fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about copycat killers, eyewitnesses testimony, what makes a murderer and more.
Waiting
There’s a derelict building I know of. I’m headed there right now. The subway car is jostling and I keep looking at people to see if they’re sneaking glances at me. I’m pretty sure the pregnant woman isn’t following me but the man in the brown coat is starting to return my stares. I look away.
By Tom Martin5 years ago in Criminal
Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 4
READ PART 1, 2 & 3 BEFORE THIS... My girlfriend was doing my head in. Constantly accusing me of getting up to no good. She knew I was doing something dodgy and she had turned into inspector gadget. Keeping a track of all my affairs and nagging anytime I went out. I wish she had just left me alone then, a lot of our arguments were really pointless. I had love for her, she played a massive role in my life. I had turned 24 and needed to try and settle down. Fall into a relationship which had a different outcome, less cheating and more commitment. I was mature enough to compromise sexual urges. Besides, times had changed and most of the girls my age were either after luxuries or stability. Something I did not possess and even if I was to cheat I would have had to do a lot of talking and 'getting to know' them. With both of us checking each others phones constantly, cheating would have not been possible, not that I would have anyway. The girls that were tempting would normally be the ones who went to the bars or clubs. When you've had a few drinks down you and your sexually turned on everything becomes perceptive rather than materialistic. It's less about the other persons situation and more about the emotions at that moment. I came close a fair few times but I tried to avoid it as much as possible. My girlfriend would call me frequently anyway, so it would have been hard. Nonetheless, I needed to make enough to focus on my studies. So here I was in a casino in central London. A casino where I had become a regular and most of the staff knew me by my last name. Not so much credible, more embarrassing to be honest. I spent the night playing Blackjack and Roulette. Drinks being handed to me by the casino managers for my 'loyalty', or should I say for me to gamble drunk. It was easier for them to take my money that way. They would then blame the alcohol for the massive loss that I had incurred. I found myself up a couple grand and started betting heavily. I had been in there for over 3 hours and my back was starting to hurt, as it would if you are seated in a stationary position for long periods. I just wanted to make the money and get out. I took a lot of risks and would 'hit' the cards most wouldn't. It was working out for me and I was making a residual income. Unfortunately those places are not designed for residual incomes, things were bound to take a turn for the worse. So when I placed a large bet down and took a nasty loss, my frustration and anger arose, thanks to the alcohol. Not to mention the way in which the dealer magically ended up with 21 when I had a solid 20 on the table. What a fucking joke. This left me in a state of mindless gambling. Putting down a significant amount a time, hoping for unrealistic income. The casino saw this as a window of opportunity, they had waited for this the entire night. Here was their chance to drain me financially. They had caught me in the spider web, and the complimentary drinks were supplying the venom. It did not take long for me to find my pile of chips very low. I had moved from the tables upstairs to the low stake ones downstairs. Here you would catch individuals getting overly excited winning small amounts. Maybe in reality they were the sensible gamblers. Regardless I found them extremely annoying given that I had lost a lot, and seeing them encourage me when I won a small pile. In the end I left that place with absolutely nothing in my pocket. I would then take a long familiar walk down to the bus stop. Wait patiently for my bus to arrive and hop on. Walk to the back and try to fall asleep. The last stop would have been home. I can't count how many times I had made that trip. It really was the walk of shame. University was set to start in a week and I didn't even have enough for travel. How was I suppose to get to campus or my lectures. I know it was my fault, I should have left something behind, but it was not possible given my level of intoxication. Besides, the next morning I would wake up in a state of shock. I barely remembered how I had lost everything. It would all be a blur. My inquisitive girlfriend and mother would be asking questions soon. I needed to make it back as soon as possible.
By Ali Elyas Shahali5 years ago in Criminal
Memoirs of violence
A lot of people ask me, "What made you hate?". That is easy, nothing. I do not hate. I never did. Sure, I was filled with hate. I had a very traumatic childhood. A very troubling adolescence, and an even harder time as a young adult. I have Borderline Personality Disorder, and for the longest time, it was not treated, nor diagnosed. So, my rage and hate was false. But, I never intentionally set out to join a hate movement. The only reason I even accepted the oath, was that the recruiter swore it was not a "Hate based movement." Which it clearly is, and always was. And at my young, and hostile age I collapsed, and ranked up.
By Steven Mawyer5 years ago in Criminal
Hate in modern day America
I admit, I was a fool and joined ranks in the most violent white supremacist group in America, some say, even the world. I spent over one decade inside, and climbed the ladder to Elder status. Basically meaning top ranking officer. I cannot say what made me stand and watch barbaric and heinous things take place that purely sickened me to the core. Home invasions, shootings, beatings, robberies, and even rape. I joined out of hatred but not towards any race, or nationality. And it was never about that anyway, even though most think it is. Most crimes committed that I participated in, or witnessed were mostly targeted at white civilians.
By Steven Mawyer5 years ago in Criminal
How Criminals Are Making Money During the Pandemic
As the ongoing crisis drags on, criminals continue to profit when people are most vulnerable. The pandemic has shown good people trying to contribute, but it has also opened doors for people who prey on others’ misfortunes. In the past, criminal activity accelerated after a natural disaster like Hurricane Katrina in 2005. When people lose everything and are desperate for relief, scam artists flood into town and target unfortunate victims for money. Although the internet is the method most criminals use to steal your money, physical thefts, false phone calls and mail theft are also rising. The following sections describe the ways that criminals are profiting from the pandemic.
By Lewis Robinson5 years ago in Criminal
Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 3
READ PART 1 & 2 BEFORE THIS... I must have underestimated the impact of the criminal record. I thought due to the sales experience I had just picked up opportunities would come by easily. That was not the case unfortunately. I attended several interviews, non commission based roles most of which found the 1 criminal record under my name a high risk. They would inform me a week later that I didn't get the job, that they had found "more suited employees with relevant work experience". I didn't want to go back to commission work. I needed some stability and relaxation in my life. That job was taking up most of my energy, I wanted a guaranteed income weekly instead of unpredictability. In sales you couldn't afford having a bad day, so when I would get into an argument with my mum or a girl I was seeing at the time, my performance would degrade. Meaning I made less when I wasn't positive or had to deal with shit in life. Instead, I found myself unemployed chilling with one of my closest friends doing pretty much nothing. We would drive around the area listening to music and get high. Linking up with the boys in the night and getting back home in the early hours of the morning. Yes...it was fun at times but I needed to get my life back on track. He would be selling some weed on the side and worked full time. I was out of work recording songs with a budget studio at my mothers house. Dreaming about mansions, luxuries and girls, wondering if I would make it one day. Just dreaming, not really heading towards it. Maybe I should have saved some of the money I had made from sales. I had spent nearly all of it on weed, food and gambling. A bad habit I had carried with me from childhood. Risking my income with the hopes of doubling my money. That rarely was the case, more times I would lose to greed. Wanting to win unrealistic amounts and not understanding the psychology behind it. The house always wins no matter what. I rarely prayed or looked to god for answers. Something I use to do in prison. I found myself at a very low point in life again and if it wasn't for my close friends, girls and boys, I would have completely gone off the rails. They supported me a lot mentally. The assistant owner of the company invited me to her house again. She was staying in Canary Wharf and her fiancé was at work. I told myself nothing sexual this time I didn't want that on my conscience. Besides, I needed her more for finding employment than anything else. We ate the food she ordered and spoke about finding me a job. She said I was always welcome to go back to the sales role, but I had other plans. A few months passed and my mental state was degrading. I was in my room one day listening to an instrumental and trying to write a song. All of a sudden I heard a deep voice in my head. I couldn't make out the words but it was scary as fuck. Was I going crazy? What the fuck was that? I felt really scared and my heart was beating incredibly fast. I could barely breathe. I left the room and told my mum I wasn't feeling well. "Did you smoke weed again? That is going to give you a heart attack!" she shouted. That made things much worse and I begged her to call an ambulance. It wasn't the weed, I had smoked that shit for over a decade. This was something else. "Please mum call the ambulance I don't feel well...hurry please" I screamed. She looked really worried but told me to calm down. She got me a glass of water with sugar cubes. "Drink this your blood pressure has fallen" she said as she passed me the glass. I was starting to fade out it was very unusual. I tried drinking the water but it wasn't helping. Fucking hell I am going to die! I couldn't stand or sit properly. I felt really dizzy and my chest was hurting. I could feel my heart beating really fast. When the ambulance arrived they ran an ECG of my heart. A device with wires and stickers they use to scan your heart beat. The guy looked scared and told me that we had to go into hospital. "Your heart is beating incredibly fast but the rhythm seems normal. We have to go in for further checks" he said somewhat confused. I am going to die, I know it. This guy don't even know anything! Just hurry...please. On the way to the hospital on the ambulance I felt even worse. I was struggling to take in any air. He asked my worried mother if we had any history of heart disease in the family. "No...no one has had any heart attacks or any issues before" she replied nervously. I had my phone in my pocket and it was ringing, I could feel it vibrating. Fuck whoever it was...I didn't want to answer. When we arrived to the hospital the nurse saw me straight away. She measured my heart beat and circled a red box on her sheet. That made me panic even more. Was I really going to die? Please god not yet I ain't even lived. I kept praying in my head and asking him to keep me alive. At that moment I felt like that was it.
By Ali Elyas Shahali5 years ago in Criminal
The black-eyed children of Cannock Chase
The locals of Cannock Chase in Staffordshire, England, know the area for its beauty and its scenic bike trails and hiking trails. However, the English and serious ghost hunters know Cannock Chase for something far more sinister. During the 1960s, an evil monster prowled the area seeking young female victims.
By Marc Hoover5 years ago in Criminal
Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 2
READ PART 1 BEFORE THIS... The day had arrived and I was to meet my mother and sister on a visit. I saw them seated as I walked across the room to give them a hug. It was sad to see them there. It would have been nice to spend some quality family time outside, something my mother always wanted. I took my seat and opened a pack of KitKat and started eating. They both looked confused waiting for me to break the news to them. "I need to stay here another 2 months" I said calmly. "What?!?" my mother replied hysterically. This was not something she wanted to hear. "What the fuck did you do Ali?" my sister asked. I was trying to avoid eye contact. I was extremely ashamed to be in there. This was not what my mother ever expected when she moved us to the UK. It was hard trying to rationalise everything. "I spoke to my solicitor he said I would get 1 year or 2 years maximum. In this country you only do half of the sentence. I'm hoping I will get 1 year and be out in 3 months" I explained. My mother had now turned away and was facing another table. She looked really down, it was hard to see. "I stood by the door and my friends robbed somewhere, someone got stabbed, we are just waiting for them to find out who done it" I continued. My sister hugged her from the side to comfort her. "I always told you your friends were bad, now look...you got yourself in here" she said. I didn't want to hear that at that time. I knew my mistakes already. I just wanted to learn how to be a man end of the day, that's why I moved out to begin with. I had to teach myself the hardest lessons in life. The visit ended and we said our goodbyes. I returned to my cell and watched some TV. Gym wasn't being provided for us yet. The guards explained that the rota would begin once we got on our permanent wings. The next week or so flew by with not much happening. The boy from my area moved to another wing, I remained for an extra day and was assigned a wing called Raven. This was where I would have had to spend the remainder of my time at Feltham. This wing was slightly cleaner than the other one. When we walked in we were approached by a group of boys who asked us some questions. They wanted to get to know us better. They were cleaners or worked on servery. I was placed in a cell with a boy from Peckham, South London on my right. He was trouble, constantly getting into fights. His TV would be removed all the time and he spent a lot of time on Basic. There are 3 levels in prison: Basic, Standard and Enhanced. Depending on your behaviour you are placed in these groups. Basic is when you get your TV removed and are under strict supervision. You are let out your cell much less and at intervals when others are not present. Standard is what everyone is on when they first enter. Enhanced is mainly for the workers and the well behaved individuals. They are even allowed a PlayStation 2 with games & DVDs, of course these items need to be sent in from the outside. Me and this boy would talk the entire day, he was an entertaining character. He felt like everyone was against him and would be getting into fist fights every other day. The guards knew what kind of person he was, they would escort him in and out the cell. "Why you always fighting" I would ask him. "I got bare pagans in here bro, these man are haters" he would say. Yes he did have some enemies, but I think he just got a thrill from fighting. The fights would rarely last more than 10 seconds, the guards would get involved rapidly. We built a close relationship me and this guy, we would joke until the early hours of the morning. A few of my other friends from the outside entered that wing, I was well occupied. I knew a lot of people and was eating good food. Gym also started and the two sessions a week were doing us justice. I got close to a boy from Barking in his early 20s. He had a double cell. His cellmate had left and there was a space free. I decided to move in with him. We would play cards, smoke tobacco and joke until the early hours of the morning. This really passed the time. He was super addicted to nicotine. I would catch him waking up to spark one up. What a fucking weirdo I would think. After about a month of being locked up together, his behaviour would irritate me. He would take too long on the toilet. Smoke way too much and watch boring programs about antics and auctions. We had a fight one day in the cell. I wrestled him to the ground and punched him a few times. After the fight we both went to bed without saying a word to each other. It was very tense for a few days, I didn't like the atmosphere. The guards opened his cell and he moved to another wing, a request he had put in before I even came there. One of his friends was in the prison and he went to double up with him. I had a whole double cell to myself. A couple of the boys wanted to bang up with me. One day the cell door opened randomly. "You have a visitor" said one of the guards. It was one of my co-defendants. What a thrill to see him there. I had no idea he was sorting out his move to my wing. Time would fly by now, I thought to myself. We found new ways to entertain ourselves. The 2 months passed quickly.
By Ali Elyas Shahali5 years ago in Criminal
The Poisonous Legacy of Locusta: A Serial Assassin...Raped to Death by Giraffes?
For many of us, history was a boring subject in school. It was replete with a bunch of names, dates, and seemingly bland events that had us fighting off slumber in class. In fact, some of my only memories of history class involve my high school teacher showing up drunk (true story!). However, don't let boring-ass textbooks fool you; History is an absolute madhouse, with freakish details that might put the average horror film to shame.
By Wade Wainio5 years ago in Criminal
Of Three Legged Dogs and Non Existent Pigeons
Station House Security is probably one of the most boring posts one can receive as a cop. It's your job to make sure that unauthorized individuals aren't allowed to walk right up to the desk officer. It's kinda like being a Walmart Greeter, but with a gun and without the shopping cart.
By Erik Tenkar5 years ago in Criminal
