innocence
The presumption of innocence is a cornerstone of the American legal system and a right that should not be taken for granted.
Herstory is Our Story
Alright, now breathe! In and out. In and out. My anxiety hasn’t gotten the better of me since law school, but I knew it would be back with a vengeance today. The incident in school lead to a midnight trip to the emergency room where an RN told me I was fine and just low on potassium. She sent me home with a banana and a large bill, but that is a story for a different day. Luckily, I invested in therapy and learned a couple tricks to come back to reality. The anticipation of today alone is shaking my heart and fogging up my lungs. Breathe in, breathe out, A – Anteaters, B-Bingo, C-Cantaloupe, D-Dynamite… I’m here, back in the court room.
By Katie Bolger5 years ago in Criminal
Hit & Miss
It was the perfect morning for a run. I had my music blasting in my ear buds and had kept a good pace all morning. I rounded the corner on my street that had a solid row of trees lining each side of the road for the final stretch to my house. The closer I got, my neighbor Phil reading the newspaper on his front porch came into view. He waved as I slowed and walked up the walkway to the shared porch of our condos.
By Haley Bjornberg5 years ago in Criminal
The Little Black Book
She was looking for something sharp. The room was dark, with a sliver of sunshine creeping in through the boarded window. Specks of dust clouded the air with every movement Dylan made, making it difficult to breathe. She exhaled slowly, trying to steady her breath as the claustrophobia began to creep in. But now was not the time to allow her panic to consume her. She knew she only had five minutes, maybe ten, at most, before her boss returned home. She began to push through the clutter in the attic. Tattered books with broken spines, worn black cushions, boxes of musty smelling clothing and antique furniture pressed up against the walls where the once-white paint cracked and peeled. Moving as swiftly as she could toward the window, she opened one drawer after another, stumbling over the objects as she went. Cursing as her toe caught on a floorboard, she spotted it. In a long-forgotten corner of the room, a lone screwdriver peeking out at her. Snatching it up, she turned her focus to the rusty steel panel almost perfectly concealed behind the burgundy dresser behind her.
By Kenzie Clarke5 years ago in Criminal
Escape
Run! I cannot afford to stop. I can feel the pain of a thousand needles from the tip of my toes up to my scorching thighs, what with the innumerable lacerations I sustained from running over gravel, over thick reeds as I crossed the swamps, over sharp rocks that lay on the woodland floor.
By Louie Jhon Lunaria5 years ago in Criminal
Heading to Los Angeles
It is high noon, without a cloud in the sky, the sun beating down upon the dry tarmac. You can hear the sizzling sound of my sweat hitting the pavement. I'm trudging along a two-way highway with desert on both sides. A few patches of dry grass, and scattered cactuses about complete the landscape. There is a rusted green sign in front of me that reads Los Angeles 50 miles southwest- Las Vegas 150 miles northeast. I duck my head as I pass under the sign, wearing nothing but a t-shirt, shorts, and a pair of shoes. I'm wearing headphones but the battery died a few miles back; a dead tablet in my right hand. As I continue to walk along the highway, feeling the weight of the heat, with each step I take. The road seems to go on and on, both directions mirroring each other, but luckily there is a distinctive cloud in the direction I am heading, that breaking the image.
By Chris Parks5 years ago in Criminal
