#plainclothesmen

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"ESCAPING MANIAC NEARLY STRANGLES ASYLUM ATTENDANT," Toronto Globe. October 5, 1933. Page 3. --- Timely Passing of Telegraph Boy Averts Tragedy at London ---- MONSIGNOR AYLWARD ILL --- (Staff Correspondence of The Globe.) London, Ont., Oct. 4. - Overcome by an escaping patient he had followed and attempted to subdue, William Wright, an attendant at the Ontario Hospital for the Insane, was almost strangled by the maniac this morning, and his life was probably saved by the timely passing of Arthur Blakey, a C.P.R. telegraph messenger, who saw the struggle and called for help. Blakey, while riding on Dundas Street East, at the asylum sideroad, saw two men scuffling, as he at first thought, in fun. But when Blakey saw one of the men fall to the ground and the other jump on him, he began to take serious notice. Next he saw the upper man pull a handkerchief from his pocket, and, slipping it around the neck of the other begin to strangle his victim.

Just at the moment two other men appeared running across a field, and Blakey called to them. The maniac thereupon released his victim and fled, pursued by the boy on the bicycle and the two attendants. The patient was soon overtaken, but, pulling a knife, he tried to slash his throat, but inflicted only a slight wound. While being taken back to the asylum, he complained that he was homesick and was trying to return to his home. He is a young and powerful man, and escaped while taking his morning exercise by jumping over a fence. Wright was driven to his home in a passing truck and soon recovered from the attack. The patient has hitherto been regarded as harmless.

Admits Robberies. Charged with a series of robberies in the London district during the past few months, Charles Woods of Clandeboye, arraigned in County Court today, pleaded guilty. He admitted robbing the C.N.R. stations in Forest and Exeter, the Harry Lankin service station in Lucan, and R. M. Bowman's general store in Denfield. In three cases, safes weighing 200 pounds or more were carried off. Roy Woods, a brother of Charles; Albert Fink of London, and Casey Blake of Sarnia were jointly charged with him in the robberies. They pleaded not guilty a were remanded until Provincial Officer Lankin, who is to give evidence, is relieved of strike duty at Stratford. It is expected the case will be tried tomorrow.

Charged With Receiving. Edgar Bedgwood of Waterloo Street, arrested by Detective-Sergeant William McCullough and Detective Gavin Monahan, charged with knowingly receiving goods alleged to have been stolen from a C.P.R. freight train, was arraigned in city Police Court to- day and remanded until Oct. 12. In the meantime the police are investigating his record. They informed the court they had recovered in the prisoner's home thirty-nine pairs of ladies' bloomers, nineteen bottles of mucilage, three tins of coffee and other goods said to have been stolen from a manifest train between Lon- don and Ingersoll. Bedgwood told the police he found the goods while walking along the tracks one morning.

Monsignor Aylward Seriously III. Brought to London in an ambulance a few days ago, Right Rev. Monsignor J. T. Aylward, rector of Our Lady of Mercy Church, in Sarnia, is very ill in St. Joseph's Hospital tonight, and fears for his recovery are held. He was rector of St. Peter's Cathedral here for many years.

Police Mistaken for Freshmen. Four plainclothes officers, riding in a scout car in the north end last night, were mistaken by Western University freshmen for belligerent and antagonistic "sophs" and the "freshies" pelted the inoffensive police with overripe tomatoes. The officers promptly accepted apologies and the incident was closed.

Today complaint was lodged with Acting Mayor Gordon Drake by Alderman L. S. Holmes, M.D., that two of his patients had been pelted with tomatoes by the students, and a strong protest was entered.

[lullabyes22-blog]

What is Silco's body count in FnF?

Age sixteen: Killed a patrolman while smuggling. It was self-defense, but it also shook him up very badly, to the point where he left the Fissures once given the chance.

In the Academy, he kept his hands clean and his nose to the grindstone. He did, however, bloody other peoples' noses now and then, during arguments in pubs.

By twenty-five, he returned to the Lanes after being kicked out, and resumed smuggling with Vander to expand the Black Lanes. His role was mostly as the strategist, so he ran books and stayed out of trouble.

By twenty-nine, Bloody Sunday happens. And with it, the first hint that all's not right anymore in Silco's head. He begins prowling the Lanes and gutting plainclothesmen. It seems at first like revenge. In fact it's misdirection to keep the Wardens occupied with chasing a non-existent gang while the Lanes rally for the Day of Ash.

Day of Ash, he kills a bunch of people in the melee, and gets dragged to Stillwater.

Post-release, at 33, he returns to the Lanes. And Vander drowns him.

And that's when he fully crosses over to the Dark Side.

By age 42 - which is Act 1 in FnF - he's got a body-count well into the high double-digits. And if we take into account the lives lost due to gang violence and Shimmer, all thanks to his criminal enterprise, we've comfortably hit the hundreds.

tl;dr: Silco is no pussycat, and was never one, even as a youth.

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1923 – Noel Lemass, Anti-Treaty IRA officer in Dublin, brother of Seán Lemass is abducted by Free State plainclothesmen and killed.

‘The Winter Sleep of Captain Lemass’ by Harry Clifton The life of the country Hardened against you Like frost, and a new front Opened—brother against brother, Choice against choice, Disputing the high ground. Your eyes, Blindfolded, beheld the ideal State As the real one steadied itself To annihilate you. How to survive it, the force of exclusion, The freezing out of the soul At the site of its…

[cripple-punk-dad]

FAGS AGAINST PIGS IN STONEWALL RIOT

Found this article and it’s a must-read

Image description under the cut

Image description provided by the source: An article in the Rat, Subterranean News entitled "Queen Power" chronicling the night of the Stonewall Riots. Included on the page is a caricature of a gay man captioned with a lisp. The reporter who wrote this account is not credited and neither is the cartoonist.  In David Carter's Stonewall research he cites the author of this account as "Tom" the Rat reporter. This account continues to develop the Stonewall narrative and reinforces the idea of spontaneous action.  The "kids" were taking back what was theirs (and rightfully theirs from the beginning) from the oppressive power of the police. 

The article reads:

“ FAGS AGAINST PIGS IN STONEWALL BUST About 1:30 Saturday morning. I happened along Sheridan Sq. with a friend looking for a beer when we saw a crowd gathered outside the Stonewall, a famed gay bar. We walked over to see what was happening. About 3-400 guys were jammed in around a police car in front of the door, taunting several pigs in plainclothes guarding the entrance. "They raided the joint, the fucking bastards," a couple of guys told us. "Why?" we asked. "Operating without a liquor license.." "Shit, man, they's out like always to chase us down and give us a good fuck. They ain't got nothin else to do during the summer." a hip spade was shouting. We tried to find more information, just as the pigs started hauling off in a squad car a guy they had dragged outside. The crowd protested wildly. booing, shrieking, "Up against the wall, faggots!" "Beat it off, pigs!" A few tried jumping out to disrupt the no-man's land between the door and the squad car, but most as yet were reticent about provoking any pig violence. Someone tried to sell me some speed, and another asked me for a knife. "I'm gonna slice up those motherfuckers tires." "How many arrests?" I asked. "A few," "What happened inside" I pursued. "About 1:15 they came, but they kept the music and dancing going so's not to get everyone up. They checked identity. If you had it they let you go, if not they held you up till they found out more." The crowd grew larger and more agitated as the squad car drove off and a wagon pulled up. People began beating the wagon, booing, trying to see who was being hauled out and off. Several pigs were on guard and periodically threatened the crowd. unless they moved back. Impossible to do. "Nobody's going to fuck around with me. I ain't going to take this shit," a guy in a dark red tee-shirt shouted, dancing in and out of the crowd. Then they hauled a couple off into the van. It was hard to see or know what was happening inside. A few plainclothesmen were surveying the crowd, obviously panicked. As yet there was no support from the riot squad, though the longer the cops took, the hotter the crowd became. They began shouting for different people that they knew were being held. "We want Tommy, the blond drag queen." shouts went up. Pennies ricocheted off the van, a beer can hit the door. Suddenly Tommy appeared in blond wig, etc. and walked coolly out the door. Shouts and screaming. "We want Tommy." Tommy, not held by the pigs, smiled and suddenly took off into the crowd to the left. The pigs were really flustered. Many went running after Tommy who took off in a taxi. A couple more were thrown into the van. We joined in with some who wanted to storm the van, free those inside, then turn over the van. But nobody was yet prepared for that kind of action. Then a scuffle at the door. One guy refused to be put into the van. 5 or 6 cops guarding the van tried to subdue him with little success. Several guys tried to help free him. Unguarded, 3 or 4 of those in the van appeared then quickly disappeared into the crowd. This was all anyone needed. Several others tried the resting the guy held by the cops, but the latter escaped into the Stonewall. Soon the van pulled out leaving the street unguarded. A few pigs outside had to flee for their lives inside and barricade themselves in. It was too good to be true. The crowd took the offensive. The cat in the tee-shirt began by hurling a container of something at the door. Then a can or stone cracked a widow. Soon pandemonium broke loose, Cans, bottles, rocks, trashcans, finally a parking meter crashed the windows and door. Cheers went up. A sort of wooden wall blocking out the front plate glass windows was forced down. Then with the parking meter a ram, in went the door. The cops inside were scared shitless, dodging projectiles and flying glass. The orgy was taking place. Vengeance vented against the source of repression-gay bars, busts, kids victimized and exploited by the mafia and cops. Strangely, no one spoke to the crowd or tried to direct the insurrection. Everyone's heads were in the same place. Some chanted "occupy-take over, take over" "Fag power," but kids were really scared about going too far as they saw the cops pulling guns from inside, pointed directly at the crowd. A volley of objects bounced off the walls inside. Then one cop in a fury took his gun and actually hurled it at the crowd. People couldn't believe what had happened, for the gun hit the door frame with a clunk. and lay there. A miracle it hadn't gone off. The pigs carried futility to the extreme and turned the firehose on the mob through the door. Jeers, derision. Some shouted to "grab it, grab his cock" Some then let a trash can full of paper afire and stuffed it through the window. Flames leaped up. Then "Riot pigs" somebody was shouting. Sirens approached and kids started spilling out over the fences of Sheridan Square to flee the scene. On each side together there must have been around 1500-2000 people by this time milling about, being pushed back by about 30 or more riot cops. It was hard to tell exactly how many. But no one was ready to get their heads beat in and most of the crowds to the sides were now filled with the curious. People hung around till after 4 am talking in little groups. People were excited and angry. In talking to a number of kids who had been inside, it was evident most understood at least rudimentarily what was happening to them. What was and should have always been theirs, what should have been the free control of the people was dramatized shown up for what it really was, an instrument of power and exploitation. It was theatre, totally spontaneous. There was no bullshit.

[nastyelf]

I know for some people it may not seemed very important, interesting, just some small country in the east of Europe, but people should know what happpens there. Incredible Belarus people are trying to overthrow their crazy dictator, they use peaceful protest, but that's what they get. Belarus people deserve life in a civilized progressive country with a normal democracy, and not with a tyrant headed by and subordinate to him groups of security forces.

Жыве Беларусь.

https://belarusfeed.com/roman-bondarenko-beaten-plainclothesmen-die/

[mne-bolno]

watching this video of Роман Бондаренко from two weeks ago, playing football with his friends and being carefree for some moments despite the chaos in his life and his country, in the same courtyard plainclothesmen arrested him and was the last place his people saw him alive really hits hard

[rmsqueenmaryonthisday]

From Time magazine on March 18, 1940:

Q.E. Deed

Captain John Townley's comments were laconic and anything but epic. "Well, I mean to say, I better not discuss that. . . . You mustn't ask too many questions. . . . Then a number of things happened, I can't say when. . . . Don't ask where. ..."

Chief Engineer William Sutcliffe mostly shrugged and shook his head. The only definite things he would say were that he had used all twelve of her boilers and that some day she would outspeed the Queen Mary. But about the crossing he was modestly mum.

Manhattan offices of the Cunard White Star Line issued an announcement of her arrival as dry and unsalted as a British High Command communique. About the crossing's adventures, nothing.

All garrulous old Winston Churchill would say (last week, at least) was: "Splendid, very good work, indeed."

Even Pilot Julius Seeth, who brought her up from Quarantine, failed to pick up any yarns. His only comment was that "she did everything a lady ought to do."

At a daily cost to New York City of $1,300, nine police sergeants, six mounties, 22 plainclothesmen and 117 patrolmen were deployed along the Hudson Riverwaterfront to keep a tight ring around the lady so that no one could even get a good look at her.

And so the U. S., as usual, had to get the lowdown by devious methods. Across Twelfth Avenue from Pier 90, in a waterfront joint called the Anchor, Queen Elizabeth's crew gradually spilled the beans. Whoever would talk got free drinks. Some of the men were reticent and asked not to be quoted. Senior Printer Pearce Jones not only consented to be quoted; he insisted. "I am protected," he said, "by the Typographical Society of Great Britain and Ireland." Greaser Tom Barber and Fireman Jim O'Brien and Engineer Peter Johnson were in fine form. Oiler Jack Sykes babbled in Cockney. Gradually the story took consecutive shape:

At John Brown's Shipyard in Clydebank, Scotland, on Sept. 27, 1938, at 3:36 in the afternoon, Queen Elizabeth gravely said: "We cannot foretell the future, but in preparing for it we share a trust in a Divine Providence and in ourselves"; then snipped a ribbon which released a bottle of champagne to christen the world's largest liner (85,000 tons, 1,030 feet overall) with her own name. Into the water slipped the Queen Elizabeth, and into troublous times.

As peace waned, Q. E. grew—got her two funnels, pumps, donkey engines. She came along fast. Cunard set her first voyage to the U. S. for April or May 1940. Then war broke. Q. E. sat useless, an unfinished liability, meat for either sabotage or bombing. Last month fire broke out in her library.

Fortnight ago the report was given out that Brown's had contracted so much war work that Q. E. was in the way. Since one of the year's two highest apogee tides was coming along, it had been decided to move her "to another port." With no fuss, with only a few score people lining the same Clyde River banks where 1,000,000 had cheered Queen Mary in 1936, Q. E. eased downstream. For an hour she kissed a mudbank at Rashielee Light, where the Mary, too, had grounded. Finally she anchored outside, at Greenock.

A shadow crew of 378 was signed on "for the run to Southampton," at four quid two and ten (about $17) a man.

Ostentatiously a pier at Southampton was cleared. If there were any German agents around, they were allowed to hear exactly when the big lady was supposed to reach that vulnerable port.

For two days, inside Greenock's harbor boom, Q. E. limbered up. Two screws ahead, two astern, she slowly turned around. This shunting was all she ever had by way of shakedown, trial run, compass test.

On the first day of March the crew was called together in the third-class lounge.

Captain Townley spoke. He talked of what a fine ship this was—Britain's pride.

Then he sprang a surprise. He told the men they were going to make a trip of which they could not know the danger.

The crew negotiated for, and was promised, "run money" of $120. A few with families or funk ("who didn't want to be shanghaied into any bloody disaster") walked off. Those who remained were allowed to write letters home. Next morning, with hardly anyone to watch her go, Q. E. put to sea, convoyed by a squadron of bombers and four destroyers. At dark the planes cut back. Captain Townley then opened his orders to find out where he was going. He was going to New York.

The destroyers stayed with her into the second night.

The third morning, the convoy had disappeared. Q. E. was on her own. All she had for protection now was a coat of drab grey paint and a DeGaussing Girdle—a weft of cables strung around the hull just below the promenade deck. Nobody on either side of the ocean—outside the British Navy and the Cunard Line—could say for sure how this electric belt worked.

Best guessers figured that it either extended the ship's magnetic field, thus exploding the mines at a safe distance, or reversed the ship's polarity, thus immunizing it to the effect of the mine's magnetic trigger. Ironically the protective device took its name from German Magnetist Karl Friedrich Gauss, whom Captain Townley patriotically calls "a Swedish professor." Q. E. had a tried skipper in charge.

Captain John Townley is an old hand, formerly captain of the Queen Mary. Dodging Germans was old stuff to him. During World War I he shuttled troops to the East in the Aquitania. He skippered the Mauretania on her last hazardous run to Manhattan in September.

As soon as the convoy dropped away, he ordered Q. E.'s speed stepped up from 17 to about 25 knots, and began zigzagging. Her course was south of the regular lanes—warm enough so the men could sunbathe on the off watches. On the fourth day, thick fog came up. Submarines or no submarines, Q. E.'s foghorn blasted every minute. Next night it cleared and passenger ships passed. ("We could see their lights in the darkness," said young Quartermaster Norman Cronin. "We were all blacked out. We couldn't even smoke on deck.")

Early on the morning of the sixth day, Q. E. sighted Nantucket Light. At this point, with a premature burst of pride, the Admiralty announced in London that the Elizabeth had reached a safe berth "across the Atlantic." This was the first intimation to most of the world that Q. E. had even left John Brown's Shipyard. Far more amazing, a far more admirable feat than Q. E.'s actual run was the secrecy which had blacked it out. Too many people knew it was coming off—families of the crew, some 2,000 Brown Shipyarders, the underwriters for Q. E.'s $18,000.000 insurance, Admiralty insiders, many thousands in firms under contract for fittings, furniture, odds-&-ends which had to be left behind. But not one of them talked. They had read the repeated warnings that walls have ears and Adolf is under every table.

If Germans were disappointed by the news, they gave no sign of it. Said an official spokesman: "The stealthy trip into a U. S. harbor does not speak well for British confidence in victory. First the British took gold over there, then apparently other treasures, and forgot to bring back certain historical documents [i e., one of four copies of Magna Charta, deposited in the Library of Congress]. Now they must pay $1,000 a day docking charges. . . . What is the Queen Elizabeth anyway. It is not even finished. In fact, it is half a skeleton. Now, the Bremen—that was something!"

Manhattan newshawks announced Q. E.'s arrival while she was still miles from Ambrose Light. Not until the next morning did she heave to at Quarantine, greeted there at the end of her strange maiden voyage not by swarms of welcoming craft, but by three hollow grunts from the humble sludge boat Coney Island, on her way to dump outside the bay. . . .

And that, said the boys at the Anchor, was that. Why had she come? So as not to be bombed, of course. As for those docking charges the Nazis jeered about,* she would save almost $1,000,000 a year on insurance premiums by being out of the danger zone.

Had the men been frightened? Blimey, no! Why be frightened on a nice, easy trip, with a bar for the crew, and cards, and the best British tobacco? But the men were glad to be in New York, all the same—glad to be out of danger, glad to be heroes, glad, above all, to be where beer flowed free and there was no such thing as blackout. "Know what I'm going to do next?" exulted Quartermaster Cronin. "I'm going up to Times Square and just walk around and let the lights shine on me." Before the evening was over, Quartermaster Cronin did some shining of his own. With two pals he drifted into the bright Hollywood Restaurant, and soon, right in front of a flashlight camera, he had his chin chucked by a chorus girl till he glowed like Ambrose Light.

*Queen Elizabeth would incur no new rental charges at Cunard's Pier 90, chartered by the year for $189,188. But Mauretania, moved to new space to make room for Q. E., will entail a new rental fee for Cunard. Mauretania was berthed at Pier 86, which until October was rented to North German Lloyd and held the Bremen just before her dash home.

First photo: "Bass Strait. 1941-09-04. HMAS Sydney in the foreground escorting convoy US.12A, comprising the Queen Mary (right) and Queen Elizabeth, past Wilson's Promontory on the Victorian Coast." September 4, 1941. (source: Wikicommons)

Second photo: Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth pass at sea (source: Australian National Archives)

[liquidink21]

They’re only secret police if they come from the secret region of Russia. In America they’re plainclothesmen.

[cautelous]

He hears the news. Of course he hears the news. It comes from every radio, every screen, every paper in the city. The Sheriff doesn’t say what army is marching their way to Piltover, but he knows just as well. She gives him three sites. (Good things are supposed to come in threes.) The plea goes out again and again. As if he’d ignore it. As if he isn’t already on a train to Bannerstone, forcing his fingers not to clench around his bag.

There’s other people travelling, of course. They’re going home. The celebrations in Piltover City draw thousands to them… but any sort of joviality is gone. Due to him. It’s always all been due to him. He has the blood of hundreds on his hands, because he couldn’t leave well enough alone when someone else had dared to take up the Sheriff’s time. Distraction. Burden. How many more would have been saved if he’d just-

His hands are shaking. The lights of the train are far too bright. He’s been drinking every evening to get to sleep, to make the blackened and frozen hands stop reaching for him in his dreams. Now he’ll drink to stop a golden army, burning with the glory of the midday sun, from running him and the city through again and again and again.

Eight hundred and thirty-seven. Five more shouldn’t add weight to that - it’s a fraction - but death isn’t like money. So it’s eight hundred and forty-two as he takes the train to Bannerstone, as he forces his hands to still.

                                                     —

Everyone is looking at him. Everyone is looking at everyone, suspicion blazing through their eyes. C’s a man and, for those with any intuition, a Piltovian by birth or other bond. He’s chosen Bannerstone because he can hide in the crowd going home, unlike the shrine or the clearing. The Sheriff won’t be watching (she always keeps her promises), but the people will. It’s the same sort of instinct that makes everyone’s feet slow when they walk past an accident, their ears strain to hear an argument, their necks crane to see something that really should stay out of view. Morbid curiosity. He doubts he’ll be able to get near the circle at all without questions, without people trying to ensure their own destruction because they’d like to see.

He’s usually more charitable towards human nature these days. But there’s bile in his throat as he steps off the train. He can do it, of course he can, he’s not lost his touch in the act… just in the ramifications. The era’s ending again, or has it already ended? He’d seen it coming last time. But he’d been younger then, not even twenty, and now he’s here at thirty-five with two books in his bag and a buzzing in his ears.

They’ve both lived a lifetime in a third of a lifespan. Her hair’s going grey in streaks.

                                                     —

There’s no one there. There’s no one there. The circle’s out in the fields, of course, not near to town - but there’s no one there. The realization nearly makes him trip over the grass. He’d avoided the plainclothesmen in town, of course, but he’d thought that others would have managed the same. Everyone wants to see, don’t they? Surely there’d be at least one.

Maybe he’s wrong. He’s been wrong so often, recently. The midday sun is blazing overhead. He’s been so wrong, judging others by his own measures. He knows he’s not an honest man. He knows that intentions don’t matter when their results are this.

But the circle of stones and the fields around it are empty except for him. It makes his task easier, then, to walk to the center and stare up at the sun. Just for a moment. Just until his eyes swim and his headache splits into a migraine. It’s the least of what he deserves.

He takes the books, wrapped as they are in layer after layer of cloth and tucked into a waterproof bag, out. Demacia hasn’t sent its armies. They’re more savvy to the political game, or perhaps they care less for their artifacts than the Solari. (They had given the Helm of the Protector up easily enough, after all. Gods. He can’t think like this.) But they might, one day. He’s caused enough harm. So he sets down The Measured Tread and the book of poetry, looking at them with an emotion that he can’t even name, and turns away to leave.

This was supposed to be all for her. To prove that the city needs her, not her successors. To prove that she could still do what she loved and not resign herself to what people think she should be doing. This was supposed to be all for her.

The city does need her. Because of him. She’s doing what she loves, or at least used to love. She’d had mud up to her knees and a tired look in her eyes, the eyes that used to blaze with passion and conviction. This was supposed to be all for her, like it always has been.

He’s very good at convincing himself. It’s not working today.

                                                     —

He takes the train back to Piltover proper. He doesn’t pay for his ticket. At least he can still manage that trick.

[newsmatters]

Sister Abhaya case | Priest, nun, and the murder of a witness

Sister Abhaya case | Priest, nun, and the murder of a witness

Twenty eight years after Sister Abhaya was found dead in a well in a convent in Kottayam, a Special CBI Court has found Father Thomas Kottoor and Sister Sephy guilty of murder. K.S. Sudhi and Hiran Unnikrishan report on the twists and turns in the case and the many attempts to derail the investigation Seated between two plainclothesmen, Father Thomas Kottoor, a 71-year-old Catholic priest,…

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Hits Nurse With Hammer, Goes to 'Pen' For 4 Years," Toronto Star. June 7, 1943. Page 2. ---- "Might Have Killed This Woman," Magistrate Tells Gordon Brown ---- "BRUTAL ASSAULT" ---- "A" Police Court at the City Hall, Magistrate Browne. This was a very brutal assault. You might have killed this woman," declared Magistrate Browne to Gordon Brown, alias Robertson 26, who pleaded guilty of robbing Madelon Sperian, a nurse, with violence.

"You will go to Kingston penitentiary for four years," ruled his worship. Accused has a record.

Detective Sgt. J. Ewing testified that about 8.40 a.m., May 28, Miss Sperian left her apartment on Sherbourne St. for a few minutes. "She returned and found Brown in her bedroom with her purse." said witness." She attempted to take it from him. He pulled a nammer from his pocket and struck her three severe blows over the head. Sne struggled, got away and shouted for help. Neighbors arrived and the police were called. Accused was held until they arrived.

Miss Speraan received a deep cut on the head that required 10 stitches. She is all convalescent.

Brown stated that he was in the army and discharged. "I am subject to fits and every time I got a job I lost it. I was desperate as I could not get work," he asserted.

On charge of having a still suitable for the manufacture of spirits, George Arbe, who pleaded not guilty, ws convicted, and fined $200 or three months.

Constables Roy Perry and Herbert White said that they went to accused home on Walton St., May 29, and found a small still. "He had a tin of mash, with a worm attached," said PC. Perry. "Accused had two bottles of flavoring and told us he was experimenting."

Arbre told court this was the first time he ever tried it. "I did not know much about it and I guess I was not making a very good job," he said. "I did not realize it was a serious matter.:

As a result of a raid by Constables Cole and Simmons of the Morality squad, on a house on Bleecker St, 11 men were charged with gambling on the Lord's Day. They pleaded guilty.

"They were playing poker - we seized $23.35," said P.C. Cole.

Magistrate Browne assessed each of them $10 or five days and turned the seized money over to a war charity.

Raiding premises on Elizabeth St., Constables Herb White and Roy Perry arrested 10 Chinese on a charge of gambling on the Lord's Day. They each pleaded guilty and were fined $2 on two days each and $11.40 seized by the officers was given to the Chinese War Relief Fund.

BEAT WIFE AGED 78 ---- "C" Police Court, at City Hall, Magistrate Prentice. Charged with beating his 78-year-old wife, Robert McDougall, 66, was sentenced to 30 days in jail. He pleaded not guilty.

Assisted by two officers to the stand, her right cheek swollen and discolored, Mrs. McDougall told the court that on the afternoon of May 29 her husband gave her a severe beating. "I was sitting in a chair. He started pounding my face with his fists. I got up and went into the bedroom. He pounded me as I lay on the bed. He broke one of my ribs. Then he left and said he would be back to attend to me later."

Accused denied assaulting his wife, saying he was in Owen Sound at the time. "I didn't know she had got hurt till I saw her in court to-day," said McDougall.

"This is a real case of an aggravated assault," commented the magistrate.

OBSTRUCTED POLICE ---- Magistrate Woodliffe, Police Court "B", at City Hall Convicted of common assault on John Campbell in a landlord-tenant altercation, Carl Lebecki was fined $15 or 10 days.

Pte. Walter Wm. Forma charged with obstructing Plainclothesman Robt. Masters, was fined $10 or five days. "When he saw us he whistled and shouted 'lake out, and a crap game in a lane broke up." Masters said.

"I didn't know they were police-men - they were not in uniform," said the accused, "When they ran toward me. I ran too."

"From what you called out you must have known the officers," commented F. I. Malone, crown counsel, who stated that the accused's furlough from Manitoba expired last night. "I was going to wire for an extension," said Forma.

HIT POLICE OFFICER ---- County Police Court. Country Buildings, Magistrate Keith. Frank Wirth of Downsview pleaded guilty of assaulting a police officer on Oakwood Ave.

"I was called to a hotel on Oakwood," said Constable J. Van Allen of York township. "Accused caught up with a motorcycle and threw the machine with two riders over on the road. Accused grappled with one. Then he struck me several times in the face, kicked me and did $10 damage to my uniform."

"I had a few drinks." said accused. "The first thing I knew, someone had me by the side. I didn't know he was an officer."

Wirth was fined $15 and costs or 15 days.

[thelost-truth]

Sister Abhaya case | Priest, nun, and the murder of a witness

Sister Abhaya case | Priest, nun, and the murder of a witness

Twenty eight years after Sister Abhaya was found dead in a well in a convent in Kottayam, a Special CBI Court has found Father Thomas Kottoor and Sister Sephy guilty of murder. K.S. Sudhi and Hiran Unnikrishan report on the twists and turns in the case and the many attempts to derail the investigation Seated between two plainclothesmen, Father Thomas Kottoor, a 71-year-old Catholic priest,…

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1923 – Noel Lemass, Anti-Treaty IRA officer in Dublin, brother of Seán Lemass is abducted by Free State plainclothesmen and killed.

#OTD in 1923 – Noel Lemass, Anti-Treaty IRA officer in Dublin, brother of Seán Lemass is abducted by Free State plainclothesmen and killed.

‘The Winter Sleep of Captain Lemass’ by Harry Clifton The life of the country Hardened against you Like frost, and a new front Opened—brother against brother, Choice against choice, Disputing the high ground. Your eyes, Blindfolded, beheld the ideal State As the real one steadied itself To annihilate you. How to survive it, the force of exclusion, The freezing out of the soul At the site of its…

[phgq]

All set for Naga’s Peñafrancia fluvial procession

#PHnews: All set for Naga’s Peñafrancia fluvial procession

NAGA CITY -- The pagoda carrying the image of Nuestra Señora de Peñafrancia will be pulled by more than a hundred boats manned by 200 voyadores (devotees) as it navigates the Naga River here during the fluvial procession on Saturday (September 21).

The scenario is expected to be seen after the procession of the image and the flat banner of Divino Rostro from the Naga Metropolitan Cathedral to Danlogan in Barangay Dinaga, which will begin immediately after the culmination of the nine-day prayer for the Divino Rostro and Our Lady of Peñafrancia at the Naga Metropolitan Cathedral.

A road closure will be implemented at exactly 12 noon to give way to the procession. The palanquin or andas carrying the image of "Ina", as Bicolanos fondly call Bicolandia’s patroness, will be escorted by two or three patrol cars of the Philippine National Police. The procession will take more or less an hour.

“The police car will serve as sweepers of boisterous voyadores who may forcibly meet head-on the andas of the miraculous Lady, said M/Sgt. Tobias S. Bongon, public information officer of the Naga City Police Office.

He disclosed that 1,141 PNP personnel will be deployed for the event to do crowd control. Of the number, 213 are plainclothesmen from the intelligence unit tasked to conduct covert operations in order to ensure public safety and security while 150 will pose as voyadores going along with the mammoth crowd.

The number of policemen is exclusive of the number of personnel belonging to other uniformed services of the government like the Bureau of Fire Protection, the Philippine Army, the PNP-Maritime Group, Philippine Air Force, and the Philippine Coast Guard, the lead agency of the water cluster and from which the incident commander is designated.

“Their [policemen] presence will remain constant even during the fluvial procession,” Bongon assured the reporters during Tuesday’s press briefing at the lobby of the City Events, Protocol and Public Information Office.

Ensign Bernardo Pagador, district commander of Philippine Coast Guard in Bicol, said at least 30 floating assets (aluminum and rubber boats) including two units of jet skis from different agencies under the water cluster will be deployed along Naga River to undertake a speedy course of action against any untoward incident and to ensure that the pagoda will sail smoothly without being hindered by rowdy voyadores.

Fr. Pablo Carpio, vice rector of Basilica Minore, said that an estimated of 200 individuals, mostly members of the youth sector from different parishes and dioceses in the Bicol Region, will ride on the pagoda as the Catholic Church declared 2019 as Year of the Youth.

Bongon said the public will be prohibited from staying on Tabuco, Panganiban, Colgante, and Magsaysay bridges to watch the procession. A composite team of 50 personnel from different agencies will be assigned in each bridge for safety and security purposes.

“All the four bridges will only accept pedestrians who wish to go to the other end of the bridge and emergency vehicles like PNP patrol cars, fire trucks and ambulance responding to emergency situations,” he said.

Fire Chief Inspector Manuel Ricafort, fire marshal of the Bureau of Fire Protection here, said that at least 10 fire trucks will be deployed in different areas covering the Central Business Districts I and II for easy and expeditious dispatch 24/7. (Jason Neola/PNA)

***

References:

* Philippine News Agency. "All set for Naga’s Peñafrancia fluvial procession." Philippine News Agency. https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1080957 (accessed September 20, 2019 at 04:05AM UTC+14).

* Philippine News Agency. "All set for Naga’s Peñafrancia fluvial procession." Archive Today. https://archive.ph/?run=1&url=https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1080957 (archived).

[seachranaidhe]

#OTD in 1923 – Noel Lemass, Anti-Treaty IRA officer in Dublin, brother of Seán Lemass is abducted by Free State plainclothesmen and killed.

[winrepl0l1l0]

Three Soviet men, away from home on factory surveys, are staying in a hotel and trying to kill time.

First it's just some idle chitchat, then at some point one of them decides to prank his companions and excuses himself. He goes out of the room and asks a maid to bring them all tea in fifteen minutes or so. He then gets back and casually slips in a joke. Fifteen minutes later they are all enthusiastically exchanging offensive jokes about the Party, Stalin and even Lenin himself.

Suddenly the prankster becomes serious and says: 'Actually, I think we should watch what we're saying. Look, even this socket here is probably bugged.' With this, he says into the socket nearest to his bed, 'Can we have three teas in room 340, please?' Everybody laughs.

But lo and behold, almost instantly there's a knock on the door and there's the maid with the three teas. The room instantly becomes very quiet as the men hurriedly drink up their teas and silently go to bed. The prankster, chuckling quietly to himself, falls asleep very happy with his little joke.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to sounds of plainclothesmen taking his buddies away. He jumps out of bed, unsure what to do, and just as the party is about to leave, the last man turns, shakes him warmly by the hand and says,

'Well done, comrade Sidorov. The Major particularly liked your socket joke.'

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