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Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Powder
“Could you state your name and title for the records please?” Inside a courtroom in Connecticut, a prosecutor walking from his desk to face the witness stand asked of the witness sitting on the podium. The witness, a middle aged man wearing transition lens prescription glasses along with a dark grey pinstriped jacket and matching pants. He straightened himself in the chair prior to leaning forward and speaking into the microphone. “My name is Bob Sylva, That’s B.O.B. S.Y.L.V.A.N. I am a thirteen year employee of the Connecticut highway patrol. I currently hold the position of lieutenant.” He leaned backward in his chair as he completed his response.as he does he glances across the room at the grand jury, its twelve members sat almost motionless, staring back at the witness stand. “Thank you!” replied the prosecutor who was now leaning against the wooden rails surrounding the witness stand. “Could you describe the events of 11th August 2016?” He continued. A confident, experienced member of the district attorneys’ office, Joe E. Dorsey had spent the better part of his last thirty years working in the courtroom of eastern Connecticut, now a staple figure on high profile cases. He was known to be almost surgical with his precise questioning and firm adherence to the law. “Should I start at the beginning of my shift? Or just the parts that relate to this case?” returned Lieutenant Sylvan. “Well I’m not sure the members of the jury would be interested in your choice for breakfast!” Mr. Dorsey replied sarcastically which solicited a laugh amongst the population of the courtroom. “Please start at the point you believe is most relevant to the case.” Taking a moment staring at the ceiling as if to recall from the air some lost bit of information, “For the most part it was a normal”… “I’m sorry could you speak into the microphone please.” The presiding judge commanded of the witness. “Oh sorry about that!” the witness a bit embarrassed blushed as he adjusted his posture to take better advantage of the audio device “As I was saying it was a normal day, I had been about halfway through my shift, my patrol took me down the I-90. I was approximately ten to fifteen miles from the perky parrot, which is a truck stop on the I-90 route. Normally I pull into the parking lots of these stops and spend some time observing the area before moving along to other stops or to do a speed check. Things like that. But that day was different! As I said I was on my way toward the perky parrot. When the call came in over the radio. The dispatcher said there was an accident on the I-90 westbound which happened to be the exact direction I was travelling in. oh! She also mentioned that vehicles were on fire. So as one would with any call for assistance, I turn my siren on and headed as an increased travel rate towards the scene intending to provide whatever assistance I could immediately.” Taking a sip of water from a glass sitting before him on the desk Sylvan concluded his speech. “I take it you eventually arrived at the said scene?” Dorsey quarried. “Yes sir I did!” replied Sylvan “Could you describe the scene of the accident upon your arrival?” asked Dorsey “Well that’s easy! Utter destruction” quipped Sylvan “I mean the most striking thing I saw probably the first thing I saw was a severed arm laying almost in the middle of the highway. There was a parked semi on the side of the highway which from the front end looked quite normal except the hood was opened and stuck in the air, which was the only indication something was amiss. At the rear however a thick dark plume of smoke rose confidently into the air. Its thick black grey body hung like a low calumnious cloud. The closer I got the more pronounced was the smell of what I at first thought was burnt barbecue. However there was a rancid, rather pungent aspect to the odor which, I guess the best way to describe it was as if a rotting animal was burnt. I had never smelled burning human flesh before and so I never considered this unusual aroma to be associated with my own specie. There were traffic cones laid out by the fire fighters, who, were still hosing the back end of the semi. The fire engine stuck out in the night as its flashing lights created a rather dramatic display in the otherwise dull landscape. The silhouette of trees lining the landscape came alive in the lighting. There was an ambulance whose white body stood as a stark contrast to the fire engines bright red. The EMT crew was just about to shove the wheeled stretcher into the back of their ambulance I figured there was a person recovered and strapped onto the gurney, as I could see crew members holding IV bags in the air as they worked on getting the stretcher into the ambulance. Within a minute or two they were all loaded up and on their way to seek medical attention at some hospital. The debris field covered a fairly large section of the highway at least thirty five, forty feet in length and spanned the breadth of both lanes. I parked my cruiser and got out, observing the semi as I moved along its length walking. I at first didn’t notice any other vehicle and thought it to be a peculiar scene. I pondered whether the semi was somehow burning due to its contents or maybe some catastrophic mechanical failure a brake caliper got stuck and overheated leading to the fire or something like that. I at that point saw the arm up close laying alongside the yellow line separating the lanes on the highway. I must admit a cold hard shiver ran down my spine, causing me to retrieve my asthma pump and take a pull. It helps calm my nerves you know! That’s around when I noticed a mass of something underneath the rear of the semi about the area of the rear axle. It seemed to me then that the fire crew was focusing primarily on this mass. Once I got close enough I realized that an entire vehicle was wedged under the semi. Only then did the reality of the scene hit me. A parked rig got rear ended at tremendous speed by some sedan and the arm laying in the roadway was from one of the occupants of the sedan. Around this point a pair of cruisers pulled in from the opposite direction to my arrival and after some formalities we proceeded to attempt piecing the events together. The absence of skid marks indicated that the sedan had never attempted to brake so a loss of control at high speed was assumed to have occurred which saw the ultimate sudden braking. All indicators were pointing to maybe a sleeping driver.” “Did you speak with the firefighters?” looking at the members of the jury as if directing his question to them Dorsey asked. “Ah... At first no as I joined with the other police officers to attend to the scene and we started to take photographs as well as mark the locations of any and all bits of debris we could locate, stuff like that. Also due to the restriction of the usable area on the highway we had one officer posted to direct any oncoming traffic. Which was not something the drivers enjoyed too much I can tell you that, we had to force them to use the extreme right shoulder which itself was trouble for we still could not be certain they weren’t driving over bits of evidence. But it was the best we could come up with! The other two officers and I did our best to locate as much debris and mark them so the accident reconstruction team would be able to best complete their job. There was a sort of anomaly encountered by the fire fighters which was the initiation of our dialogue with the fire crew.” “Could you look at exhibit #1 please?” Dorsey commanded “could you explain what we are looking at?” Dorsey continued. “That I know to be a picture of the stated anomaly.” Sylvan replied “And did you ascertain what this anomaly was?” Dorsey asked “Yea in my profession we call that a simply a bullet hole.” “And where was the bullet hole located?” “It was rather peculiar for as the car was crunched up from the impact with the rig and the bullet hole was through the top of the rear left door frame. It’s almost hard to describe, oh and it was obvious that it originated from the inside the car as the metal blew outwardly. If you will notice that the ruler is held right next to the hole so one can assume the size of the projectile by the hole it created. Also the hole was unchanged even though the car was destroyed.” “What significance does this have?” “Well it suggests that the bullet struck the metal either upon impact of after impact. This is the reason I considered, or it was considered by those on the scene an anomaly as the occupants of the sedan either side at the moment of collision or from the flame which ensued.” As the witness finished speaking the prosecutor then depressed the button on his remote which changed the image displayed by the projector. “Please look at exhibit #2, can you identify this image? “Dorsey Continued. “Yes I can!” Lieutenant Sylvan replied “And what do you identify this image as?” returned Dorsey. “That I know to be the photo of the weapons in the positions they were recovered.” Dorsey walked over to the podium where Sylvan sat and asked “What weapons?” “Well during the removal of the remains of the three individuals from the sedan we encountered what was identified as there handguns though they were in a burnt state. The wooden and polymer segments had burned away leaving only the metal frames. Which were unmistakable to one who knows about such weapons. Also due to the intense heat the rounds in the magazines had discharged themselves. So if you look carefully at the photo you can see several brass jackets next to the weapons.” Thank you, so these weapons did they initiate any action from yourself or any other member of the responding crew?” “At first not really, it is the norm in the great United States of America that guns are in cars so no one was alarmed. Our initial assumption is that they were legal. “You say at first, why?” That’s because we simply bagged and tagged all items as evidence and moved on to the cleanup of the crime scene. The sooner we get done the sooner the highway can resume to its normalcy.” “We were removing the car from the undercarriage of the semi in order to get the remains of the two front seat passengers removed. But a chop saw had to be employed to cut away some of the metallic parts of both the car and the semi in order to completely retrieve the sedan. This led to a second anomaly if you would.” Taking a sip of water Sylvan paused as if awaiting further instructions or questions. “So would exhibit #3 be a picture of your second anomaly?” changing the slide Dorsey asked bringing up an image of the semi featuring its rear axle co-mingled with the sedan’s front end. Both charred from the inferno which recently consumed their paint and flammable segments. “Yes sir that is a picture in which the anomaly can be seen.” “And what is anomalous in that picture?” “well if you notice right at the there is a cut which was made by the chop saw just about the middle where that bit of twisted metal is protruding upward into the base of the flooring on the trailer.” “Would that be here?” Dorsey using a laser pointer mad a circular motion at the area on the picture indicated by Sylvan. “Yes sir it is” “Again explain what we are looking at and why this is considered to you then to be anomalous.” “Can you see the white waxy substance along the cut made into the bumper?” “You mean this” aging using the pointer to indicate what Sylvan is speaking of Dorsey asked. “Yes sir, note how that area is almost like a sore thumb, everything else has a charred appearance, but once we cut into the bumper that white substance presented itself. Normally the bumpers of semis are entirely hollow tubes of metal. So finding one filled in is instantly intriguing.” “So what steps did you take upon this discovery?” “We than attempted to get a sample of the item in question and have some emergency checks done before proceeding. Due to potential bio hazards and things like that, better to be safe than sorry right? But really we had our own suspicions!” “And what suspicions did you have?” “Well! The witness let out a small chuckle “when you’ve been in this profession for as long as I have you immediately upon discovering white substances in hidden compartments are always some sort of illicit item primarily drugs.” “Did you, or were you able to dispel or confirm those suspicions?” “Yes as a matter of fact we were able using a drug sample testing kit we carry able to identify the substance to be fentanyl.” “What steps were taken at the point of such confirmations?” “We immediately called my chief to have them notify the DEA and the FBI as the discovery took things out of our control, interstate commerce is the jurisdiction of federal agencies. So after removing the sedan and having both vehicles towed to a government garage lot. I left to visit the hospital where the semi driver was taken for he would most certainly be place under arrest.” “Do you not require a warrant to arrest him?” “Well given the discovery the warrant would be issued in short order, but not knowing the state he was in we had to make preparations to at least detain him while we awaited the warrant” “And I assume the arrest went as intended?” “As a matter of fact the driver was unconscious for a number of days so his fleeing prosecution was not possible he remained under police guard until he came out of his coma at which point he was placed under arrest. But the FBI had taken over by then so I was not there when this actually transpired” “Ok lieutenant Sylvan thank you for your time no further questions at this time.”
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Criminal
Powder
It was sunny outside, a typical San Francisco day. Wisenburg felt overly tired as though I simply hadn’t slept well the night before, or his body failed to absorb the sleep he gave it. I did my regular morning routine, you know shit, shower, shave! Told the family goodbye and left for the office. He had only six months into my new position as head of the Fugitive Apprehension Team or F.A.T and he kind of liked it for one thing this office overlooked the bay and Alcatraz was always a hub of activity, He would often times open up the blinds or even remove them entirely and just get lost if you may into the heart of San Fran bay. The other thing he loved about this job was the lack of action. Nothing to do almost always, and that might just be my favorite part of the new position. My wife particularly loved it as he would no longer return home depleted from chasing some guy through the local neighborhoods, to the point of missing out on time with the kids. And her! One can appreciate her position though as it is normal to hear of some crazy event in which a local cop was shot or shot at and, while he accepted that it comes with the territory, No one wants to be that guy who never comes home you know. His team was made up of fifteen guys who had been around the block as we like to put it for at least ten years, so one could say they were quite seasoned. Though he hadn’t pick them himself they all had a major bust under their belt and were selected for that very reason, to join the unit. Their job was a little better paying than regular detective and our insurance almost double that of patrol units. Still they all sometimes complained of missing the action. It was the morning of June 4th 2016. Captain Wisenburg got in the office to a series of emails from a special agent Munstin of the Massachusetts FBI field office. He had never interacted with the F.B.I directly before so he was quite... intrigued by the idea to say the least. The overwhelming quantity of correspondence he had mailed was also quite impressive. ‘They must have been up all night’ he thought, as the last received email was sent at 4:23am, “they don’t play around” he thought. One by one he began reviewing the contents of these pieces of communication. As he did, it became clear our department had its first real engagement on its hands. He must have been on the third email when he received the now famous phone call. The phone rang and as he picked up a rough firm voice came over, “hello captain Walsenburg?” “Hello yes this is Walsenburg. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” “Hey this is special agent Mark Munstin of the Boston Massachusetts F.B.I office. How’s your morning?” “Oh hey Mr. Munstin! Well my morning is great so far, trying to brief myself on the document you’ve sent. Ahh! quite the task I might add. Only on the third email as we speak. How is your morning? You guys don’t sleep in Boston do you?” “Quite the average, and sleep comes when we die does it not? But yeah the job here is always the same just different bad guys to catch! But I’m glad you got my emails” “Oh yes all thirty two of them I might add!” “Ha-ha well we do have limits on the attachment sizes do we not? And you might note there is a large cache of files to cover this case!” “As a matter of fact I did notice that! It took a while to review only the first two attachment packets. I had come to conclude that I might need to print these files and take them home or I might never get to review them all.” “Please do as you feel necessary, just be reminded there is a confidential aspect to these documents.” “Oh of course! It may be my first time working with you guys but I assume the same rules apply as to any high level investigation.” “Good man, good man! I want to give you a quick rundown as to what we are dealing with and then I will leave you to acquaint yourself with the details.” the conversation continued for another forty-five minutes as Munstin divulged into the state of the investigation and the requirements they had for Wisenburg and his team. “Well I look forward to your assistance ,and hope this is the start of a new alliance between our two departments” he said as they bid each other good bye for now. Placing the phone back on the hook, Wisenburg leaned back in his chair and swiveled himself around to face the bay. A ferry was departing Alcatraz laden with thrill seekers who were bursting at their seams with enthusiasm and awe. ‘I never understood what about danger that creates such an emotion of thrill inside us. From carnival rides to horror movies humans and fear seem to have a love hate relationship, never breaking up they dwell together in such ebb and flow. Who tours an old dilapidating place of suffering? What makes the asylums of the early 1800s and 1900s so appealing to thrill seekers? Why do we possess adrenaline? Is it only to entertain our pleasure receptors or does it serve a purpose?’ he thought Smiling Wisenburg turned back toward the desk and retrieved a pack of Marlboro reds, he had always been a smoker and while he did look forward to the day give up on smoking, it surely won’t be today. “Smoking calms my mind and thoughts above anything I know.” Said he to himself His wife has always said she is entertained by his demeanor whilst he smoke as he “appeared like the calmest seas”. But being a nurse by profession she never hesitates to encourage his quitting. Searching his desk for a lighter, he couldn’t help but observe the emerald green lamp shade so iconic of corporate spaces. ‘I wonder if some guru of interior decorating wrote a sort of Holy Grail of office designs where they recommended the use of the lamest ugliest colours and dimmest most underperforming lamp for your desk. The company who supplies these lams must be owned by the very Gideons who infect all public places with their version of the holy book of Christianity. I simply cannot find another item to rival the former two in public distribution.’ Thought he. His office was an off white colour at the top with a wood trim halfway to the ground that was a general oak brown. There were a few insignias painted on the walls that referenced our unit and the San Fran P.D. above the door was a kind of mural of a banner carried by two doves bearing the departments motto, a coat hanger stood by one side of the door and the other side was manned by a flower pot sitting on a wall desk containing a spruce bonsai plant his granddad had planted and which had traveled from his granddad to his dad and eventually to him. Snapping back to reality he sift through the desk drawer and locate his incendiary device “there you are!” he said grabbing it from the drawer and proceeded to poison his lungs with the taste and smell a good old Marlboro was now inflicting upon my senses. He let a deep slow exhale go before a long smooth pull…euphoria!
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Criminal
Razorblade Tears
This book is written by S.A. Cosby. S.A. Cosby is from Southeastern Virginia and many of the places he mentioned or described, I knew because I grew up in Southwestern Virginia. Ike and Buddy Lee never accepted either one of their son's sexuality. The never accepted that their son's married one another either, nor that they mixed their sperm together and had a surrogate provide them a child to raise, a daughter.
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The hood of his metal grey jumper shadowed his ruffled mop of hair and glistening green eyes. The brightness of his reflective yellow vest disguised his loitering on the fancy, residential South London street. The luminous safety jacket somehow deterred anyone from paying much attention to him; the rich folk who lived down here probably saw him as ‘just a bin man’, or some low-end serviceman - no need to pay much attention. The splattering of the wet pavement under his black trainers was the only sound that echoed around him and the bite of the cold, funneling air forced him to wade down the darkened street, tackling the elements to reach his goal. To get to her.
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