Personal Narrative: It's Time To Murder An Innocent Victim

Fifteen year old Conrad Clark just came home from basketball practice where he was absolutely exhausted. He is the best player on his undefeated school basketball team. He lives with just his mom and only sibling Thomas after his father had recently been murdered by an unknown killer. As he approached the front door of his massive three story mansion located basically in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a lake and lots of wildlife, a gut punching feeling went through his body. He was remembering what had happened before he left for practice. He got in a huge fight with his mom about his grades in school, and was regretting some of the things he said. He goes through the front door and goes up to his bedroom on the third story. He lays down on his bed and he sees a note telling him that his mom and Thomas, are at a party and will be gone all night. He puts the note down and closes his eyes. About forty five minutes later he wakes up to his alarm going off. He turns off the alarm clock reading 10:30 p.m and is wondering why his alarm went off for no reason. He lets it go past him and goes down to the first floor and turns the television on. He turns on his favorite show, Criminal Minds, when Bang! At that moment Conrad knew that something bad

AHHHHHH!!!!! His died, oh wait.....Hey I'm Miss. White, Boddy's housecleaner, And I'm going to tell you who murder Boddy on the night of Friday the 13th .Well first of all, I am from a small town in Canada. Also, I'm married to a retired body builder. I'm 37 years old and I have two kids one 18 and one 11.I have known Boddy for about 10-11 years. Also I work for Boddy almost every day.

In February of 2008, I was sitting in a General Court Martial proceeding to defend myself against third-degree murder charges, which arose from a raid my platoon conducted in the rural areas outside of Kirkuk, Iraq. On the night of June 23, 2007, my Platoon Sergeant (PSG) shot and killed a detainee that we had captured early that evening. Realizing what he had just done, my PSG gave me an order that would eventually have me implicated in his crime. I was acquitted of the murder charges, but found guilty of assault through my own testimony. The fact of the matter is, I had a psychotic Platoon Sergeant; Trey Corrales was the walking definition of “Toxic Leadership.” Under the control of Trey Corrales, serving in this platoon was one of the

It was February 12, 2006. My wife and I are about to get ready for the day we’ve been waiting for, we are finally going to seek justice for the man that killed my innocent 4 year old daughter. Since March 3rd I have slept absolutely none, but after today everything will be finished with.

What if you were sent to jail for a robbery that excelled to a murder that you didn’t commit. Well this event happened to a young black boy, named Steve, that was influenced by his environment. The crime that Steve was a part of was robbery and first degree murder.The reason he took part in these events are unknown, but one thing that is certain is he will be charged and have to be proven innocent or guilty. What do you think? Will Steve be proven innocent or guilty of the crimes he was charged with? In all honesty Steve should be held accountable for the robbery with his associate’s James King and Bobo Evans but not for the charge of first degree murder of Mr. Nesbitt (the drug’s store owner). After reading all the evidence it can be proven

I am trying to figure out who killed Mr. Boddy. So far, the suspect's are Mrs.Peacock, Professor Plum, and Miss Scarlett. Entering into Professor Plum's house. I saw him in his house with a dagger on his table beside him. He said "he had it for safety." So I started searching his house and found nothing, so I left.

“On my honor, I will never betray my badge, my integrity, my character, or the public trust. I will always have the courage to hold myself and others accountable for our actions. I will always uphold the constitution, my community, and the agency I serve.” This is the oath average citizens take right before they become police officers. The oath shows us why police officers are here, they are here to protect us. The police, and other Government officials, should use police brutality because, if the same people who are supposed to be protecting us are hurting and killing us, then regular citizens are not going to respect laws and authority.

Today my mom was murdered. Our doorman, Stuart, found her in our apartment. It was strange to hear someone was murdered in New York but when it's your mom it is even harder. My sister, Maria, doesn't even know, and I don't want to be the one to tell her. I had to drop out of college to take care of Maria and not having someone else to help will be a challenge but I am willing to face it.

Officer Gordon comes quickly up to me and says “Chief Lussen we found him” and that officer Miles is taking him into the interrogation room. As I take a second to myself and take a deep breath officer Gordon passes me files for the case. I walk towards the interrogation room but i wanted to look at him before I walked in and started interrogating him. So I looked at him through the observation mirror into the interrogation room and thought to me all my years of working as a homicide investigator this case is the case that has shocks me the most. 37 residents that live in the neighborhood and saw & even heard something or someone yelling on the street didn't even call the police.

I had a unique childhood, unlike any other. Just to let you know when I say a unique childhood, I mean a dangerous childhood. For example, The time when I saw Johnny stabbing Bob Sheldon right in front of my eyes!! It was terrifying. Now that I am older and reflect on my past events, I realize that many of those things were truly life threatening. Although the stabbing incident led to Bob's death; I believe that Johnny isn't responsible for the murder, in fact, I know that Bob alongside his friends and family are the ones who caused the tragedy.

Anna was walking home from her job thinking it's the same thing everyday I wake up go to my minimum wage job then go home nothing new. Anna finally arrived to her lonely small apartment she had no family ever since they died in a house fire last year, she walked inside and went to her fridge and pulled out some old chinese takeout from last week, and ate it while walking to the couch she plopped down on her couch with her food in hand and turned on the TV, she turned it on the news she saw that it was a serial killer on the loose in her area. It scared her a little but she thought what are the odds of him killing me. Anna turned the TV off and went to sleep, but she did not realize that she did not close her window. While she rested peacefully

“I remember I was waiting anxiously on a windy Friday 13th at about 2 or 3 to enter the Museum of Death, but since it was their Grand Opening there was a lot of people, as you would expect. As Shannon, my mom and I were waiting in line, we saw people that you would typically be the murderer or a serial killer in a scary, movie but we didn’t think much of it because it was a museum about death, what else was I supposed to expect.”

Essence of spicy aftershave brought comfort to my dreams every night for the first five years after his death. His rosy cheeks and eyes sparkled. He spoke with concern,

For example, I could say "the man on trial may not have killed the victim, but the victim was stabbed, and the man on trial did own an awful lot of knives, didn't he?" - that kind of snide inference is not literally the same as saying you believe he killed the victim, but it's clear as day what I personally think based on how I present the information.

All morning the rain had fallen, a constant pounding on the streets just beyond the window through I which I watched the cars splashing the puddles while people huddled underneath umbrellas, trying desperately to make it to their destination without being drenched. Life was passing by within my view, but all I could bring myself to do was sit in my usual booth at the diner, not interested nor invested in the movements of daily life that surrounded me. Flipping through the newspaper laying on the table in front of me, I quickly pass over yet another article explaining the ongoing search for one missing Charlie Swan. Even though the police and reporters pointed the finger of blame on animal attacks, spiteful felons and rock slides, none of their lame story lines mattered for I knew the truth; my father, the Chief of Police, died at the hands of a certain red-haired vamp who had a vendetta against me.