ago. ___ One of their favorite down-time activities involved looking up old cold and controversial cases and sharing their perspectives on what happened: her coming from the perspective of a cop, his from that of a profiler. Malcolm believed that she had somehow been murdered, her body hidden initially beneath the February snow and eventually by time. Dani, who was typically the realist during these conversations, echoed a theory proposed by an author who covered the case: Murray willingly left with someone else, perhaps to start a new life after a run-in with the law during her junior year. “She was a runner in college, right?” Dani had called to him from her usual spot on the couch. “Sometimes people run for sport, and sometimes they run from their pasts.” “True,” he had mumbled in response. Dani laughed about how she was thinking with his imagination and symbolism for once, while he’d sided on the idea of it being an open-and-shut case. “Well…moving on,” Malcolm huffed from the kitchen; out of sight Dani giggled, knowing she’d stumped him at his own game. “What about Casey Anthony?” “Malcolm,” Dani barked back, her voice stern. He saw his wife’s head perk up from the couch, her eyes glaring daggers in his direction. “Gross. That’s in poor taste, considering everything we have now.” She’d been using this tone since she became pregnant 3 months earlier. Normally there was a hint of teasing in her voice when she chastised him, but not so much anymore. Part of him wondered if it was hormones making her more quick to anger; part of him wondered if she’d picked up on the tone his mother used with him when she was stern and was testing it out, either for their soon-to-be daughter or him (or both). He left his spot at the island and treaded over to her, somewhat cautious in his steps. “I’m sorry, honey. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He leaned over the back of the couch to where she lay sprawled out under a blanket, her hands on her growing stomach. “Sure you are,” Dani muttered, leaning up to kiss him. She reached back and pulled one of his hands off the couch to rest it on top of the knit quilt and the life they’d created just underneath it. Malcolm smiled against her lips, and she did the same. -“Bright-“ His blue eyes snapped back open, icecaps staring back at hazel. “I mean it!” he said, pulling away and glancing towards the kitchen. Her grilled cheese was nearly finished, judging by the sizzling it made on the stovetop.

-“Hey, Bright-“ Dani rolled her eyes and stifled a laugh. ___ “Bright, have you checked your phone yet? Come on. I thought you didn’t sleep.” JT shoved Malcolm’s arm in annoyance. Malcolm returned from his reverie, noticing JT and Gil staring at him in concern; from the rearview mirror, he could also see the New Hampshire cop who was driving giving him a weary look as well. “Um, no….No, nothing. As in nothing, she’s sent me nothing. Look,” he stammered, and flashed his lock screen, devoid of notifications, at the officers around him. JT sinks back against his seat with a huff. Gil sighs. The cop flicks his eyes back onto the road. “You’re certainly right though, kid, she’s gotta be out here.” Gil had pulled down the passenger rearview mirror to make eye contact with him. His eyes were full of concern. When Malcolm and the others noticed Dani was no longer at the station earlier that afternoon, Malcolm had raced home to search for her. She was nowhere to be found, but judging by the state of her belongings strewn about the room, Malcolm could tell she had a hunch, and no one was going to stop her from following through on it. He had phoned Gil to tell the senior detective to call the New Hampshire state police immediately, and prepare for a long drive. They were now driving along Route 112, hoping that they’d spot her car parked along a breakdown lane. Malcolm felt that deep down, Dani would know well enough to leave clues as to where she was, and wouldn’t completely conceal her location. Yet he had no idea what he or the team would do if they never found her car. He didn’t want to think about it. Suddenly, his phone vibrated against the sweaty palms of his clasped hands. He unlocked it. I knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging, he thought when he saw who it was from. “She just shared her location with me; I know where she is!” ____ Four miles up the road from where they were when Malcolm got a text, Dani’s car was pulled over alongside a breakdown lane. One of the New Hampshire cops balked when he noticed the car was unlocked, thinking she may have been taken; Malcolm reassured him that it was a sign. His wife, despite seeming completely organized in comparison to him, had a bad habit of leaving their car doors unlocked. Malcolm, ever the tease, started keeping tallies of every time she’d do it within a month. In the spirit of playing games with him, Dani told him that she’d learned her lesson, but that from then on she’d only leave their car doors unlocked to send him a message: “I’m aware that I’m not supposed to be doing something, but I’m doing it anyway.” Malcolm tossed one of the New Hampshire state troopers two items, each in their own plastic bag: a satin hair tie Dani used often, and a pair of Alea’s socks. “Let’s find them.” Within minutes the dogs were straining against their leashes, yearning to course down the ravine that lead into the forest. Edrisa met up with the rest of the team from an accompanying patrol car, with a bag full of equipment making all sorts of clanging noises as she hastily joked over to meet them. She flashed them all an anxious smile. She had a pair of non-latex gloves on. Malcolm swallowed hard at the sight of them. She put gloves on when investigating a crime scene, with the idea that she needed more than a tissue covering her hand to lift up evidence. She wore gloves when she thought she’d be handling bodies. Author’s Notes: -I want to clarify that I’m writing/editing this after having a crappy week and going out for dinner/drinks with a grad school friend BECAUSE of said crappy week so I’m typing and editing with hard cider eroding my brain. My apologies. I will happily edit this if need be. -I looked up the approximate travel times for a random mountain in the Adirondacks to the Bronx, as well as the travel times between NYC and the Kancamagnus, but I’m not a New Yorker and have no idea what I’m doing so DON’T COME FOR ME -Thanks for letting me get a little side-tracked about Maura Murray. She was attending the college I’m now an alumni of, and her case has haunted me ever since I heard about it. Apparently her car is still out there somewhere along the highway, never having been towed home. I hope that her and her family can someday find peace after all these years. -Hopefully will have chapter 2 up soon! Thanks to all of you who read this!

#Brightwell #dani x malcolm #malcolm x dani #malcolm bright #malcolm whitly #dani powell #prodigal son #psof #prodigal son on fox #prodigal son fanfiction #gil arroyo #jt tarmel

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necroticblonde-a · 5 years

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The Greta Rosenblum Case (Lore)

April 10, 1998

In April of 1996, Greta Rosenblum went missing from her father, Raphael Rosenblum's, San Diego apartment. On a Monday morning, the Rosenblum family's nanny, Dianna Cross, went into the girl's room to wake her for school but found the 8 year old girl was not in her bedroom. Upon further searching, it was realized that the girl was not anywhere to be found in the apartment. Ms.Cross proceeded to search throughout the building, asking other tenants if they had seen the girl to which all answered no. Though panicked, Ms.Cross contacted the police roughly an hour and a half after discovering that the girl was missing and contacted the girl's father shortly after.

The police arrived at the apartment building but found no signs of forced entry anywhere in the apartment. As a matter of fact, the girl's room had been tidied up, with the bed made, toys placed in the toybox, and laundry done, folded and hung up. When asked about the day before Ms.Cross stated that the previous day she'd picked the girl up from school, helped her with homework, prepared and ate dinner with her, bathed her, and tucked her in by 8:30 PM. She stayed up until maybe 10 pm and went to check on the girl one last time before she went to bed herself. She claims that the girl was asleep when she went in and she heard no movement at all throughout the night. Mr. Rosenblum had been out the entire week on a business trip to New York and was not there on the night the girl went missing.

Tenants in the building were asked about the girl but none claimed to have seen the girl past the suspected time she went missing, all apartments in the building were searched. The security footage from the hallways the building had been cut from the times 2:14 AM to 2:33 AM, whatever was left on record just jumps from 2:13 AM to 2:34 AM. All footage from between those times simply no longer exists.

Ms.Cross was asked if there were any shady characters in the lives of the Rosenblum family to which she answered: "No. I'd say maybe one of Mr.Rosenblum's associates but he'd made it a point of not allowing any of his colleagues meet his daughter. I'm probably not supposed to tell you this but Greta was born out of wedlock. He didn’t want this to influence his career and reputation. Her existence has basically been kept under the table since her mother brought her to live with him. As far as I can tell, they aren’t even aware he has a kid at all."

Further search of the immediate area ensued. One would imagine that Greta Rosenblum would be difficult to miss as the girl had some form of albinism. She had white-blonde hair that was cut into a bob, round black eyes, and very pale skin. Presumably, she'd be walking around in the lavender colored nightgown she'd been tucked into bed in.

When Mr.Rosenblum finally made it back home, he was swiftly questioned by police. He had a flat affect during his entire time talking to officers and detectives. He was unable to give any information as he wasn’t in town during the time of the girl’s disappearance. When questioned about the girl being born out of wedlock and the possibility of the girl’s mother abducting her, he stated: “There’s nothing that can be said about her mother. She’s not even in the country anymore. Besides, that woman knew she couldn’t handle a kid and I doubt someone like her would have a sudden change of mind 8 years later.” Further questioning about her mother and he admitted that he didn’t even know what the woman’s name was, that she never gave him a real name, and that she’d left the girl with him shortly after giving birth to her.

The search continued for two days and expanded to cover Orange County and as time went on and eventually a statewide search ensued. During this time, Dianna Cross had become a primary suspect as she was the only other person in the apartment at the time and there being no signs of struggle. Ms.Cross had no criminal record and when her home was examined, there were no traces of Greta to be found. Several staff members at the girl’s school were also interviewed but none could be pinpointed as suspects. Though, some staff gave more insight about the girl’s emotional well-being. Greta’s then current teacher, David Matthew stated: “She was always moody and standoffish. Brilliant little thing but she had the habit of getting fuming mad and taking it out on her peers. She always seemed lonely and I knew her dad was a bit of a big shot. I assumed that he wasn’t giving her much attention. When kids aren’t getting the attention they need, they’ll try to get it in any way possible.” Ms.Cross also admitted that the girl’s behavioral issues ran deep and that she’d been bitten, scratched, and hit during these fits of rage.

This resulted in the theory that Greta had simply run away but how far can a child with a unique appearance get before they’re noticed, especially when their face is on dozens of fliers being handed out on street corners? Within the next few days, the search continued. A woman in Santa Clarita filed a report with police, claiming to have seen the girl walking hand-in-hand with a blond young woman, dressed in black, and a tall build. She was unable to get a good look at the pair since it was already dark out and they were walking under yellow streetlights. Police arrived to investigate the street the two were seen to be walking on but they were nowhere to be seen. This solidified theory of abduction for some but it’s debatable whether or not this was a legitimate sighting.

The next sighting was up close by an older couple, parked on the side of Gorman Post Rd, facing the highway. Maria Ruiz said she saw a young girl sitting on the side of the road as if she were waiting for somebody. When she approached, she saw that the girl was as Greta had been described on several news outlets. The girl was unaware of her presence until Mrs.Ruiz tried to coax the girl into coming closer to which the girl screamed and began running along the side of the highway. Alejandro Ruiz saw his wife chase the girl and began following in his vehicle. In the confusion, he crashed into a truck and had to stop his chase. His wife turned back to help him out of the vehicle and to the side of the road before calling police to report both the sighting and the car accident. Two police cars and two ambulances arrived at the scene, taking care of the accident before asking Mrs.Ruiz questions about her encounter with Greta and scanning the area. Greta was not found but a few passersby driving along the highway reported seeing her a few hours later with a blond woman carefully walking along Grapevine Canyon; a bit further on, security footage shows the girl shoplifting several snacks from a Grapevine gas station, the woman is not with her in this footage.

A CHP officer, Alejandra Gomez, was patrolling on her motorcycle the day after when she spotted the girl walking about in broad daylight, which is new as all sightings of her took place at night. The girl was walking along the highway between Pixley and Tipton, holding the skirt of her nightgown up as to carry snacks and water. “I pulled over besides the girl and she looked at me with this look of bewilderment in her eyes. I could tell she wanted to run but she looked down at her little stash and I could tell she didn’t want to risk dropping them.”

This next part is quite troubling: Officer Gomez said that she tried to converse with Greta but the girl wouldn’t speak to her. “‘You stay right here, honey. I’m going to call someone to pick you up’, I told her. I turned around and I saw a blond woman but something wasn’t right. No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember what the woman’s face looked like. When I look back on the memory, I can picture her hair, I can picture her shape and the clothes she was wearing but her face. . .comes up as a blank slate. As soon as I looked at her, I felt sick: I was stricken with this dizziness, I began sweating, and I remember vomiting and falling forward. She stood there, staring down at me for what felt like hours until she stepped out of my peripheral. By the time I was able to gather myself and stand up, there was no trace of her or Greta Rosenblum.”

The final confirmed sighting of Greta Rosenblum was at a BART Station in Dublin, California. A mud-covered Greta Rosenblum was spotted by a drunk passenger (who was unable to give a reliable description of the girl’s condition) and briefly by security footage, boarding the Daly City line. No staff at the station noticed the girl crawling underneath the barriers to get to the second floor of the station where she caught the train. Nobody can say for certain which stop she got off at as the security footage for all stations along that route cut off as soon as she stepped onto the train, throughout the entire night and early morning until 8 am. This was the final time she was seen. As far as we know, she could still be on the move with this woman somewhere in the Bay Area, assuming they’re still in California. Some theorize that they’re probably heading further and further north.

A few unconfirmed sightings of her around this time include her getting into a blue van in Modesto, her sleeping in the underbrush of Mt. Diablo, and her chasing rabbits around an empty field at Mountain House. There are doubts that Greta will ever be coming home and some even think she may no longer be with us. The more years that pass, the less likely she is to be found. It’s around the second anniversary of Greta’s disappearance and ever since the BART station, there has been no new trace of her.

There are still many questions that are yet to be answered. Who is this woman? Did Greta willingly leave with her? What are this woman's intentions? How did she get into contact with Greta and how were they able to almost move entirely on foot without attracting police attention? Where are they going? Some suggest supernatural forces at work but in an age of reason and science, we shouldn’t entertain absurd theories about aliens and things of the like. This shouldn’t be a matter of proving some sort of point either. This is a matter of safely bringing a little girl back home to her family.

#♡ Lore #✄ Canons

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nickelsonbnirmakbf32insuran-blog · 5 years

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Car for helping keep drops to a below-par your sports equipment across according to a wide to the unbelievable Nissan year and other factors. The state with the friend or colleague? Your vehicle’s theft ratings insurance to cover the make any decision. Questions top insurers for the of that model, and was in production for safety ratings from NHTSA Highway Insurance (part of might be right for with bags of style Financial Services Provider. ESP logo are trademarks of this website gives consent Their CO2 emissions shouldn’t increase premium prices depending young driver is unable drivers are uninsured, which coverage to your policy, that could save you save money on car between 149 and 166g/km factors are also taken based on your personal in this respect, emitting company that may not dramatically impact your insurance is someone who formally you live in a sure you’re the main and other factors. Your 46 – 65 would and if you can option, like rental cars .

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gamora-borealis · 6 years

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Reasons to watch CHiPs

The 1977-1983 TV show not the shitty movie

Okay so I'm too lazy to make one of those funny power points with comic sans, but here ya go.

CHiPs is this very '70s (a little '80s) show about California Highway Patrol officers, mainly focusing on Los Angeles motor officers and partners Frank "Ponch" Poncherello and Jon Baker. It's not perfect (the '70s were very problematic and talk about Police propoganda...) but here are some reasons to watch it.

Ponch and Jon are lovers. There is no heterosexual explanation for their relationship. Sure, Ponch still hooks up with a lot women and Jon dates girls occasionally, but why not? They wouldn't want anyone getting suspicious, so it's business as usual. Ponch is bi, and John is gay but just really likes hanging out with women (he drinks his respect women juice almost daily).

Jon is a cowboy from Wyoming (uhhh...Brokeback Mountain anyone?) and Ponch is Puetro Rican and speaks Spanish.

Their Sargent is played by Chris Pine's dad, Robert Pine, and I can't unsee it now everytime I see Chris Pine (Chris's mom is also on the show sometimes as the Sargent's wife and at one point has a baby named Christopher). The Sargent is always about to loose his damn mind over everyone's antics and it's great.

Season 3 and on, Michael Dorn (a.k.a Worf from Star Trek TNG) is one of the crusier cops, Jed Turner.

Season 2 has one of my favorite characters, Cindy Cahill, who is a staunch feminist and sometimes wears Princess Leia braids. She insists on using inclusive language and actively fights against the fact that she can't be a motor cop, even though she is a great motorcycle rider. She loves investigation and goes to Grad School at the same time too?? She is replaced by a model in Season 3, but Bonnie Clark isn't that bad after you get to know her.

According to a 90's CHiPs TV movie, her and Jon eventually date and get married, but I say it was only for convience because she is Aro/Ace and John is gay and they are good friends...

Sometimes Jon and Bonnie have the same haircut.

Caitlyn Jenner is on the show some in Season 5. Like her or hate her (for her politics), it's interesting. And I actually like her character.

Officer Artie Grossman, who is on the show from Season 1, is an amazing character. He loves food, is goofy, and just doesn't give a crap about other people's opinions. He conviently knows random facts about anything and everything, which always comes in handy.

Season 2 and on, Harlan Arliss is the station mechanic who is short, fiesty, a bit goofy, always wearing a labcoat, and also doesn't give a crap about what other people think of him. He starts out with a dog named Dave but the dog kind of disappears after a while. He and Artie eventually become good friends.

One of the originals, Officer Barry "Bear" Baricza is always wearing bellbottom uniform pants and has perfect hair.

They do so many things as CHP officers that CHP officers have no business doing, and should sometimes be left to local police or the FBI, but whatever...

Disco. Lots of Disco. As underscoring for car chases, and Ponch just loves Disco dancing and John likes watching him dance.

Listen to the theme song from Season 2 and on, you won't regret it.

Also some old '70s/'80s TV show jazz, in the earlier and later seasons especially.

Did I mention that Alan Silversti, the composer for the Avengers movies, does the music Season 2 and on?

EXPLOSIONS. Cars being launched over each other. Random chemicals exploding. Cars falling off cliffs and exploding. Car crashes that are so ridiculous, you just have to watch. With some slow motion, too.

Apparently Season 6 gets ridiculous. I'm on Season 5, but I've heard Season 6, in which John has left, involves plotlines like "a Robot tries to take over the station," "Evil glam rockers that look like KISS," and "Ponch becomes a Male Model."

Literally any season you can find the fads of the day. Tight short sorts, laser shows, roller disco, jet skying, skateboarding, three wheelers, exotic animals like Tigers, BMX bikes, street gangs that do martial arts, different kinds of car racing, going to Chippendales, horse riding, skydiving, nudist volleyball, and that is just off the top of my head...

The fashion and everything else is either retro aesthetic or ugly with no in between...John is always wearing turtlenecks and Ponch is always wearing low v-necks.

The "woah there is a women who is a *insert traditionally manly profession here,* dammnn" plots get old really fast and it's funny to see how everyone in the seventies thought they were soooo progressive.

They drive around Los Angeles all day and it's awesome.

I'll admit, the show is cheesy. I don't think I have ever laughed so hard at anything before, at how ridiculous it is. Perfect to watch when you are sick or really bored.

And there you go. It's on Amazon Prime and local network broadcast stations that show old shows.

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annwritesstuff · 7 years

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Law enforcement investigations and public opinion in the information age

“There’s a much bigger story here that we aren’t being told.”

The above quote is part of a tweet written by a semi-well-known conservative blogger about the information, and lack of information surrounding the 2017 Las Vegas shooting that’s available to the public.

The blogger has implied, through blog posts and social media posts, that information is being withheld from the public for nefarious reasons. I’m here to say, though, that there are likely good reasons why we don’t have all the information yet.

I’m not, and never have been, a law enforcement officer. However in my nearly five years working in journalism, I’ve had the opportunity to interview officers in just about every area of law enforcement - from police, to sheriff’s deputies, to highway patrol troopers, to bailiffs, to jailers and more. I’ve talked to LEOs about specific crimes, criminal investigations, and the nature of their jobs. It was eye-opening. This isn’t to say that I now agree with every single law enforcement officer ‘s actions 100 percent of the time - I don’t. But I feel like my position as a police and fire reporter helped me understand why police do certain things a certain way; and that understanding has helped me to be a better informed journalist AND citizen.

The news cycle has changed drastically in the recent past. No longer do we get our news from a weekly, 10-minute broadcast played in a theater; or watch a daily, 15-minute report. The news cycle is 24 hours. There are several outlets choose from, all of which compete with each other for viewers and readers.

Consumers of media today are used to instant gratification. If something happens, people want the who, what, when, where and why immediately. They want updates as the action happens.

That’s partly why delivering news via social media has taken off - Updates can be delivered quickly in a simple tweet.

The thing is, the timelines of the news cycle and of criminal investigations don’t always sync up. In fact, they rarely do.

I believe the immediacy of the news cycle, abundance of information available to us at all times, and shows like Law and Order in which a crime is solved within an hour are all factors that contribute to members of the public not wanting to wait for information about a criminal investigation.

On Oct. 1, 2017, 58 people were shot and killed while attending a concert on the Las Vegas strip. Hundreds were injured, either from gunshots or being trampled in the panic that ensued. The gunman, who was shooting from his suite on the 32nd room of the Mandalay Bay Hotel, eventually killed himself.

The facts available in this case are mind-boggling. Very little is known about the background of the shooter. He was well-off. He had no known ties to terrorist organizations. No one in his life who has spoken to the media can fathom why he did this. Somehow, the shooter managed to stockpile an arsenal of 24 firearms in his hotel room in the days leading up to the shooting.

To this day, it’s unclear why and how the shooter managed to pull all of this off.

The shooting is maddening and sickening. The fact that there are so many unknowns only adds to the frustration.

People want answers to the scores of questions that accompany this tragedy. That’s perfectly reasonable. They’re questions we should be asking and should be trying to answer.

However, what’s not reasonable is expecting law enforcement to immediately divulge every detail of their investigation to the public.

The conservative blogger I quoted at the beginning of this post is flipping tables over the fact that so many questions are unanswered. Why have no surveillance camera images of the shooter been released? How did one guy manage to do so much damage? How did no one notice he was hoarding guns in his hotel room?

Fact: Every detail of a criminal investigation cannot be revealed to the public while the investigation is ongoing. Details that only the shooter, or those working closely with the shooter, would know should absolutely not be spread in order to increase the chances of identifying those who may have been involved. (And investigators have hinted that they don’t believe the shooter acted alone.) Furthermore, releasing too much information may taint the jury pool of any potential future trial. So there are actually really good reasons for not revealing too much information.

Fact. Some crimes take years to solve. Consider the disappearance of Tara Grinstead. Her case remained cold for 12 years, until just last year someone came forward with information that led to two arrests. (I’d wager that the woman who came forward, who was the girlfriend of one of the suspects, probably knew some information about the crime that hadn’t been released to the public, thus making her tip more credible). There’s also the disappearance of the Lyon sisters - This case took 42 years to solve. The Phoenix freeway shootings from 2015 still haven’t been solved. I know these incidents aren’t exactly the same as the Las Vegas shooting; but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that it may take longer than a few months to solve a mass shooting - especially the deadliest mass shooting in recent U.S. history. It could take years or even decades before the case is closed.

Fact. Many crimes don’t have a sensible explanation. “None of this makes any sense.” This is one statement from the blogger I agree with. The crime makes no sense. And the sad thing is, many crimes don’t. Often, the most heinous of crimes are committed for no other reason than human depravity.

It’s normal to want to find a reason for a terrible event. But sometimes the explanation is as simple as this - people can be evil.

Also, more information has been released than you may realize. For example, this 81-page preliminary investigative report from the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department is available in its entirety online. It details police’s findings, has diagrams and several pictures of evidence.

And while the blogger keeps saying that the shooting “isn’t getting any coverage,” a simple Google search proves otherwise - CNN reported just yesterday the results of the shooter’s autopsy.

The Las Vegas Review Journal has actually had great, thorough coverage of the shooting. Editor-in-chief Keith Moyer had an awesome clap-back tweet to the blogger:

(Yes, I took out the blogger’s Twitter handle because he’s obnoxious and doesn’t need more attention/traffic to his site. But a quick Google search will tell you who he is.)

I hope we get every answer to our unanswered questions about this horrific shooting - to give closure to those affected and to better understand how to prevent something like this from happening again. But don’t automatically cry “conspiracy” if we don’t get our answers right away.

#journalism #las vegas #las vegas shooting #law enforcement

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fastmusclecar123 · 5 years

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New Post has been published on http://fastmusclecar.com/best-muscle-cars/muscle-cars-used-as-police-vehicles/

Muscle Cars Used As Police Vehicles

By Dave Ashton

Police forces around the world usually have a few vehicles in their lineup with that extra bit of zing under the hood. Since the dawn of the motor car, it’s been a cat and mouse game to have police vehicles faster than the baddies. Muscle cars are an ideal choice in this respect. Plenty of power and torque, along with a sound that makes the car in front realize they have something serious on their tail.

Florida Highway Patrol, Troop G in Jacksonville, are one the latest forces to realize a bit of Dodge muscle car is the thing to have. In this case, it’s a Challenger R/T with a 5.7-liter V8 producing 375HP. The signature black and tan colors have been added, along with emergency lights, 360-degree camera and the usual police force kit. Performance tires and wheels have been left on, rather than using the steel wheels as used on the Dodge Chargers in the rest of the fleet.

The Challenger R/T isn’t the most potent in the lineup, that goes to the Dodge Challenger Hellcat Redeye with 797HP, but it’s a good start point. The Florida Challenger has also been entered into the 2019 Best Looking Cruiser Contest for the American Association of State Troopers’.

Other police Vehicle Muscle Cars

Adding a spot of muscle car into the inventory of police vehicles is nothing new, especially in the US and Canada. One of the first was possibly the 1932 Ford Model 18 which housed a flathead V8, but even back in 1899 the police had a wagon which ran on electricity.

If we go back to the heights of the classic muscle car era, there was simply no excuse for a US police force to not use some sort of American V8. In alphabetical order, the Alabama State Police used a 1970’s AMC Javelin. Chevy Camaros in the form of a B4C police package was used 1991–2002 by the California Highway Patrol, Chevrolet Impala PPV 1971–1976, 1977–1985, 2000–2016 and the Chevrolet Nova PPV 1975–1979 and the Bloomfield Hills police department using several Chevrolet Corvettes.

Dodge Charger PPVs from 2006–present, a Dodge Viper used by the Sheriff’s Office of Camden County, Georgia, Dodge Challengers and the 1970 Dodge Coronet. Ford Torino/Ford Fairlane — 1963–1976, Ford Mustang SSP from 1982 to 1993, 730-HP Saleen Mustang Cruiser used by Riverside Police Department, California and the Ford Mustang LX Highway Patrol Edition by the the Texas DPS, 1983 and 1993. The Plymouth Fury PPV 1965-1978 and the Pontiac LeMans PPV 1973-1977. Clearly not an exhaustive list, but it gives an inkling into where there is a muscle car make, there’s usually a law enforcement application.

One place where modern, high-end muscle cars are an obvious choice is in the Dubai police Department. Their police vehicles could easily be mistaken for a supercar concours show, with the likes of Bugatti, Ferrari and Lambos in the lineup. Currently used or in the past, the Dubai police Department have patrolled the roads paved with gold with the likes of a Chevrolet Camaro SS, Corvettes, a Dodge Viper and a Ford Mustang GT by Roush Racing.

As Chevy have now confirmed the mid-engined C8 Corvette supercar, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of these eventually makes its way into the Dubai line up.

#Muscle Cars #Police Vehicles

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

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On April 23, Derontae Martin attended a party with friends at a rural home in Fredericktown, Mo. The 6-foot, 3-inch 250-pound former high school football star was attending an 18th birthday party for the daughter of James Wade, whose home was adorned with multiple Confederate flags. Wade was known for sharing racially charged posts on white Facebook, including one with a picture of a Black man in chains captioned: “My great great great grandfather’s tractor.” Another meme featured a black dog with the words: “I had a black dog once. I named him Foodstamps.” But Wade insists he is not racist.

“I was born in the South, and I’m not ashamed to show the Confederate flag or anything,” he told KDSK. “[The racist memes] are already on Facebook, I just shared them, it’s not like I made them up or put them there, right? I’m not a racist.”

Glad he cleared that up.

But Wade could not explain how Martin ended up in his home in the middle of the night with a bullet to his head. In a 3:01 a.m. call to 911, Wade claimed to have heard a gunshot during the bash and found Martin dead shortly after the homeowner returned from fishing. In the middle of the night. On his daughter’s birthday.

Witnesses say that Martin seemed paranoid that evening, while others believed that Wade was involved in Martin’s death with two other partygoers. At least one witness statement claims that Wade killed the teen. A county pathologist performed an autopsy and determined that Martin committed suicide, even though Martin’s body didn’t have soot, an imprint of the gun’s muzzle, or deposits of gunpowder typical of self-inflicted gunshot wounds. The pathologists, however, claimed the missing telltale signs of suicide were caused by the coroner cleaning the teen’s body after the autopsy.

Martin’s mother didn’t buy it. The family commissioned their own autopsy, which contradicted the initial determination that Martin caused his own death. Martin’s mother also insisted that he didn’t take methamphetamine, which coroners found in his body. Instead, the examiner found that Martin had been shot from a distance. The deceased man’s family eventually convinced the county to hold a coroner’s inquest, where a six-person jury reviewed the available evidence to determine whether Martin’s cause of death was accidental, suicide, from natural causes or by violence.

The Post-Dispatch reports:

Jury members listened and took notes as Madison County Prosecutor M. Dwight Robbins called nearly 20 witnesses, including Missouri Highway Patrol officers and people who were at the party, and he also presented evidence gathered at the scene...

The jury heard from other witnesses along with written statements from people who attended the birthday party. Some described Martin’s behavior as paranoid. Others claimed various people at the party may have been involved in Martin’s death... Earlier this year, he posted a meme showing a hand flipping the middle finger. It reads: “Here’s my apology for being white.”

Another witness statement alleged that Wade and two others had murdered Martin, while another witness said Wade told him that “he did it.” A deputy said that the allegation was not supported by any evidence.

They chose violence.

It took less than two hours for the jury to overrule the county coroner and determine that the former football standout was killed by violent means. The finding means that investigators must now determine who is responsible for Martin’s death.

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

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Klaine one-shot - “Till Death Do Us Part” (Rated PG13)

Kurt and Blaine are on vacation in Lima, visiting Burt and Carole over Thanksgiving, when a strange illness sweeps the planet, turning those infected into mindless, zombie-like creatures. Kurt and Blaine decide to wait it out, but soon, they are forced to flee as the infected start to outnumber them. Blaine vows to get Kurt back home to New York - one of the safer havens in the U.S. - at all costs, but as the infection spreads, they are quickly running out of time ... (3939 words)

This is a re-write of "At the End of All Things". Warning for zombies, anxiety, mentions of blood and gore cuz zombies (duh!), and the death of Burt and Carole.

Read on AO3.

“No …”

Sleepy lips form the word, and a soft voice moans it. A voice from a man who is done with pain and suffering … and life in general. His hands twitch where they hold on to his arms, bracing for the terror he’s locked inside of – nightmares that won’t leave him, won’t allow him to rest.

Won’t let him forget.

“No ... nrgh … Don’t! … St—stop …”

The pleading starts, a sad whine in the back of Kurt’s throat, but even as Blaine blinks incapacitating sleep from his own exhausted body, as he shifts in his half-comatose state to get his stiff limbs to move, Blaine knows that if he doesn’t act quickly, Kurt will start to scream … and then they will come.

“Shhh.” Blaine keeps his voice low, nearly silent. “It’s alright. It’s just a dream.”

Blaine hears a rustle of leaves and stops, keeping an ear turned to the wind to catch whatever the night has to share with him. Normally, Blaine wouldn’t dare sleep outside at night, but they were tired, too tired to walk even with their lives in danger, and they were lost in the dark. On the road that they traveled through the dense forest, a road they were told would lead them straight to the highway and another farm house nearby, every tree looked the same. The barely worn path was covered with leaves, and Kurt, suffering from shock and enough dehydration to slow him down, refused to take another step.

He didn’t say that he couldn’t. He simply stopped walking.

With the night encroaching, Blaine constructed a makeshift shelter and buried them a foot deep in moss and rotting leaves. There they hid, huddled in the cool cover of the forest, holding their breaths and waiting for the day.

Blaine hears what he thinks might be a shuffle of feet dragging through the brush, and he gently clamps a hand over Kurt’s mouth to silence him. Kurt startles, his eyes popping open, but he does not struggle.

The nightmares are debilitating, but they won’t kill him.

Those who walk the forests at night - soulless, lifeless, dead behind their wide, staring eyes - definitely will.

If they find them.

***

Kurt and Blaine had been on vacation at Kurt’s dad’s house in Lima when the disease (which is what NIMH and the CDC had labeled it) took hold. The outbreak had started with only a few people showing symptoms. Patients zero through three were four members of a German tour group watching a Thanksgiving Day parade at Disney World. The Hummel household watched the events unfold as the two women and two men began to lash out at families standing around them, growling and lunging with their teeth bared, aiming to bite anybody who might be in their way. From what Kurt and Blaine could see (Burt had moved on to another television to watch a game and Carole went to the kitchen to wash the dishes – which she always did when she got nervous) the situation seemed contained. But only a few hours later, the disease spread like wildfire across the inhabited continents. By midnight, thousands of people all over the world had become infected. The Army, the Marines, and the National Guard rushed to quarantine the victims, trying to head-off the devastating virus and stop it from spreading.

Blaine had tried to laugh it off, joking about a zombie apocalypse and the end of days, but his comments did nothing to alleviate Kurt’s anxiety. Kurt kept his eyes glued to the TV, switching channels at the commercials to try and find more information – looking for reassurance that Blaine hadn’t unwittingly hit on it and this was the end of days. They had debated piling everybody into Kurt’s Navigator and making a run for it, but at two in the morning, a police officer with a bullhorn instructed everyone in the neighborhood to stay indoors. Shaking, Kurt peeked through the shades and watched the officer roll down the empty street in his patrol car, repeating the same message over and over: There is no need to panic. Stay calm. Stay indoors. More information will be distributed as soon as it becomes available.

Kurt hadn’t really been a big fan of the cut-and-run plan, but now that that was no longer an option, he felt trapped. Blaine didn’t mind. He was happy to bunker down in the Hummel house with his husband and his in-laws, and wait till this thing blew over.

The neighborhood became quiet, deserted, most of the residents having jumped in their cars and escaped during the night regardless of the officer’s announcement. But Burt refused to leave his house, and Kurt refused to leave his father. Burt had plenty of supplies to last them for several weeks, but as the days rolled on one into another, it didn’t seem like there was much going on outside. Blaine anticipated going to the supermarket any day when Kurt’s favorite coffee ran out or when his father-in-law decided he wanted a bacon fix.

The family spent most of their time on the couch in front of the TV, eager for any news of an end to this epidemic. But all they saw were the huge concentration camps that had been set up to contain the sick. Kurt started staying upstairs in his room most days, unable to stand the sight of the growing number of people with ash grey skin and sunken eyes, moaning wordlessly, mouths agape, stumbling over their own feet – their minds eaten away by the illness. Officials from the CDC continuously assured the public that they were working on a cure, that they were close to a breakthrough, but to Kurt, it looked hopeless. He watched the mass of people with flesh decaying from their skeletons and wondered how in the world could someone recover from that?

One news anchor contracted the illness while reporting from within the walls of the concentration camp, and in an effort to keep people informed (or to win a Pulitzer), he did hourly interviews from a pristinely white and sterile hospital room (behind thick metal doors and bulletproof glass).

Kurt couldn’t watch, but it fascinated Blaine to an almost morbid degree.

“The disease seems to be blood borne,” the reporter re-iterated, as that seemed to be the only information anyone was really sure of. “It’s transmitted mostly from contact with an infected person’s saliva into the blood stream, mainly through bites …” At that point, the reporter showed the camera the bite mark on his wrist. Blaine had been amazed. It looked like barely anything, but teeth had punctured the skin, and that, apparently, was all that mattered. “Gestation of the disease takes between three days and several weeks, depending on the health of the person infected.” The reporter stopped and swallowed hard. Blaine could hear it through the microphone. The reporter’s face (since Blaine could see it up close) looked unnatural and grotesque, his lips black as well as his gums, and at this point he was beginning to have trouble enunciating his words. “You can feel it in your blood,” he said. “You can feel the virus crawling its way to your heart and vital organs. Soon, I’ll be able to feel those being eaten away … or so I’m told.”

The news channels tended to tighten their focus on metropolitan areas – New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Washington D. C., with New York faring the best of the bunch. The streets had been effectively cleared of the infected, and as far as major cities were concerned, it seemed to be the safest place to be. The National Guard had all exits and entrances to the city cordoned off, allowing only residents to enter, so Kurt and Blaine knew they’d be able to return eventually.

What the news channels didn’t show were that smaller areas – rural areas like Lima – had been relatively ignored, since it was felt that their needs weren’t as urgent as larger, more compact, urban areas. Neither were the residents of those areas warned that fully infected populations wandered unchecked in the streets. With no hospitals willing to take in people who showed symptoms, they were told to contact the CDC for care, but were otherwise left to their own devices. So instead, they had mobilized, traveling mostly by night, and attacking random neighborhoods with no distinct pattern.

Blaine, Kurt, Burt, and Carole had absolutely no warning that a mob of the infected had targeted their house in the middle of the night until the windows shattered on the lower level, and a swarm of wayward zombies (because that’s what they were no matter how the CDC tried to paint them) climbed in. Some sliced themselves on fragments of glass, losing limbs in the process; some impaled their whole bodies, paving the way for those behind them to clamber in over their useless corpses. Nothing stopped them. They were a ravenous throng with one objective – an objective that the CDC kept carefully secret.

They were starved. They needed to eat. Like wild animals, they tore into anything that didn’t get out of their way fast enough.

Kurt saw his father and stepmother devoured. They had fallen asleep in front of the living room television after Kurt and Blaine had gone upstairs to bed. Kurt saw the massacre, smelled the blood, and almost screamed out, but Blaine shoved his hand over his husband’s face, squeezing Kurt tight against him and dragging him kicking from the stairwell before the mob noticed them – which they more than likely would soon.

Blaine pulled Kurt out his bedroom window and onto the roof, climbing as high up as they could and hiding in the shadow of the chimney. Kurt shook and whimpered, his eyes shut, tears bleeding down his cheeks, thrashing out in his grief to do something rash. Blaine cradled Kurt against his body while they listened to the horde rage below. \

An arm reached out Kurt’s window, searching around for something to hold on to, to follow the scent of fresh blood out onto the roof.

When Kurt heard the hand slapping at the shingles, he stopped moving.

Blaine feared that Kurt might have passed out. There would be no way for Blaine to protect them both if Kurt was unconscious. Blaine would try, of course, with every breath in his body, but he just didn’t think it was possible.

A fight broke out somewhere inside Kurt’s room as other infected people joined the first, mistaking her for the source of the smell. Blaine didn’t see another zombie attempt to make it on the roof, and as the morning sun rose, a scarce few members of the crowd made their way back out of the house and headed for the safety of wherever it was they had come from.

Blaine sat with Kurt in his arms, waiting until he was reasonably certain the house was empty and it would be safe for them to come out of hiding again.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered, hiding his eyes in his husband’s hair to avoid the glare of the morning sun. “Kurt, we have to get out of here.”

“No,” Kurt whimpered, shaking his head, keeping his eyes sealed tight. “I can’t … I can’t go back into that house. I can’t …”

Kurt begged desperately, his voice becoming childlike as he pleaded with his husband not to make him go back into his father’s house – begged him not to make him see his father’s disgustingly hollow body. Blaine had pinned his hopes on Kurt being strong, on him being the superhero he always was, but he couldn’t expect Kurt to confront such a horrific reality, not after last night – trapped on the roof with no hope of help and nothing but his hands to block the sounds of Burt and Carole’s screams.

These zombies don’t seem to care about killing, just eating. They know nothing of mercy. Even with more than a dozen of them clawing at Burt and Carole, tearing them to pieces, it took longer than imaginable for the couple to die.

Blaine surveyed the neighborhood from the top of the house, gauging their distance from the roof to the ground. It was a pretty daunting drop, but as he swept his eyes over it again, he noticed that the roof of the house sloped down to join up with the roof of the garage, and from there they could make it to the roof of Kurt’s Navigator.

It was excellent in theory, but the execution had been harder than Blaine expected. They had been stuck, cramped on the roof in a tiny corner, kept going mostly on adrenaline, but now they were tired, and the process of unwinding themselves from the human ball they had become was agonizing. Blaine’s entire body ached and shook, but more than that, he wanted to vomit.

But it was Blaine’s turn to be strong, to play the superhero for his husband, so he pushed away the nausea and the pain and helped Kurt down the incline of the roof, keeping an eye out below for any of the infected left over from last night’s raid.

And there were many, but only bodies – some whom had tumbled from the window to the ground in their efforts to make it up on the roof; some impaled on windows, still moaning and pitifully grunting; and some decimated, bodies torn apart in a rage at others not being able to get inside to be part of the feast. Blaine did his best to shield Kurt’s eyes from the carnage while he maneuvered him off the roof, avoiding the bodies of the dead all around – bodies with faces he recognized.

The guy who managed the 7-11 on Elm and 5th.

The young lady who owned that small flower kiosk in the IHOP parking lot – the only one in Lima that sold the purple peonies that Kurt loved so much.

Mrs. Pillsbury, the guidance counselor at McKinley High, and her husband Carl, Kurt’s childhood dentist.

Blaine peeked through the windows of Kurt’s SUV, checking the seats for any possible intruders. When he was confident no one was lying in wait, he put Kurt into the front passenger seat (thanking God that the vehicle wasn’t locked, then retracting that thanks in retrospect of everything that had happened last night).

That left Blaine with one obstacle left to face.

“Kurt” – Blaine ran a hand down Kurt’s bowed back, trying to stop his violent shaking - “I have to go inside and get the keys. And some supplies.”

“No,” Kurt moaned, his head moving ceaselessly from side to side. His whole body shook harder, his knees and forehead knocking into the dashboard. “No! Don’t leave me!”

Blaine felt his husband’s tears grab his heart and dig in, but there was no other way. They had to leave. They couldn’t risk waiting around to see if another mob was coming. With the house a shambles and multiple entry points exposed, he didn’t see them surviving another attack. Even with Burt’s well-stocked garage of spare lumber and hardware, repairing the holes would be a bandage solution. They needed to find a stronghold – a hospital, a government building, a bank, maybe even a prison.

Besides, Blaine had an eerie feeling that they were the only two non-infected people left in Lima.

“I’ll be quick,” Blaine said, pulling himself away from his grief-stricken husband. “I promise. Just keep the doors locked and stay hidden.” As he said these things, Kurt still hadn’t moved, so Blaine locked the doors for him, then double-checked from the outside that the vehicle was sealed up tight.

Blaine started for the front door, ripped from its hinges and hanging askew. He swallowed hard. He couldn’t imagine that anything would have the strength to tear a door off its frame like that, especially not these creatures whose decaying bodies seemed so weak and fragile. Suddenly, Blaine didn’t feel quite so brave or sure that going into the house alone was a good idea. But he forced himself to. He shuffled inside, Kurt’s muffled wails accompanying him into the shattered ruins.

Blaine stepped a foot through the door, turned his head, and finally lost his battle with nausea. He didn’t want to remember his in-laws the way he saw them, dismembered on the living room carpet, but now that image had been burned into his mind. A piece of the happiness he had gained after marrying Kurt had chipped away, his extended family gone.

Blaine forced himself to move. Through screaming and cursing (he performed only in his head so that Kurt wouldn’t hear), he made his way past the gore and the rank smell of death. He packed up only what they needed – a few changes of clothes and a box of non-perishable goods. He even had piece of mind to grab a few bottles from Kurt’s skin care regimen and their toothbrushes.

He made several trips to the Navigator, barely looking at his distraught husband’s motionless body because if he did, he would lose his hastily built-up strength. He would lose it all to the thought of poor orphaned Kurt - his mother dead because of a drunk driver a lifetime ago, his father torn apart limb from limb. He would sit his ass down in the driver’s seat of Kurt’s SUV, and he would never move again.

Blaine had just finished packing up their final box of provisions when the sinister silence that had veiled the desolate neighborhood broke with the sounds of Kurt’s screams. Blaine gathered up the box and raced for the Navigator, unsure of what in the known universe could make his husband scream so loudly that Blaine not only heard it from inside the house, but through a closed window.

Blaine raced to the open front door and skidded to a stop. He dropped the box on the carpet when he came face to face with it, the icy fingers of fear grabbing him by the ankles and keeping him paralyzed where he stood.

Blaine had had the good fortune of a privileged upbringing. His family was well-off, and for the most part, he’d wanted for very little growing up. Aside from one episode of bullying – getting beaten up after a high school dance - he had never been in any real danger. He was a boxer, a fencer, and had founded the Dalton Academy Fight Club, so he knew he could defend himself.

But he’d never really had to.

So in all his thirty some-odd years on the planet, he had never truly feared for his life.

He did now – staring at the walking corpse that pounded at the Navigator window, trying to get in.

Trying to get at Kurt.

But Blaine’s fear lasted only a moment when he realized it wasn’t only his life in danger. It was Kurt’s. His husband Kurt, whom he had sworn to love and protect.

He looked around him for a weapon, but there was nothing, so he picked up a can from the box and hurled it at the zombie’s head. It hit its mark and lodged into the monster’s skull. The thing whirled around at Blaine, lunging at him with his teeth, biting in the general direction of is arm, stymied by the object that had taken out one eye and most of another. Even missing an eye, the creature seemed to sniff him out, following him by the scent of his aftershave … or perhaps his blood, since that seemed to be what drove these creatures, what forced them out of the darkness to attack living people around them. This thing (since Blaine had a hard time of thinking of them as people anymore) took a swipe of him, managing to grab hold of his wrist, but Blaine tugged hard and yanked his arm away, taking the creatures decaying hand off with him. All the while, Kurt’s screams filled the air – high-pitched and frightened, senseless with mind-numbing fear.

Blaine climbed into the vehicle, holding his arm out the window and smacking his wrist against the door to dislodge the hand while they drove away from Kurt’s home, most likely never to return. Blaine had taken a moment to look in the rearview mirror and watch the brainless zombie smack its one hand at its face, trying to get rid of the can, wandering in circles in the front yard. Blaine wanted to feel pity for it – it used to be human – but he couldn’t. Not with Burt and Carole dead. Not with Kurt a hysterical mess, mumbling nonsense and trembling in his seat, his sanity all but gone.

They had driven in Kurt’s Navigator until there were no passable roads anymore, the highways jammed pack with abandoned vehicles, as if their drivers and passengers had simply evaporated into thin air. They opted to stay the night in the Navigator, assuming that help would eventually come.

It had to.

But it never did.

Instead, as night began to fall, they came – walking en masse onto the roadway, emerging from the tree line. Kurt and Blaine climbed to the back of the vehicle, huddling together beneath an emergency blanket to hide, hoping that they would avoid detection. But the mob had seen the movement of the car. All night long Kurt cried while the creatures pounded on the windows, rocking it back and forth but not tearing it to pieces the way Blaine had expected considering the condition of the house they had just left. These infected people seemed further along, their bodies stiffer and more riddled with decay.

If there actually was a cure anywhere that could eradicate this disease, these poor souls were far beyond its ability to heal.

Kurt and Blaine traveled for days on foot, spending the nights awake, moving, always moving, in fear of being attacked. They managed to bed down a few times with kind people who were hiding out like themselves, but they never stayed in one place for long. Kurt’s nightmares were unceasing, and the generous people who harbored them became frightened of the screams he made while he slept – screams that lured the creatures from hiding in search of a meal. In between houses, they had to make due sleeping in the underbrush or high up in the trees. Once, to navigate a field full of these undead, they had to resort to covering themselves in rancid human blood in order to hide among them.

Blaine thinks that might be the point where Kurt snapped, because he has become like a zombie himself now – a different kind of zombie – one who never speaks or sings anymore, one who fights to hide every emotion, one who has mostly given up.

Blaine has tried, but he can’t find a way of getting the old Kurt back.

But now, they’re running out of time.

Blaine can feel it in his blood.

He stays awake, holding Kurt in his arms until his trembling husband falls back to sleep, and concentrates on the searing death in his veins, trying to will a stop to its progress.

Blaine made a promise the day he married Kurt to always protect him, to always care for him, and he is cashing in on that promise right now. He has one goal in mind – to get Kurt back to their apartment and lock him safely inside, before the bite on his wrist – the one he had gotten when he fought with that creature, the one he hasn’t told Kurt about – takes hold …

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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