racial profiling
Racial profiling in law enforcement is a deep-rooted issue with far-reaching ramifications; voice your take on 'broken-windows' policing and controversies surrounding race and crime.
The Day the World Stopped Turning: Remembering 9/11
A Normal Morning That Changed Everything It began as an ordinary Tuesday morning in New York City. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and people were heading to work like any other day. No one knew that within minutes, the world would change forever.
By Izhar Ullah2 months ago in Criminal
And she was murdered.
Your watch had begun when two pistol shots broke the silence of the cemetery in the air. While spending the night in the house under the three trees, the moons flew away after hearing the sound of the shots. The first shot pierced the girl's bulging chest and sank her heart into the mattress on which she had been shot for the last time that night, because now she had to get up after the pig was blown out. The second shot also went to the grave in the middle of the night. The victim's name was Nadia and she was of the same age as Shabab. The killer's name was Chaudhry Khuda Bakhsh, whose hair had the sheen of silver strands. Before Nadia's chest was pierced, there were traces of the khakiness of the paddy and the purity of the fox in her eyes, and after the shot, the veiled innocence was revealed on that familiar face, while the innocence of the victim's legs was radiant. Even after her breathing stopped, it was thought that she was still in a deep sleep. She would wake up and take the alarm and disrupt the system of the ears, but it was just the ears Nadia had returned to the village three months ago after completing a four-year degree in physics from a government university in Lyallpur. She had accepted that the time had come for her to get married because her father would never allow her to get a job. He had to give her permission because, after all, he was the village Chaudhary, who owned four acres of land, two hundred buffaloes, high-bred horses, a tractor, and four kanals of land. There was something about him that seemed like the story of a king. According to the Podhry's self-made belief, if he allowed his daughter to get a job, her community and the village would be ostracized. Nadia was a poor girl, so she did not discuss the job with her father.
By shahkar jalal2 months ago in Criminal
SINS OF SUDAN — The Ghost Lion Rises. AI-Generated.
The desert night in Omdurman was silent, yet heavy — the kind of silence that came only after bodies stopped screaming. The moon hung like a cracked coin in the sky, pale and exhausted. Under its ghost-light, a boy stood barefoot in the sand, staring at flames devouring the only home he knew.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Criminal
Don't Bug Me
“Hey, watch where you’re walking, you big lug—I could have been killed, and it would have been your fault!” Dickson looked all around and couldn’t figure out where the voice was coming from. Besides, it really didn’t matter. He was on a job with a tight timeline, and there was no room for distractions. He raced across the darkened showroom, bypassing the display cases filled with cheap costume jewelry, and ran toward the office door. His intel had told him that’s where the safe was located. What it didn’t tell him was there were two doors, one on either end of the back wall.
By Mark Gagnon2 months ago in Criminal
The Rise of the Ghost: From Dublin’s Streets to the Cartel’s Throne. AI-Generated.
Long before he became The Ghost, Patrick Doran was just another street kid from the gray edges of Dublin’s north side — the kind of place where hope came cheap and loyalty was the only currency that mattered.
By shakir hamid3 months ago in Criminal
The Ghosts of Marbella: Europe’s Hidden Cocaine Highway. AI-Generated.
The sun over Marbella shines like gold, but beneath the luxury — beneath the yachts, champagne, and celebrity villas — there’s a darkness no one talks about. A hidden empire built not on business or tourism, but on cocaine, blood, and silence.
By shakir hamid3 months ago in Criminal
14-Year-Old Tortured, Killed by Three Racist Homeless Drifters in Nashville, Tennessee. Content Warning.
On April 26, 1987, 14-year-old Kerrick Majors and four friends took a city bus from downtown Nashville, Tennessee, to East Nashville. The bus route took the teens down Gallatin Road. Around 7 p.m., the teens jumped off the bus when they saw a table set up with various items on the side of the road. As the teens approached, a lady yelled at them to 'leave the stuff alone.'
By Criminal Matters3 months ago in Criminal
