#apparently the mother was found guilty and sentenced to execution

[medieval-canadian]

was NO ONE going to tell me that in the premodern era ANIMALS were regularly put on trial for shit like murder (among other things) and often convicted?????????????????????????????????????

[dragoneyes618]

"Two thousand years ago another Governor washed his hands of a case and turned over a Jew to a mob. For two thousand years that Governor's name has been accursed. If today another Jew were lying in his grave because I had failed to do my duty, I would all through life find his blood on my hands and would consider myself an assassin through cowardice."

- Georgia Governor John Slaton, June 21, 1915, commuting the death sentence of Leo Frank to life imprisonment.

In 1913, Leo Frank, a prominent Jewish Atlantan, was arrested and accused of murdering fourteen-year-old Mary Phagan, an employee in his pencil factory. Although the evidence against him was very weak, the prosecution insisted on trying Frank, carefully suppressing evidence pointing to his innocence.

Frank's arrest triggered an outbreak of antisemitism in Atlanta. Throughout his trial, the jury heard mobs outside the courtroom's open windows chanting, "Hang the Jew! Hang the Jew!" Subsequent to his conviction, "[a jury member confessed] to a northern reporter that he was not sure of anything except that unless Frank was found guilty the jurors would never get home alive" (Leonard Dinnerstein, "A Dreyfuss Affair in Georgia," page 101).

Despite the clear miscarriage of justice (among other things, the "star" prosecution witness against Frank had confessed committing the murder to his own lawyer, information that the lawyer apparently passed on to the judge), the US supreme Court refused to intervene, so that the decision whether or not to execute Frank was left in Governor Slaton's hands. Although assured by the powerful anti-Frank forces of a Senate seat if he let Frank hang, Slaton carefully investigated the case and became convinced of Frank's innocence. In the prevailing turbulent political climate, he was afraid to pardon Frank, hoping apparently that that would be done a few years later. Therefore, Slaton commuted Frank's death sentence, an act that permanently ended his political career.

Several months later, Frank was dragged from his prison cell by a mob consisting of, among others, two retired superior court justices, a former sheriff, and a clergyman. They lynched Frank; for decades, a picture postcard depicting his hanged body was widely sold throughout the South.

In 1982, sixty-nine years after the trial, eighty-three-year-old Alonzo Mann, who had been an office boy in Frank's factory, admitted that he had seen Jim Conley, ab lack employee at the factory and the chief witness against Frank at the trial, dragging the girl's body into the factory's basement on the day of the murder. Mann's mother had pressured him not to get involved in the politically charged trial. In 1986, the state of Georgia granted Frank a posthumous pardon.

-Jewish Wisdom, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, pages 482-483

[napoleondidthat]

What Happened to Michel Ney?

So maybe you don't want to read the book, let's talk about this crazy situation in Napoleonic history. I've gotten a few inquries through the years on here that occasionally bring up P.S. Ney and the possibility that it could have been Marshal Ney. So let's delve a bit.

This whole event is like, to quote Churchill, a mystery wrapped inside a riddle, wrapped inside an engima.

Let's not get too bogged down in the life of Michel Ney. Most will have a working knowledge of the man. He was the last man out of Russia. He lead out the rear guard from Russia, encountering hellish conditions, Cossack attacks and every other type of FUBAR event that he could. He helped with Napoleon's first abdication and then famously said he would bring Napoleon back in an iron cage when he escaped from Elba (spoiler alert: he didn't). He fought at Waterloo, though by this time his relationship with Napoleon had grown colder. He practically went nuts on the Waterloo battlefield, fighting until the bloody end and until his sword had broken in two. Still he carried on, one of the last to leave the battlefield.

He was later arrested, tried for treason, found guilty and shot.

Other things to know in order to piece Michel Ney with P.S. Ney, would be that Ney was gruff in manner, but kind-hearted. Had a "plain way" of speaking. Shied away from notoriety, money and promotions. Married to Aglae (whom he called Louise) with whom he shared four sons. It is known he spoke both French and German and apparently a bit of English as well. He played the flute.

Trial of Ney:

Ney's trial was a bit of a mess and to abbreviate it down, let's say that he cooperated, gave answers in his interrogations, and his lawyers tried to argue that he (Ney) was protected by Article 2 of a treaty that was drawn up after Waterloo and when that didn't work, argued that Ney wasn't beholden to French law, because he really wasn't French but German, because of the part of France he hailed from. This did not sit well with Ney, who shouted out at the trial that was French and would die French. He also gave a different and incorrect(?) birthdate at the start and in a strange twist told his lawyers to stand down in the middle of the trial.

Ney was found guilty, something Ney seemed to know was going to be the conclusion, and his death was voted on in the House of Peers. Strangely, most of the men who voted on it, then immediately went to Richelieu and let it be known that even though they voted for his death, they didn't want to see the sentence carried out. This leads to people from Richelieu and maybe even Wellington seeing if the sentence could be commuted. The King had no interest in doing so.

During his trial, Ney was jailed first at the Concergerie and then the Luxembourg, back to the Conceergerie, back to the Luxembourg where he had a huge security detail surrounding him at all times. The government had heard word of the various plots out there hoping to rescue Ney and became paranoid to keep him jailed.

Execution:

Instructions were sent on how the execution was to take place, and in a change of plans, Ney would be executed outside the Luxembourg and not in a military ground where executions usually took place. The deceased was to be shot, then lie there for those to see for a quarter of an hour at least. Ney met his fate calmly when the news was read to him and was driven out a few feet to the firing squad. Here eyewitness accounts vary on what was said and how he died. He was to be blindfolded and put on his knees, something he declined to do. Instead, he faced the squad, upright, hand on his heart, proclaiming his innocence and saying to "aim high". Shots were fired, Ney dropped face first and a pool of blood was on the ground under him.

Ney was dead. Or was he?

P.S. Ney Reporting:

In the United States, a man who roughly fit the description of Michel Ney appeared in the Alabama, North Carolina, South Carolina, Virginia area as a school teacher. He had reddish hair, balding. He was a plain spoken man but kind hearted and imposing. He said he was a French refugee and had served under Napoleon. He wasn't prone to drinking, but when he did and took too much, he let it slip that he was indeed the one and only Marshal Ney who had not died, but escaped. Who helped him? He didn't really say but did mention to a few people Wellington. Others heard the Freemasons, who Ney was a member of, did the work.

Peter Stuart Ney never spoke of his father but did often speak of his mother who he said was Scottish. He said his wife and children were in France and he hoped to return to them one day. He claimed his wife was close to Josephine and Hortense (this is true). He said he had four sons, never spoke of daughters. Others said he said he had two daughters and a son. What they all agreed on was that this P.S. Ney was the best teacher they ever had. He was kind, fair, tough but just. He was the best swordsmen they had ever seen. He was an accomplished horsemen, a good marksmen.

He taught language: English, Latin, Greek. Was reluctant to speak French but could. Also spoke a bit of Polish and Hebrew (?). Some said he had a Scottish brogue, others said a German brogue, others said it just sounded foreign.

He also played the flute. But was also a poet and artist. Drew a wonderful portrait of Napoleon. He was a fierce Bonapartist. When he heard of Napoleon's death, he fainted and later slit his throat in a suicide attempt. It failed and he was doctored. Later when he found out Reichstadt had died and wouldn't be placed on the throne, he despaired and said he'd never return to France or his family now.

He had a portrait of Napoleon and Napoleon's grave on St. Helena in his classroom.

A few who knew him thought he wasn't Marshal Ney, some thought maybe a relation. Some later changed their mind, yes, he was Marshal Ney, some never doubted.

Stories abounded that Ney was spotted by French refugees who served in the Grand Army and would see P.S. Ney and immediately say "It's Marshal Ney!"

P.S. Ney had war wounds. Some of the very same wounds that Ney had had. A wound in the thigh, a wound in the shoulder, the foot. A scar on his face that he said he got at Waterloo.

P.S. Ney never returned to France, died in Virigina of typhus fever but made the deathbed confession that he was indeed Marshal Ney. He escaped. He was given a bladder full of red fluid to hold under his shirt and when he fell he was to crush that bladder so he would look like he had been shot. The firing squad was made up of his old commrades an they recognized his order "Aim high" because Ney in battle would say the opposite, aim low. When they shot, he collapsed and the bullets went over him. Barely. It was a risk, but one that paid off. He sunk into a coma but his last words were akin to "Bessieres is dead. Let me die"

Oddities of the execution:

Ney was shot point-blank range with heavy bullets. According to the official reports, 10 bullets hit Ney, one hit the wall behind him, and the blank. Three hit his head, one is arm, the rest into his chest. The power of the gunblasts should have thrown him backwards, not forwards onto his stomach. There should have been blood spray on the wall, but only one official report says Ney's blood was on the wall and only one says he fell back. Eyewitness accounts say he fell forward and that the only blood was from under him. Ballistic experts haven't been able to answer the question of why on this.

Ney's body was taken to the Maternity Hospital where it was claimed by his brother-in-law and secretary. According to some reports, as many as 500 people saw his body while at the hospital. However, there doesn't seem to be any accounts or mentions by people in power or memoirs that they went to view Ney's body. Not that this proves there was none. Only a few eyewitness accounts do claim to have seen him, one being Ida St. Elme, and there it is mentioned that Ney had his vest buttoned to his throat and there were bullet holes, but no evidence of them hitting the chest. One said that the body was lain in a dark room that made it hard to discern features. Another said he looked peaceful and slumber and no obvious damage had been done from the bullets. Yet...he was shot three times in the head with heavy ammunition and no damage?

He was buried the following morning and no one attended in the family except for his brother in law and secretary again. His wife never once came to see the body or claim it. He was placed in a lead coffin and then an oak coffin, a practice usually only done for royalty. Or could it be because there would be no body and the weight of the lead would hide it? His grave became a bit of a place to leave anti-royalist propaganda and they government decided to move Ney to a vault that would be nameless so people couldn't find it. This was done. Later Ney would be removed from that vault and placed back at the gravesite. At this time, his coffins were opened and his grandson said there was a body with three bullet holes in the forehead proving Ney did die and was there. Later, during the reign of Napoleon III, it was a common telling that Ney escaped his execution that Napoleon III had the grave opened and there eyewitnesses said there was no body in the coffins. However, as big as a revelation this would be, the papers are mysteriously quiet on this new discovery at the time.

There are no records of who made up the firing squad. To this day, we don't know who the people were or having any of their testimonies.

Ney's wife never would visit the grave and would later remarry but the marriage would be on the quiet side and only immediate family seems to have known she re-married. When she dies, she is not laid in the Ney grave, but in a church crypt with her sisters.

On the other hand, the Ney family never stopped trying to clear their father's name and worked at it, lost their money and Ney's sons were all under survellience due to their hostilities to the new government. One even challenged Wellington to a duel. All odd behavior if Ney wasn't dead. Or did they not know?

P.S Ney did seem to have the general look and enough in common with Michel Ney to pass as him. The wounds match up, except the the facial wound. Michel Ney wasn't documented of having a facial wound, not to say that he couldn't have gotten one at Waterloo. Ida St Elme claimed to see him on the field of battle with a bloodied face. On the other hand, there was no mention of a wound when he was on trial. P.S. Ney could speak the multiple languages, and though we know Michel Ney spoke more than French, there is no proof he ever spoke Greek or Hebrew. He could have picked up some Polish being stationed with the Army. He could have had an understanding of Latin from his studies and maybe he did learn Hebrew and Greek after. P.S.Ney was also very good at maths, Michel Ney has no documentation that he was a mathematician. P.S Ney was a poet and artist, no documentation Michel Ney was, except for the flute playing. However, all of Ney's sons were quite artistic. Could have Michel Ney become more artistic when he no longer was in the military? Maybe. P.S. Ney seemed to know some intimate details of the life of M. Ney, namely he called his wife Louise and not Agale. He also said she was dark eyed with black hair which seemed true. Could he have seen a picture of her? Michel Ney also also a very quiet man about his personal life, maybe he was these things and it just went undocumented. Michel Ney was with Bessieres when he was killed in battle, right next to him. P.S. Ney's last words harkened back to Bessieres being dead. If P.S. Ney wasn't Michel Ney it seems he certainly believed rightly or wrongly he was.

P.S. Ney didn't get everything right. Namely his mother whom he said was Isabel Stuart, who is not the mother of Michel Ney.

Conclusion:

I don't know. Though I am not convinced P.S. Ney was Michel Ney, I'm not convinced that Ney's execution was completely legit either. There is definitely weirdness abounding here.

If you want to delve into this more I strongly recommend Empire's Eagles by Thomas Crockner. I just gave the briefest of the evidence, but the book goes more into depth in other evidence that both points to things not being right and reasons they are also right.

[introvertguide]

The Life of Roman Polanski

The director of our current movie under review, Roman Polanski, is a man that has been surrounded by sadness and controversy. I think that he is a great director and an amazing creator of the visual arts, but he has a major flaw that makes me very glad he is nowhere near me. I think a statement like that deserves some explanation, but know that a lot of my take is based on opinion. I was not alive when a lot of his issues occurred so I base my opinion on news and official record statements. I will try and rely on recorded facts as much as possible and make a point to mention if something is not proven. I also encourage anyone who is interested to find out more because it is a fascinating story.

Polanski started off the in a pretty bad way as he was born in 1933 in Paris during the height of Nazi reign in Europe. He was moved to Krakow in 1937 right before the German invasion and his parents were taken in raids. He was kept alive in foster homes under an assumed identity and was lucky to survive. His mother died in Auschwitz, but he was reunited with his father after the war in 1946. Roman had quite the artistic eye and used it for both photography and filming. He attended the National Film School in Lodz, Poland and started directing short films that gained recognition. One film in particular was called Bicycle. It was a true story of a thief that tricked Polanski out of his money when purchasing a bicycle and instead beat Polanski around the head with the butt of a gun. The thief was found and eventually executed for past crimes including 3 murders. 

After graduating in 1959, Polanski went to France and continued to make short films. He reported that there was a problem with xenophobia at the time since so many Polish people had dispersed around Europe after the war. He went to England and made three movies between 1965 and 1968 that gained recognition in America: Repulsion, Cul-de-sac, and Dance of the Vampires. A young woman named Sharon Tate played a role in Dance of the Vampires and Polanski fell in love. He married her in 1968 in England, and they moved to the U.S. so he could make movies in Hollywood. His first film in the states was a horror film entitled Rosemary’s Baby, one of the highest rated horror films of all time. Polanski had a beautiful young wife, a son on the way, a hit movie with more work coming, and great prospects for life in the United States.

As horrific as his formative years were, I am surprised to find myself writing that this is when Polanski’s life really went out of control. On August 9th, 1969, cult members who followed a man named Charles Manson broke into the Polanski home in Los Angeles and murdered the 8 month pregnant Sharon Tate and four friends that were at the home. Polanski had been working in London on a new film and wasn’t there that night. He says to this day that it is by far the greatest regret of his life. Remember this. It seems that some wires got crossed as far as Roman’s thinking process because his behavior really took a turn.

His films had been dark and violent in the past, but they started to have sexual undertones with more graphic nudity. His first movie back after the loss of his wife was Macbeth, a movie that was rated X at the time for graphic nudity and violence. Polanski later said that he was in a dark place, but the media would find things in his movies always looking for a story. He hated the media after the sensationalism and lack of privacy involved with the loss of his wife and son. Next came an extremely odd road trip sex comedy that was appropriately called What?. And then came his last work filmed in the United States and the film he was probably best known for, Chinatown. I don’t want to go over the film too much since it is the film currently under review for the group, but it is very dark and has an extremely down beat ending. 

And then another crime was committed in Polanski’s life that would haunt while simultaneously erasing any good will the American public had for him. He was charged for drugging and raping a 13-year-old girl who modeled for him during a Vogue photoshoot. It was recorded as occurring at the Bel Air estate of Jack Nicholson. There is no question about this encounter as Polanski was arrested and confessed to the charges. He thought he was going to receive probation and timed served for a guilty plea, but the judge was reported to have changed his mind and was planning to reject the plea and give Polanski prison time for all charges. This would result in up to 50 years in jail and what amounted to life in prison. Polanski would not serve this sentence so he fled the country to France where he would not be extradited. 

The charges are still pending and there is no statute of limitations on rape in the United States, so Polanski is on a list of people that if found outside of certain countries will be immediately sent back to the U.S. to face charges. He has dual citizenship in France and Poland; both countries do not extradite citizens. He went on to make one of his best works, a film called Tess, while in Europe. It was a great success and Polanski was nominated for Best Director. The film ended up winning three Academy Awards (none for Polanski). So it seemed that this acclaimed director would live in France and hope that things would blow over. He settled a civil suit in court with the girl and she went on to marry and says she forgives Polanski. But it didn’t end...

Because the woman was in the U.S. and Polanski was not, she was harassed by the press to speak out and tell her story. She reported that the media did much more harm to her and her family than Polanski did. That is a very strong statement considering the charges. Things finally cooled down somewhat when Polanski married an actress from one of his films, Emmanuelle Seignor in 1989. The couple have two kids together and things were apparently going fine in France. 

Things remained well through the 90s although nothing Polanski did got much attention. It seemed he would simply live out his life quietly in France. Then in 1999, he came out with a film called The Ninth Gate that garnered attention since it starred the very popular Johnny Depp. Polanski was back on his game and he directed and produced a film called The Pianist. It stars Adrian Brody and told the story of a Polish-Jewish composer who survived the concentration camps because of goodwill received from German officers that appreciated his work. It is a masterpiece and earned Polanski the award for Best Director. He could not accept the award in person because he would be arrested, so Harrison Ford accepted it on his behalf and took it to him in France. A strange little detail about this is that The Pianist was also up for best picture, but stirrings about Polanski’s past were brought up by a competing producer to throw the award. There is no real proof of this, but the man said to have done this was quite powerful in Hollywood at the time. Ironically, that man who was said to remind people of old rape charges was none other than Harvey Weinstein. I don’t have proof of this, but it is an interesting story. One of those “I heard it is said that” kind of things from TMZ. 

Anyway, these reminders had people trying to interview Polanski and his wife about the past and he basically said that people needed to move past it. This does not tend to go over very well with the American public or the legal system and Polanski was arrested while in Switzerland and held in Zurich. Public sentiment in America, France, and Poland leaned towards Polanski being sent to America to face trial. The Swiss judge denied extradition and Polanski was sent back to France. There were requests in 2014 by US courts that Poland send Polanski to stand trial since there was question concerning the conduct of the original judge in Polanski’s case. It was believed that Polanski would be given some form of probation, but it also meant he could travel. Polish courts ruled that Polanski had served his punishment and should not have to face U.S. courts again. In 2016, it was presented by Polish officials that no amount of time could account for the crime of rape, but the decision of the lower court was held. 

In 2018, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences removed Polanski as a member. Strangely, that same year, they offered a membership to his wife (who loudly said no).

So the final say about how to feel about Polanski and his works lies firmly on the individual. Here is all the information about the trial that can keep it nice and ambiguous for you. The judge, the lead prosecutor, and the LA County Deputy DA at the time all admitted bias against Polanski. He would not have gotten a fair trial and would likely have ended up in prison for life. The prosecutor said later in an interview for a documentary that he was not surprised at all that Polanski left and it would have been a media circus. Polanski paid the victim almost a million dollars in civil settlement money and she said she doesn’t want to see any further prosecution. Okay. In 2017, a website run by Matan Uziel was sued by Polanski for libel when it was posted that 5 other women had come forward and accused Polanski of sexual assault. Polanski did not show up in court so Uziel was dismissed of charges. Uziel requested specifically that the cases not be dropped so that Polanski could not try and sue him at a future date. It is true that, in 2010, an English actress accused Polanski of “forcing himself” on her during filming of the movie Pirates. In 2017, a Swiss woman accused Polanski of raping her in the 70s when she was only 15. The same month, another woman accused him of assaulting her in 1975 when she was only 10. Finally, in 2019, a former actress model from France said that Polanski violently raped her at a Swiss chalet in 1975.

So what can you say about the man? His early life was tragedy and misery. The loss of his wife and child was horrific. He seemed like he was in a very bad place in the 70s. I don’t want to give credence to accusation without proof, but it can be sure that he committed at least one sexual assault of an under aged girl. He ran from his trial because he knew it would not be fair, but he was still never held accountable in a court of law for what he did. He has been forced to stay in Poland and France, but he is wealthy with a wife and kids, never seeing the jail time for what he did. And if it is true that he has committed other crimes like this, then he needs to be in jail. But could he ever get a fair day in court at this point? The man is 87 and will likely die soon, likely before any sentencing could occur. Also, how reliable is testimony from any parties about things that happened between 40-50 years ago? Everything he is accused of seems to have happened after the death of Sharon Tate and before his marriage to his current wife, so it seems like his behavior was linked to his state of mind and he is no longer in that state. That may explain things but it does not forgive them.

I don’t know. This is probably why I chose psychology instead of law enforcement or criminal justice. Trying to decide if someone has adequately paid for crimes they have committed is not my specialty. It will be a moot point soon enough because he will be dead. So what do we do with the guy? He has encountered both great suffering and great joy in his life. He as also caused great suffering and great joy. I guess it is more about how he will be remembered at this point. I would be curious to hear what others think. 

[tipsycad147]

Witches Executed at Lancaster

Against Elizabeth Device the testimony of her own daughter Jennet, a child nine years of age, was received; and the way in which her evidence was given, instead of filling the court with horror, seems to have excited their applause and admiration.

Her familiar had the form of a dog and was called 'Ball', and by his agency she bewitched to death John and James Robinson and James Mitton; the first having called her a strumpet, and the last having refused to give Old Demdike a penny when she asked him for charity.

To render her daughter proficient in the art, the prisoner taught her two prayers, by one of which she cured the bewitched, and by the other procured drink.

James Device was convicted principally on the evidence of his child sister Jennet, of bewitching and killing Mrs. Anne Towneley, the wife of Mr. Henry Towneley, by means of a picture of clay; and both he and his sister were witnesses against their mother.

This wizard (James Device), whose spirit was called 'Dandy', is described as a poor, decrepit boy, apparently of weak intellect, and so infirm, that it was found necessary to hold him up in court on his trial.

From Lancashire Folklore, 1882 John Harland and T.T. Wilkinson.

Killing by Witchcraft

The said Elizabeth Southerns (alias Demdike) confesseth and sayth:

"The speediest way to take a mans life away by witchcraft, is to make a picture of clay, like unto the shape of the person whom they mean to kill, and dry it thoroughly. And when they would have them to be ill in any one place more then an other; then take a thorn or pin, and prick it in that part of the picture you would so have to be ill. And when you would have any part of the body to consume away, then take that part of the picture, and burn it."

"And when they would have the whole body to consume away, then take the remnant of the said picture, and burn it: and so there-upon by that means, the body shall die."

Discovery of Witches, 1613 Thomas Potts (clerk of the court).

Witches Executed at Lancaster

Upon evidence of this kind no fewer than ten of these unfortunate people were found guilty at Lancaster, and sentenced to suffer death.

Eight others were acquitted; why, it is not easy to see, for the evidence appears to have been equally strong, or rather equally weak and absurd, against all.

The ten persons sentenced were:

Anne Whittle alias Chattox

Anne Redferne daughter of Chattox

Elizabeth Device daughter of Demdike

James Device son of Elizabeth Device

Alison Device daughter of Elizabeth Device

Alice Nutter

Jane Bulcock

John Bulcock son of Jane Bulcock

Katherine Hewitt alias Mould-heels

Isabel Robey

They were executed at Lancaster on the 20th of August, 16I2, for having bewitched to death 'by devilish practices and hellish means' no fewer than sixteen inhabitants of the Forest of Pendle.

These were:

Robert Nutter of Greenhead

Richard Assheton of Downham

A child of Richard Baldwin

John Device of Pendle

Ann Nutter of Pendle

A child of John Moor

Hugh Moor of Pendle

John Robinson alias Swyer

James Robinson

Henry Mytton of Rough Lee

Ann Towneley wife of Henry Towneley

John Duckworth

John Hargreaves of Goldshaw Booth

Blaize Hargreaves of Higham

Christopher Nutter

Ann Folds near Colne

John Law, a Pedlar, was also bewitched, so as to lose the use of his limbs, by Alison Device, because he refused to give her some pins without money, when requested to do so by her on his way from Colne.

Alison Device herself was a beggar by profession, and the evidence sufficiently proved that Law's affliction was nothing more than what would now be termed paralysis of the lower extremities.

In his introduction to Pott's Discovery of Witches, Mr James Crossley observes:

"the main interest in reviewing this miserable band of victims will be felt to centre in Alice Nutter. Wealthy, well conducted, well connected, and placed probably on an equality with most of the neighbouring families and the magistrate before whom she was brought and committed, she deserves to be distinguished from the companions with whom she suffered."

From Lancashire Folklore, 1882 John Harland and T.T. Wilkinson.

Description of Elizabeth Device

This odious Witch was branded with a preposterous mark in Nature, even from her birth, which was her left eye, standing lower then the other; the one looking down, the other looking up, so strangely deformed, as the best that were present in that Honourable assembly, did affirm, they had not often seen the like.

From Discovery of Witches, 1613 Thomas Potts (clerk of the court).

The Witches of Salmesbury

The trials of these persons took place at the same assizes, and before the same judge.

Against Jane and Ellen Bierley and Jane Southworth, all of Samlesbury, charged with having bewitched Grace Sowerbutts, the only material evidence was that of Grace Sowerbutts herself, a girl of licentious and vagrant habits, who swore that these women (one of them being her grandmother), did draw her by the hair of the head and lay her upon the top of a hay-mow, and did take her senses and memory from her that they appeared to her sometimes in their own likeness and sometimes like a black dog.

She declared that they by their arts had induced her to join their sisterhood; and that they were met from time to time by 'four black things going upright and yet not like men in the face', who conveyed them across the river Ribble, where they danced with them etc.

The prisoners were also charged with bewitching and slaying a child of Thomas Walshams by placing a nail in its navel; and after its burial, they took up the corpse, when they ate part of the flesh, and made an 'uncious ointment' by boiling the bones.

This was more than even the capacious credulity of the judge and jury could digest.

The Samlesbury Witches were therefore, acquitted, and a seminary priest named Thompson alias Southworth, was suspected by two of the county magistrates (the Rev. William Leigh and Edward Chisnall) to whom the affair was afterwards referred, of having instigated Sowerbutts to make the charge, but this imputation was not supported by any satisfactory evidence.

From Lancashire Folklore, 1882 John Harland and T.T. Wilkinson.

http://www.pendlewitches.co.uk/witch-trial/

[moonlightmurder]

Favorite True Crime Books – part 1

The Peyton-Allan Files by Phil Stanford : Two teenagers, making out one night in a car on the edge of town ― slaughtered by person or persons unknown. No physical evidence to speak of. No known motive. For all the Multnomah County Sheriff’s Office knows, there’s a psychotic killer roaming the hills west of town. Until they arrest someone for the murders of Larry Peyton and Beverly Allan, no one will rest easy. The Peyton-Allan Files is the story of the savage double-murder that changed life forever in the deceptively peaceful town of Portland, Oregon. A true-life murder mystery, guaranteed to keep you turning pages till the last guilty party has been brought to justice ― or maybe just framed. Because one way or another, this case has got to be solved.

House of Evil: The Indiana Torture Slaying by John Dean : In the heart of Indianapolis in the mid 1960’s, through a twist of fate and fortune, a pretty young girl came to live with a thirty-seven-year-old mother and her seven children. What began as a temporary childcare arrangement between Sylvia Likens’s parents and Gertrude Baniszewski turned into a crime that would haunt cops, prosecutors, and a community for decades to come…

When police found Sylvia’s emaciated body, with a chilling message carved into her flesh, they knew that she had suffered tremendously before her death. Soon they would learn how many others―including some of Baniszewski’s own children―participated in Sylvia’s murder, and just how much torture had been inflicted in one house of evil.

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote : On November 15, 1959, in the small town of Holcomb, Kansas, four members of the Clutter family were savagely murdered by blasts from a shotgun held a few inches from their faces. There was no apparent motive for the crime, and there were almost no clues.

As Truman Capote reconstructs the murder and the investigation that led to the capture, trial, and execution of the killers, he generates both mesmerizing suspense and astonishing empathy. In Cold Blood is a work that transcends its moment, yielding poignant insights into the nature of American violence.

Bind, Torture, Kill : The Inside Story of BTK by Roy Wenzl, Tim Potter, Hurst Lavigne and L. Kelly: For thirty-one years, a monster terrorized the residents of Wichita, Kansas. A bloodthirsty serial killer, self-named “BTK”—for “bind them, torture them, kill them”—he slaughtered men, women, and children alike, eluding the police for decades while bragging of his grisly exploits to the media. The nation was shocked when the fiend who was finally apprehended turned out to be Dennis Rader—a friendly neighbor … a devoted husband … a helpful Boy Scout dad … the respected president of his church.

Written by four award-winning crime reporters who covered the story for more than twenty years,Bind, Torture, Kill is the most intimate and complete account of the BTK nightmare told by the people who were there from the beginning. With newly released documents, evidence, and information—and with the full cooperation, for the very first time, of the Wichita Police Department’s BTK Task Force—the authors have put all the pieces of the grisly puzzle into place, thanks to their unparalleled access to the families of the killer and his victims.

The Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and Peoples Temple by Jeff Guinn: In the 1950s, a young Indianapolis minister named Jim Jones preached a curious blend of the gospel and Marxism. His congregation was racially mixed, and he was a leader in the early civil rights movement. Eventually, Jones moved his church, Peoples Temple, to northern California, where he got involved in electoral politics and became a prominent Bay Area leader. But underneath the surface lurked a terrible darkness.

In this riveting narrative, Jeff Guinn examines Jones’s life, from his early days as an idealistic minister to a secret life of extramarital affairs, drug use, and fraudulent faith healing, before the fateful decision to move almost a thousand of his followers to a settlement in the jungles of Guyana in South America. Guinn provides stunning new details of the events leading to the fatal day in November, 1978 when more than nine hundred people died—including almost three hundred infants and children—after being ordered to swallow a cyanide-laced drink.

Guinn examined thousands of pages of FBI files on the case, including material released during the course of his research. He traveled to Jones’s Indiana hometown, where he spoke to people never previously interviewed, and uncovered fresh information from Jonestown survivors. He even visited the Jonestown site with the same pilot who flew there the day that Congressman Leo Ryan was murdered on Jones’s orders. The Road to Jonestown is “the most complete picture to date of this tragic saga, and of the man who engineered it…The result is a disturbing portrait of evil—and a compassionate memorial to those taken in by Jones’s malign charisma”

Nothing Is Strange with You: The Life and Crimes of Gordon Stewart Northcott by James Jeffrey Paul: A young man kidnaps his own nephew and makes him his servant and sex slave. He abducts young boys, has his way with them, and, if they know too much, kills them. He forces his nephew to participate in his crimes and to consign these little victims, sometimes still living, to their graves.

His father is afraid of his own son. His son mocks and abuses him, falsely accuses him of incest and child abuseand still he supports his son.

His mother loves her boy and will do anything to help himeven commit murder.

The Gordon Stewart Northcott casea part of which is fictionalized in the major new Clint Eastwood film CHANGELING, starring Angelina Jolieis still, eight decades later, one of the most nightmarish in American criminal annals. This booknearly two decades in the research and writingtells the whole story for the first time.

Fred & Rose: The Full Story of Fred and Rose West and the Gloucester House of Horrors by Howard Sounes: During their long relationship, the Wests murdered a series of young women, burying the remains of nine victims under their home at 25 Cromwell Street, Gloucester, including those of their daughter. What was left of Fred West’s eight-year-old stepdaughter was dug up from under the Wests’ previous Gloucester home; his first wife and nanny were buried in open country. Most victims had been decapitated and dismembered, their remains showing signs of sexual torture. These twelve are just the ones police found when the Wests were arrested in 1994. There may be more whose bones have not been located . . .

Howard Sounes broke the first major story about the Wests as a journalist, and covered the murder trial of Rosemary West, before writing Fred & Rose, the definitive account of this infamous case. Beginning with Fred’s and Rose’s bizarre childhoods, Sounes charts their lives and crimes in forensic detail, creating a fascinating and truly frightening account of a marriage soaked in blood.

The Blood of Emmett Till by Timothy B. Tyson: In 1955, white men in the Mississippi Delta lynched a fourteen-year-old from Chicago named Emmett Till. His murder was part of a wave of white terrorism in the wake of the 1954 Supreme Court decision that declared public school segregation unconstitutional. Only weeks later, Rosa Parks thought about young Emmett as she refused to move to the back of a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama. Five years later, Black students who called themselves “the Emmett Till generation” launched sit-in campaigns that turned the struggle for civil rights into a mass movement. Till’s lynching became the most notorious hate crime in American history.

But what actually happened to Emmett Till—not the icon of injustice, but the flesh-and-blood boy? Part detective story, part political history, The Blood of Emmett Till “unfolds like a movie” (The Atlanta Journal-Constitution), drawing on a wealth of new evidence, including a shocking admission of Till’s innocence from the woman in whose name he was killed. “Jolting and powerful” (The Washington Post), the book “provides fresh insight into the way race has informed and deformed our democratic institutions” (Diane McWhorter, Pulitzer Prize–winning author of Carry Me Home) and “calls us to the cause of justice today” (Rev. Dr. William J. Barber, II, president of the North Carolina NAACP).

In Broad Daylight by Harry N. MacLean: Ken Rex McElroy terrorized the residents of several counties in northwestern Missouri for a score of years. He raped young girls and brutalized them after they went to live with him or even married him; he shot at least two men; he stole cattle and hogs, and burned down the houses of some who interfered with his criminal activities. Thanks to the expert efforts of his lawyer and the pro-defendant bias of state laws, he served no more than a few days in jail, the author shows. In 1981, sentenced for the shooting of a popular grocer and free on bail, he was killed by the men of Skidmore, the center of his felonies; they closed ranks against all attempts to identify those who had pulled the triggers. Written by a first-time author, this is an engrossing, credible examination of the way vigilante action can take over when the law appears to be powerless. BOMC and QPBC alternates.

Killer Clown by Terry Sullivan: He was a model citizen. A hospital volunteer. And one of the most sadistic serial killers of all time. But few people could see the cruel monster beneath the colorful clown makeup that John Gacy wore to entertain children in his Chicago suburb. Few could imagine what lay buried beneath his house of horrors–until a teenaged boy disappeared before Christmas in 1978, leading prosecutor Terry Sullivan on the greatest manhunt of his career.

Reconstructing the investigation–from records of violence in Gacy’s past, to the gruesome discovery of 29 corpses of abused boys in Gacy’s crawlspace and four others found in the nearby river–Sullivan’s shocking eyewitness account takes you where few true crime books ever go: inside the heart of a serial murder investigation and trial.

Inside Alcatraz: My Time on the Rock by Jim Quillen: Jim Quillen, AZ586 – a runaway, problem child and petty thief – was jailed several times before his twentieth birthday. In August 1942, after escaping from San Quentin, he was arrested on the run and sentenced to forty-five years in prison, and later transferred to Alcatraz.

This is the true story of life inside America’s most notorious prison – from terrifying times in solitary confinement to daily encounters with ‘the Birdman’, and what really happened during the desperate and deadly 1946 escape attempt.

Go Down Together: The True, Untold Story of Bonnie and Clyde by Jeff Guinn: Forget everything you think you know about Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker. Previous books and films, including the brilliant 1967 movie starring Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, have emphasized the supposed glamour of America’s most notorious criminal couple, thus contributing to ongoing mythology. The real story is completely different — and far more fascinating.

[frumiousreads]

Hello and welcome to A Murderess Affair. My name is Gabrielle, and this seems to be the month that we’re talking about murderous healthcare workers. 

Our story today takes us to Germany, where we talk about the deadly Gesche Gottfried. 

Gottfried was born on March 6 1785 to Johann Timm and Gesche Margarethe Timme. She had a twin brother Johann Timm Jr, and her parents always preferred him to her. Now, like many other serial killers, people like to look back at Gottfried’s childhood to try and see how it affected her as an adult. 

What’s interesting about Gottfried’s case in particular is that it seems like because of how she killed people, and just the general way her parents treated her, a lot of people have begun to believe that she had Munchausen syndrome by proxy. 

Basically, Munchausen’s by proxy is where a caregiver makes up or causes an illness/injury to someone under their care. 

Gottfried’s father was a tailor, and her mother worked as a sewer/seamstress. But, surprisingly enough, despite their supposedly low or poor class status, Gottfried and her parents arranged a marriage between herself and a wealthy man who made saddles in 1806, Johann Mittenberg.

And this marriage was not a happy one. Mittenberg seemed to like drinking, prostitutes, and dance halls more than he liked spending time with his wife. 

And sadly, by 1813, this marriage would be over. Gottfried became known as the “angel of Bremen”, as this beautiful blue eyed blonde haired 28 year old who doted on her sick husband despite all of his failures, nurturing him quite literally to his death. 

Gottfried was now a widow with 3 children, but she was also very, very good friends with one of her dead husband’s friends, Michael Christoph Gottfried. 

Now, Gottfried’s parents were not too happy with this interest she took. Apparently, Michael wasn’t a big fan of kids, and her parents were very, very vocal about their disapproval. They were the only obstacle in Gottfried’s marriage to Michael. At least, until first Gottfried’s mother, 3 and 6 year old daughters, father, and 6 year old son died within the span of May, June, and September of 1815. 

Childless, with no family to support her, the town’s sympathy was only growing. While this may look suspicious to us now, this was back in a time where epidemics routinely took the lives of many families who lived in unhygienic and crowded conditions. 

Honestly I think now more than any other time is when we can understand how quickly sickness spreads through a community. 

So no suspicions were raised, and now all barriers holding Gottfried back from marrying Michael were disposed of, and their relationship would continue. 

Until 1816, when Gottfried’s twin brother returned from a war that left him injured and with destroyed faculties. He’d fought in the war against Napoleon, and now that he was discharged he wanted to claim the inheritance his parents had left him. And, since he was the favored child, he was left significantly more. 

Gottfried couldn’t have that, and on Jun 1st, 1816, she cooked him a dinner of fish and arsenic. He died not too long after. 

Arsenic used to be so easily found. It was commonly sold at drug and corner stores as a form of rat poison, and was nearly tasteless. Gottfried’s go to for incorporating her poison was to use “mouse butter”, which was a mix of fat and arsenic that created a butter like substance often used to kill rodents and other pests.  

Now, not long after her brother’s death, Gottfried found out that she was pregnant. And with this revelation, her new lover Michael decided he was done with the relationship. Gottfried wasn’t having that, and began mixing this mouse butter into his meals. He didn’t die at first, but fell completely under her whims and was considered “invalid”. They were married so that she could continue to care for him, but ultimately he died in July 1817. The baby she was carrying would also turn out to be stillborn. 

After Michael’s death, Gottfried hit a dry spell where nobody close to her died. It wasn’t until 1823, when her funds began to run out, that she started resorting to her old methods. 

She was proposed to by her neighbor, a merchant named Paul Zimmerman, who proposed spring of that year.

It wasn’t long after that she made a trip to the pharmacy, where they were advertising their “mouse butter” on sale. To test it, and see if it was “the real thing”, she made a sandwich for her fiance, who began to get sick and continued to get worse until he died on June 1st, 1823. Luckily, he’d remembered to add her in his will before he died, so she ended up getting his assets. 

After his death, it seems that Gottfried started actively looking for more and more victims. 

When she ran out of funds,  she ended up selling the house to a wheel maker, Johann Rumpff, under the condition that she was allowed to stay on as a tenant. She soon became close to the family as they moved in, helping take care of the house and being referred to by the children as their “aunt”, and caring for them when their parents were busy. 

She even helped take care of Mrs. Rumpff, when she got sick, until she died on December 22nd, 1826. Yes, that “mouse butter” was coming in handy. 

Except, Johann Rumpff was suspicious. This only increased when one day he found strange white grains in a salad that Gottfried had served him. He refused to eat the salad, and a few days later noticed the same white grains, and this time he saved some and later gave them to a doctor. This doctor confirmed it was a “considerable amount of arsenic”, and she was arrested on March 6th, 1828.

Unfortunately, at that point she had claimed the lives of 2 others, and also had dosed her latest victim, Friedrich Kleine, to the point that even though she was caught Kleine still died. 

She was jailed for 3 years in a cellar under the town hall in Bremen. The judge, Franz Friedrich Droste, was reportedly fond of her and treated her with pity. 

Gottfried was found guilty of the murders of 16 people, although her own estimate was somewhere around 30. She was given a death sentence, and on April 21st, 1831 she was sent to Domhof Square. There was a scaffold covered in black and she was directed to the podium and sat on a stool. There, she was beheaded, and her body displayed on museum in Domhof. The reason? To raise money for an orphanage. 

Gottfried’s was the last public execution in Bremen, and her skeleton was last reported to be in the Department of Pathology of Bremen in 1912. 

One way that Gottfried is remembered in Bremen is at the central city square. There, you will see a “black stone” in the roadway, where the platform that Gottfried was beheaded once stood. 

To demonstrate their disgust towards Gottfried and  her cruelty, the city placed this black stone and encourage those who see to spit on it. Nowadays, people do it even though they may not necessarily know the story behind it. 

[aurorafreerose]

Confessions- P1 of the Summertime series

[Hi!!! This is my first ever fanfic, I hope y’all like it!!]

Fandom: BnHA, Pairing: Izuocha Category: F/M

Words: 1316

On the first day of July, Izuku Midoriya tells her he likes her.

Or maybe even- his heart clenched at the very thought- loved her?

Izuku, known affectionately by some close to him as Deku, shook his head awkwardly at the very thought of it, refusing to entertain the possibility of his gloriously inexperienced-with-women self having the sheer audacity to love her.

Or was it- he hastily corrected his long-winded thoughts- being in love with her? Or loving her?

Never mind, his mind communicated to his heart, albeit rather disdainfully, because Izuku had impulsively decided to do away with the very notion of even considering such a far-fetched thing. Izuku lightly hit himself on the head in a placated manner, chastising himself for his cowardice and then pondering the matter again, ruminating over the matter for a long bit even though he'd just prohibited himself from doing so less than a minute ago.

On the first day of July, Izuku Midoriya will tell her he likes her.

Izuku rapidly scribbled the newest edit over his original proposition in the broad strokes of his trademark felt-tipped pen, its inky-black marks having graced his notebook's pages for as long as he could remember. On the previous page was All Might's autograph, scrawled in dramatic fashion in accordance with his- well, mighty- persona, and Izuku mustered a faint smile at the thought of that fateful day on what seemed so long ago. A whirlwind of things had happened since then, and while his life's events were admittedly chaotic, he found himself overcome with genuine appreciation as his first year's events overtook him in a sweeping reverie. He'd met so many people he admired- whether it was the explosive Bakugo, solemn-faced Todoroki, straight-mannered Lida, or-

His brow furrowed now, Izuku circled "will" in big bold swirling circles that made his daunting task quite excessively clear. He then proceeded to adorn the sentence with a host of messily executed exclamation marks, his fervor becoming apparent in the felt tip's repeated assault against the paper, more violent each time, dedicatedly barraging it to the point of nearly tearing rips through it.

!!!!!! On the first day of July, Izuku Midoriya !!! WILL !!! tell her he likes her !!!!!!!

Izuku holstered his pen in a satisfied kind of way, finally content with the results of his endless rumination. It didn't seem to matter what topic his mind wanted to gambol around with; time upon time again, his mind's inner workings seemed to converge on a singular object, sometimes a word, a phrase, an eye-appealing visual, or simply a nice sentiment- Ochaco Uraraka. Even when it was the most arbitrary matter- letting his mind rest upon the prospect of becoming a pro hero, for example, growing to embody his personal hero All Might, his mind would slowly, yet ever-so-surely, re-orient itself- after he accomplished his goal of becoming the number-one hero, what would his life entail? Would he have a family, akin to the hot-tempered Bakugo household- Midoriya crinkled his eyes softly at the thought, finding it laughable he would ever emulate his polar opposite- or his own mother?

Izuku found small pools congregating in the corners of his large green eyes as he thought of his mother. Her stringent dedication to his well-being, her constant worrying over his sudden forays into the great world of heroism, her tears shed on his behalf- paralleling his eyes' burgeoning rivers that now threatened to burst. Izuku's tears suddenly hushed as his mother's love reminded him of someone else in his life, the only person he really knew who he could fathom of having those same feelings, with that same depth, in his future- Uraraka.

His heart swelled fit to burst as his thoughts flooded with Ochaco Uraraka, whose crippling worry for him rivaled his mother's, which made Izuku feel quite guilty as he thought of it. Ochaco, whose sweet face of round cheeks and good-natured features grew crimson many of those innocent moments when they were in each other's company. He would have a marked reaction to her presence, his stomach doing backflips or twisting itself into knots whenever the mere possibility of conversing with her brought itself up in his head. Next was the giddy feeling of happiness he always felt as a result from simply being with her, which teased his mind and threw his heart into overdrive, and finally, a similar reddish tint arriving to call his freckled skin home. She, over time, came to rule his thoughts, small wisps of her image flitting in between every passing measure of time in his over-pressurized head. At that moment he made up his mind, markedly imbuing himself with a strong resolve that on par with his dreams to become a superhero.

"He will tell her," he thought to himself, repeating it like a mantra and drumming it in as if it wasn't already engraved in the stream of thoughts shooting constantly throughout his mind. He'd carefully picked July first, about a month from now, as it was the day their school year drew its curtains to a close, trying to mimic the day they first met. When she'd saved him from a painful trip, inviting the first introductions of that soon-to-be-familiar embarrassing blush to his face, and worming her way into his heart somewhere along the way after that.

He wanted to make it a picturesque moment, a tediously manufactured scene straight out of a western movie where the hero confesses his undying love to his love interest-well, he corrected himself, fellow hero, now that he thought about it. He'd already chosen the spot- a charming stone-paved pathway residing next to a magnificent large reservoir, and picked a time hovering carefully between sunset and nightfall, making sure to manage the balance between the extremes, to give it that rosy feeling he'd only ever seen when he looked up "romantic confession inspiration" on the online forums he'd eagerly stalked years ago for the newest tidbits regarding his favorite heroes- now, it was for relationship advice.

Izuku wasn't going to let his feelings for Ochaco meddle with his quest to become a hero, but even so, it was remarkable at how important she'd become to him; he cherished her, wanting to hold her tight and close in the small moments he was able to steal away when he wasn't in a fever busy training, to see her innocent face beaming back at him when she was happy, to be able to relish that fact as long as humanly possible. But that would never happen if he didn't work up the nerve to tell her.

Stupid, he mused while staring pointedly at the floor. He had fought deadly villains, trained brutally for months, and still couldn't steel his nerves enough to tell a girl he liked her? What would All Might do? No, that didn't make sense. For all he knew, All Might had never had romantic interest in anybody.

He decided to analyze the situation, predict its weaknesses, and formulate his next move, just like when he was in battle.

After some time, he realized the only actual pitfall to his plan was the possibility of her rejecting him. What would he do in that case? "Well, if that happens, I'll... run away and avoid her? No, that's a terrible idea! I could...

I could...

He realized there was no concrete solution to his problem. The only way to go through with it was to plunge himself into the unknown headfirst, and cross his fingers hoping he'd come out with the promise of happiness on the other side. He leaned back in his chair, letting it swivel, and closed his eyes shut. The subject of girls was tiring, which was why he preferred not to think about it if he didn't have to. Strategizing about the enemy was easier compared to figuring out this alien species, not including Mina....

[jungnoir]

ik uve gotten a lot of asks for this but i just reread battlecry for what i Believe is the 7th time and i just. 😭😭 you said we’re never getting a sequel but can i get a crumb😭😭 a single sentence about what happens after, ANYTHING 😭😭😭 spare content maam, spare content?? will she and jaem have a falling out.... will she and JENO have a falling out...... how will her parents react.... would jeno feel too guilty and give her up, despite what she wants...... the possibilities.... r endless....

omg wait just realized i might have sounded a bit pushy or just. Annoying and kinda rude in general in the last ask IM SORRY THATS 110% NOT MY INTENTION

no dw bb you’re okay!! this ask honestly made me laugh ashfisjf and yes there are so many possibilities!!! I guess I can give you insight into one of them,, perhaps. it’s been so long though so I apologize if it’s disapointing. tw: light gore, mentions of torture, pretty dark. kinda just real sad in the beginning. here’s battlecry for those who haven’t read it. also, the song this is named after is really good and I recommend it!!

when the bones are good;

“Wretched boy,” whip, “wretched, cursed boy,” whip, “you’re a devil! You bring ruin to my family!”

One would think that after weeks of this, Jeno would be used to the blinding pain of a horse whip at his back. The first few hits reopen old wounds, ones that burn against rough fabric and heavy metal and the sweat of a day’s work protecting the kingdom. It just gets worse the longer they go on, until he’s crying into his bindings, wishing the saltwater would melt away the rope and he could try to run. He tried so many a time before. What made him think he had a better chance this time? Or the next? Or the next? Because there would always be a next.

Jeno no longer pleads. He takes the punishment in stride, hoping to the gods that have abandoned him to at least spare him a moment of ignorant bliss. No pain. 

Whip!

A choked sob leaves his throat and by some miraculous mercy, the whip hits him no more after that. He slumps against the disgusting chamber floors that are covered in the remains and innards of everyone who has met their fate here. Traitors, thieves, murderers, him. 

He is only held up by his tied up hands, keeping him from laying fully on the ground, suspending him in the air because his legs are too weak to do anything but give out. He’s lucky to still have his trousers, for his shirt is all torn to shreds in a corner of the chamber somewhere, so the cold stings against his bleeding wounds relentlessly. He huffs and puffs and with each breath, a cloud of vapor follows. It’s going to be freezing tonight. They may as well just kill him here.

Jeno can hear the king’s footsteps but he doesn’t dare open his eyes or look over his shoulder. He doesn’t get a choice though, when the king spins him around harshly and his back is pressed up against the jagged stone wall. He cries out again, being met by a sharp slap to the face. Jeno is silent at once. “Why I ever showed mercy to that abhorrent wench of a mother you have, I will never know. I should have killed both her and you that night and you know it.”

Jeno nods, knowing that if he refuses to respond he’ll just get hurt more. He’d really like to go to sleep now. 

“To think,” the king spits in Jeno’s face, “I gave a bastard peasant boy a place to sleep, food to eat, a place as close to my dearest jewel no man but me will ever have… and you had the audacity to come here in your mother’s name, knowing full well what I’d do to you if I found out. The very arrogance you have, walking these palace grounds for so long, plotting my demise… I ought to hang you in the square where everyone can see you for the treacherous demon you are.”

Jeno could imagine it. The townspeople taking turns to spit on him, calling him a devil child, sentencing him to death beside his mother. He hadn’t seen her since the day she laid the curse on you, the day he’d been found out by the king for his relation to the witch. That was the day the torture started, and if it wasn’t for how suspicious his sudden disappearance would be, Jeno would already be dead by now. 

Things were stiff now that all eyes were on the king. He couldn’t easily dispose of the witch’s spawn like he’d been doing to the others like him for the last few decades, lest the uprisings really take flight. For now, he’d have to wait until the excitement cooled down, and then…

“Leave him here. Hopefully the night will kill him before I have to. I’m far too exhausted to exert the effort.” Jeno hears the king’s voice as he stands and walks out of the cell, followed by the clang of the door slamming shut. It leaves a ringing in his ears that makes him whimper. He, too, hoped the night would kill him first. He couldn’t bear to see your face after your father no doubt fed you some lies about him being the reason for your curse in the first place. The hate you’d harbor for him as he made his way to be executed… he didn’t dare to imagine it.

Where was home?

With his mother? The witch who’d bred him to be her revenge, abandoning the just cause of protecting her coven and avenging her fallen witches in order to spill the king’s blood? The witch who sent him as an agent, meant to orchestrate her plan in slaughtering the royal family for their continued persecution of witches? The witch whose magic sizzled in his veins? The witch who abandoned him the moment he’d confessed “I’m in love”? 

Or was it with you before all this happened? The golden summer days of adolescence where the two of you were just children in love, and there was no curse, and there was no Jaemin, and the king and queen still thought of him as good? With you, the loving princess who didn’t emulate a single ounce of her father’s true nature?

Or was it in the night, when sparks of forbidden energy flowed through his fingertips and created images of a life where Jeno was happy and safe? Was it in the comfort of his “dark” magic, the very thing he kept hidden to save his life?

Home was… it was a rocking carriage. 

Jeno bolts upright and instantly regrets it when his back protests, making him cry in agony. He doesn’t know where he is, only that he’s moving, like he’s being carried somewhere. A hand on his cheek makes him alert to his surroundings at once.

It’s quiet and dark and there’s a hooded figure staring down at him. A familiar voice coos at him, “Please be careful… your wounds only just stopped bleeding.”

It’s you. You’re there. He can feel warmth wrapped around his body and he looks down to see bandages curled tight around his ribs and chest. A loose, peasant’s shirt is hanging off his body but it’s still thick enough to keep him warm, and then there’s a blanket hanging off his shoulders too. 

There’s a small lantern in your hands that lights up your sweet face. Jeno so badly wants to kiss you again. Instead, he blinks back his overwhelming love and asks the burning question on his mind, “Where are we?”

Your hand flutters from his cheek, leaving the boy whining softly in the loss of contact, but it’s only to help readjust his blanket. “The woods. We’re headed for the Na Kingdom.”

A hand much different from your own touches his shoulder, and before Jeno can react the way he’s been bred to, there’s a another blanket being draped over him. Jeno chances a look over his other shoulder and finds another hooded figure, and though the light scarcely meets his face, the features are apparent. 

Jaemin’s lips are pulled tight in a small frown, but he cannot hide the softness in his eyes when Jeno meets them. “It will be a long journey, and we will have to stop a few times for supplies and such. It’ll be trouble trying to smuggle so many people out of the kingdom after the ordeal.”

“I like our odds,” you perk up from beside Jeno, leaning in close to him to provide some warmth, “Renjun knows this land like the back of his hand, and Mark’s been working on cloaking spells for months now.”

It’s only then that Jeno recognizes a sleeping figure at the far end of the carriage, a boy curled up in some hay and sleeping peacefully, no doubt the court mage he’d been watching monitor you for weeks. He could only then assume that Renjun was leading the carriage from outside. His mind, putting things together slowly but surely, wonders how you’d both convinced them to come with you. “Did something happen…? Did your father threaten your life?” 

“He might as well have.” Your voice hardens, but it’s not directed at him. No, your anger is saved solely for the man who raised you, “To beat you… to dare lay his hands on you the way he did… he might as well have done the same to me. It hurts me just the same.”

You were doing this for him. 

Jaemin shuffles a little closer at his other side, adding even more warmth to the freezing boy, “…you have been my friend these past few weeks and I could not ask for more kindness from you even if I was that selfish,” Jeno shudders, unable to comprehend, “what happened… we can discuss at a later time. Right now, your safety and the safety of your people is all that matters to me. We cannot let the king get away with his atrocities. When we get home, I’ll see to it that the treaty is ended and that my father rights her father’s wrongs. I promise that all witches will be safe.”

Jaemin was doing this for him. Why would anyone…?

“That’s right. Jaemin’s kingdom is safe for all. We will make this right, Jeno.” You place a soft kiss to his forehead, enveloping the boy in a hug so tight but so loving that he can ignore the pain for now.

With one hand on your arm, Jeno places the other on Jaemin’s, shocking the prince, “Your highness, I swear to you my life. I will protect both you and (Y/N) even if it kills me.”

The small frown on Jaemin’s lips wavers some at that. Jeno can’t tell what it means, only that he hates seeing the prince look so pained. He’d gotten used to the smiles and laughter. He hated knowing he was the reason for its absence. He would do anything he could to fix-

Jeno is startled when the prince suddenly collapses into his side in a fit of soft crying, tears rushing out of his eyes so fast that the shoulder of Jeno’s blanket is soaked in seconds. The prince has wrapped himself tight around the knight, tight like you, and yet again, the pain is bearable. “You’re an idiot, Jeno,” Jaemin swears through gritted teeth, “don’t talk to me like a knight. Talk to me like you talk to (Y/N). Talk to me like I mean something to you. I care about you.”

You, too, are sniffling into Jeno’s opposite shoulder, rubbing at his arms to fight against the night air.

It’s strange. “I… care about you, too. I’m sorry.” He says and you lay down like that, fall asleep like that. It’s so, so strange. This feels pretty close to a home.

[crimesandcuriosities]

In the evening of 22nd November 2003, 22 year old Dru Sjodin had just finished her shift at the Victoria’s Secret store in Columbia Mall, South Carolina, and went to browse around the surrounding shops before heading home for the night. Whilst walking to her car, Dru was engaged in a normal conversation with her boyfriend via mobile phone, until he heard her abruptly state “oh my god!’ before the line went dead. 

There was complete silence until 3 hours later, when her boyfriend received another phone call from Dru. However, instead of hearing her voice, he only heard the sound of static and the beeping of buttons being pressed. Although Dru was not able to vocally provide any information, the silent call lasted long enough that the mobile phone could be traced to near Fisher, Minnesota. This was the last anybody ever heard from the promising University of North Dakota student.

Just over one week later, on 1st December 2003, registered sex offender Alfonso Rodriguez Jr was arrested in affiliation with Dru’s disappearance. Only 6 months prior to this case, Rodriguez had been released from prison after serving 23 years for stabbing and attempting to kidnap a woman. Certain aspects of Rodriguez’s activities around November time confirmed suspicions of his involvement. First of all, he had confessed to being in close proximity to Columbia Mall the day Dru went missing, as he had been watching the movie ‘Once Upon a Time in Mexico’ at a local theatre. However, it later emerged that this particular film had not been shown at all in local cinemas. Additionally, receipts from stores close to Columbia Mall were also found belonging to Rodriguez, one for the purchase of a blade, and police recovered a female’s shoe and knife in his vehicle alongside blood matching Dru Sjodin’s DNA.

Five months after she disappeared, on 17th April 2004, Dru’s body was found dumped in a ravine in Crookston, Minnesota; the same area where Rodriguez lived with his mother. A closer examination found that she had been beaten, raped and stabbed. In the midst of melting snowfall, Dru’s body was discovered face down and some of her clothing had been removed. Her hands were still restrained behind her back, and a rope had been left tied around her neck attached to a plastic bag. Due to the variety of physical implications at the scene, it was concluded that Dru had eventually died either due to a significant neck wound, suffocation, or exposure to the harsh winter conditions.

Thousands of people from the local community had helped search for Dru, and hundreds turned out to attend her funeral. In light of Dru Sjodin’s horrific murder, “Dru’s Law” was introduced and signed as legislation by President George W. Bush in 2006, which involved the establishment of the Dru Sjodin National Sex Offender Public Registry. As Alfonso Rodriguez had crossed state lines to commit his vicious and premeditated crime, the trial was hosted in a federal courtroom. This meant that he was eligible for execution, which would not have been possible if tried under Minnesota or North Dakota jurisdiction.

In September 2006, Rodriguez was found guilty and sentenced to the death penalty. When later discussing the murder, Rodriguez confessed that he had followed Dru around the mall that day. When he first saw her, she apparently reminded him of a sexually abusive female authority figure from his childhood, and from then he became infatuated. He admitted that he initially panicked and walked away, but then decided to return and follow her. Rodriguez also disclosed exactly what happened when Dru had reached her car and the phone call was cut off. He recalled that he approached her and pulled out a knife. He then went on to say: “When I looked at her, I sort of came back to my senses, the first thing I said, ‘That ain’t her.’ I was going to leave and then something, I don’t know, something clicked and I looked at her and then I told her to put her hands behind her back.“

[meeradrinkslethe]

The "most gruesome" murder of the 1920's

(Marion Parker, her mother, and her twin sister)

On December 15, 1927 William Edward Hickman walked into Mount Vernon Junior High's office. He spoke to an employee of the school, Mary Holt, and told her that he needed to take the "younger daughter" of Perry Parker to see her father, as he had been badly injured and wished to speak to his child. She later said that she would not have turned the girl over to him, "but for the sincerity and disarming manner of the man"

Hickman had been employed at Security-First National Bank by Perry Parker before he was fired and reported to Police for forgery and theft.

Despite seeming to have been intelligent and successful in High School in Kansas City, by the time he was fired by Parker he had already committed a string of crimes that spanned from stealing candy when he was eleven to murder and robbery at nineteen. Before he went to work as a messenger for the bank, he was involved in the murder of a Police officer while he and his partner in crime, Welby Hunt, were robbing a drug store. While working at the bank, he forged $400 ($5,933 in 2020) worth of checks- after he was fired, he committed several small robberies, but he was running out of money- he decided the best thing to do would be to kidnap Parker's daughter for ransom.

The next day (or a few hours later, there are contradicting reports on this one) Parker received a strange letter:

Get this straight. Your daughter's life hangs by a thread and I have a Gillette ready and able to handle the situation

Fox-Fate

The letter demanded $1,500 ($22,159 in 2020) for the life of the girl.

The next night when Perry Parker went to the spot where he was to meet his daughter's kidnapper to pay the ransom, Hickman was deterred by Police and a second meeting spot was made. When the next meeting happened the following night, Hickman pointed a gun at Parker who was relived to see his daughter sitting "bundled and immobilized" beside her kidnapper in the passenger seat; he handed over the money, and then Hickman drove off- before he halted two hundred feet away and pushed Marion from the car.

When her father went to her, he found his daughter's limbless torso. Her eyes had been sewn open (some sources say held open with wire) to make her appear to be alive, and she had been disemboweled and stuffed with rags to soak up the blood. Her legs and arms would later be found, cleaned and wrapped in newspaper, in Elysian Park.

Hickman fled and the city of Los Angeles fell to panic. Mexico closed its boarders, and rewards for the killer totaled $60,000 ($890,000 in 2020), One man fitting Hickman's description was arrested seven times in one day before he requested that he be allowed to stay in jail. Another man fitting Hickman's description was beaten by a mob before he was taken to a jail for his own safety- he later hung himself while he was there.

During the autopsy, one of the towels found stuffed inside of her torso was marked with the words "Bellevue Arm's Apartments". The Police were lead to Hickman who was staying there, and they questioned him- but he managed to slip away to Oregon before he was caught after a car chase.

Once he was handcuffed, he asked one of the arresting officers if they thought that he would be as famous as Leopold and Loeb.

Hickman plead not guilty by reason of insanity, a relatively new law in California that allowed people to plead not guilty even though they had committed a crime, but at the time of his capture he told Police that he needed the $1,500 for Seminary School. He also stated to the capturing officers during his initial interview that he hadn't planned on killing the girl, but she had become able to identify him. He tied her to a chair before he strangled her with a rag before he put her in the bathtub where she apparently came to as he dismembered her. He intended to dispose of her after, but then realized that Parker would most likely want to see his daughter alive before he would hand over the money, so he reconstructed her body and opened her eyelids to make her appear alive for the pick up of the ransom.

He told his attorney that a "supernatural being" named Providence ordered him to commit the crime. A grueling, weeks long trial was held; several officers from the jail he was held at in Oregon testified that he asked them "how to act to crazy". The prosecution lawyers said that his true reason for committing the crime was for revenge against Parker for firing him and testifying against him in relation to his earlier crime of forgery and theft. He also told a reporter that he murdered her to receive the same notoriety that Leopold and Loeb had.

Judge Carlos Hardy found him to be sane, and after forty minutes the jury of four women and eight men found him guilty; he was sentenced to death by hanging- a few months before the murder, California had narrowed its allowances for insanity pleas. The courtroom erupted in cheering, and Hickman was taken to San Quentin Prison to await the death sentence.

He filed several appeals and found God in the eight months of waiting for his death sentence. He wrote a letter to the families of his victims.

On the day of his execution, reporters waited for news of his death outside the prison. He was lead to the gallows, a priest following behind him said "Lord, have mercy on us" to which Hickman replied, "Christ, have mercy on us."

The execution did not go smoothly for Hickman, however; he hit his head on the gallows on the way down, and his neck didn't break. He swung for a few moments before being declared dead.

A later autopsy would reveal that Hickman had strangled to death.

[cheese-knife]

A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

Chapter One: The End.

Hello everyone! I know I’m not exactly know for writing fanfiction, but this is the newest project im working on. Its a bit strange, as it is a crossover between BNHA and The Wolf Among Us/ Fables Universe. But this AU is starting to dig a precious place in my heart, and I’d love it if you checked it out.

Rating: Teens and Up

Pairings: (Eventual) Bigby Wolf/Snow White

Read it on Ao3

The room was nothing special, a plain grey room built like a brick shithouse, meant to house and contain some of the most dangerous criminals in New York for questioning. The only things furnishing the room were two chairs, a table, and a single light without a cover. One of the walls had a rectangle of dark glass inlaid into the brick.

Bigby Wolf sat unnaturally still in the uncomfortable metal chair, greasy, unkempt hair hanging in a curtain around his head as he stared a hole into the table in front of him. His hands were latched to the table by heavy cuffs, kept well apart so there was no way he could rip the hand cuffs off without doing significant damage to himself. Even then, the small red lights blinking on the cuffs showed that they were actively suppressing his quirk so its not like he would get very far.

The door to the room opened with a slam as two stern looking officers entered the room, one carrying a significantly thick file folder under his arm. One stood at the door, and the one with the folder sat down across from Bigby at the table.

“Fifty-Six confirmed counts of murder.”

The folder was slammed down onto the table,

“Sixty-One counts of property destruction.”

Dozens of photos of the were laid out before the wolf, each a snapshot moment from his rampage.

“An an association with an unknown number of missing persons. Their bodies were never recovered.”

He didn’t move as the officer spoke. He didn’t even acknowledge that he was there.

“The list goes on and on. You know what this means, don’t you Mr. Wolf?”

Nothing. The three in the room sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

“Damnit-”

Bigby didn’t even flinch as the hand cracked across his face, hard enough to break the skin over his cheekbone. Definitely a strength quirk behind that.

“-You know what this means right?” The officer was in his face now. “We have enough shit on you to put you away for a *thousand* lifetimes, and to kill you a hundred times more. Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Bigby finally looked up, furious, wild yellow eyes digging into the frustrated lawman. In this moment, it was clear that he was more animal than man. He had the physicality of a caged feral animal.

In the years after his mother passed away, Bigby let himself slip into the pitfalls of his powerful quirk; in fact, he welcomed it. He welcomed the separation from the world and his humanity, fully embodying the once silly nickname his brothers used to tease him with. The Big Bad Wolf.

The trial went unsurprisingly smoothly. There was no question of what his verdict would be as he stood in front of the judge, still an overwhelming presence in the courtroom despite his restraints.

”Members of the Jury, in the case of Wolf vs. New York, what do you say?”

A small, timid woman stood and cleared her throat.

“Your honor, the members of this Jury finds the defendant wholly GUILTY of his crimes.”

The jury filed out of the courtroom as the judge dismissed them, all more than ready to leave the presence of the newly convicted felon. Bigby could smell the fear-tinged pride on each and every one of them.

The judge looked down on him.

“Bigby Wolf, it is the judgement and sentence of this court that the charged information is true, and the jury having found that the penalty shall be death. It is the order of this court that you shall suffer death, said penalty to be inflicted in Southport Correctional Facility in the manner prescribed by the law, the date later to be fixed by the Court in warrant of execution. You are remanded to the custody of the warden of Southport, it is so ordered. In witness whereof, I have hereon set my hand as Judge of this Superior Court, and I have caused the seal of this Court to be affixed thereto.”

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

He could see the pure joy in the Judge’s eyes as he delivered the sentencing.

It was five years he spent in prison. Each one hammering in the point that the law was making a mockery of him. Everyday, the guards got a little worse, a little more teasing and pushed the limits of what they could do to him without him fighting back. The bastards got comfortable around him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

They treated him like a sad dog doing tricks just for the pleasure of a shitty treat, only to be denied even after groveling at their feet.

Five. Fucking. Years.

At this point he was just craving some sort of relief. He even welcomed death, and despite the judge’s promise all those five years ago, the court seemed determined to draw out his torment for as long as possible before sending him to the slaughterhouse.

Bigby blearily opened his eyes, never getting enough sleep these days, involuntarily flinching at the sharp sound of metal banging against metal. Though the cuff permanently clamped to his wrist prevented him from transforming, its not like they could cancel out his quirk entirely. Enhanced hearing had its downfalls, and every morning he woke up to the same three scents. Sweat, shit, and corruption.

But anyway, apparently he had a visitor. Which was strange, considering Bigby’s family was either gone, or dead, and he never made any friends. So who the fuck could possibly want to see him?

Only after having shackles firmly attached to his wrists and ankles, he was led into the surprisingly private- well, as private as you could get in a supermax prison- and was forced into a rusting metal chair in front of a booth comprised of two phones and bullet proof glass. And on the other side, politely escorted by guards to the seat in front of him, was a woman with skin like porcelain and hair blacker than coal; none other than the Princess Hero herself: Miss Snow Fucking White.

Real cute fucking name there, right?

She picked up the phone on her end, staring down Bigby with her calm, cold stare until he did the same.

“Mr. Wolf-“

“Listen, Miss White, I’m not in the fuckin’ mood to be berated by one of the top heroes in New York, so cut the shit and get outta here. Whatever you have to say, I’m not interested.” Bigby nothing but growled into his phone, nearly hanging up then and there and dragging is own ass back to his cell.

Miss White simply let him calm down, cleared her throat and continued.

“Mr. Wolf, I am here to inform you, in association with the Fables Hero Agency, that the state of New York is willing to grant you amnesty for your past crimes:”

That got Bigby’s attention. It wasn’t obvious, but there was a certain way his eyes widened just a touch, his body tensed and leaned just a hair in towards Snow that let her know that he was interested, very interested.

“Why should I trust you?” And. Twice as skeptical.

“Because, put plainly, I am your last chance at you living past 35. My agency has been interested in your case for a long time, and your time is running short. The court has scheduled a date for your execution, the end of this month. In 2 weeks exactly.”

Sounded good enough- except it didn’t. Bigby couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of him mouth, regretting them as soon as they hit the air. Why would he be actively trying to fuck up what’s already secured for him.

“Why the hell would you be interested in a serial killer with a knack for tearing people limb from limb?”

Snow leaned in towards the glass, hovering just a few inches from the glass.

“Because, you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

“Seven years ago, you broke into and killed six men in the basement of the Geppetto Casino, all wealthy and well know celebrities, CEOs and millionaires. These men were preparing to rape, torment, and humiliate the three women they were holding captive, including myself and my sister, before auctioning us off to the next highest biding sick perverted fuck.

But you showed up before any of that could happen. You gave those men what they deserved and you let us go without so much as a scratch before you nearly destroyed the whole building. The world mourned the death of those truly evil men, never acknowledging their heinous crimes, while insisting that you were the true monster. But I know the truth. At least in that moment, you were a hero.”

“...I’m not always like that, you know. I’ve killed innocent people.”

“We have one of the best investigative teams at the agency, I think we both know that isn’t entirely true. At points, yes. You were a villain through and through, but you’re not a bad person, Mr. Wolf.”

“Right... so where the hell do I sign up for this pardon thing?”

Snow produced a large envelope from a bag sitting at her feet and removed a few legal documents from it and handed them to a guard to present to Bigby.

“You should know that this doesn’t come without heavy restrictions. You’ll be under twenty-four observation, as well as required therapy, and extremely strict parol. You will also be required to study and work at the hero agency, and acquire a hero license at some point in the next 2 years. If you breech any terms of the contract, you’ll be arrested and sent back here to await execution again. But, if you manage to survive all of this, you’ll be relatively free within ten years. Reduced to five on good behavior.”

Bigby nodded, soaking up the information Snow was giving him while he looked over the several contracts placed in front of him. It was a lot of legal jargon, but it was easier to understand than he thought it would be. Well that, and he also spent the little free time he did have studying up on legal practices, curiosity pushing him to figure out just how fucked the system was right now.

“One problem, I can’t sign this. They don’t really let me use pens.”

Snow almost looked like she smiled at that. And it seems like she thought ahead, producing a pad of ink from the bag and passed it along to Bigby’s side of the glass.

“Don’t worry, your fingerprint makes a good replacement.”

There were ten pages in total, and each page was stamped with Bigby Wolf’s fingerprint black swirling ink. The pages were handed back to Miss White as she now truly smiled and looked at Bigby.

“I’ll need to send the paperwork in to be finalized, but you should be released within forty-eight hours, we’ll send a car to bring you to the agency do that you can see where you’ll be staying for the next few years. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Wolf.”

She returned her phone to its place and turned to leave, but he reached out and tapped loudly on the glass. Snow looked back and picked up her phone again.

“Bigby.”

“Mr. Wolf I-“

“Just call me Bigby.”

Next>

[angrybell]

So Antifa Ellison... I mean Attorney General Ellison of Minnesota’s prosecutors are apparently upgrading the charges against Chauvin to 2nd Degree Murder and have charged the other three officers with aiding and abetting.

Here is the applicable part of the Minnesota statute on 2nd Degree Murder:

Subd. 2.Unintentional murders. Whoever does either of the following is guilty of unintentional murder in the second degree and may be sentenced to imprisonment for not more than 40 years:

(1) causes the death of a human being, without intent to effect the death of any person, while committing or attempting to commit a felony offense other than criminal sexual conduct in the first or second degree with force or violence or a drive-by shooting; or

(2) causes the death of a human being without intent to effect the death of any person, while intentionally inflicting or attempting to inflict bodily harm upon the victim, when the perpetrator is restrained under an order for protection and the victim is a person designated to receive protection under the order. As used in this clause, "order for protection" includes an order for protection issued under chapter 518B; a harassment restraining order issued under section 609.748; a court order setting conditions of pretrial release or conditions of a criminal sentence or juvenile court disposition; a restraining order issued in a marriage dissolution action; and any order issued by a court of another state or of the United States that is similar to any of these orders.

So this could be interesting. If they are charging it under sub 1, they are saying that it was an unintentional homicide that occurred while the accused by committing a felony or attempting to commit one. This then leads to the underlying question of what is the other felony necessary to meet the elements. I suppose they will allege that the felony is some sort of battery because he put the knee to the back of Floyd’s neck. The problem is, the arrest itself was valid. They had sufficient probable cause to arrest him. Its the type of restraint that killed Floyd.

Now, Minnesota has a statute that deals with police use of force as an exception to its assault laws. It is found at 609.06 and says,

Subdivision 1.When authorized. Except as otherwise provided in subdivision 2, reasonable force may be used upon or toward the person of another without the other's consent when the following circumstances exist or the actor reasonably believes them to exist:

(1) when used by a public officer or one assisting a public officer under the public officer's direction:

(a) in effecting a lawful arrest; or

(b) in the execution of legal process; or

(c) in enforcing an order of the court; or

(d) in executing any other duty imposed upon the public officer by law;

So we know that there was an allegation that Floyd was passing counterfeit bills. Therefore, restraining him was part of effecting the lawful arrest. Now, does the knee to the neck take Chauvin’s actions outside of the carve out? I don’t know the answer to that question. But it might become one for the jury to decide whether the use of the knee at that location was a battery or whether it was an unfortunate accident caused by an officer who doesnt the effect of his knee on the back of the neck.

Based on what I have read elsewhere, the 3rd Degree Murder charge would fail once it got challenged by the defense counsel. In Minnesota, it does not cover situations like the one that started all the riots. Rather it is applied towards people who do reckless things that result in the death of people they did not know or have contact with at all. An example would be a drunk driver who mows down a mother and baby crossing the street. Another example used is a person who fires indiscriminantly into the crowd thinking there’s no way someone will get shot.

[torturedwarrior]

David Berkowitz A.K.A “Son of Sam”

Who is David Berkowitz? Why do they call him The Son of Sam? What is the date of the first attack by The Son of Sam? Which couple was attacked by Berkowitz on January 30, 1977?  David Berkowitz also known as the Son of Sam, was an American serial killer who murdered six people in New York City in 1976to 1977. His crimes plunged the city into a panic and unleashed one of the largest man hunts in New York history. Berkowitz was a rough boy, often abusive. When his adoptive mother died in 1967, his irrational behavior, intensifying when his adoptive dad remarried in 1971, moved to Florida without him. Berkowitz joined the army in 1971. Upon leaving service in 1974, he became an excellent leader. He set some 1500 flames in New York City in the middle of the 1970s, according to Berkowitz's book. In December 1975, Berkowitz claimed to have been possessed by spirits and attempted to kill a child. In July 1976 he then murdered a woman, assaulting multiple couples the next year, reporting five more casualties. He sent letters to New York publications after his murdering sperm and signed "Son of Sam," a joke about a demon that his friend Sam Carr believed was residing in the Black Labrador retriever. Berkowitz early life: The Jewish-American hardware merchant Nathan and Pearl Berkowitz, who was born Richard David Falco to a poorly-deprived Jewish mother on 1 June 1953, in Brooklyn, New York, at a young age. He was a brilliant boy, apparently, but in his own way troubled. After being loyal to his mum, as a youth he had to deal with her death a very difficult time. Berkowitz was born in the United States at the age of 18. Army served and honored as a qualified marker in South Korea. Berkowitz returned to New York after finishing his military service in 1974 where he got a job as a letter sorter for the United States. Settled in the Yonkers building and postal service. He was identified by neighbors and friends as a loner who kept himself alone. The Son of Sam Murders: The murdering spree began on 29 July 1976 with two adolescent girls, Jody Valenti and Donna Lauria in the Bronx. Both were sitting in the car of Valenti in front of Lauria's house when Berkowitz shot Lauria, injured Valenti and fired at them. Berkowitz was again there a few months later. When he saw a couple in a car, he shot at them, causing huge skull injury. Berkowitz also shot two teen girls together and left a paraplegic in November. The officers had yet to bring together these cases and know that they were connected with them. But everything changed when Berkowitz stabbed a couple in a parked vehicle in January 1977. Berkowitz twice fired, missing Freund's leg, and later proved a deadly one, confronting Christine Freund with her fiancé. As Berkowitz was using the same pistol of the caliber of 44 in all its killings, the police were on their way, referring to him first as the ".44 caliber rapist," later leading to the name of the "Son of Sam." In March, Berkowitz killed Virginia Voskerichian, a college student while she was leaving her home. In their car in the following month Berkowitz mentioned another pair, Valentina Suriani and Alexander Esau, but he left a letter to Captain Joseph Borrelli in the vicinity of NYPD this time calling himself the first "Son of Sam." Berkowitz left several letters next to the corpses of his victims in his brutal strip and choked the police and eluded them. As a result, his activities were extensively covered in the media and Berkowitz welcomed the spotlight. Throughout the whole process, New Yorkers were terrified of their next victim. The last hit by Berkowitz occurred in Brooklyn in the early hours of 31 July 1977. Stacy and Bobby Violante fired it. Moscowitz died later, and Violante's eye was blinded and the rest of his hearing was impaired from trauma. Luckily, a witness saw something on the scene in the police that helped break the case. A witness saw a man in a vehicle that had a ticket on it at the scene of the Moskowitz-Violante films. There were only a few tickets that day, one of which was for Berkowitz. He was arrested by police on 10 August 1977. Berkowitz said, "Oh, you have me," according to The New York Times, as they put him in detention. Son of Sam' Dog In interrogation, he explained that his friend Sam Carr had been ordered to kill and that he had delivered texts through his dog, a demon-protected Labrador retriever named Harvey, to Berkowitz. Due to his outrageous claims, he had been mentally tested in several ways but found "competent." Berkowitz was put to trial. He perpetrated the six murders and almost 1.500 explosions in New York City in 1978. Berkowitz executed his crime. For each crime, he was given 25 years to life. The hearing for Berkowitz's conviction was dramatic — at the judge's decision, he threatened to leap out of the window of the 7th floor trial. “I have several children who I'm turning into killers. Wait till they grow up.”-- David Berkowitz. “A 'possessed' dog in the neighborhood won't let me stop killing until he gets his fill of blood.” -- David Berkowitz. After his conviction, Berkowitz has retracted the story of his own-owned puppy, "Son of Sam," saying "Everything was a liar, a dumb hoox" to his therapist David Abrahamsen in his letter of 20 March 1979. He also said that he was part of a militant culte that helped him carry out the murders, and that John and Michael Carr (the sons of Sam Carr) helped him. Berkowitz was tremendous money to tell his story. Nearly all nations–including New York–however have laws that prevent convicted criminals from profiting directly from books, films and other industries linked to their convictions, also known as "Son of Sam Regulations." While Son of Sam's story has been widely published in the newspapers, Berkowitz does not benefit financially from his or her artworks. In 1996 Yonkers police re-opened Berkowitz's case to look into some of his allegations, but the probe has been suspended but remains unclosed, since there have been no significant findings. Although he was repeatedly put on parole (most recently in 2016 and in 2018 for 16th time) he was consistently refused release. He was also granted a pardon. Berkowitz's tenure in Wallkill, New York is at the Shawangunk Correctional Facility. “I didn't want to hurt them, I only wanted to kill them.” -- David Berkowitz. “Sudden death and bloodshed appealed to me.” -- David Berkowitz. “The people and the news media used to call me 'The Son of Sam,' but God has given me a new name, 'The Son of Hope,' because now my life is about hope.” -- David Berkowitz. David Richard Berkowitz, known also as the Son of Sam and the .44 Caliber Killer, is an American serial killer who pleaded guilty to eight separate shooting attacks that began in New York City during the summer of 1976. Take a look below for 30 more scary and bizarre facts about David Berkowitz. 1. His crimes were perpetrated with a .44 caliber Bulldog revolver, 2. He killed six people and wounded seven others by July 1977. 3. As the number of victims increased, Berkowitz eluded the biggest police manhunt in the history of New York City while leaving letters that mocked the police and promised further crimes, which were highly publicized by the press. 4. His killing spree terrorized New Yorkers and achieved worldwide notoriety. 5. On the night of August 10, 1977, Berkowitz was taken into custody by New York City police homicide detective in front of his Yonkers apartment building, and he was subsequently indicted for eight shooting incidents. 6. He confessed to all of them, and initially claimed to have been obeying the orders of a demon, manifested in the form of a dog, “Harvey,” who belonged to his neighbor “Sam.” 7. Despite his explanation, Berkowitz was found mentally competent to stand trial. He pleaded guilty to second degree murder and was incarcerated in state prison. 8. He subsequently admitted that the dog-and-devil story was a hoax. 9. In the course of further police investigation, Berkowitz was also implicated in many unsolved arsons in the city. 10. Intense coverage of the case by the media lent a kind of celebrity status of Berkowitz, and some observers noted that he seemed to enjoy it. 11. In response, the New York State legislature enacted new legal statues, known popularly as “Son of Sam laws,” designed to keep criminals from profiting financially from the publicity created by their crimes. 12. Despite various amendments and legal challenges, the statues have remained law in New York, and similar laws have been enacted in several other states. 13. Berkowitz has been incarcerated since his arrest and is serving six consecutive life sentences. 14. During the mid-1990s, he amended his confession to claim that he had been a member of a violent Satanic cult that orchestrated the incidents as ritual murder. 15. He remains the only person ever charged with the shootings. 16. Although some law enforcement authorities have questioned whether Berkowitz’s claims are credible, a new investigation of the murders began in 1996, but was suspended indefinitely after inconclusive findings. 17. Berkowitz was born Richard David Falco on June 1, 1953, in Brooklyn, New York. 18. His mother, Elizabeth Broder, was first married to Tony Falco but the marriage didn’t last. 19. She conceived David with her new partner, Joseph Klineman, but chose to give him the surname Falco for unknown reasons. 20. A few days after his birth, he was adopted by a middle aged, childless Jewish couple, Nathan and Pearl Berkowitz. They altered his name to David Richard Berkowitz. 21. His childhood was a troubled one. Although he was a child of above-average intelligence, he was caught up in petty theft and bullying. 22. He was distraught after the death of his adoptive mother, whom he adored, when he was just 14 years old. 23. He joined the U.S. Army when he was 18 years old. 24. After three years of service, he was discharged honorably from the force in 1974, following which he came back to New York. 25. He got a job at the Postal Service and stayed at a rented apartment in the city.

26. It was during this time that he located his biological mother and discovered that he has a half-sister by the name of Roslyn. 27. Some psychologists believe that the primary cause of his mental troubles is rooted in the abandonment issues that he faced from his biological parents. 28. Little is known about the people in Berkowitz’s life, if there were any. 29. He never married and has no close relatives. 30. There are some works of fiction based on him. “.44”, a fictionalized novel and “Summer of Sam,” a feature movie, deserve mention. He has also been the inspiration for songs like “Son of Sam,” “Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun,” and “Sam Son of Man.” Jimmy Breslin got a handwritten letter of someone who appeared to be the.44 caliber gunman on May 30th, 1977. The letter was posted in Englewood, New Jersey at the beginning of the day. The terms Blood and family–Hell and Death–Absolute Depravity–are on the reverse of the packet, well-printed in four specifically arranged sections. The inside letter read: Hello from the gutters of N.Y.C. which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine and blood. Hello from the sewers of N.Y.C. which swallow up these delicacies when they are washed away by the sweeper trucks. Hello from the cracks in the sidewalks of N.Y.C. and from the ants that dwell in these cracks and feed in the dried blood of the dead that has settled into the cracks. J.B., I'm just dropping you a line to let you know that I appreciate your interest in those recent and horrendous .44 killings. I also want to tell you that I read your column daily and I find it quite informative. Tell me Jim, what will you have for July twenty-ninth? You can forget about me if you like because I don't care for publicity. However you must not forget Donna Lauria and you cannot let the people forget her either. She was a very, very sweet girl but Sam's a thirsty lad and he won't let me stop killing until he gets his fill of blood. Mr. Breslin, sir, don't think that because you haven't heard from me for a while that I went to sleep. No, rather, I am still here. Like a spirit roaming the night. Thirsty, hungry, seldom stopping to rest; anxious to please Sam. I love my work. Now, the void has been filled. Perhaps we shall meet face to face someday or perhaps I will be blown away by cops with smoking .38's. Whatever, if I shall be fortunate enough to meet you I will tell you all about Sam if you like and I will introduce you to him. His name is "Sam the terrible." Not knowing what the future holds I shall say farewell and I will see you at the next job. Or should I say you will see my handiwork at the next job? Remember Ms. Lauria. Thank you. In their blood and from the gutter "Sam's creation" .44 Here are some names to help you along. Forward them to the inspector for use by N.C.I.C: "The Duke of Death" "The Wicked King Wicker" "The Twenty-Two Disciples of Hell" "John 'Wheaties' – Rapist and Suffocator of Young Girls. PS: Please inform all the detectives working the slaying to remain. P.S: JB, please inform all the detectives working the case that I wish them the best of luck. "Keep 'em digging, drive on, think positive, get off your butts, knock on coffins, etc." Upon my capture I promise to buy all the guys working the case a new pair of shoes if I can get up the money. Son of Sam. A conversation between the officer and the suspect: "Now that I've got you", Detective Falotico said to the suspect, "who have I got?" "You know," the man said in what the detective remembered was a soft, almost sweet voice. "No, I don't. You tell me." The man turned his head and said, "I'm Sam." "You're Sam? Sam who?" "Sam. David Berkowitz." David Berkowitz A.K.A the Son of Sam’s confession: In the early morning of 11 August 1977, Berkowitz was interviewed for nearly thirty minutes. He admitted immediately to the murders and expressed a desire to plead guilty. John Keenan, who made the confession, headed the prosecution. During the interview, Berkowitz said that one of the reasons why his neighbor's dog killed him was that his dog was seeking the blood of beautiful young people. He said his former neighbor Sam Carr was the "Sam" listed in his first message. Berkowitz believed Harvey was possessed by a witch from an old era who given unavoidable orders that Berkowitz had to kill people. He said that he was a Black Labrador retriever. Berkowitz was allowed to communicate with the press a few weeks after his detention and confession. In a letter of September 19, 1977 to the New York Post, Berkowitz made reference to its initial demonic possession article, but ended up with a note that some investigators perceived as an acknowledgment of complicity: "There are other Sons out there, God help the world." Berkowitz sentencing: The capacity of Berkowitz to face trial was identified in three different mental health assessments. Nevertheless, Berkowitz was told by defense lawyer to make a plea for not being insanely guilty, but Berkowitz declined. On May 8, 1978, he was silent in court, pleading guilty to all the attacks.  Two weeks later, Berkowitz was forced to jump out of a window of the courthouse on the seventh floor when he was convicted. He constantly chanted "Stacy was a quire" after he was confined to it and yelled, "I was going to kill her again. I was going to kill both of them again." Throughout his assessment, Berkowitz drew an image of an imprisoned man surrounded by several walls; he wrote at the bottom, "I'm not well. Not very well at all." On 12 June 1978, for each assassination that Berkowitz has been serving, she was sentenced to 25 years in jail. He was given time in the Upstream New York Supermax Prison, in Attica Correctional Facility. In 25 years, Berkowitz had been declared eligible for parole given the lawyers ' objections. David Berkowitz A.k.A the Son of Sam’s Prison life: Shortly following his conviction, Berkowitz was held in the Kings County Hospital mental hospital, where the nurses confirmed that his new environment seemed to be unusually unsettled. The day after his release, he was transferred to Sing Prison and to the Upper state Psychological and Physique Test Center in Clinton. Four more months were spent before he was moved to Attica Prison at the Central New York Psychiatric Institute in Marcy. Berkowitz worked in Attica for nearly a decade (c. 1990), where he lived for a number of years until he was transferred to the Sullivan Correctional facility (Shawangunk Correctional Facility) in Fallsburg, NY. In Attica, Berkowitz called life a "nightmare." In 1979, Berkowitz tried to shake his left arm from front to back, leading to a cut that took more than fifty stitches to close. He simply confirmed that he was thankful for the assault–he brought a sense of justice or, in Berkowitz's own word, the sentence which I deserve. Berkowitz refused to identify his killer.

A.K.A.: "Son of Sam" - “The .44 Caliber Killer" • Birth name: Richard David Falco

• Classification: Serial killer • Characteristics: Claimed that neighbor's dog, Harvey, was possessed by an ancient demon, and that it issued commands to Berkowitz to kill • Number of victims: 6 • Date of murders: 1976 - 1977 • Date of arrest: August 10, 1977 • Date of birth: June 1, 1953 • Victims profile: Donna Lauria, 18 / Christine Freund, 26 / Virginia Voskerichian, 21 / Valentina Suriani, 18, and Alexander Esau, 20 / Stacy Moskowitz, 20 • Method of murder: Shooting (.44 caliber Charter Arms Bulldog revolver) • Location: New York City, New York, USA • Status: Sentenced to six life sentences in prison on June 12, 1978, making his maximum term some 365 years behind bars Son of Sam today: Son of Sam' Books and other books Nowadays Berkowitz has become a Catholic Christian after his time in prison. In his novel, Son of the Hope: Davis Prison (2006) and on his blog (run by his supporters) he now prefers to write "Son of Hope," as seen in his essay, "The Prison Journals" by David Berkowitz. Berkowitz's writings are not allowed to go over the Internet. In his book and on the website, he apologizes for his victims and their families. The prison officials announced on 12 December 2017 that Berkowitz was moved to a nearby hospital from the Shawangunk Correctional Facility. The New York’s Post and the Albany Times Union confirmed that Berkowitz had been having heart surgery even if officials didn't provide specific medical details. The New York Post confirmed in February 2018 that Berkowitz had a heart attack in early December before his first surgery. At the end of January 2018, after having experienced injuries, he had to seek further surgery and return to hospital. Where is Son of Sam now? And how did he get the nickname Son of Sam to begin with? He was actually known as the 44-caliber killer before he was known as the Son of Sam after his shooting with a rifle. After the arrest of his neighbor, Berkowitz, a police officer called him (a man called Sam Carr), said that he told him to assassinates people in the city— and that order is supposed to have been given through a possessed Labrador driver. He wrote: "I am a monster... I am the Son of Sam." He wrote, "The police came up to Sam's bottom." Berkowitz has been given six straight 25-year sentences after being convicted, which he still holds. Since viewers were so fascinated with the murders of Berkowitz and his ambiguous letters he left behind, his story was told by Berkowitz with the money through media. Therefore, the majority of countries take measures to prevent criminal activity from benefiting from their misdeeds. It is APPARENTLY A BORN-AGAIN CHRISTIAN.... He appears to be guilty for what he has done on many occasions, but says he wants to stay in prison. That's TG.

Work Cited: "30 Scary and Bizarre Facts About David Berkowitz - Tons of Facts." Tons of Facts - Millions of Facts All At One Place. 1 Dec 2018. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://tonsoffacts.com/30-scary-and-bizarre-facts-about-david-berkowitz/>. Blanco, Juan Ignacio. "David Berkowitz | Victims | Murderpedia, the encyclopedia of murderers." Murderpedia, the encyclopedia of murderers. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://murderpedia.org/male.B/b/berkowitz-victims.htm>. "David Berkowitz - Wikipedia." Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Feb 2020. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Berkowitz>. Thomas, Leah. "Where Is the Son of Sam Now? — David Berkowitz Life After Conviction." Cosmopolitan.com - The Women's Magazine for Fashion, Sex Advice, Dating Tips, and Celebrity News. 30 Aug 2019. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/tv/a288wr72361/david-berkowitz-son-of-sam-now/>. "Top 22 quotes of DAVID BERKOWITZ famous quotes and sayings | inspringquotes.us." Inspiring Quotes | inspiringquotes.us. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://www.inspiringquotes.us/author/3275-david-berkowitz>.

Well, Made. "David Berkowitz - Letters, Books & Murders - Biography." Famous Biographies & TV Shows. 13 Dec 2017. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://www.biography.com/crime-figure/david-berkowitz>.

[kolbehq]

FILE // BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Aurora “Rory” Lindon.

Age: 28 years old.

Gender: Female.

Pronouns: She/her.

Species: Human.

Home Planet: Lysander.

Job: Medical officer.

Criminal Record: Voluntary manslaughter, conspiracy to commit an act of terror, criminal negligence, obstruction of justice, perjury.

Sentence: Life.

Faceclaim: Eliza Taylor.

FILE // BACKGROUND

Aurora Lindon should’ve had a perfect, beautiful life.

Her parents, both scientists of different disciplines, were transferred to Lysander before her older sister had been born. Their mother, Alexis, was feisty and stubborn, attributes she claimed had been positively endearing to her husband Alton, who was always the more level headed of the two. Adorably in love and passionate about what they did, Alexis and Alton Lindon sought not just a better life, but the perfect life for their perfect family. It was the opportunity of a lifetime for two Antigone natives; their affluent backgrounds simply eased an otherwise grueling immigration process, and seven months later, the first of the Lindon clan was born exactly where her parents wanted her to be, in the heart of the most breathtaking nature preserve in the galaxy. Aurora would soon follow, less than a year after her sister was born, and their perfect nuclear family had been created, ready to plant roots and grow - but a family of scientists should have known that nothing in space can grow the way it should.

It began with their father. The truth of what happened to him would forever remain shrouded in mystery to the Lindon girls - one day he went to work at the Chemistry laboratory, and then he didn’t come back. Aurora was only eleven, and more than anything, she just remembered going through the motions of what grief was supposed to be based off what she saw around her - shock, sadness, anger, guilt, grief. Blonde girls cloaked in black gowns, no burial because there had been no body, no closure because there had been no story. Even as she got older, there were no whispers from her peers or her mentors about what had happened that fateful day, what caused her father and allegedly three others to pass away so suddenly. There had been no alert of disease, no explosions, no fires - just poof, and her father was gone, leaving only questions for his daughters to inherit. Her mother was the most quiet of them all, a stark change from the woman who had raised them, and although Aurora was more than content with letting the dead ends die, her sister was much less forgiving.

The oldest Lindon daughter had become a teenage conspiracy peddler, sneaking out at all times of the night to do god-knows-what, and breaking almost every law an underage native could, the punishments for her infractions always just short of youth detention. Breaking and entering, theft of petty goods, hacking government systems, the laundry list of criminal deeds her sister had racked up before the age of eighteen was nothing short of shocking. Aurora couldn’t put enough distance between the two of them; she once had been her sister’s shadow, wanting to be just like her and their mom, but Aurora had come to realize that their father’s death, especially the sheer lack of closure, had affected her sister in ways she could never understand.

Adulthood was supposed to be her new start - with an inherited love of biology from her mother paired with the sheer intelligence of the Lindon genes, Aurora got into medical school with hopes of helping those who couldn’t be helped by anyone else. She loved a good puzzle, and diagnostics became her strong suit, although she was required by the Lysander government to have more than one marketable skill in her field - so she chose infectious diseases and the study of all things micro, inspired to follow in her mother’s footsteps as she neared retirement, although Alexis’ focus had always been plant diseases and viruses. Aurora didn’t make much of an effort to keep in touch with her family after leaving home - her sister was a lost cause, as far as she was concerned, and her mother was merely the shell of a woman she knew. It was selfish of her, but Aurora couldn’t stand to see the people she once placed on the highest pedestals fall before her very eyes, and so she left, on her own path to make a better world for herself.

She should’ve known better.

She had been working on a top-secret contract for a new biowarfare agent, originally commissioned by leaders on Antigone for the ongoing war before the project was hijacked by her own government on Lysander, most likely as a deterrent against any new colonization developments. She didn’t agree with bioweapons, but orders were orders, and she knew better than to not comply at this point in her career. Aurora walked into the lab one day, only to find the usual top-security safety protocols in place had been breached without a single security personnel in sight. She remembered what happened next like it was a dream, even if it was the subject of her worst nightmares.

Aurora heard them first. The chorus of wet, soft wheezing noises - the sound of men dying as their lungs filled with fluid - punctuated by a half whispered, half hissed argument. Rounding the corner, her eyes fell on her mother and sister, alone in her lab, covered in the burgundy splatter of drying blood, bodies scattered around them. Her bioweapon out of its safety container, held in the air like the deadliest trophy as her sister whipped around and caught Aurora’s gaze over their mother’s shoulder for the split second before she pulled the trigger, and Aurora watched a hole burst out where Alexis Lindon’s heart had been. They were surrounded by military police only a moment later, but of course, it was too late.

The official story went as such - after the mysterious disappearance of their father, the Lindon sisters did everything they could to uncover the truth about what happened to him. While the eldest did this in any capacity she could, often illegal, the yougest opted for a more conventional route to infiltrate the enemy from within. At some point, the Lindon sisters had discovered that the Lysander government had found their father guilty of treason to sell secrets of the state to an independent militia group on Hermes, which had been accidentally reported by his wife, who thought she had discovered a mole leak. This was enough grounds to deport him back to Antigone, where he was executed for capital treason. The Lindon sisters recruited their mother to aid them in an act of penance to their father’s memory - to destroy Lysander’s most expensive medical laboratory, where the youngest Lindon was stationed, using the very same research her parents had worked on. She had inside knowledge of the lab, the security detail, the weapon, and all possible exits. With Aurora’s help, they broke in to steal the bioweapon to be unleashed on the lab itself, but something in the plan went amiss, leaving Alexis Lindon dead and her daughters without an escape route.

This wasn’t even close to the whole truth, but the truth didn’t matter once the government’s version of the story came out. Almost instantaneously, the Lindon family were the poster children for anti-immigration idealists of Lysander, already milking the tragedy in an effort to remove any further colonization of the planet to protect the nature reserve. Aurora had literally nothing in her favor, including an “accomplice” who was more than happy to implicate her - her sister had disabled all of the lab’s cameras, looked enough like her that passerbys had assumed she was her, and had even programmed an incriminating amount of evidence into Aurora’s personal devices. It had been her fail safe, lest something go wrong and she needed a scapegoat, it had to be enough information that Aurora would spend the rest of her life fighting it, allowing her sister all the time in the world to roam free. Without their mother to testify another side, it was literally Aurora’s word against hers, and Aurora’s word apparently didn’t count as much. It didn’t help that the story of their father broke right alongside theirs, terrorism apparently running in the family. Behind closed doors, the prosecution was happy to give Aurora the plea deal she sobbed for, given how much circumstantial evidence they were relying on and how little she fit the criminal profile of a long time conspirator, murderer, and terrorist, they knew she might be able to win empathy points with a jury if put on a public trial. She was given a choice, and she chose happily - to escape the life she had been subjected to by the hand of her kin on Lysander as well as put as much distance between herself and her sister as possible.

FILE // CURRENTLY

Aurora Lindon died that day on Lysander, and Rory rose from the ashes to board the ship. Unlike many of her co-inhabitants, Rory actually enjoys life on an exploration ship, despite the whole “space grave” inevitability. As part of her contract, she is allowed to serve as a medical officer to the greatest of her abilities except in the presence of a raw contagion - apparently, she’s considered a potential risk for bio-terrorism, who knew? She’s mostly utilized for diagnostics and petty tasks, her “violent” past making some of her superiors wary to give her more responsibility. Although Rory isn’t happy with how life panned out for her on Lysander despite her best efforts, she’s trying to accept the things she cannot change, and is enjoying the peace of mind that has come with escaping her home planet once and for all. She especially enjoys being able to help people who cannot help themselves, her original purpose for becoming a doctor before the expectations of adult life muddled her path, and certain other people simply destroyed her ability to have a path in general. Rory is haunted by the things she saw in the lab, and has recently come into a bout of insomnia after her dreams left her more haunted than rested. Most days, she keeps to herself aside from polite conversation with her co-workers and patients. Rory understands she has a pretty “impressive” rap sheet despite her innocence, and she allows it to precede her for now instead of establishing a new reputation. It’s taken her whole life, but she believes she has finally learned she can’t trust or rely on anyone but herself, and she needs to watch her own back at all times, making her a little paranoid aboard the ship.When she’s not required to work, she spends her free time reading and drawing, though she often doesn’t share what she’s working on. If it seems like she’s a little spaced out, it’s because she is - after what happened, Rory feels stuck, unable to stop replaying and analyzing every moment of her life since her father disappeared to see if she can find the tiniest detail that could help her appeal her conviction and maybe set her life back to normal.

[cassienypan]

°•   ❝  A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest... because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her. ❞                ― Terry Pratchett, Wintersmith L o a d i n g….. ❚Password Required❚ « ∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘ » L o a d i n g….. ██░░░░░░░░ 20% ████░░░░░░ 40% ███████░░░ 70% ██████████ 100% → Aᴄᴄᴇss Gʀᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ Fɪʟᴇ: The Last Völva ❚Do you wish to continue?❚ ✔ Yes No Ｆｉｌｅ  ｌｏａｄｅｄ   ｓｕｃｃｅｓｓｆｕｌｌｙ． ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ » Qᴜᴏᴛᴇs « ❝ They burned my mother on the pyre and baed me watch, the told me this was the punishment that waited me should I dance with the devil as she had. Little did they know the devils blood runs through me stronger then it did through her. ❞ ❝ Thou shall not suffer a witch to live. ❞ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ » Gᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ Iɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ « ✥ Ɲαмє ✥         ۵ Cassiopeia Nypan ✥ Ɲαмє Mєαηιηg ✥          ۵ Cassiopeia: 〘 Pronounced ka-see-ə-PEE-ə 〙The Queen Cassiopeia, wife of King Cepheus of the mythological Phoenician realm of Ethiopia, was beautiful but also arrogant and vain; these latter two characteristics led to her downfall. Other iterations have the definition mean “The Seated Queen” or “She Whose Words Excel”          ۵ Nypan: 〘 Pronounced: N-ah-ee-puh-æ-N 〙Meaning unknown however Lisbet Nypan was an alleged Norwegian witch. As one of the most famous victims of the witch-hunts in her country, she was also the penultimate defendant to be executed for witchcraft in Norway. ✥ Ɲιcкηαмє/Aℓιαѕ ✥             ۵ Cassie             ۵ Cassia             ۵ Hex 〘 An alias occasionally assumed  〙             ۵ Völva 〘 A formal name due to her status and abilities  〙             ✥ Agє  ✥           ۵ Born 1806           ۵ 200+ 〘 She looks to be in her early 20s  〙   ✥ Ɠєη∂єя ✥           ۵ Female   ✥ Sєχυαℓ σяιєηтαтιση ✥           ۵ Bisexual ✥ Sρєcιєѕ ✥            ۵ Half human Völva/ half Jötunn ✥ Occυραтιση ✥            ۵ Witch            ۵ Fortune teller            ۵ Con-artist ✥ Aƒƒιℓιαtισηѕ : ✥              ۵ Herself.              ۵ Her father 〘Occasionally 〙              ۵ SHIELD  〘When under duress 〙 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ » Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ Iɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ « ✥ ƤєяѕσηαƖιту ✥             ۵ Cassiopeia is a dark and twisted girl, after watching her mothers public execution at a young age she learned to hate the world. She worked for her own benefit for decades, believing she was alone in this world. She is cold and not compassionate to those she knows, due to the fact she has no true ties to the mortal world she cares little for those around her. There is a darkness inside of her that she masks with callous remarks and a cold demeanor but it has revealed itself and when it does people suffer.             ۵ When she learned of her fathers identity she became obsessed with gaining the attention of her only blood relative. She reached out in every manner she could think of until eventually her work was acknowledge, however due to the trickster nature of her father she has often times found herself committing horrendous acts to please him.             ✥  ƑαмιƖу ✥ ┃ Ƥαяєηтѕ: • Father:  Loki Laufeyson >Status:  Alive • Mother:  Isobel Nypan >Status: Dead. • Half-Sister: Hel >Status: Alive (well technically undead) • Half-Brother:  Fenrir >Status: Alive • Half-Brother:  Jörmungandr >Status: Alive • Half-Brother:  Sleiphir >Status: Alive • Half-Brother:  Narfi/ Nari >Status: dead • Half-Brother:  Váli (He is only mentioned as the Son of Loki once) >Status: alive ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ » Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ «         【 Natural 】 ✥ Ɛує ƇσƖσя ✥            ۵ Green ✥ Hαιя ✥           ۵ Dark brown almost black           ۵ It is usually kept long and falls to her mid back.             ✥  Sкιη Ƭσηє ✥                ۵ Pale ✥ Ɓσɗу ƁυιƖɗ ✥         ۵ Tall and slender, she is not athletic but has a well toned body. ✥ Hєιgнт ✥          ۵ 5'7 ✥  Ɯєιgнт ✥           ۵ 130lbs ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ » Wᴇᴀᴘᴏɴs ﹠ Aʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs « ✥ Ɯєαρσηѕ ✥            ۵ Her wit            ۵ Her magic            ۵ Daggers            ۵ Her looks ✥ AвιƖιтιєѕ ✥         ۵ Ƭєℓєкιηєѕιѕ: Nypan is capable of moving objects with just her mind alone, this is usually physicalized through hand movements and other gestures which seem to just be an extension of practice and not necessary. We have yet to find a limit to these capabilities whether it be distance or weight of the object, it seems that once she puts her mind to something it is within her power. ۵ Sєι∂/ѕιgнт: One of the abilities which we know for use comes from this “Völva” Abilities is something the Sagas call Seid. In the stories the witches use a combination of song and a ‘magic stick’ to enable her soul to travel. She seems to be in a trance during this, and can see and hear things others can’t. the Saga’s claim that she can communicate with spirits during this trances as well predict the future.  In this state she can predict the future, answering the questions about the future and fate that the participants in the circle ask her. This is one of the Völvas most historically feared and coveted abilities, predicting the future. ۵ Iммσятαℓιту: Nypan is over 200 years old in the 21st century but appears to be in her mid to early twenties, photos from the early 20th century show she has not aged since then and has lead us to believe much like the Asguardian’s we have discovered she posses a form of immortality or extended life. ۵ Ɛχρяєѕѕιση: This last known ability of Nypans is best described as Expresion. It is by far her strongest and most untapped power. She herself as referred to it as Expresion as in her words “it mimics how I feel and what I want to do.” We have seen her level houses with it, corrupt bodies, grow plants and heal the injured. It seems to be the most basic and yet harmful force of witchcraft we have found. It is unclear if this is something she gained from her father or a combination of her parents as no power like this has been recorded. ۵ Ƥѕισηιc’ѕ: Cassie can manipulate many psionic powers, she can create a variety of shapes, and manipulate energy to create constructs. She usually uses this to create, shields, weapons, but can also use it to help heal others. It is a rather versatile ability. And due to her young age (for her race) she has yet to realy push the boundaries and discover what she can do. ۵ Ɓℓσσ∂ Mαgιc: Due to Cassies powerful blood she is able to use it in many different kinds of spells and rituals. Some examples can be, using her blood to melt metal, open locks, lock spells and much more. it is an old and very misunderstood magic that few witches feel comfortable using. ۵ Ƒσяcє ƒιєℓ∂: While this is an extension of her psionic abilities, Cassie can create force fields to protect those within a fight foot radius of her. however the limitation to this is that her shields must be connected to her body and she can not extend them beyond a small area. It is the weaker of her abilities since she is not used to having to protect others, or find the need to. Like her expression abilities, It is completely dependent on her will and her desire to protect those around her. ✥ Ɯєαкηєѕѕєѕ ✥             ۵ Iron:  A metallic element that possesses strong supernatural properties, although Iron doesn't hurt witches, it blocks their powers. ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ » Bɪᴏ « ✥ Hσмє-Ƭσωη ✥             ۵ Mobile             ✥  Ƈυяяєηт яєѕι∂єηcє: ✥            ۵ Mobile           ✥  Ɓισgяαρну ✥ 《  Oяιgιηѕ 》 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Cassiopeia is the daughter of Isobel Nypan and the Norse god Loki. Her mother Isobel was a famed völva one of the last of the practice, who traveled Northern Europe and the british Isles telling fortunes, reading cards and making potions for any who could pay. Due to the dangerous nature of her work in the eyes of stronger growing Christians, she was forced to continue moving throughout Europe to keep from being punished for her crimes. While on one of her many trips in Sweden Isobel encountered the God of Mischief, intriguing him during one of her more grandiose performances. Their relations lasted no more then a night however as both parties parted the next morning with little care for what had happened, it wasn't until a month later that Isobel discovered the consequences of the night. Nine months later, in the dead of winter, while Isobel was taking shelter from a winter storm in a Swedish inn Cassiopeia was born. Her mother could tell almost immediately the girl had inherited her magic, as well as abilities from her father she could not yet discern.  After a few months spent in the Inn Isobel returned to the road taking Cassiopeia with her. 《 ƐαяƖу Ɩιfє 》 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ It soon became obvious that Cassiopeia was far from human as the years went on, her aging was considerably slower than any normal child. Something that was quite hard for her mother to deal with but which pointed to her more then human ancestry, despite her aging slowing her mind grew rapidly. She often gained the reputation as strange in towns they visited as she spoke and acted with a manner befitting someone much older then her apparent physical age. Isobel continued her shows of magic, staying no longer than a week in each town they visited and all the while instructing her daughter on the basics of witch craft. Cassiopeia was a natural, gifted with hands which spun the natural magics with an ease she became her mothers helper, impressing many who saw her with her natural born ability. Her gifts were not all good however, a fact that became quite apparent as she aged and her temper grew, she could manipulate the world around her with a though. Throwing objects, opening doors, and commanding much darker forces to her side when she was angry enough. Her mother sought to teach her how to control her powers and while she was not entirely successful she managed to keep much destruction at bay. For a long time they traveled like this, however it did not last as long as either of the women might have liked, on Isobel’s tenth birthday her mother was caught by the local christian zealots and tried for witch craft. While it was no secret that Isobel was a practicer of mystic arts, something she used to help the women of the communities she arrived in, she was prosecuted all the same. The dark truth of the matter was however that the act of witchcraft that got her arrested was not her won doing but Cassiopeia’s. Having disliked the name a man called her mother and her as they past she had struck out, injuring the man severally with only her mind. For this crime her mother was found guilty and sentenced to burn. Isobel Nypan was the last woman to be convicted and killed for witchcraft in Sweden. 《 Oη нєя σωη 》 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

After the death of her mother Cassie managed to escape from those who had caught them and lost herself in the forest. She spent months inside of the dark woods mourning the loss of her mother and of life as she knew it. In the woods she learned to depend upon her magic, using the forces inside of herself to hunt and overcome the harsh elements. No one is quite sure of how long passed between her escape into the woods and when she finally left but what is known is that her first act was to take revenge on those that had taken her mother from her. It was a group of christian missionaries who were ultimately responsible for her mothers demise and so she hunted them down tracking them across the whole of Sweden. That act itself took over a decade, however each man she found met a grizzly end. Torn apart by the darkness inside of her, each death was a savage act that the human world attributed to animal attacks. However anyone with any magical sense could easily see the truth, however as power like Cassie’s had yet to be in her world- many were left stupefied. There was one force however who was not as mystified by the girls powers as the mortals were, the all seeing Heimdallr. He recognized a force which was not human and his gift of foresight lead him to the inevitable conclusion of her truth. Another child of Loki was raising hell on the world below. Time moved faster for Cassie than the events which unfolded above her however and after the murder of those responsible for her mothers death she continued her mothers work. For well over 100 years she worked as a medicinal woman, selling spells, potions, fortunes and much more to those who asked for them. Of course as she had learned in her early childhood, many of the ‘services’ were nothing more then cons, and with enough trickery people bought whatever she sold them. 

 《 Hєя Ƒαтнєяѕ Ɗαυgнтєя 》 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Her father was told of her existence years before she was aware of his identity, his disinterest in the half mortal was the start of a toxic relation between the two. However as the years progressed into the late 1800’s the young Völva who now appeared to be in her late teens despite nearing her hundredth birthday was living up to her fathers name as a trickster and con-artist on earth. She had been run out of many of the villages in the north of the Neatherlands and seeking to make a knew and better life for herself she bordered a ship and sailed for America. In america she found promise in the Spiritualist movement which had started in 1848 and by the time she reached Americas shores in 1855 was in full swing, she used her abilities to stage seances and ‘communicate’ to the deceased. She made quite a stir with her moving performances that she soon grew to a kind of stardom, one that few people could combat. Even the firmest of believers fell victim to our magics, she truly had a knack for convincing the public she was communicating with those they had lost. She gained a reputation much like the famed Fox sisters, only she never fell from grace. Instead after almost ten years of making a living conning the innocents she had created enough of a mess with the natural order of things that many of the Gods were angry enough. Another of Loki’s children causing chaos, much to the distaste of all involved. At the same time the gods were puzzling over what to do Cassie was causing problems for herself on earth, the media was beginning to catch some more troubling sides of the famed Miss Nypan. Namely the broken lives she left behind and the lack of change they’d seen in her over the ten years. She still looked to be nearing her twentieth year and it was beginning to sour the mouths of many. Cassie however was not quite ready to give up the life of spiritualism and so she continued with her shows, charging more and more as she went along. By now people had begun to find themselves anger with her and it brought the attention of local Witches to her door. The Witches were part of a coven, one of the oldest covens in America who had had enough of her flaunting her powers to the public. However almost the second they met face to face the witches realized she was not like them. This revelation came as a shock to Cassie, as her mother had never openly told her she was different than any witch or Völva and she had never met another magic user before, she had thought herself normal for her situation. Now intrigued by the seemingly young woman the witches began attempting to discover her heritage and what other creature had spurred her creation. What they found shocked them all, a spell which used her blood to track others who shared it found her father to not be on earth, instead when the mist of the bowl cleared she was looking at the rather angered face  of the God of Mischief, his identity only revealed through the conversation they over heard. The coven now utterly shaken by the revelation of the apparent half god in their presence left her with no further help for fear of brining the wrath of the trickster down upon them and their coven. Cassie however did not feel the same way, and instead of trying to keep her head down and out of the way of his potential wrath she decided to attempt to get his attention. 《 Oвєѕѕιση 》 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ With the realization that she was not alone in the world anymore Cassie became all but obsessed with finding her father, hoping that he might hold some answers to the mystery of her unnatural powers. It was not to be however as her father was no more interested in her than he was in any other mortals, so her acts grew more and more out of hand until he finally relented and the two met face to face. The trickster lived up to his name and over the course of the next century Cassie found herself caught in his webs multiple times, committing horrendous acts in hopes of winning his favor. However each time she completes his task she has won no more of his favor then she had before, while a part of her knows this she is to driven by the desire to belong to not fall for his games. ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

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This account is mostly going to be Norse Mythology however due to lack of content I will be posting Marvel related things, and in some posts tying Cassie into the Marvel universe simply so I have a diversity of content. If you want to rp please just comment below or on any of my posts and I will be happy to. → Ƭнιѕ ρяσƒιℓє ƒσямαт ωαѕ cяєαтє∂ ву мє, ρℓєαѕє αѕк вєƒσяє υѕιηg ιт