#trafficking law

[breathedreamscream]

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

🖕you Greg Abbott!

[prolifeproliberty]

Can y’all help me out here?

So I see the headline in multiple news outlets that the California Assembly killed a bill that would “make the trafficking of minors a serious felony.” Specifically, that it would make the Three Strikes rule and other sentencing policies apply to trafficking of minors.

Sounds like a great bill, how dare those California democrats shut it down, right? Must be that they’re all secretly trafficking children, right? Well whether they are or aren’t, there’s something in the bill that doesn’t quite sit right.

Here’s the bill:

So typically most pieces of legislation will have some kind of statement about why the bill is being passed (a lot of “Whereas” statements) and then there will be a section where existing law/statute is revised. Usually it’s about adding or removing language in a statute. We typically see this represented as words being struck out and other words or entire sections being added in a different color text to show it’s new.

Based on the title and the summary and the press, my assumption would be that they would be adding “human trafficking of a minor” to the existing list of serious felonies.

However, if you go all the way down to 1192.7(c), you see that the list of serious felonies already included human trafficking, but this bill is amending that to read “human trafficking of a minor”

That is, it seems the language in this bill would actually remove the trafficking of adults from the serious crimes list.

If I’m reading this right, California law already had human trafficking as a serious felony. That would mean trafficking a minor was already a serious felony - it wouldn’t need to be specified because it would be covered under “human trafficking.”

This bill wouldn’t change anything for someone caught trafficking a minor. It would change things for the person caught trafficking an adult - that is, it might make their sentence lighter or give them more room for plea deals.

Am I missing something here, or is this another classic case of “bill titled ‘Save the Puppies Act’ actually kills kittens”?

[alwaysbewoke]

[vivaciousoceans]

“The snow bunny, this is what it’s all about” not gonna lie she chewed

[scotianostra]

13th of January 1687 the court os session in Edinburgh ruled on the case of the "Tumbling Lass"

Taken from Cassells Old and New Edinburgh by James Grant (published in the 1880s) it is an early judgement on a girl who was basically trafficed for entertainment purposes, the trafficker claiming he own her.

On the 13th of January, [1687], as reported by Lord Fountainhall, Reid, a mountebank prosecuted Scott of Harden and his lady, “for stealing away from him a little girl called The Tumbling Lassie, that danced upon a stage, and produced a contract by which he had bought her from her mother for thirty pounds Scots. “But we have no slaves in Scotland,” adds his lordship, “and mothers cannot sell their bairns; and physicians attested that the employment of tumbling would kill her, her joints were even now growing stiff, and she declined to return, though she was an apprentice, and could not run away from her master.” Then some of the Privy Council in the canting spirit of the age, “quoted Moses’ Law, that if a servant shelter himself with thee, against his master’s cruelty, thou shalt not deliver him up.” The Lords therefore assoilzied (i.e., acquitted) Harden, who had doubtless been moved only by humanity and compassion.

The story is that “The Tumbling Lassie” was a child gymnast who was displayed in a travelling show around Edinburgh and the Lowlands during the 17th century.  She was seen by a Mrs Scot, who rescued her from her exploitative circumstances and took her off home to live in the Borders.

The showman, a Mr Reid, complained that the child was his property and that she had been stolen from him. He took the matter to the Court of Session, where the judges turned down his claim – effectively giving the first ruling in a Scottish court that slavery could not exist in Scotland. The child was released, but  history does not record what happened to her,  the assumption is that Mrs Scot took her back to the Borders to live. 

The Tumbling Lassie gives her name to a Scottish appeal raising funds and awareness for anti-slavery and anti-trafficking charities, they are generously sponsored by the Faculty of Advocates. Among other events they have an annual Charity Ball, at Prestonfield House in the city.

There is also a mini-opera is based the story.

[murderousink23]

07/30/2024 is National Cheesecake Day 🇺🇸, National Father-in-Law Day 🇺🇸, Whistleblower Appreciation Day 🇺🇸, International Day of Friendship 🇺🇳, World Day against Trafficking in Persons 🇺🇳

[killershark82]

Kickin it headcannons part 2 cause it’s still morning and I can’t fucking sleep:

Spy era addition

Funderberk is genuinely sucky in an idiot way. He was honestly their adult mascot while the kids ran it

The kids bullying staff because putting kids in danger for secret government shit with labor and shit is illegal and guilt tripping most of the adults

Chaotic group chat

Shane is fragile with his masculinity

Shane was overzealous with Jack because he was jealous but also Jack is hot and he’s a useless bisexual (mood) who doesn’t know how to handle it

Milton and grey being gay/gay solidarity

Shane will be watching Jack work out and not pay attention and walk into a wall

They know fellow teen spy K.C. She’s in the group chat

Teen spy shenanigans using their skills when they don’t want to be normal

Grey being a sarcastic queen

Using high tech spy technology to pirate movies for late nights

Jack and milton platonically cuddling

Them dragging Shane into it because affection and then he’s pretty much like amity from owl house was that time luz picked her up casually

Both bullying Shane a little and trying to help him be more confident and secure about himself

Funderberk being a bit of a jerk and setting Shane back a little with his comments and the gang viciously pranking him for ruining their progress

Milton or Jack accidentally saying smth vaguely concerning in the dojo group chat instead of the spy group chat

Milton and Jack conspiring to make Shane a present cause funderberk is selective with gifts and they do t want Shane purposely being left out and it’s some cool high tech thing that isn’t a laser pen with a dude in a bikini on it (honestly just Shane imagining Jack is the dude I can see it happening)

It hurt when Shane betrayed them because they thought they were making progress with him

The gang still occasionally gets called in for spy stuff after the summer but they refuse to work with someone who wasn’t on their team

The team gaslighting gatekeeping and girlbossing funderberk as a collective

[futureghost97]

me: accidentally creates a character that is a convincing portrait of a CSA survivor and realizes it months into the campaign (I went in with very little backstory other than “formerly involved in a sex cult”)

my brother, our dungeonmaster, a person who should be in therapy more than any of us, who has no language for processing trauma: “but… what is the point of it?”

me: “what is the point of anyone being abused?”

him, missing my meaning: “come up with a goal that stems from it and we’ll work it in!”

[edgelite]

paul making a bigger pr disaster for himself because of that press performance fucking Good

[truckstoptigers]

i remember i'd hear about how my state is one of the most dangerous places in terms of sex trafficking and i would think, what an awful thing. how terrible is it that my state has such an issue with trafficking that it's enough for it to be a well-known, well-documented serious danger/risk area.

and i still didn't think it would ever happen to me.

[ciderjacks]

”quirky” is also a misogynistic term nowadays im realizing. Like ok do u guys ever really hear that used against men when they’re being funny or silly. No. Just women. Why is this shit only socially acceptable when its terms used against women.

[venting-town]

If me being glad that somebody harms or kills a child molester makes me bad or s” supportive of evil “, then that’s what that makes me

I’ve been labeled worse, not that it matters

Correlation does NOT equal causation. I’d be super happy ( words don’t describe it ) if Beau would kill himself or if somebody else killed him. And that’s okay.

The law/“ rules “ somehow say SOME murder is justified/okay, or that’s it’s okay for certain groups ( such as the military or cops, or people defending themselves ) to kill others

However, let’s call it what it is. It’s called murder. Yet we try to add rules and boundaries as to what is “ acceptable “ murder and what isn’t “ acceptable murder “

And we do it to try to make ourselves feel better/have order.

Yet. Order isn’t always good or best, neither is chaos. And you don’t need either to be honest, with or without or etc the reality/“ reality “ of it

Anyways. I, for one, think that if somebody murders somebody who is rapes/molests them or somebody they care about, is NOT inherently bad and they do NOT deserve to go to jail for it

And if they ARE jailed because of “ law “ or lackthereof or etc, they deserve to be treated with kindness and compassion

No. Not all murder is bad. But it IS bad that things have to come up to murder. Such as when victims get raped/abused/molested/etc. Then THEY get labeled as “ monsters “ or “ liars “ or “ family destroyers “ or whatever else when they retaliate.

And they aren’t. It’s okay to acknowledge certain laws are unjust. Even when it is law.

And some laws need readjusting with new perspective. Because of society/“ society “ and all that

[loganmarloe]

Untitled Response to Current Events

Anna Smith bought a bus ticket to the most popular museum in Idaho in September, about a month and a half after the birthday party she attended with her boyfriend, Tad.

The museum offered guided tours with a human guide, but also video-assisted self-guided tours. Anna had heard the self-guided tours were the best. One could wander around, lost in their own private thoughts, while nobody interfered.

She told her parents, who were church-going people with conservative political views and a strict set of rules, that she was going to the museum with her boyfriend, but that was a lie. She went alone. She knew this wasn’t something Tad would appreciate. She was sure he would tell her mother if she told him what she was up to, so she lied to him, too, and made plans to dump him when she got back. She was already sixteen and plenty old enough to make life decisions on her own.

When Anna got off the bus, she looked up at the big sign affixed to the roof. It read, “Madam Maginnis’ Museum of Marvels.” She admired the swirls on the ends of the initial letters in the name. It was whimsical, but also pretty.

Inside, she paid her ticket for entrance, as well as for the video-guided tour. She received a small tablet that offered to help her find any of the 400 different exhibits. She had gotten advice from a friend of a friend to check out several exhibits in the first half-hour she was there.

She chose to look at some of the women’s history exhibits, one about surgery in Wild West times, a random assortment of funny looking gadgets, and finally, the one her friend had told her about: the dusty cow exhibit.

This one was a little known exhibit. You could only get to it by using a password with the tablet. The human guides don’t even know about it.

She stood in front of the lonely taxidermied cow, selected the speech icon in the upper right, and looked at the screen while the video voice spoke about the strange little cow and its place in Idaho history.

The video playing was colorful, with a blue background, orange and green buttons, and photos that were every color of the rainbow. Her friend said the button would be a little hard to find. It had to be, if it were to remain a secret. In fact, the position and appearance of the button changed every day, so nobody would be the wiser.

Anna looked all the way around the screen, until she found a tiny octagon within the pupil of a man holding a pitchfork in 1898. It very nearly blended in completely with the eye. She clicked on it.

The recorded speech continued, but the screen opened a new page within the video. On it was a puzzle that had to be solved. A dancing blue-clad ballerina twirled in six different positions in sequence. As instructed by her friend’s friend, she touched each ballerina on the screen in the order she’d been told was valid for today only.

She’d had to jump through numerous hoops to get the code. She’d had to prove her identity and also her desire to visit the secret exhibit. She’d also had to prove that nobody had forced her to go and convince the code makers that she wouldn’t tell anyone else the code or that she intended to see the exhibit. It had taken two in-person interviews at public parks and depositing collateral that would be used against her if she told anyone the truth.

After she finished tapping in the ballerina code, the screen went dark, though the bright, cheery voice talking about how a calf was found after a horrible dust storm more than a century ago. It was a boring story, but this exhibit was pretty popular with teenage girls.

There appeared to be no text on the screen, but she’d been given a sort of decoder sheet. It looked transparent, but when Anna placed it over the darkened screen, a set of instructions appeared in lavender text. She quickly memorized them and then pressed a spot underneath a picture of a campfire in the middle of the right side of the screen. As soon as she pressed it, the dusty cow video came back on. There was no sign of the other screen. She put the tablet in her backpack for safekeeping.

As instructed by the interviewer who’d approved her and handed it to her, she went to the restroom, entered and locked a stall, and placed the transparent plastic sheet into the toilet. She watched as it dissolved completely and then flushed.

She exited the stall, washing her hands as anyone else would do, and then went back out into the museum’s exhibit hall. Looking around, she spotted an exhibit that showed what indigenous people would look like by a cook fire, thousands of years ago.

Next to the exhibit was a door concealed by the curtains that lined the walls. She only knew it was there from the extensive instructions for her trip. She made sure nobody saw her and slipped behind the curtain and then out the door.

The door led outside to the south side of the building. There was nothing special about it. It had nowhere to sit and nothing to admire. She paid this very little attention.

The memorized instructions had her start walking due south. She had made sure to have on a good pair of walking shoes and jeans, as advised by her friend’s friend. It soon became apparent why this was recommended.

The brush and bushes and trees grew tightly together in this part of the state. Had she worn shorts, she’d have scratched up her legs thoroughly. She walked about a mile south until she saw a tree that seemed kind of lopsided and had a funny shape to one branch. At the tree, she turned left and counted out thirty steps.

She was told it might me more or less, depending on the length of her stride, so she was to look for a rock in the shape of a rabbit. She looked around. There were many rocks in the area. None looked like wildlife.

Then she saw one that she thought might be mistaken for a rabbit on a rainy day and if she was squinting. She looked on the other side of it, as instructed. If it were the right one, there would be a small hole where an eye might be. This wasn’t easy, as a bush was growing along its back. She understood the need for secrecy, but shoving aside prickly bushes wasn’t what she had in mind for this excursion.

Once she found the little hole, she then faced the other side of the rabbit rock and turned right. She walked up the hill that rose right away from the little clearing. At the top, she’d been told to look for a lavender bush. Not one painted lavender, but a bush that was flowering now with lavender.

She wondered what they used for directions when it wasn’t flowering and went around the bush and put her back to it. Then she headed out in a straight line away from it. She checked her phone as she started walking. As instructed, she kept a decent pace for fourteen minutes.

At the end of the fourteen minutes, she found herself crossing a sign that read, “Nevada State Line”. She took a deep breath and then continued for about five more minutes, finally emerging into a large clearing in the trees.

In the center of the clearing stood a bus-like vehicle. It read, “Carebus” and had an image of a rabbit on the side. She heaved a big sigh of relief and started to sob. As she dropped to her knees from exhaustion, three people came streaming out of the bus.

They gathered her up, gave her some water, and brought her inside. After a few minutes, they asked her the questions required. All of them had designated answers that had nothing to do with the content.

“Anna, how did you find the cow exhibit?”

“My shoes are green.”

“Where is the capital of Iowa?”

“Lavender flowers are blooming.”

“What is today’s date?”

“Top left. Bottom center. Top right. Top center. Bottom right. Bottom left.”

After the questions, they brought her into a little room for an interview. After answering several real questions and paying the bill in cash, she was led to a changing area. She got into a lavender gown and made sure to leave her socks on. It was a little chilly inside the bus. She left her clothing in a little locker and shut the door.

After emerging from the room, she was led to a room with a special exam table. Once positioned on it, she was asked more questions. They wanted to be sure she was sure.

“Did anyone transport you to the museum with the knowledge of your desire to seek this procedure?”

“No. I told nobody why I was really going to the museum.”

“Do you remember what happens afterward?”

“Yes, I will remain here for an hour and have another examination to determine whether I am ready to return to the museum. I will probably bleed a bit for two weeks and need to generally take it easy if I feel tired. I’ll contact you if I feel poorly and follow instructions to be seen near home.”

“Good. There will be no charge if you need to be seen there. Remember to tell no-one anything about this. The only way this works for anyone is if it is kept completely secret.”

She nodded and swore she’d never tell anyone.

“Did you tell anyone about why you need this procedure?”

“No. I took home tests and disposed of them in the trash at the mall.”

“Anna, there are other choices you can make. Are you sure you want to have this procedure done?”

Anna looked her in the eye and said, “Yes. I am sure. This is the only choice for me.”

“All right, then. We are going to go ahead.” The attendant left the room and signaled for the doctor to proceed.

An hour and a half later, Anna Smith got into a small car with one of the attendants and was driven back to the museum on a regular road. She went back inside the museum and looked at a few more exhibits before it was time to take the bus home. She felt a little sore, but also free.

Fifteen years later, Anna had graduated from college and was a cartoonist with a major film production company with dozens of film credits on her resume. She married someone who respected her and gave birth to two healthy children. She owned her own home, had a nice car, and took her family to beautiful resorts for vacation every year.

She never told anyone about the secret exhibit. Nobody went to jail. She was happy and healthy and free.

[shiningclown69]

Stella is so funny in this panel she's just going off

"The AUDACITY of him to whine about not having a gf and then forgetting to respect his gf when he has one" she doesn't even wanna refer to his name 😭

Her sudden change in tone too...like

"Noooo baby you're really handsome and sweet 🥰😘😚 Unlike that NASTY, ANNOYING Riven 😡😡😡🤬🤬🤬" like she's about to punch this man for making Musa sad (again)

AND LOOK AT BRANDON DEFENDING RIVEN IM CRYINGGGG 😭😭😭😭

"You know what Riven is like....he has his 'off' days..." thats alot of off days no offense brandon