Attachment = Dependency and Fear. MGTOW is about not attaching to women or allowing women to define your sense of identity and self-worth. I've lived the MGTOW lifestyle (which is a confirmed bachelor lifestyle) for years and am loving it. I turn down offers of relationships with women because I no longer need or want a woman in my life. Unlike the other dating books on the market, The Dating Playbook For Men is not filled “theory”, confusing tactics or a marketing tool designed to sell you into an overpriced “bootcamp”. It’s a straight to the point, no b.s. guide to dating the women you want living the life you deserve. No games. No rah rah motivation. MGTOW is about men valuing themselves as human beings not contingent on having a female significant other. MGTOW is about men redefining their gender roles as just be strong and don’t feel. MGTOW has allowed men to get in touch with their feelings-it is helpful to feel your emotions at times in a healthy way. There a few really good books out there (The Rational Male, The Predatory Female, Men on Strike, The Manipulated Man) that cover the manosphere and supporting background for MGTOW but, - unfortunately this is not one of them - enough said. MGTOW stands for Men Going Their Own Way. MGTOW is an online movement that communicates via various forums, platforms, and social media sites. MGTOW almost always like to remain anonymous – the vast majority communicate using pseudonyms. MGTOW see men as victims in modern society. GYOW is a MGTOW forum focusing on men's issues such as feminism, hypergamy, male space, shaming tactics, girlfriends with borderline personality disorder, marriage, and the science of going your own way. GYOW is a MGTOW forum focusing on men's issues such as feminism, hypergamy, male space, shaming tactics, girlfriends with borderline personality disorder, marriage, and the science of going your own way. The Men Going Their Own Way movement (MGTOW, pronounced "mig-tau"; adherents are MGTOWers or miggies) is an offshoot of the men's rights movement advocating male separatism. Adherents buy into the rhetoric of men's rights advocates, but instead of trying to address (alleged) issues, they have vowed either to stay away from women altogether or to stop dating/marrying women and having children. (LIFESTYLE) - The MGTOW Playbook for Male Professionals "This is sensible advice every male professional can get behind. No private coaching/mentoring and NEVER, ever alone in a meeting room with a woman."
2020.09.09 00:31 Cryptolexicon Cctv record sex video
| "This is sensible advice every male professional can get behind. No private coaching/mentoring and NEVER, ever alone in a meeting room with a woman." |
He knows. Absolutely, positively no hugs and Zero Fucks Given if feelings are hurt. Protect your career and your business!
To take a man down, no proof is required. Protect your career - Keep them at a Safe Distance.
A man's life is easily crushed.
False allegations of rape and sexual harrassment can swiftly lay waste to what has taken years to build: your career, your business.
And so, the need for male professionals to mitigate the risk of false allegations has become an absolute priority.
These simple strategies will help:
Even if you take precautions, it is still possible to find yourself being the object of false allegations.
The best strategy to prevent this from happening is to avoid high risk circumstances. However, even if an innocent man is falsely accused he still has options.
Below you will find quick and dirty strategies for surviving false allegations - and quickly shutting down accusers.
Play HardBall - Sue the Accuser immediately. https://preview.redd.it/lei3e2sgo0m51.jpg?width=1429&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3296f2630846f333caab597b1eee862f7f8599e6
- Derrick Rose plays basketball for the New York Knicks. He was humiliated by a false rape accusation made by a woman who sued him for $ 21.5 million dollars. Derrick counter sued his accuser once he was cleared (Al-Othman, Hannah (2016). Derrick Rose demands $ 70,000 compensation from woman who falsely accused him of rape. Daily Mail, Nov 16 2016).
- John Henning was falsely accused of being a pedophile. He sued his accuser. He won a financial award and a public apology. (Evans, Martin (2019). Former MP falsely accused of abuse wins libel action. The Telegraph, Jan 27 2019).
- Dhameer Bradley and Malik Hilaire were falsely accused of rape by Nikki Yovino, causing them to lose their football scholarships to Sacred Heart University. They sued the school and their false accuser. (Rodriguez, Katherine (2018). Former college football players sue student, college over fake rape claim. Breitbart, Oct 30 2018).
- Colonel David Riggins was accused of rape by Susan Shannon, causing him to lose a promotion to Brigadier General. Riggins sued Shannon, winning $ 8.4 million dollars.(Jackman, Tom (2017). Jury orders blogger to pay $ 8.4 million to ex-Army colonel she accused of rape. The Washington Post, Aug 11 2017).
Take a Polygraph and Release the Results https://preview.redd.it/mwqjlwnho0m51.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4061927418f6c4dfb603b859fca6964106370f92
- Roy Moore was accused of being a pedophile. He quickly took a polygraph and released the results which said he was not lying when he denied the accusation.(Martosko, David (2017). I'm not a pedophile and I've got the polygraph to prove it. Daily Mail, Dec 28 2017).
- Russell Simmons was accused of forcing a 17 year old girl into giving oral sex in 1991. He immediately took a polygraph, provided a picture of him being tested and then his attorneys released the results. (Russell Simmons takes polygraph after assault allegations. TMZ, Dec 14 2017).
Press Release or Full Page Newspaper Denial Buzzfeed ran an embarrassing story about a young man accused of rape. Attorney Ivey Gilmore was hired to represent him. Her first action was to take out a full page ad in the local paper titled "Character Assassination in the Internet Age", where she characterized the lawsuit as "an attempt to extort money." Gilmore noted text messages, email and photographs which showed the rape accusation was false. She pointed out this evidence caused police to close their investigation. (Roundtree, Cheyenne and Snejana Farberov (2017). Attorney for man accused of raping Alabama student who committed suicide releases full-page ad claiming her text messages exonerate him. Daily Mail, Jul 27 2017).
Hit 'em Hard and Fast - Deny and Make a Counter-Accusation https://preview.redd.it/43t2igdio0m51.jpg?width=545&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e64ccb16c4266246155371fbc9889978af92a31b
- When Kevin Spacey was publically humiliated with a lawsuit claiming he sexually assaulted a teenager, he immediately responded with counter-accusations that the teen sought to be introduced to him, the teen flirted with him, the teen gave Spacey his phone number and the teen lied about his age. (Spargo, Chris (2019). Kevin Spacey fires back at accuser. Daily Mail, Jan 08 2019).
- When soccer star Neymar Santos was publically accused of rape he immediately released photos and x-rated messages from his accuser showing otherwise. (Tahir, Tariq (2019). Neymar 'rape' scandal: Neymar shares x-rated messages and photos he claims were sent to him by rape accuser. The Sun, Jun 02 2019).
- When Mohamed Hadid was accused of date rape he immediately released text messages from his accuser showing she aggressively and willingly participated in sex. He also accused her of extortion. (Parry, Ryan (2018). 'I miss your soft lips and juicy [eggplant emoji]!' Daily Mail, Mar 12 2018).
Reveal Dirt to Stop an Opponent's momentum When Virginia governor Ralph Northam received considerable attention in the press on his support for late-term abortion, a former classmate slowed Northam's momentum down by revealing a photo of Northam and a friend in a Ku Klux Klan/ blackface photograph. (Caplan, Joshua (2019). Ralph Northams abortion comments prompted classmate to reveal racist photo. Breitbart, Feb 04 2019).
Deny and State Sympathy for the false accuser When he was accused of sexual assault Chris Hardwick said the accusations were false and devastating. Chris said he wishes his accuser well. (Burke, Minyvonne, and Michelle Curran (2018). 'I was heartbroken to read her post, but did not sexually assault Chhloe.' Daily Mail, Jun 16 2018).
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2020.07.27 10:45 Str8Outta2750 Cctv record sex video
Today (27 July 2020), on what marks the 22nd Anniversary of her disappearance - I've decided to post this case which, as a young person, got me interested in Missing Persons Cases in the first place. The case I refer to, is the disappearance; and suspected murder; of Quanne Diec - whom disappeared on her way to school, from the Western Sydney suburb of Granville, on the morning of 27 July 1998; aged just 12 years old.
Quanne (pronounced “Queenie”) has managed to remain in the consciousness of many Sydneysiders (and perhaps many Australians) over these past two decades. Her disappearance was headline news in Sydney at the time – with the New South Wales Police putting out a strong appeal to the public for her whereabouts. Quanne, to this day, has never been located – and is suspected as having been abducted and murdered.
The case remained cold for years – until November 2016, when a suspect, Vinzent Tarantino, walked into Surry Hills Police Station in Sydney to confess to Quanne’s abduction and murder. Tarantino (born Victor David Gerada), a person with a documented history of mental health issues, then recanted his confession, pleading Not Guilty and stood trial for charges relating to Quanne’s disappearance and homicide. He was acquitted by Jury on 6 November 2017 on all charges presented. Understandably, a controversial situation all round – and one which sadly brings Quanne’s case back to square one. So, what really did happen to Quanne?
Background and Case Outline
Quanne Diec was born in Sydney on 12 May 1986 (her Date of Birth has also been published as 12 July 1986), to Vietnamese refugee parents – Sam Nguyen Diec and A Muoi "Ann" Ngo, both of whom are of ethnic Cantonese Chinese-Vietnamese background, arriving to Australia in 1978; and had two older siblings - her brother Sunny; and her sister Tina.
The family lived in a single story dwelling, in Western Sydney suburb of Granville - which was a very working class suburb; and had been traditionally a predominately Anglo-Australian in its population; although it began to be characterised by a very strong Lebanese-Australian community (established mainly by refugees from the Lebanese Civil War) from the 1980's onwards. The suburb's refugee population is a result of it being not far away from what was the Villawood Migrant Centre (which since has become the Villawood Immigration Detention Centre). Her father owned and ran a small mixed-business (i.e. a convenience store) in the South-Western Sydney suburb of Casula.
Quanne had started high school at the start of 1998; enrolling at Strathfield Girls High School, located in the Inner-Western Sydney suburb of Strathfield, about 10 kilometres (6 miles) away from her home. During Term 1 of high school, she was driven to school every morning by her father. However, Quanne; beginning to seek her own independence; started insisting that she be allowed to travel to school herself, via train. Although both of her parents had concerns about this, they relented - allowing Quanne to walk by herself to Clyde Railway Station, then catch the train to Strathfield for school, from the start of Term 2 (Source: MamaMia via MSN).
Monday, 27th July 1998 started off in the Diec household as any Monday did. It was raining that morning; and was early into Term 3 of high school for Quanne. She got into her school uniform, packed her lunch, said goodbye to her sister Tina (who was still in bed), then her mother Ann leading her to the front door to see her off – Quanne then headed off, waving to her mother, whom watched until her daughter disappeared out of sight as she entered Factory Street (Source: SMH).
Quanne got as far as the Australia Post International Mail Centre (now known as the Australia Post Sydney Gateway Facility) – which is (according to Google Maps) about 350 metres (approx. 380 yards) from her home; and about 550 metres (approx. 600 yards) away from Clyde Railway Station. She was captured by one of the Mail Centre’s CCTV camera at approx. 7.43 am, walking up Factory Street. The same CCTV camera captured about eight seconds later, what NSW Police described as a “shadowy figure” whom appeared to be following Quanne. However, another CCTV camera located at the other end (Northern side) of the Mail Centre captured no image of Quanne – indicating she disappeared between these two points along Factory Street; and failed to make it to Clyde Railway Station (Source: SMH).
As her parents had assumed she made it to school; and conversely her school assumed her absence was due to illness – the alarm was not raised about her disappearance until that afternoon, when she failed to return home from school. Quanne was reported as Missing to Granville Police Station by her parents that evening, at around 5.00 pm.
NSW Police were prompt in putting out a public appeal for Quanne, with all mainstream media outlets within metropolitan Sydney covering Quanne’s disappearance as headline news. In the immediate days following, the NSW Police also set up a mannequin at Clyde Railway Station, dressed as Quanne at the time of her disappearance (wearing her Strathfield Girls High School uniform); and handing out flyers containing Quanne’s photo to rail commuters. Soon after, the NSW Police formed Strike Force Lyndey, to specifically investigate Quanne’s case.
Quanne’s case deeply resonated with the Sydney public; with the media continuing their interest and coverage of her case in the weeks and months following. The profile of her case reached such a point, it resulted in the highly unusual move of the then incumbent Premier of New South Wales, Bob Carr, announcing a an increase to the reward for information on her case, from $AUD100,000 to $AUD200,000 (normally, announcements regarding rewards are done by the senior hierarchy within NSW Police).
Publicly, it appeared that no promising leads regarding Quanne’s disappearance were forthcoming. However, an anonymous male caller phone the NSW Crime Stoppers Hotline, who gave information suggesting that the Police search the Duck River, which runs between Granville (on its western bank) and Auburn (on the east). (Source – via Tapatalk. Note – articles originally published by Australian Associated Press (AAP))
It should be noted there are two tributaries in the area named Duck – there is Duck Creek, which is largely channelised – but starts in the suburb of Guildford, flowing due North-East through to Granville, then into the Duck River at Clyde. The Duck River itself starts off from a series of drains in the suburb of Yagoona, flowing due north through or past the suburbs of Birrong, Sefton, Chester Hill, Auburn, South Granville, Granville, Clyde, Rosehill; and eventually into the Parramatta River at Silverwater.
However, it was the Duck River which became the focus of the investigation. On January 12 and 13 of 1999, the NSW Police, along with volunteers from the NSW State Emergency Service (SES), drained a 300 metre (approx. 330 yard) section of the Duck River around the South Granville and Auburn area – about 1.5 kilometres (or nearly a mile) south of the Diec family home. No human remains were found; and the items that were recovered from the river bed – as set of vehicle registration plates, a crowbar and items of clothing, were eventually ruled out as being connected to Quanne’s disappearance.
After the NSW Police concluded their search of the Duck River, the anonymous male caller again contacted the NSW Crime Stoppers Hotline, this time claiming the area which the Police covered in their search wasn’t the right area; and that they had missed vital clues. The NSW Police put out a public appeal in early February 1999 to the anonymous caller to contact them again – believing this person was connected to the case; and had further and vital information. However, it appears this person made no further contact; and no further searches of the Duck River were conducted.
Another lead in the investigation was the vehicle possibly involved in Quanne’s abduction. Some of the information which NSW Police released at the time, appears a little confusing. However one witness, a woman, reported to Police seeing a girl getting into a “Transit-type van” (presumably a large European bonneted van, such as a Ford Transit). NSW Police went as far as conducting hypnosis on this witness, in an attempt to jog her memory for further information – but to no avail.
It should be noted also, that Australia Post were using Ford Transit vans within their fleet at the time of Quanne’s disappearance – although these vehicles were generally painted red with Australia Post signwriting.
There was information from a witness, of a van seen in the area that morning, with a registration number starting with either “PAO” or “PAQ”. Police put forward an appeal for the owner of the van to come forward. Eventually, investigators did track down that vehicle – a Mitsubishi Express van, with the NSW Registration Number PAQ-205, belonging to a Communications Equipment company called Benelec (Images of Vehicle - Sources: Nine News, SMH). The vehicle was distinctive, in that it had prominent signwriting. However, their employee and driver of that vehicle – Victor Gerada, became a person of interest in this case.
Victor had grown up at Second Street, Granville – just off Factory Street and near where Quanne was last seen. Although he had moved from that address, his father Godwin was still living there; and he was still a frequent visitor. Prior to his employment with Benelec, he had been a nightclub bouncer – having worked at various venues, including within Sydney’s notorious red-light district of Kings Cross.
It has been reported, allegedly unbeknownst to the officers on Strike Force Lyndey at that point, that Victor Gerada was also concurrently under the witness protection program. Gerada, in his employment as a bouncer, had witnessed the gruesome aftermath of the notorious Blackmarket Café/Hellfire Club bikie murders, in the Inner-City suburb of Chippendale on 9 November 1997 (note – “bikie” being an Australian colloquial term for a “one percent” or outlaw biker). This crime can be read about further here – but in short, it was a dispute between the Bandidos and Rebels Motorcycle Clubs – resulting in the deaths of three Bandidos, in the basement of the Blackmarket Café Nightclub. Ultimately, Gerada was never called up to testify on the stand as a witness (Source: Daily Telegraph).
However, reports suggest that Gerada began living a very transient life from this point onwards; which also spiralled out of control due to his Post Traumatic Stress and deteriorating mental health. Possibly due to these reasons, it appears the investigation’s focus on Gerada – who would later legally change his name to Vinzent Tarantino (a homage to Hollywood director, Quentin Tarantino; and the character Vincent Vega from Tarantino’s film Pulp Fiction) – eventually waned.
Another potential sighting of the suspect vehicle (along potentially with the suspects), is by Quanne’s father. Sam Diec testified on the stand at Vinzent Tarantino’s trial (via the aid of a Cantonese interpreter) that he saw a white van, with two men inside, in their street that morning – which he felt was unusual, as their street was a dead end. He also stated that the van was “running very slowly and the driver was staring at me”, to which he felt “very strange” (Sources: SMH, 7 News via YouTube).
There was another person of interest, during the investigation, whom also allegedly drove a white van. The individual – whom is unnamed in media reports; and is now deceased – was a male employee of the Australia Post International Mail Centre; and was a Vietnam Veteran. This person was also brought to attention during Vinzent Tarantino’s trial – with both the Prosecution and Defence respectively making statements regarding him.
It was reported the Crown Prosecutor at the trial, Pat Barrett, had informed the jury regarding this person of interest, including alleged accounts by his former co-workers, that he reportedly made “revolting racist and sexist” remarks; and was described as being a “beast” and “smelly”. However, the Prosecution also stated about this POI, with regards to Quanne’s disappearance, that it was the “extent of anything implicating him in any way”. However, Tarantino’s barrister, Belinda Rigg SC, countered and argued there was “a reasonable possibility” that this individual was involved in Quanne’s disappearance.
Many shocking allegations and aspersions regarding this individual, arose during the course of Tarantino’s trial and reported in the media. This included accounts that he expressed a hatred towards Asians; and also openly expressed very lewd and deviant sexual views. On the latter, it’s alleged he stated having an interest in young girls and having “deviant views” on Asian women. It’s also alleged that he bragged about having sex with young Asian girls; and most disturbingly, openly discussed about what sexual acts/fantasies he wanted to perform upon girls aged between 10 to 12 years old (Sources: SMH here and here, News.com.au here).
It’s alleged this individual took leave from work, just after Quanne’s disappearance. Although there appears to be no published reports confirming this, it implies this person was working on the day of her disappearance. There are no other published reports or public statements regarding this individual being discounted as a person of interest in Quanne’s case.
There is also the account of a witness, named Romain Maas – who’s evidence was highlighted by the Defence during Tarantino’s trail. According to Mr Maas, he saw on the morning of Quanne’s disappearance - a man he described as “Lebanese-looking” leading an Asian girl across the road, whilst gripping her wrist. He claims to have been outside when he heard a shout or yell; and then heard the girl say “Help me” – the man who was with her then said “she’s my girlfriend”; with Mr Maas then deciding not to get involved (Source: SMH).
With regards to the original investigation, although Quanne’s case did remain in the consciousness of the Sydney public and continued to receive sporadic media attention, it appeared to have hit a brick wall and had gone cold. For 18 years, Quanne’s family had held hope that she was still alive and would eventually return home one day. They refused to move from their Granville home for this reason; and as practicing Buddhists, continued to pray for her return. Sam Diec even went as far as travelling to other parts of the country in the search for his daughter, following information of alleged sightings. That hope eventually came crashing down for the Diec family, when what appeared to be a major development happened.
The Confession, Arrest and Trial of Vinzent Tarantino
On Sunday, 20 November 2016, at around 3.40 pm in the afternoon, a man walked into Surry Hills Police Station – not far from the Sydney CBD. He presented himself, telling the officer on duty “I need to hand myself in for a homicide… it’s all been building up for me and it’s too much”. He was taken in by detectives, whom proceeded to conduct a formal interview – which took place just after 8.00 pm that evening.
This man would eventually declare during the interview, that he had abducted and killed Quanne Diec on 27 July 1998, claiming his motivation was: “… I was in a lot of debt and I had this stupid idea of ransom…”. He further elaborated: “It was a stupid ransom attempt and it went wrong and I just want to resolve it for the family and try and bring the girl home for her family… I was going to let her go and I just panicked". He claimed that he’d taken Quanne, whilst she was walking to Clyde Railway Station; and had strangled her – then had taken and buried her body in bushland to the south of Sydney (Source: ABC).
That man was Vinzent Tarantino (formerly Victor Gerada) – as mentioned above in the Background and Case Outline, had been a person of interest in the original investigation by Strike Force Lyndey. As previously mentioned, Tarantino’s mental health had deteriorated in the intervening years. He was still extremely paranoid that the Rebels Motorcycle Club were still out to get him, - as retribution for speaking to Police following the Blackmarket Café murders. He had changed his name, but also had moved addresses on several occasions due to these fears – and went to extreme lengths to conceal and distance himself from his past. His paranoia of the Rebels was still very strong, even at the time of his confession – stating to Police during his interview: “…now my partner’s been threatened with gang raping; and my father and brothers have been threatened to be killed in a contract killing” (Source: ABC).
However, Tarantino also experienced a number of mental breakdowns and psychotic episodes over the years; including violent outbursts and attempts of self harm and suicide. Some of these incidents also involved Police intervention, which resulted in violent confrontations. One such incident, Tarantino reportedly threw a Molotov cocktail at Police officers; and sprayed another officer with petrol (gasoline). He also reportedly had a violent alteration in 2006 with his then partner – after she found out he hadn’t disclosed the truth about his past to her (Source: SMH).
Even during presenting himself at Surry Hills Police Station, his mental health was still a topic. He was found to be carrying a 35 centimetre (13.78 inch) kitchen knife when he presented; which was apparently a pattern of Tarantino’s behaviour from his previous breakdowns. Tarantino was also charged with carrying an offensive weapon, in relation to the knife – which was dealt with separately to the charges he would face relating to Quanne; and which he plead Gulity to and received a conviction for (Source: Nine News via MSN).
Also whilst at the Police Station, one of Tarantino’s brothers called his mobile phone – his brother spoke to officers, warning them: "[he] has psychological issues and I'm worried about him".
Tarantino’s mental health and his paranoia of the Rebels, would be continuing themes throughout his legal proceedings.
Following the interview, Tarantino was informed by Detective Sergeant Wayne Plumeridge (the custody manager on duty at Surry Hills Police Station) that he was under arrest – Tarantino responded that he understood his arrest; and also allegedly stated “I’m a grub, I don’t deserve a trial”. Police proceeded to charge Tarantino in relation to the abduction (specifically – “detain for advantage”) and murder of Quanne; and was remanded in custody (Sources: SMH: here and here).
The following day (Monday, 21 November 2016), Tarantino faced Central Local Court in Sydney for a preliminary hearing. He did not apply for bail – and was formally refused bail. However, during proceedings, Tarantino made a remark in court, against his own solicitor’s advice: "I believe my brother … and my partner … have been murdered in retaliation for what I've done" – a statement which was untrue (Sources: News.com.au, ABC).
On that same day – NSW Police also conducted a forensic search of his father’s home in Second Street, Granville. Police also conducted a Press Conference, conducted by Superintendent Scott Whyte of the Rosehill Local Area Command. At this conference, Supt. Whyte stated that Tarantino had been a person of interest in this case; and also alleged that Tarantino told detectives information “…that only the murderer would know”.
On Wednesday, 23 November 2016 – Police took Tarantino, under guard, to a location he claimed to have buried Quanne. Tarantino had told detectives he had taken Quanne’s body to bushland, just off Appin Road in Bulli Tops – south of Sydney and just north of the regional city of Wollongong. He stated that he took Quanne’s body – initially leaving it in bushland a short distance from the road, but then returned, placing it into and moving it with a wheelie bin; and along with a shovel, a machete and a glass covered candle; found and buried it in a spot. Tarantino lead detectives on the search, which was filmed by Police – however, he seemed somewhat confused and disoriented of the location. After five and a half hours of searching, no remains or other evidence was located (Sources: Daily Telegraph, SMH here and here).
The NSW Police later conducted a second search for Quanne the following year – starting on 31 July 2017, over a three day period – in bushland within the district of Cataract, a neighbouring locality to Bulli Tops. Sam Diec was present at this search for his daughter; however again, Police were unsuccessful in locating any remains or evidence (Sources: ABC, Nine News).
A second formal interview was conducted by Police with Vinzent Tarantino on 28 November 2016, in which detectives attempted to obtain more specific details about the crime. It appears further clarification wasn’t forthcoming during this interview, however Tarantino did express that he felt terrible about what had happened (Sources: ABC and News.com.au).
Tarantino remained under custody, in remand – his committal hearing not commencing until early March 2018. However, Tarantino’s position changed during this period – he had recanted his confession and was now denying he had abducted and murdered Quanne. He would enter a plea of Not Guilty. His committal hearing (set down for five days), was conducted within the first week of March 2018 at Parramatta Local Court. Evidence was tendered by the Crown Prosecution – along with calling witnesses. A trial was set down, following the committal hearing – but it was another 18 month wait (Source: Nine News).
The trail commenced on 9 September 2019, in the NSW Supreme Court, with Tarantino pleading Not Guilty. The trail would last for two months. The Crown Prosecution’s case was that Tarantino had abducted, sexually assaulted and murdered Quanne; and that he confessed this crime to two ex-partners, a former friend; and to his own brother. The Defence argued that Tarantino did not abduct and murder Quanne and had made a false confession – motivated by his psychotic state and his belief the Rebels Motorcycle Club were still after him, believed he would be safer being in custody (Source: 7 News, SMH).
Tarantino and his Defence did agree that he was present in the area, on the morning of Quanne’s disappearance – and did pick up a female from Factory Street in his work van. However, the Defence claims that female, whom Tarantino allegedly picked up, was an adult sex worker, whom went by the alias of “Dee” (Source: SMH). However, no-one (Police, Prosecution or Defence) could not locate this alleged sex worker, to obtain a statement or call as a witness (Source: SMH). The Defence also argued there was “a reasonable possibility” that another person of interest, the Mail Centre worker (as outlined in the Background and Case Outline section above) was responsible for Quanne’s disappearance and murder.
Several witnesses were called up in the trail. All immediate members of Quanne’s family gave evidence on the stand – her parents Sam Diec and Ann Ngo, both of whom utilised the assistance of a Cantonese translator, along with her brother Sonny Diec and her sister Dr Tina Diec. Notably, Sam gave his eyewitness account of seeing a white van with two men in it, driving suspiciously in their street (as outlined in the Background and Case Outline section above).
The Prosecution also called witnesses, in regards to Tarantino’s alleged confessions. One was his ex-girlfriend, Laila Faily. Ms Faily testified that Tarantino confessed to her that he’d taken Quanne and ended up killing her, because “…she was making too much noise”. She also testified that she accompanied Tarantino on a drive to a National Park, in his van (stating that it had a “strange smell”) – and that he stopped the van and removed a wheelie bin from the back. Ms Faily also stated that Tarantino told her he had a fetish for “girls in school uniform” and asked her during sex “do you want me to do what I did to her?” (Sources: Nine News via MSN)
Tarantino’s barrister sort to discredit this witness, arguing inconsistencies in her previous statements. Also, Tarantino denied and took offense to Ms Faily’s evidence that suggested he had raped Quanne Diec, stating it was the “worst fabrication” (Source: News.com.au). Tarantino also now claimed the contents of the wheelie bin did not contain a body, but instead contained firearms, along with cocaine stored within a Tupperware container (Source: SMH).
Another witness was a former friend, Geoff Maurer – whom testified that Tarantino confessed to “taking an Asian girl”, but things went wrong and Tarantino, in his words, had “cancelled her out” (Source: MamaMia via MSN).
Evidence was tendered by the Prosecution, that Tarantino admitted years later to another ex-girlfriend, that he killed Quanne during a botched ransom bid (Source: MamaMia via MSN).
The Prosecution also tendered evidence, of a recorded phone conversation that Vinzent had with his brother, Allan Gerada – alleging he said: “I killed a kid Allan, I’m fucked” (Source: SMH).
However, Tarantino’s Defence contested that these confessions were “false”, which he made up in the belief he needed to do so protect his and his loved one’s lives (Source: MamaMia via MSN).
His barrister, Belinda Rigg SC, conceded that her client’s “world” was different to her own, and that although he was firmly of the view he “did not” have a mental illness, the jury could possibly conclude he was psychotic at the time of his confession – and advised the jury “You are required to consider another man’s mind” (Sources: SMH, ABC, Canberra Times).
Two forensic psychiatrists – Dr Andrew Ellis and Dr Adam Martin; and a clinical and forensic psychologist – Dr Katie Seidler, were called upon to give evidence regarding Vinzent Tarantino’s mental state. All agreed that he had likely suffered a mental illness for some time.
Dr Ellis tendered that Tarantino was most likely suffering a psychosis, at the time of his confession; and suggested a likely diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder. Dr Martin also tendered that Tarantino most like had either schizoaffective disorder or schizophrenia. Dr Seidler tendered that Tarantino became embroiled in a delusional thought system; and had struggled with “…a psychotic condition for almost two decades”. Dr Martin however conceded that neither he, nor Dr Ellis or Dr Seidler, had the opportunity to examine Tarantino before writing their reports, quipping “It’s all a bit speculative” (Sources: SMH, ABC).
Tarantino’s mental health state was also punctuated by his courtroom behaviour – frequently interjecting and making outbursts during proceedings. The presiding Judge, Justice Robert Beech-Jones warning Tarantino on his second day of evidence, after the jury left the courtroom – to “keep acting like that” if he wanted to convict himself and stating “I understand your outburst… This is not the place of outbursts” (Source: SMH).
The jury retired for deliberations on 29 October 2019 – with Justice Robert Beech-Jones discharging one juror; with the remaining 11 person jury proceeding to consider their verdict (Source: 7 News).
The jury returned on 6 November 2019 – delivering the verdict of Not Guilty on all charges relating to Quanne’s abduction and murder. Vinzent Tarantino was immediately released from custody by the Judge.
Tarantino made comments to the awaiting media outside of court, including criticisms of the media’s investigative journalism and not meeting their obligations to ‘seek the truth’ – but also made the comment to the media to “get their chequebooks ready”. He also accused the Police of ‘changing evidence’ in the case, which he claimed to have ‘proof’ of. Tarantino also made the allegation, regarding his role in the search at Bulli Tops: “Because I had a gun pointed at me in the back of the Correctional Services van. That happened” (Sources: SMH, Sky News via YouTube).
The Diec family were absolutely devastated by the verdict. The family held a press conference outside Granville Police Station. Quanne’s cousin, Christine Woo, broke down while delivering a statement on behalf of the family – the full video from 7 News (via YouTube) can be seen here.
My Opinion and Theories
Obviously, it is very sad and destressing that after 22 years, there is still no answer on what happened to Quanne. Her family – and especially her parents, Sam and Ann – have and still carry a lot of pain after all this time. At this point, it appears the investigation is at a dead end; and it’s difficult to see whether that answer will ever be found.
Firstly, my opinion is that Quanne was indeed abducted from Factory Street at Granville – outside of the Australia Post International Mail Centre; and forced into a van against her will. I also believe there was a sexual motivation to this crime – and sadly I believe that Quanne was unfortunately sexually assaulted before being murdered.
As to who actually did it – from my perspective, there does appear to be more than one person of interest in this case.
Keeping this short and sweet, I do not believe Vinzent Tarantino (owing to his mental health) or the Mail Centre worker (whom I suspect was actually inside the Mail Centre at the time) were responsible for Quanne's disappearance.
My opinion is, the two witnessed by Quanne’s father, Sam Diec driving suspiciously in a white van along Seventh Street, are the prime suspects. I’m also inclined to believe the eyewitness statement of Romain Maas too. As troubling as Mr Maas’ reaction to the events he encountered might be, the man he described as seeing – I’m inclined to believe was the passenger of the van that Mr Diec had earlier seen.
I’m inclined to believe these two men were local to the Granville area, or if not – had familiarity with it. I also suspect that Quanne may have been stalked in the days or weeks leading into her disappearance.
Regarding the location of her remains – and returning to that anonymous caller to Crime Stoppers, who gave the Duck River tip off - I’m inclined to believe the information that they gave maybe true. I don’t believe the caller is either one of those two men – although I do suspect the caller could be either a close friend, or a relation to one of, if not, both of the men.
Looking at Google Maps (here) and Street View, along with historical aerial images from the NSW Government’s Spatial Information Exchange (SIX) Viewer website (aerial image from 1998, here) – I think it's highly plausible that Quanne was disposed of in the vicinity of the Duck River, although my leaning is towards the parklands along the South Granville (western) side of the river, around the vicinity of Mackay Road, due to their relative seclusion – compared to the Auburn (eastern) side of the river. Perhaps Police were just slightly off looking in the right spot?
Alternatively, another possible location is a significant bushland reserve south of this locality, on the soutside of Wellington Road, to the west of Auburn Golf Course.
We can only hope however, that someone can be forthcoming with new information to the Police, that can not only identify and bring the true culprits to justice; but also finally locate Quanne. I hope she finally receives the proper and dignified farewell that she deserves; and that her family can finally have some peace.
submitted by Str8Outta2750 to UnresolvedMysteries [link] [comments]
2020.07.24 16:21 mirageforgothispsw Cctv record sex video
All those habits are pretty much pointless considering efforts companies and governments deploy to track us. My life is intertwinned with many services I grew to depend on for convenience, like OneDrive for redundancy, or Steam for playing games, or my cloud based password manager, and those services now basically have spyware all over my personnal hardware. Hell, I'm using Windows, enough said. Beyond those, any other service like Youtube or Twitter, which I stopped connecting to to browse, are still able to identify me through behavioral analysis and device IDs, and there's basically nothing I can do against that. But as I went down this thinking rabbit-hole, I realized that even beyond my devices, I'm potentially tracked anywhere there's tech involved, from my university's lets say, modest IT capabilities, to my credit card usage, to my train tickets, to CCTV. And I also remembered how I'm definetly not the worst student of the class here, as most people in my lectures, same age, basically same background, don't give a damn about any of those and are carelessly browsing Instagram and Tinder within apps for a significant part of their time. And educating people about this issue would be very tricky, as you easily fall into the nerdy-tin foil category talking about it. I mean, I feel like there's no way to sidestep anymore. We're in it, sink or swim.
Now, of course there's always options. I could de-techify my life, but most of the thing I care about rely on tech. I could educate myself more about computer science and strenghten my privacy habits accordingly but I wouldn't know where to begin, and as it is completely unrelated to my field of education I wouldn't be able to invest appropriate time doing so. That would also mean learning some craftmanship and performing skill in order to avoid things such as CCTV. And I guess accepting being an outlaw sometimes, to avoid the most intrusive overwatching measures. And even if I applied any of those, and greatly increased my privacy, there's information about me all around already, so in case there's an order 66/451/1984 (pick your poison) against me or any of my affiliated social group, I would still be fucked. As I'm an EU resident, I guess I could make use of RGPD and try to get rid of most of it but not of everything, and definetly not of the things people would really want to keep.
All this left me wondering about the point of seeking personnal privacy, from a pragmatical perspective. I definetly feel the urge to ensure it, like a primal safety reflex, but I also feel many other conflicting urges like confort, access to sex, avoidance of boredom and so forth. And even tho I ultimately decide that this particular urge needs unconflicted attention, not only would I be very late to take action, but also with very little hope to see tides shift in a significant way for the foreseable future. On the other hand, I'm a good old nobody, without criminal record, connection with anyone significant or political affiliation, just a random dude who red lots of syfy and earned basic computer knowledge through general education and tinkering with video-games. I think this post is the most edgy thing I ever did on the internet.
I guess what I'm asking here is a renewed motivation to take action, in the form of reframing the situation, educating myself and empathizing. So here we go. Considering all this, what's your point in working toward more personnal privacy ? How did you answer to those observations before deciding to go anon ?
submitted by mirageforgothispsw to privacy [link] [comments]
2020.07.14 20:31 TheYooka A journalist's account on the "bail denied" for Ghislaine Maxwell
I was recommended some journalist's twitter accounts to follow by a redditor (https://www.reddit.com/useLeather_Term ) in order to follow today's bail hearing, and one of them was able to post tweets all along (Adam Klasfeld : https://twitter.com/KlasfeldReports ).
Here is the Thread of his account of this hearing :
I am putting here a copy paste of the content of this thread. It's a fascinating - and pleasing, considering the outcome - read :
"Good morning from New York.
Almost a year to the day since Jeffrey Epstein's bail was rejected, Ghislaine Maxwell will make the same request before a federal judge. Her accusers will have their say first.
Preview, analysis and live coverage ahead, @CourthouseNews.
With roughly an hour and 15 minutes to go, catch up to speed with an abbreviated history of Ghislaine Maxwell's case and the arguments prosecutors and defense counsel likely will make.
Preview at @CourthouseNews.📷 A Year Apart, in a Covid-19 Age, Ghislaine Maxwell Stands in Jeffrey Epstein’s PlaceAlmost exactly a year to the day after a federal judge rejected Jeffrey Epstein’s plea for bail, his ex-girlfriend and accused accomplice Ghislaine Maxwell will make a similar bid on Tuesday.https://www.courthousenews.com/a-year-apart-in-a-covid-19-age-ghislaine-maxwell-stands-in-jeffrey-epsteins-place/
As we wait for the arraignment and bail hearing to begin, my colleague @JRuss_JRuss joins me here in SDNY for continuous coverage today.
In the same court, a federal judge just rejected a proposed settlement in a Harvey Weinstein class action. Josh is on that story now.
Roughly five minutes until the scheduled start time for today's Ghislaine Maxwell arraignment and bail hearing.
Visible on the CCTV in court now:
* Ghislaine Maxwell, in a brown T-shirt, having removed her tortoise-shell framed glasses
* Mark Cohen, her attorney
* Prosecutors, led by AUSA Alison Moe
* U.S. District Judge Alison Nathan
We are about to begin. Judge Nathan calls the case
Judge Nathan: Ms. Maxwell, can you see me, okay?
Maxwell: Yes, thank you.
(The judge and defendant's ability to see each other is critical to an arraignment, even remotely. Maxwell is appearing via video feed from MDC. )
#CourtintheTimeofCovid: Prosecutors working to resolve technical issues to allow staff to listen in to a line, already dialed in by hundreds of listeners.
Judge Nathan notes we are here for arraignment and bail hearing and that she is appearing remotely, in a video feed from plain room with an unadorned wall.
Maxwell again waives her right to be physically present.
Nathan notes, with some understatement, that the case has considerable public interest. There is video in the SDNY jury assembly room, which can accommodate 50 people.
The audio line has been expanded to accommodate 1,000 people, she says.
BREAKING: Ghislaine Maxwell pleads NOT GUILTY to the charges.
Assistant U.S. Attorney Alison Moe describes some categories of discovery documents:
* Search warrant returns, copies of search warrants, business records, photographs, searches conducted on electronic devices, prior investigative files from the Southern District of Florida.
Judge Nathan delicately notes that in the Florida case there have been issues with "full and timely disclosure."
AUSA Moe: The physical files themselves were shipped to New York.
"We are completely thoughtful of those concerns given the history of this case."
Discussion now shifts to scheduling matters.
Maxwell's attorney Mark Cohen says that the schedule depends upon whether there will be a superseding indictment.
AUSA Moe: "Our investigation remains ongoing," but they do not currently anticipate a superseding indictment.
AUSA Moe describes the efforts to reach out to potential victims on the Child Victims Rights Act.
Three are expected to speak, two through submitted statements and one directly.
Judge sets an anticipated trial date for Ghislaine Maxwell on July 12, 2021.
Judge Nathan shifts to the government's motion to keep Ghislaine Maxwell in jail.
Prosecutors up first, then victims.
AUSA Moe: "The government strongly believes that this defendant presents and extreme risk of flight."
AUSA Moe: "There are serious red flags here."
Maxwell has significant financial means. She has "few if any" community ties, and she has a "strong incentive to flee" to avoid accountability for her crimes.
"There are no conditions that can regularly ensure her return to court."
AUSA Moe: "The defendant is charged with a conspiracy to exploit the [INAUDIBLE] vulnerable members of our community," who were as "young as 14 years old."
Maxwell knew that Epstein had a predilection for underage girls, the prosecutor says.
(Shaky audio connection.)
AUSA Moe says that Maxwell has been moving from place to place for years and has taken efforts to disguise her whereabouts.
Judge Nathan presses Moe on Maxwell's contention that her lawyers kept in touch with prosecutors.
Moe: That did not include information about her whereabouts.
She says that SDNY's contact with Maxwell's lawyers has been "minimal" and has "not been substantial."
Moe: There is a real concern here that the defendant can live beyond the reach of extradition indefinitely.
Judge Nathan presses the prosecutor on what it knows about Maxwell's finances.
Moe: The defendant told pretrial services that the New Hampshire property was owned by a corporation.
She says Maxwell claimed the corporation let her live there.
Moe: It appears that the defendant attempted to conceal an asset from the court.
She moves onto what she calls Maxwell's alias, disclosed in court documents as "G Max."
Moe: "She's good at it, and that she passes."
She was able to pass real estate transactions on a fake name and not be detected. Another alter ego flagged by prosecutors via @PPVSRBUnroll available on Thread Reader
Judge Nathan: "Your contention there is that she resisted opening the door upon being informed that authorities were seeking entry."
The judge is alluding here to this dramatic passage from prosecutors' recent briefing.📷
AUSA Moe notes that the defense makes "no effort whatsoever" to describe Maxwell's murky finances, and pressing Maxwell on these details now would be too late.
"The court cannot rely on the defendant to be transparent," Moe says. "In short, she has not earned the court's trust."
Moe: "Instead, she proposes that she stay at a luxury hotel in Manhattan, the most transient kind of residence."
"Your honor, the defendant is the very definition of a flight risk," she adds.
AUSA Moe reads an anonymous accuser's written statement.
Jane Doe describes Maxwell's "calculating" manipulation.
"She was in charged. She egged him on." ...
"I have great fear that Ghislaine Maxwell will flee."
(Static in the audio feed.)
Jane Doe says she received a phone call in the middle of the night threatening her 2-year-old.
Maxwell has "nothing to lose" and "no remorse," Jane Doe says.
If Maxwell is released, Jane Doe says she will want protection.
Second accuser: Annie Farmer, with a brief statement.
"I met Ghislaine Maxwell when I was 16 years old."
Farmer calls her "a sexual predator" who abused her. "She also has a demonstrated contempt for our legal system by committing perjury."
Service advisory: Extremely shaky audio.
Maxwell's attorney Mark Cohen speaks about the difficulty of defending a case like this during the Covid-19 crisis and takes the same anti-press swipe as his legal brief.
"Our client is not Jeffrey Epstein, and she has been the target of endless media spin."
Maxwell's attorney Mark Cohen disputes that her client does not have community ties: "She's part of a very large and close family."
"People have received physical threats... They have received death threats."
Cohen comments on the federal law allowing Maxwell's accusers to speak at her bail hearing. He says that he knows they are entitled to speak under the law, but he claims they cannot speak to risk of flight.
He cites precedent that gives victims a "right but not a veto."
Cohen denies that Jane Doe's description of receiving call with a threat to her two-year-old bears any relation to his client and notes that there is no allegation that it does.
Cohen rattles of precedents in defense of his client.
Judge Nathan asks him whether those cases involve defendants with substantial international assets.
Cohen answers no.
Cohen moves onto precedents with international ties.
Cohen argues that if the court is not satisfied with Maxwell's proposed bail package, the judge should seek a tougher bail rather than denying it.
Cohen disputes prosecutors' allegation that Maxwell essentially resisted FBI agents when they entered the New Hampshire property where she was arrested.
Referring to the security guards there, he says: "My client had to hire security because of the threats to her."
Maxwell "surrendered" to the FBI, Cohen claims.
Cohen claims Maxwell's phone has been hacked, but she had to preserve the phone as evidence, explaining the claim that she kept it wrapped in tin foil on top of a desk.
Cohen says that Maxwell's arrest in the United States, in the shadow of a highly publicized prosecution and investigation here, is the "opposite of hiding."
Cohen pivots to Ghislaine Maxwell's finances.
Even if the court were to assume that Maxwell has the means the government claims she does, Cohen argues, it does not matter for the purposes of bail.
In the recent brief, prosecutors pointed to financial records known as Form 114 listing foreign bank accounts with millions of dollars.
Cohen argues that Maxwell disclosing these accounts in government filings shows she is not hiding.
Cohen turns to the non-prosecution agreement (NPA) in Jeffrey Epstein's criminal case in Florida from 2007.
"We have a case where the conduct is more than 25 years old," he says, referring to allegations from between 1994 and 1997.
Prosecutors say the NPA does not cover it.
Context: One of the most controversial aspects of Jeffrey Epstein's 2007 plea deal was a provision claiming to immunize his unnamed co-conspirators.
Prosecutors call any defense Ghislaine Maxwell might make invoking it "absurd."
Background:📷 Bail for Ghislaine Maxwell Would Hurt Victims, Feds SayU.S. prosecutors made a passionate plea for victims of sexual abuse Monday, the day before Jeffrey Epstein’s former girlfriend and accused co-conspirator Ghislaine Maxwell heads to court.https://www.courthousenews.com/bail-for-ghislaine-maxwell-would-hurt-victims-feds-say/
AUSA Moe's rebuttal begins:
She rejects that the government's case is about "spin," or "throwing dirt" or about "the media."
Noting that a grand jury charged in the allegations in the indictment, Moe says: "It is not dirt. It is not spin. That is the evidence."
Moe rejects the notion that prosecutors could have notified Maxwell's council about her imminent arrest to arrange her surrender.
That is not how one arranges the capture of a criminal target considered a flight risk, Moe adds.
Moe notes that Maxwell's attorneys ignored the most salient precedent denying bail in a similar case:
Judge Berman's rejection of Jeffrey Epstein's bail package last year.
Coverage from back then:📷 Mansion Off-Limits to Jeffrey Epstein Ahead of TrialBetween the decoy passport, his status as a convicted sex offender and untold assets of over half a billion dollars, Jeffrey Epstein had been an unlikely candidate for bail pending trial on sex-traff…https://www.courthousenews.com/mansion-off-limits-to-jeffrey-epstein-ahead-of-trial/
Denying bail to Ghislaine Maxwell would be consistent with pre-trial services recommendations and the request of the victims, Moe says.
The judge is about to read her ruling.
The nature of the offense weighs in favor of detention, she begins.
(No ruling yet.)
Second: The evidence of the case "appears strong," the judge finds.
(No ruling yet.)
Third: History and characteristics gives Maxwell a risk of flight, the judge finds, noting her multiple foreign citizenships and connections abroad.
(No ruling yet...)
The judge moves onto the defense's arguments.
The fact that Maxwell did not flee and was in the United States is significant but not controlling, the judge says.
"The court is persuaded that the government has met its burden" that no combination of bail restrictions would guarantee her presence at trial.
This is a long lead-up to a ruling that still remains to be read.
Without knowing her "opaque" finances, Judge Nathan says, it would be "practically impossible" to craft reasonable bail conditions.
Speaking for Maxwell's flight risks, Judge Nathan says: "The risks are simply too great."
(She still has not officially issued her ruling.)
Judge Nathan moves onto the Covid-19 pandemic.
Though she is "greatly concerned" about that, Nathan notes that Maxwell's age or underlying conditions do not provide additional risks for her.
Maxwell's briefly tilted her head down and rested her chin on her hands. Her head is largely turned down during the judge's recitation.
A slow build-up to an inevitable conclusion: Bail denied.
"We are hereby adjourned.""
submitted by TheYooka to Epstein [link] [comments]
2019.11.22 19:05 darthvarda Cctv record sex video
In August of 2012, we moved to a tiny town in the Rockies called Snowmelt. I wasn’t happy, but Dad didn’t care. He’d accepted a management position there and said I just had to deal with it. That life wasn’t fair. It really pissed me off. I became moody. Full of angst. I missed my best friend, the warm sandy beaches of southern California, but most of all, I missed Mom.
I enrolled as a sophomore at Snowmelt High, this prison-like building that sat close to a forest full of spruces and fir. The student body there wasn’t huge, and that just made everything worse. I felt like an outsider, like I didn’t belong. Probably because I was and I didn’t. I couldn’t blend in with the crowd, go invisible in the same ways I did back in California. I started wearing black, lots of it, and tying ribbons around my neck so tight they left red rings when I took them off.
Two weeks after I started, I saw a crowd surrounding a table in the center of the cafeteria. It looked like they were holding try-outs for something. A thick line of teens snaked around the room and every so often laughter or booing would erupt. I figured it was for a talent show, but then I saw the sign and did a double take.
LIKE UNRESOLVED MYSTERIES? URBAN LEGENDS? GHOST STORIES?
PUZZLES? RIDDLES? AND…
JUSTICE? JOIN US
THE SPOOKY TEEN DETECTIVE FORCE
“Weird,” I muttered to myself as I shuffled towards the courtyard just beyond the double doors. I always ate out there, alone, away from the gaze and gossip of my peers.
Not even two minutes later, the doors opened and three other students walked out. Two guys and a girl. They looked around for a moment, spotted me, then ambled over. I tried my best to pretend I wasn’t even aware of their presence.
“Hey, you,” one of the guys said, he looked rich. He was wearing a rifle green sweater and tight, boot cut jeans that showed off his ass.
“Me?” I looked around, unsure why a guy as hot as him would be speaking to a girl as goth as me.
He threw me an easy grin. “Yeah, you. You’re that girl in my calc class, right?”
“AP Calculus BC,” he repeated raising his eyebrows. “You know, with Mr. V.?”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“How old are you?”
“Your age,” the girl standing next to him said. She had hair the color of gore. A dye job I suspected. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her torso and she looked around the courtyard with mild interest, like she was a patron at a zoo. “What is it?”
“Oh,” I said, “I’m fifteen. Why?”
“Wow,” the guy standing on the other side of the girl said. He looked rough, like a stoner. But, honestly, that wasn’t uncommon for the state we were in. “So, you must, like, be pretty smart then, huh?”
“Um, I guess?”
“Oh, c’mon,” the first guy said. He smiled wider, his teeth flashing white. “I saw your test when Mr. V. was handing them back. You’re fifteen. In an AP calc class. Getting straight A’s. You must be a fucking genius.”
“Um,” I said. It was the only thing I could think of saying.
“Hmm,” the redhead said puckering her lips prettily. “Maybe Deck’s right…maybe we can use you.”
“You know, for, like, solving stuff,” the stoner guy said. There was a chirruping sound from his backpack and he quickly said, “Shhh, I’ll let you out in a sec, T.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. Then it dawned on me. “Wait, don’t tell me…you’re the people with the sign. You want me to join your…gang or whatever.”
“See,” the cute guy said, turning to the other two. “I told you. Didn’t I tell you?”
The redhead clicked her tongue. “It’s not a gang. It’s a force.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The difference is,” she said, “we don’t cause crimes. We solve them.”
“Solved thirty so far.” The cute guy smirked then shifted in a way that made his junk stand out. “That’s more than the police in town.”
“Seriously,” all three said at once.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” the cute guy said.
“What’s a usual crime?” I put air quotes around the second to last word.
“Like, you know,” the stoner said. “Shoplifting, public intoxication, trespassing, vandalism, theft.”
The redhead glanced at him. “Yeah. And we’ve also caught pedos and pimps and murderers.”
“Yeah,” the cute guy said. “We’d rather go after them than, you know, the prostitutes.”
“Sex work is real work,” the redhead said hitting her right fist into her left hand. “They deserve rights and protection.”
“Uhh…yeah. Sure. I agree. But pedos?”
“Ugh, they’re the worst.”
“I, like, fucking hate pedos, man.”
So,” the cute guy said after a moment. “You in or what?”
I glanced between them, my lunch forgotten next to me, then said, “Fuck it.”
There were four of us in total. Me, of course, Declan, Fiona, and Hook. Fiona was 16, a Junior. Both Declan and Hook were 17 and Seniors. I was the youngest.
Hook was our contact. He had a way of getting things we needed from people we needed to talk to. If we needed to be in a certain building at a certain time, we’d tell Hook and an hour later, he’d have a way. He also had a cat he brought with him everywhere. A Singapura named Terror. Said he called her that because she was a fucking terror to deal with. He wasn’t wrong. Everyone hated that little shit. Especially me. The bitch crapped and pissed on everything. And she yowled. At everything. Puffed herself up, fearless, and launched herself at anything that moved.
Fiona was our techie. She was a wiz with computers and other technology. When A/V Club wasn’t on, you could usually find her after school at the local arcade setting new records, beating all the boys. If we needed to hack into some database, look up some info, Fi was our girl. For a hot minute there, I thought she and Declan were a thing. Then she caught me one day looking at his ass, laughed, and said, “He’s all yours.” I asked her once about her hair, if it was au natural or something else. She put a finger to her lips, then gestured with her head for me to walk with her over to a corner. She leaned in close, then whispered, “The carpet does not match the drapes. I repeat, the carpet does not match the drapes.” I took a step back, slightly shocked, then we both started laughing.
Declan was rich. Stupid rich. But he, himself, wasn’t stupid. Shocker, I know. He said everyone expected him to be, so, to spite them, he was planning on becoming a lawyer, fight for capital jay Justice. He did still play a sport on the side though. Hockey. He was pretty good at it, too. He lived with his parents in a mansion on the side of a mountain and his dad bought him a new car every year. The year I met him it was a bright orange Land Rover. We’d ride around the mountains at night in it—Terror scrunched up, scowling, in one of the footrests—looking for leads. But that’s not all Declan looked for…I noticed him looking at me sometimes, watching as I tied on a ribbon or redid my eyeliner. He never looked away when I met his gaze, just smirked and chuckled to himself as I turned away, blushing.
And me? I was the “smart” one. The problem solver. The grandmaster. The maestro. I was expected to put two and two together and come up with a method, a rhyme, a reason. At first, I was nervous, I’d second guess myself, too shy to be of really assistance at all. It felt silly, honestly. The four of us, basically kids, being called upon by the local police to “check something out”. But, after some time and effort and support from the others, I grew more confident, even coming to enjoy the long nights and harsh realities crime fighting came with.
Despite what I’d initially felt about Snowmelt, I had found friends—real friends—and it finally felt like I belonged.
The first case I helped them solve wasn’t so much a hole in one as it was a tragedy. Three days after I joined The Spooky Teen Detective Force, a cop pulled up at Snowmelt High right as the bells signaling the end of the day were chiming.
“Probably wants to talk with us.” Declan strode over, ignoring several tittering cheerleaders along the way. Hook, Fi, and I followed close behind.
“What’s up, Sarge?” Declan asked, leaning into the window, making sure his ass was in clear sight of the cheer squad.
“Hey, Deck,” the sergeant said. “Got another case for you guys.” Sarge leaned around his son, Vic, who was sitting shotgun, eyes glued to his phone and handed Declan a manila folder. Vic was a Sophomore at Snowmelt High, and we’d seen him every so often prowling the grounds alone. We all thought he was more than a little suspicious, but none of us had enough balls to say anything in front of his dad.
“What is it this time?” Declan asked, taking the folder.
“Robbery,” Sarge said. “Over at Mr. Myers store. Someone broke in last night and stole a bunch of crap. We’ve got the CCTV tapes if you want them.”
“Yeah,” Fi said. “I’d like to take a look.”
“I’ll email them right away. Let us know if you find anything, alright?”
“Will do,” Declan said, then stood straight as the sergeant whooped his siren twice and pulled away. We followed Declan over to an abandoned picnic table and all sat down.
Fiona’s phone vibrated and she flicked it on. “CCTV footage,” she said simply. “Huh,” she said staring at her phone. “Anyone seen this guy before?”
“Actually,” Hook said, “I have. Down by the old tracks. I think he might live down there.”
“That’s weird,” Declan said rifling through the folder.
“What?” I asked him.
“Take a look at this.” He held the folder out to me. “Notice anything?”
“It’s all food and medicine and,” I paused, looking up at Declan, “baby formula.”
Hook led the way down to the old train tracks. We followed them until we found a nest of sorts deep within the forest. It looked like someone had been living out there for a while. A tarp was strung up between two trees and, underneath it, two people—a man and a woman—were passed out on a filthy, bare mattress.
“Junkies,” I said.
“What?” Declan asked.
I turned to look at him. “Junkies. See how their arms are all bruised up? Heroin I’m guessing.”
“Ah,” he said.
“What did she say?” Hook asked walking up. He had Terror held tightly in his arms.
“Junkies,” I repeated.
“Oh,” he replied, then, “shit,” as he stooped down to look closer. “You know, I never really understood why anyone would do drugs in the first place.”
I looked at him, incredulous.
“What?” he asked.
“Aren’t you, like, a stoner, man?”
He looked sincerely shocked for a moment, then started laughing. “I’ve never done a drug in my entire life.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah, man,” he said. “I’m, like, entirely clean. Vegan for three years, get up every morning to do yoga. I just did a juice cleanse—”
“If you two are done,” Declan said, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “I’d like to get back to this.”
“Yeah,” I said, embarrassed, hoping I didn’t ruin anything between Declan and I. “I’m sorr—”
Suddenly, a wailing rose up from just beyond the mattress. A baby. I threw a quick glance at the others, then maneuvered my way around the mattress towards the broken laundry hamper serving as its crib.
“Well, fuck,” I said, looking down at the blotchy, bawling thing. “Maybe we shouldn’t book them. I mean, addiction isn’t a crime, right? They need help, not imprisonment.”
“Technically,” Declan said, “it is though. And that,” he gestured towards the broken hamper, “is child endangerment. So, unfortunately, yeah, we have to call it in.”
“But what about the baby?”
“I’ll check and see if they have any relative willing to take her,” Fi said. She walked over and cooed down at the still crying baby.
It just cried louder.
Things went like that for months. I grew closer to the gang and helped them solve several crimes in the process. Hook and I would shoot the shit every day after school while we waited for Declan’s hockey practice to end and Fi to be finished with A/V Club or tourneys at the arcade. Fi became my new best friend; she taught me all her gaming ways and I taught her how to use henna on her hair so the chemicals in regular dye wouldn’t damage it anymore. The tension between Declan and I grew and grew until it was close to bursting. But he never made a move no matter how many hints I dropped. And I didn’t want to embarrass myself, throw myself at him, rip off his too-tight clothes, just in case what I thought was there really wasn’t. I assumed he probably didn’t want to ruin the flow of the gang and I respected that.
Then, it happened. No, nothing between me and Declan. Something worse. Two weeks into March, a body was found. A sixteen year old girl. She’d been strangled. Over the course of March and into April, two more bodies were found. Both girls. Both teens. Both murdered. Then, near the end of April, Vic, Sarge’s son, went missing. A curfew was put into place. Dad started picking me up from school instead of letting me walk home or Declan give me rides.
The gang and I were working overtime. Studying for finals while also pouring our hearts and souls into trying to catch the bastard who was killing kids. It hit too close to home; the girls were so close to our own ages and the others said they’d known them in passing at school. Unfortunately, though, we had few leads and the pressure was starting to get to us. A couple days after the Vic was taken, Declan’s phone rang. He answered and we all watched with growing worry as his face fell with each second that passed.
“What is it?” Fi asked as soon as he hung up.
“Captain Cutler wants to talk with us. As soon as possible.”
“You think they found Vic?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Captain wouldn’t say.”
Hook looked up at the clock. “I can probably skip my next period.” He looked over at the rest of us.
“I have it off, so, yeah, I can too. A/V Club can suck it.”
Declan turned to me. “I’m sure Mr. V. would understand,” he said.
I gazed up into the determined look on his face, then nodded.
Declan pulled his Land Rover into the station’s parking lot about twenty minutes after he got the call. Captain Cutler must’ve been waiting for us because he waved us into his office as soon as we walked through the doors.
“Sarge isn’t here?” Declan asked, looking out into the bullpen.
The captain shook his head. “No. He’s at home with his wife. I’m sure you can imagine…” his voice trailed off and he shook his head.
“Yeah,” Declan said, lowering his voice. “Yeah, I can.”
The captain cleared his throat. “We need you to meet with our liaison,” he said. “He’s arriving tonight.”
“Liaison?” I asked.
The captain nodded. “Special agent with the FBI.”
“You called the FBI?” Declan asked. For some reason, his eyes flashed with anger.
“No,” the captain said. He looked worried. “I didn’t. They called me this morning and said they were sending him to us. Said that since we’ve found more than two bodies, it could be a serial killer. He’s driving up here tonight, after he finishes up his work down in the city. Sorry, kids, but maybe this one is a little above your paygrade.” The captain glanced at Declan with something like fear then walked away.
“This is good though, right?” I asked turning to the rest of the gang. “The FBI guy can help us. I mean, they’ve already found three bodies. It’s only a matter of time before Vic is, well, you know. I’m sure this FBI guy has the skills and resources to work faster than us. Right?”
The others didn’t respond. Declan shook his head, disgusted, and stormed out of the station. He seemed ashamed of himself, upset that he wasn’t able to solve this case.
I felt bad. It felt bad.
We were allowed to break curfew to meet with the agent later that night. As soon as we walked into the little interrogation room he’d set up in at the back of the station, I glanced over at Fi and gave her The Look. She shook her head slightly, then rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. He was older, sure, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, and he looked beat, like he’d been up for days on end, but, damn, he was fine.
What, I mouthed at her.
She gestured with her head at Declan’s back and mouthed, Him.
So, I mouthed.
She shook her head again, scowling, You’re fifteen.
I made a face that was meant to imply that I didn’t want to screw the guy, I was just noticing how attractive he was.
Fi rolled her eyes again, so, I simply shrugged and hoped that no one saw this exchange pass between us.
“Well,” the agent said finally, looking up from countless papers strewn across the table. Amusement blossomed onto his face. “This is, uh, weird.”
“What’s weird?” Declan asked, puffing himself up like a young buck protecting his territory.
“Just never worked with a team of,” he looked back down at the papers, “teenage crime fighters before.”
“It’ll be fun,” I said, smiling. The agent tossed me a semi-appalled, semi-confused look, then shook his head in disbelief. Declan, though, Declan puffed himself up more. Just as I suspected he would.
“We’ve solved forty-two cases, sir,” Declan said, his voice dripping with distaste.
“Yeah,” the agent said. “I’m aware.” He gestured to the papers in front of him. “But, here’s the thing, I’ve been reviewing your work and—”
There was a mewling sound. Terror popped her head out from Hook’s backpack, then jumped down, right onto the table, upsetting the agent’s paperwork. We all watched with bated breath, knowing the tiny cat was about to launch herself forward and attack at any moment. The agent blinked in surprise then—to our surprise—reached out and scratched her head. Terror started purring.
“And what?” Declan asked watching him pet the cat with something like hatred.
The agent raised his eyebrows, the ghost of a smile danced around his face. “And, honestly, it’s really shoddy. I mean, here you say that this old man, Harvey Bascomb, was haunting his own amusement park to bring in more visitors come Halloween. Booked him for fraud. But then here,” he shuffled some papers, “it says that during the same times those, uh, ghost sightings occurred, he was at the hospital visiting his sick wife who was dying of colon cancer. There’s video evidence of him coming and going from the hos—”
Declan scoffed. “That’s just what he wanted people to think.”
“Yeah,” Fi said. “He used to run the old tech repair shop on Mulberry Ave. He knew how to alter footage. Besides,” she continued, “he hated his wife. He was probably happy when she finally died.”
The agent opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, his expression turning from slight amusement to one of serious distrust. He ran his left hand through his wood colored hair, ruffling it up, then placed both hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, observing us. It was all I could do to keep from swooning.
Across the table, Declan crossed his arms and held frame, staring the agent directly in his grey eyes with his hazel ones. The rest of us stood quietly behind him, aware that a silent game of chicken was in progress.
Finally, the agent dropped his arms, leaned forward, and said, “Yeah, no.”
“No, what? No, you don’t want to help us?” Declan sounded triumphant.
The agent narrowed his eyes, an intangible expression taking up his face. He sighed. “This is just…” his voice trailed off.
“This is just what, man?” Hook asked.
“Fucking stupid,” the agent replied sharply, glancing between us. “I’ll deal with this in the morning. I don’t have time for this shit, right now.”
“What shit? You mean all those murdered girls? I thought you worked for the FBI. Don’t you care?”
The agent laughed bitterly. “Of course, I care. That’s why I agreed to drive all the way up here in the middle of the night after a full goddamn day of logging paperwork just to read more goddamn paperwork. I just—”
“Then why are you laughing?” Declan asked. “And you never showed us your badge. Do you even have one?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The agent lifted one side of his ass up, reached back (revealing a pistol holstered on his hip as he did so), and threw a slim matte black wallet on the table in front of Declan. Terror hopped on it, thinking it was some kind of toy, then yowled and hissed as Declan pushed her away to pick it up.
Declan flipped it open and stared at it for a full minute before tossing it back and saying, “Looks like a replica to me.”
And I swear on my mother’s grave that the agent looked mildly impressed for a split second before standing up. He stuck the wallet back in his pocket then started gathering up the papers.
“What are you doing?” Declan asked. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes. To my shitty, roach infested motel that I guess passes as a four-star establishment in this Podunk town where I’ll be reviewing the rest of your…work.” He stuck all the papers into a matte black binder, then stood straight. He was about four inches taller than Declan, bulkier too. And, from the way he held himself, I suspected he might’ve been in the military at some point in his life. “Then we’re all going to have a nice little chat with Cutler here bright and early tomorrow morning. Shit, I might even call up my boss too. See if maybe he can spare some more agents. You know, to figure out why all those poor girls were really killed. See if we can catch the scumbag perpetrator, or perpetrators, before Victor meets the same fate.” He flicked out his arm and checked a slim wristwatch. “Let’s say, 0800? Sound good to you?” Without waiting for an answer, he strode out of the room and closed the door softly behind him. Terror hopped down from the table and scratched at it, mewling.
As soon as the agent was gone, Declan turned towards the rest of us. He looked pissed. “You know what this means, guys?”
Fi nibbled on her thumbnail. “That guy’s gonna fuck up our streak?”
Hook held out his hand towards Terror, but she ignored it and kept scratching at the door. “Vic’s shit outta luck?”
I tucked my hair behind my ears and remained silent. Something about the whole exchange wasn’t sitting right with me.
Declan shook his head. “We’ve got to solve this case before that asshole special agent meddles with it.”
“But that only gives us, what, like ten hours, Deck.” Fi looked nervous.
“So? We’ve solved other cases in less time before.”
“I dunno, Deck,” I said, “maybe we should just let the agent—”
“Oh, fuck you,” Declan said suddenly. I blinked at him, shocked. “Yeah, you. You think I didn’t notice? Making googly eyes at that fucking piece of shit? You must be like half his age. That’s disgusting. But go on, go help that presumptuous prick for all I care. We can do this without you. C’mon guys.” Declan turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
Hook stood awkwardly for a moment before turning, snatching up Terror, and following him.
Fi shook her head slowly at me, then mouthed, Told you, before leaving too.
I didn’t go straight home. I couldn’t. Dad thought I was spending the night at Fi’s and I just couldn’t bring myself to ask anyone at the station for a ride. Instead, I walked to the 24-hour diner near the edge of town and got myself a milkshake. The waitress looked at me suspiciously but didn’t ask me why I was breaking curfew, thank God.
After almost thirty minutes of stewing in self-pity, the door jangled, and someone walked in. Someone I recognized immediately. The FBI agent. I guess he didn’t go straight back to his shitty motel after all. Or maybe he did and couldn’t stand it. I slid as far down into my booth as I could, silently praying that he sat somewhere on the opposite side of the diner. He did.
He ordered some black tea, a stack of pancakes three deep, a couple pieces of bacon, extra crispy, and a side of hash browns. I watched as he slid out of his jacket, pushed up his sleeves, and loosened his tie. He pulled out some papers from his binder and began reading through them, looking up periodically to thank the waitress as she brought out his tea and food.
I knew I was fucked. I had to stay at the diner until this black suited bastard left. And it really looked like he was settling in for the long haul. I wondered, bitterly, if this was just what this guy did. Meddled. Ruined shit. Fucked up everyone else’s plans by fighting for capital jay Justice. That thought cartwheeled me back over to Declan and I slid further down into the booth full of shame and regret.
Suddenly, just above the 80s music the diner was playing, a tinny sound rose up. It sounded like a ringtone. Because it was. It was the agent’s phone.
“Fuck me,” he said, none too quietly. “Now? It’s gotta be right now, huh?” He looked longingly at his stack of pancakes, then sighed, picked up his phone, and walked outside to take the call.
I perked up. This was my chance. It was now or never. I threw a ten-dollar bill onto the table, stood up, and tried to walk as casually as possible towards the exit. And I was almost there, too, about three steps away, when I got this sudden urge to do something I probably shouldn’t have.
I mean, his paperwork, his binder, everything was sitting right there, right out in the open, for all to see, including me. And I was curious, oh so very curious.
I glanced around nervously. The three other diners didn’t seem to give a shit and the one working waitress was nowhere in sight, so, I walked over and started swiftly flicking through the agent’s paperwork.
I was there maybe a minute before I uttered two words with finality.
I texted Declan immediately, told him I had to talk to him, now, in person.
Look, he texted back, I’m sorry I yelled. It’s just…I really like you, and I thought you liked me too. Seeing you giving eyes to that asshole really pissed me off. And I mean, honestly, it’s gross. He’s old.
My heart fluttered, my stomach dropped. I know, I wrote back. I’m sorry, just dumb teenage girl hormones. He’s not even that cute. And I like you too. Like, a lot. But, Declan, can we talk about this later, I have something important to tell you. About the murders. Are you alone?
He didn’t reply for a full minute, then, finally, he wrote, Yeah. Parents are up in Steamboat. Come over.
I didn’t need telling twice, I slid out of the diner and glanced around for the agent. He was standing with his back towards me, in the middle of the parking lot, with one hand holding the phone up to his face and the other on his hip. He was looking up at the stars and seemed deeply engrossed in the conversation he was having with whoever was on the opposite end of the call.
“What do you mean, right now,” he was saying. “Look, I know I’m already up here, but I’m working on a case already as per our agreement with the Feds.” He paused for a moment, listening. “Fine, fine, I’ll check it out. Now, can I go? My pancakes are getting cold. No,” he said, a hint of defiance in his voice. “Not right now. After my pancakes, okay? Well, it’s either that or tomorrow sometime. Great, wonderful, thanks. Yeah, I’ll give you the report second thing tomorrow morning. No, it can’t be first thing. Why? Because I’ve got to teach some fucking psycho teenagers a hard lesson. Yeah. Understood.” He hung up without saying bye.
I rushed away before he could see me.
It took me about an hour to get to Declan’s house. I had to sneak back home first, get inside without waking my dad, steal his car keys, put his car in neutral and roll it down the hill, then start it up so I could drive up the mountain Declan lived on, my heart and head racing the whole time.
“Declan,” I said as soon as he opened the door. “That guy, the FBI agent or whatever, he has some incriminating shit. I don’t know if it’s enough to book them, at least not yet, but it’s bad, Deck, bad.”
Declan stood back from the door and gestured for me to come inside. “Slow down. What?”
I stepped inside. “I was at the diner. He was there—”
“Who was there?”
“The FBI agent. I…I snooped. Through his papers. The agent had all the bodies examined. Again. By someone not from Snowmelt. They found strands of hair—”
“Hair?” a voice asked from behind Declan.
“What kind of hair?” another voice asked.
A head popped up from the couch. Someone stepped out of Declan’s kitchen.
“Was it cat hair?”
“Or human? Maybe dyed red?”
I glanced from “What’re…what’re they doing here?”
Declan started laughing. But it wasn’t his usual happy-go-lucky chuckle. It was mean. “They’re always too fucking smart for their own good,” he said.
“Or too curious,” Fi said. “It’s such a shame, I actually liked this one.”
Hook shoved Terror unceremoniously back into his bag. She yowled and spat. “I already called my guy, he’s finding a special place. A better one this time.”
Declan nodded, then turned to me. “Well, you know what this means, right?”
“What? No, I don’t.” I started backing away. “Declan, we have to leave now. Hook and Fi were involved. They kill—”
“Oh, c’mon, you’re not that stupid.”
“Deck,” I said, my voice high pitched and pleading. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You have to believe me. They’re dangerous.”
“Dangerous, eh?” Fi was smiling.
“Look,” I said, “I don’t know what those girls did to deserve it, but—”
“I wish you’d stop talking,” Declan said.
“They always jabber, man,” Hook said. “Always. Think it’ll help them in the end.”
“And it never does.” Fi was looking at her nails. She seemed totally unconcerned.
Suddenly, there was a muffled thumping noise and the faint sound of someone screaming.
“Guess Vic finally woke up,” Declan said in bored voice.
“You,” I said, then took a faltering step back towards the door. “You all are—”
“Finally figured it out, have you?” Fi raised an eyebrow.
Declan pulled something out from his back pocket, something silvery and sharp, and charged straight at me.
I raised my arm in defense and then—my world imploded and pain coursed through my body like a bolt of electricity. Declan had stabbed me, right near the crook of my arm. I screamed, then, without thinking, ran.
“Get her!” Declan yelled.
But it was too late. Fueled by adrenaline, I evaded both Fiona and Hook, crashed out the back door and into the forest.
I wasn’t looking where I was going, tears and pure panic blinding me. My left hand was clamped against my right arm, trying to stymie the flow of blood. Around me, the trees were thick, and I could hear them hooting behind me, taunting me, tracking me.
I stumbled through the woods for who knows how long. It seemed like both a second and eternity. I didn’t yell, tried to keep my steps as quiet as possible, I didn’t want them to find me.
And then I saw it. A figure. Squatting among the trees, a tiny flashlight held in their hand. They were flicking the beam left and right across the ground, seemingly searching for something.
“Help me!” I yelled, not caring if the others heard me or not. “Please help me!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the figure said, standing up and holding out their hands to indicate they meant no harm. “What the hell is going on here?”
It was the FBI agent. He must’ve been doing whatever it was the person who had called him asked him to do.
“They’re going to kill me!” I screamed.
He glanced around, his empty hand swinging up to his hip where his holster was. “Who’s going to kill you?”
“They are!” My breath wavered. I was hyperventilating. “Those…those fucking murderers! You know! You knew! They killed…they killed them all! I saw it…I’m sorry…I couldn’t help—”
He took a deep, steady breath, then cut me off. “Hey, calm down. It’s okay, no one’s going to kill you while I’m here. Deep breaths, okay? Like this. Copy me. Good. Now, first things first, can I take a look at that arm?”
I hesitated. “You’re really an FBI agent, right? I heard your…your phone call. At the diner.”
If the agent was surprised by this, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gave me a soft and sincere albeit exhausted smile. “I’m here to help. Promise.”
It only took me a split second to make up my mind. I believed him. And I trusted him. “Okay,” I said.
He examined my arm gently, then picked up a stick, pulled off his tie, and expertly secured a tourniquet about two inches above the wound.
“I know it probably feels too tight, but—”
“It’s fine. Thanks.”
He nodded. “C’mon, my car’s just over there.”
“Wait,” I said. The agent looked over at me searchingly. “They stopped. Listen.” I looked around. “They were right behind me. They might be watching us. They had weapons.”
The agent casually glanced around the woods again. “And I’m a pretty good shot. Even at night. C’mon.”
The agent drove me to the only emergency hospital in town. He remained silent the entire time, which I appreciated since I was in no real mood or state to talk. But I did see him glancing at me every so often. I think he was checking to see if I was okay.
He finally spoke up when we pulled into the hospital’s lot. “Is there anyone you want me to call? A parent or guardian?”
“My dad,” I said, choking on the words.
He nodded, then reached over me into his glove box, pulled out a little packet of tissues, and handed them to me before sitting back in his seat. “Do you want anything else? Ice cream, French fries, clothes from home? Anything at all?”
“Can you,” I swallowed, then started over. “Do you think you’d be able to stay with me. I mean, just in case they try to come get me or something.”
He blinked in surprise, then nodded again. “Of course. Absolutely.”
Inside the hospital, the agent spoke with a nurse who gazed up at him approvingly. Soon after, a doctor came out and called us over.
“Your tourniquet technique is excellent,” she said examining my arm. “They teach you this at the FBI?”
“Army,” the agent said simply. “How long will this take?”
“She needs some stitches. Maybe twenty or thirty minutes. But I’ll have to give her a brief examination too. Physical and psychological, that may take longer. She’ll need to do that alone. You’re welcome to wait out here if you’d like.”
“I’ll be here,” he said, pointing to a chair in the waiting room. “And I’ll give your dad a call.”
“Oh,” I said remember something. “His car is still at Declan’s house; he won’t be able to—”
“It’ll be okay,” the agent said waving my worry away. “We’ll get him over here ASAP. Whatever it takes. Now go, let the doctor fix you up. I’ll be right here,” he repeated.
The agent questioned me the day after. He was thorough and thoughtful, but I won’t bore you with the details.
Long story short, with my statement, he finally had enough evidence to charge The Spooky Teen Detective Force with multiple counts of murder, fraud, tampering with evidence, and other crimes.
Fiona was caught first. She’d tried to hack into some airline software down at a public library to fake a ticket from DIA out of the country. She made some rookie mistakes and didn’t make it far.
Next was Hook. Apparently, he’d gotten high for the first time with some transients down by the tracks and let it all spill out that he’d killed some people. The transients reported him and got the hell out of there. I heard that Hook literally shit himself when he saw the Feds running towards him.
Finally, they found Declan hiding out at one of his parents’ various vacation homes He thought he’d gotten away with it all and, honestly, that was the best part. To see his smug demeanor crumble was incredibly satisfying. He really thought that his parents could throw money at the problem until it went away. He was wrong. So, he started talking. I don’t know if it was because he was scared or proud of what he did, but I didn’t care. He was a fucking psycho. Apparently, he and the rest of his little gang had conceived this insane plot to pretend like they were solving crimes under the assumption it’d look good on their resumes or their records and it’d help them get into Ivy League schools. And when those poor girls figured out what was really happening, they murdered them. Honestly, I have no idea what Declan and the rest were thinking, their plan was so inconceivably stupid. The FBI agent told me that was probably for the best, that it wasn’t necessarily always a good thing to be able to think in the same way a criminal does. He looked more exhausted than usual as he told me this.
It wasn’t all good news though. They found Vic’s body the day after they caught Declan. He’d been stabbed several times then left to die in the woods. Apparently, he’d figured out what The Spooky Teen Detective Force was up to after the last girl, who he’d been dating, disappeared. From what I could tell, the FBI agent seemed pretty distraught he wasn’t able to save him in time. When he personally came to tell me and my dad that awful news, I noticed that his eyes were red. I think he might’ve been crying.
Sarge and his wife were absolutely inconsolable, their lives forever altered.
Dad moved us out of Snowmelt as fast as he could afford to, back to sunny California, near the cemetery where Mom was buried.
I went out to Mom’s grave every day, talked with her, told her what had happened, that I’d been diagnosed with PTSD, that Dad was letting me do homeschool, that I missed her. And it was there that I got my final surprise in the form of someone familiar walking towards me holding a little crate.
He sat down next to me. “Hey, kid, how’re you?”
“Oh, you know. Shitty. You’re in California now?”
“For a bit,” he said. Then, “And yeah, it really sucks. I’m sorry. Wish I could give you some sort of inspiring or helpful advice. But sometimes the truth is better. And the truth is that it just really fucking sucks sometimes.”
I nodded, then pointed to the crate. “What’s that?”
“Oh, thought you could use a little buddy,” he said. “Hope that’s not too presumptuous of me.” He popped open the crate and a feisty, tiny Singapura leapt out and onto his lap.
“Holy shit,” I said, “no way.”
“That asshole, Hanger, or whatever the fuck his name was—don’t tell me because I don’t give a shit and don’t care to know—was a terrible owner. Poor girl suffered quite a bit.”
“Yeah, but, Terror’s pretty terrible.”
He shook his head. “No, no, she’s quite sweet. She just needs some love.” Terror did seem happy in the agent’s arms. She was purring, her eyes were closed, and she had that little cat smile on her face. I’d never seen her so relaxed before.
I reached over and gave her a pat. She chirruped approvingly and snuggled deeper into the agent’s lap. “You want me to take her?”
“Only if you want to. No pressure at all.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe it’ll help.”
“I think it will.”
“What’re you going to do?” I asked looking over at him. “I mean, now that this is over.”
He stared off into the distance. “That’s the thing. It’s never over. Never. There’s always another missing person, always another psychopath, always another case. We live in a sick, sick world, kid. They’re some really fucked up people doing some really fucked up things. And, as much as it pains me to say this, I’m fighting a losing battle.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Fight for capital jay Justice? Try to help?”
The agent seemed to think about this. “Because I can. Because I want to. Because I’m up all night thinking about all the bad shit in the world anyway, so I figure it’d be better for me to actually do something about it. Action feels better than anger, you know?”
“Wow,” I said.
He glanced over at me. He had that amused expression back on his face. “What?”
“Are you, like, Bruce Wayne or Marc Spector or something?”
He chuckled. “That helps too.”
“Having a sense of humor. Oh, and beer. A copious amount of beer.”
We both laughed at that.
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2019.05.11 00:58 retiredcopp Cctv record sex video
The Delphi Murders - An Investigator’s Update
My last post (here) received much more attention then I expected it to get and I would like to thank those of you were kind enough to post nice comments and to those who gave me reddit gold and premium.
I have been messaged by several of you asking for my thoughts and comments on the press conference recently held by the Indiana State Police (ISP). I thought I would wait the “two weeks” mentioned in the press conference in case further information was published, but nothing else seems forthcoming.
My last post focused on investigative techniques used to trace people whereas this post will just be my thoughts and comments on the new information. As before, if I have missed something or made an error please point it out and I will correct it.
To start, I will repeat the disclaimer I used in my last post:
Disclaimer: I worked in Law Enforcement (not in the US) for 10 years as an investigator and a further 5 years in private investigation. I have worked on lots of different types of investigation such as drug trafficking, sex trafficking, counterfeit documents, corporate espionage, missing persons and bribery. I have never worked on murder cases but I am well versed in the type of methods that law enforcement uses to trace people. Other than what has been published in the media and here on this sub I know no more about this case than any of you.Superintendent Carter
I’m sure the police are doing so much more than they have publicly stated, and I’m almost certain they would have done most, if not all, of what I have written this evening. I know it gets frustrating but believe me, the Indiana police will be working harder than you can possibly imagine to solve this.I watched the whole press conference and it was very moving to hear Superintendent Carter speak. He looked and sounded like he hadn’t slept in two years and has relived the murders countless times. I sincerely hope he and his team are receiving regular counselling. The burden and pressure of trying to solve this case, especially after two years, must be immense.
2019.04.04 15:00 alleybetwixt The Who's Who of Burning Molka: A comprehensive list of the names involved
BURNING MOLKA ARCHIVE WIKI will contain all future updates for this listing.This is a compiled list of all the significant figures involved in the Burning Molka scandals. It is our attempt to make an easier-to-read breakdown that focuses on the Who's Who of these cases and what they did.
This post was last updated on 190915 at 6:55PM KST
2019.02.18 18:43 8088XT8BIT Video sex record cctv
JMO .. This whole thing turned into a crazy rabbit hole of a mess when KP called out the hounds (911) and claimed his wife (SP) had been grabbed. What started out as an endeavor to guilt and embarrass (a cheater?) SP into coming home, got out of hand. How much money did they make?
Also - Interesting and revealing (current and archived) threads II
2018.07.08 22:12 black_bananana Cctv record sex video
On 29th April 2017, Magdalena Zuk, a 27 year old beautician from Poland, died whilst on holiday in the Egyptian beach resort town of Marsa Alam. While her death was recorded as suicide, so is technically solved, many dispute this and believe there was more to it.
Magda grew up in Bogatynia; when she was 17, she left her family home and moved to Zgorzelec, where she would finish her cosmetic studies and open a beauty salon at the age of 22. She continued studying at the same time and did a bachelor's degree in dietetics.
Magda had planned the holiday as a surprise for her boyfriend, Markus' birthday. However, he was unable to go as his passport had expired. Markus tried to sell the tickets on Facebook, though no one bought them. After learning that her friends were busy, Magdalena decided to fly alone; she landed in Hurghada just after midnight on Wednesday, April 26th.
After landing in Egypt, Magdalena began acting strangely. According to the Independant article:
She sent messages to friends back in Poland as if they were on holiday with her and told people she was hearing voices in her room. She was seen shouting down the phone in the lobby, making wild arm movements, and a video from the hotel shows her lying motionless in the doorway to her room dressed in just a bathrobe.Family recieved odd texts such as "Where are you? Come to me". Messages were being sent from the phone of an employee of the travel agency, Mahmoud K. Markus heard about her worsening state and bought the first ticket he could to get her home, which was on Saturday. The video mentioned in the above quote was taken on the Friday morning, after Magda was found unconscious in the hotel; staff sent the video to the family to show the state she was in. I'm struggling to find this footage itself, though it is featured in LordanARTS' video on the case.
The biological material taken from the woman's body does not indicate that she was a victim of rape. This was confirmed by two teams of Polish experts - the person who knows the backstage of the investigation tells the "Fakt" , and no traces of violence were found on Magdalena Żuk's body, so the investigators carefully investigate the depression that the girl struggled with.(The above article was auto-translated)
According to the journal, the results of the conducted sections - the first took place in Egypt with the participation of the Polish pathomorphologist and prosecutor, the second was carried out directly in Poland - indicate that the girl had typical injuries after falling from a great height. Her blood also revealed traces of strong drugs. It's about one of the so-called antipsychotic drugs, a substance used in the treatment of psychoses, schizophrenia, but sometimes also in the case of depression.