guilty

Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time; a look into all aspects of a guilty verdict from the burden of proof to conviction to the judge’s sentence and more.

How DNA captured its first monster
Lynda Mann was an attractive 15-year-old English teenager who lived in Narborough, a village near Leicester, with her step-father, mother and her older sister Susan. Lynda also performed well in school and enjoyed studying different foreign languages. On November 21, 1983, she had lined up a babysitting job to earn some extra money. Her parents expected her to return home after 6 p.m.
By Marc Hoover5 years ago in Criminal
Famous Serial Killers - Fritz Honka
Path of Life Friedrich Paul Honka was born in the East German city of Leipzig in 1935 and had six siblings. Three other siblings died in childbirth, which was not unusual at the time.
By René Junge5 years ago in Criminal
Real neuro-criminal law: At what age are you fully responsible?
Today I am returning to a classical topic and also one that is very close to my current research. I have to admit a mistake right at the beginning: I have always criticized the exaggerated statements of leading brain researchers who called for nothing less than a revolution in criminal law. In my criticism, I mentioned several times that there is still no country with a “neuro-criminal law”.
By AddictiveWritings5 years ago in Criminal
Unfortunately For Chris
From a young age, I remember having to deal with death. Something you learned, where I grew up, is that people die. Most of the time it would happen when you least expect it, but death was a constant part of life that no one had any control over. When I was eight, I watched a young man suffocate to death on our neighbor’s lawn while two police officers stood over him and watched. His name was Chris. The young man, not the neighbor. Our neighbor always went by Mr. Rice, even by my parents.
By Chennea Russell5 years ago in Criminal
Yellow Cab vs. Yellow Pedicab
I saw the picture above in a law students' Facebook group where the moderator asked the members of the group if the owner of Yellow Pedicab who is also selling pizza may be held liable for infringement and/or unfair competition if Yellow Cab Pizza pursue a case against it. The moderator likewise asked the group to provide legal basis.
By Olivia Marlene5 years ago in Criminal
The Misunderstanding
Matt sat on a bench at the metro station, idly watching passengers disembark into the pouring rain. From the shelter of his covered seat, their reactions as they stepped out into the tempest made him smile; hoods that had been pulled down for the ride, lay draped, lifeless and sopping, only to be whipped again overhead with a sharp crack of fabric and spray of mist. The faces, bright with the anticipation of an arrival soon faltered to a grimace as they shrugged down their shoulders and joined the bustling throngs of travelers wandering in their intended directions.
By R.D. Tollak5 years ago in Criminal
Maybe It Was Fate?
Another blurry day passing. Amongst the other days that fall into the category of I cannot wait for this day to end. Along with all the numbing details of my life I’d wish I’d forget, the rain begins to intensify on my walk home. It has gone from the light sprinkle I seen when it first started to this downpour of misery from heaven I am now in. Only a few miles to go, lucky me. It isn’t out of the ordinary to find this friend of mine I call misery on my way home. She has become quiet the friend. Last week I was chased by a dog and lost my keys half way home. This week I would be out of my mind to hope for a glimmer of sunshine. Its seems almost lonely without her. She is after all the only excitement I find day after day. Everybody needs the fear of death to really live and I have more than my fair share on just my walks home. This night was no different. Trailing in the distance was a shape I couldn’t quite make out at first. After all, it is Just another exciting night where I am kept on edge keeping an eye out for roaming monstrous dogs. Each glance back brought this figure a bit closer which put me closer to the edge in my anticipation of another life threatening chase. Of course, to no surprise of my own I found myself waking in the middle of the sidewalk with no idea what happened. However, the pain my head was in gave me a bit of a clue. That and my missing wallet. Maybe it was in my dazed confusion that I thought I had a glimmer of hope but I should have known better. As I looked around to get a better picture of what had happened my confusion brought the delusion that I had maybe just maybe caught a glimpse of luck. A little black book with names inside. I figured at the very least I could get my wallet back and hopefully my rent money. The rest of my journey home was riddled with dizziness an the freezing rain. My cell phone was shattered in the attack, or at least I thought so. At home I bandaged my head and changed my bloody shirt. There was no need for a shower since the rain washed away everything but my misery. I thought about calling the police but the rash of unsolved robberies in the neighborhood was enough to kill that hope. The news was on and my throbbing head was enough to keep me form changing the channel. I thumbed through the little black book I found and seen names and symbols that peeked my attention. Then I thought I was hurt more than I first believed as I seen the same symbol on the news that was in the book. Another robbery victim had come forward with evidence that was left after their thumping and seemed to detail the same clues I had in my own hands. Then, the questions poured in, I don’t know why I’m my dizzy state that I thought that it would be a better idea to search out these clues than to go to the police but staring at this symbol gave me a confidence that I dint have before. Or maybe it was just desperation but either way I was intent on finding whoever left their calling card and a gash on my head to remember them by. The night was just as gloomy as the walk home. The thunder outside and throbbing pain seemed to sync. The thunder teamed with my pain where like constant knocking a my door. When I’d wake to see who it was the noise and pain where just fast enough to make me miss their appearance but just loud enough to keep me from getting enough rest. The morning came and my headache woke me once again. This time without the thunder. The day had cleared which looking back on my life was never a good sign. A clear day was like a omen, a path for my old friend to come a pay me a visit and bring to me what I knew most these last few months. Out the door and on my way to get my rent money back I took a look at this little black book. Now that my head was getting back to the normal amount of confusion that my life was riddled with as I stumbled through the pages there was an foreign language and in the middle of the book I caught wind of something I hadn’t seen before a receipt from the old Chinese restaurant down the street from my work. I figured I could at least get the security cameras footage and it could lead me further along on this path of trouble. At least I have the company of misery to keep me from going too far.
By frank gutierrez5 years ago in Criminal
10 Killer Kids You May Not Have Heard Of
It is hard to fathom how a child could commit monstrous acts. The horrific murder of little James Bolger shocked everyone, even more, disturbing was the fact that this crime was committed by two young boys. Something no one could imagine in their wildest dreams, yet it has happened. Here are the 10 worst cases of killer kids that you may not have heard about:
By Nicole Gibson5 years ago in Criminal
The Farm
Sara and I have known each other since grade school. She mostly stayed to herself, but seemed to get along with most people. She loved reading and writing but what I remember most is, her kindness, compassion and perseverance. For as long as I can remember, she tried her best to be fair and just. I lost contact with her when she changed to a different school in 7th grade.
By Patricia Hammond5 years ago in Criminal
An Honest Day's Labor
The May day on which I boarded the train was fresh and brilliant, in that way that only the English countryside can be. The sooty air and close streets of London had quickly slid past the windows of the train, giving way to rolling green hills and pastures filled with shaggy sheep, some apple trees still in bloom. Sadly, my mood could not match the beauty of the day. I glanced down at my hands in their black lace gloves, neatly folded in my lap. I would soon doff the clothes of mourning for my husband only to don the denim dress and work apron of a factory girl. The road ahead looked bleak. I tried to focus on the scenery outside.
By Shannon Callan5 years ago in Criminal
The little blackbook
Today was a trying day for me. I snoozed my alarm 3 times and ended up being 30 minutes late to work. The company I work for has been downsizing for the last couple of months, so being late was not acceptable, even though I had rarely been late before. As I sat down at my desk, an email came in asking me to see my manager at 11:30 in conference room A. The feeling of vultures waiting for me to die so they could feast surrounded me. I started on my work. It seemed as if 11:30 was taking forever to come. The anticipation of what awaited me had me frightened to an extent. I started checking my savings to see how long I would be able to survive without the salary I had worked so hard to achieve. There was a little over $2,000 dollars in my account. Just enough to hold me over for a month. I went into the conference room around 11:28. My managers office was right across from the conference room. He appeared to be talkin on the phone as he glanced at me periodically. I look down at my cell phone due to me receiving an alert from a friend sending me a message on Facebook. The door opened, and my manager walked in. He said hello how are you today? I replied hello. He sat down and stated “I’m sure you know we have been downsizing over the last few months, and unfortunately we have to let you go. My eyes started to tear up, but I didn’t want to seem affected by the companies decision. I shook his hand and walked out. I tapped the button to get on the elevator. As I entered the elevator a little black book was on the floor. I picked it up and looked inside there was a map to a location on 45th and Sherman st. I was familiar with the area, and decided since I was out of work that I would go check it out. There was a CVS on the corner and across the street was an abandoned building. I checked the map to be sure I was in the right spot. I walked towards the abandoned building where I saw a homeless man sitting in the alley. He asked me if I had any spare change. I had two dollars in my pocket and I kindly gave it to him. There was a door on the side of the building with caution tape that appeared to be a crime scene. I removed the tape and turned the knob on the door to enter. The door was locked. I saw a broken window to the right of the door. I looked around and no one was looking. Then I reached through the broken glass to unlock it. I lifted the window and climbed in. It was dusty like the building had been abandoned for some time. I looked around and on my left was a flight of stairs. I walked up and looked at the map again to check where I needed to go. As I walked up the stairs there was a rat at my feet that ran off into the darkeness. There was a red X marked with Spray paint on the interior brick wall. A stack of 4x4 wooden blocks lay on the floor. I picked one up and started banging against the bricks. The bricks were loose so it didn’t take much to get them break apart. There was a black trash bag behind the wall. I picked up the bag and it was slightly heavy. I opened up the bag, and there were stacks and stacks of money. Blood stained a couple of the stacks which made me nervous somewhat. All I could think about was my upcoming bills and the fact that I lost my job. I was not sure if I should keep the money or turn it into the police. The thought of someone dying because of it made me cringe. I removed the money from the bag and put it in my backpack. It appeared to be around $250,000. I left out through the door that was locked. Took out $200 dollars and stuffed it in the homeless mans jacket pocket as he lay in the alley drunk passed out. I made it home and counted the money it was over $320,000 dollars. I balled up the 100 dollar bills that were stained with blood and flushed them down the toilet. My life was about to take a major turn. All thanks to The Little Black Book.
By RoD HaZe5 years ago in Criminal
Paths
It was nearing the end of another minute, another hour, another day and another week tracing undeniably bland paths through monotonous doldrums, without purpose. Trying to impress, but feeling rather empty. Reaching for something, yet left lonely. Last call had already happened. A night had been lost to vain attempts to infuse novelty into the corners of a city strewn with old brick walls and gutters of refuse left unswept. It was drizzling slightly. In the small puddles the capillary waves of the gentle raindrops scintillated in the rays of warm yellow street light diffracted through the faint mist. Walking the alleys on the way to retreat to a familiar place to sleep, colored disco lights could be seen in a room several stories above, with an iconic saxophone solo fading away into lyrics whispering to me as I walked away; “Share it fairly but don’t take a slice of my pie.” Staring at the ground a small black book suddenly presented itself before my feet. It looked rather freshly arrived. Not particularly dirty and not particularly wet. So conspicuous and dapper why not open it? The first few pages had an odd little ledger of some sort of address followed by a number and what was probably an alias.
By Vocal Glasses5 years ago in Criminal