The Murderer-Personal Narrative

At three o’clock in the morning, Chris Salyer (109) and I discovered Steven Strominger (117) drunk being walked home by Morgan Hall from Davis (232). According to Steven, he fell asleep outside on a bench and Jordan Hawkins told him to come inside Davis. Somehow, Steven made his way to the second floor and knocked on Morgan’s door. He knocked on her door because his friend who left him went to hook up with her roommate, and he thought it would be cool. Morgan helped him get back to DK. When he entered, Chris and I were in the lounge talking. Steven was very forgetful, but he was very chill about everything. He tried using his Drivers License on the swipe access. Morgan and Chris helped him to the bathroom and Morgan told me that he could apparently

I, Detective Wilde, am being assigned the opportunity of a lifetime! Solving the murder of Richard Webster is what's going to determine whether I receive a spotlight in the newspaper. Business has been slow lately so this will help pick it up. Ahead of the interrogation, I gathered data on the victim and each of the suspects. Some background research shows that the Webster Network of co-workers are troubled: Richard, a class A jerk, Hugh, a broken businessman, Rita, in a troublesome relationship, H.T., a misanthrope, Dee, too loyal, Del, a sloth and victim’s cousin, Justin, once jailed for computer hacking. I am going to tactfully style my questions so they will be spouting a fountain of truth. According to my calculations, everyone who is

The chill of winter air had nudged her from her slumber. Gazing through the window upon the dreary horizon, the blur of gray told Hulga that rain was nearing. Nervously, she backed into the corner away from the window and curled up next to a pile of hay and settled in. Soon after repositioning herself, Hulga heard the consistent patter of rain on the roof of the barn. Her eyes watered as she wondered if her mother had been frantically searching for her.

if the Criminal Justice System suppresses a killer confession on a Miranda violation, maybe the confession was given while violating an individual Amendments right. However, a killer confession for murder should not be suppressed. Our Criminal Justice seeks the truth at trial, however, disregarding the Amendments to get the confession is bad.

A murderer was a role I never expected to play. It was for last years Key Club’s annual charity dinner for the Pediatric Trauma Program or the Eliminate Project. I’ve been apart of the dinner for my years as Key Club’s freshman representative, club representative, Vice President, and now President. The first year, I was astounded by the work. Although I didn’t do much in comparison to others, I helped plan food and train servers, which helped the event. The following years, my job was the same: to run acts and cover any possible. When I was club representative, the dinner went smoothly and my efforts helped earn money. My vice presidency was when I was a murderer for our murder mystery dinner. During this dinner, there were numerous mishaps.

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

Armed with her best parasol, she left the house after briefly saying goodbye to her extremely distraught father. Their carriage made it’s way to the fair and dropped them at the front, but after less than two hours perusing the grounds, another storm rolled in. The rain came fast and hard, drenching the pair within minutes. They huddled under the scant protection their umbrellas offered while waiting for the coach. Once inside, they giggled and began peeling off their more delicate accessories, gently laying them out while assuring each other the wet would not harm their

Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day. At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon. Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud; near, a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast. (14)

November 2001, I was arrested as I was leaving my job. I am now being linked to the killings of 48 women, I say I killed 61 to 71. After about 20 years of running, I was finally caught. I committed most of these between1982 and 1983, although I think I remember one last kill around 1985. Like above states, I would kill them and drip them near the Green River in Washington. This earned me the name “The Green River Killer.” Even if I were innocent, I would probably still be referred to as

Running in out of the sun, you met what seemed total obscurity inside. There were almost tangible smells – licorice recently sucked in a child’s cheek, dill pickle brine that had leaked through a paper sack in a fresh trail across the wooden floor, ammonia-loaded ice that had been hoisted from wet croker sacks and slammed in to the icebox with its sweet butter at the door, and perhaps the smell of still-untrapped mice. (155)

The steam from the kettle had condensed on the cold window and was running down the glass in tear-like trickles. Outside in the orchard the man from the smudge company was refilling the posts with oil. The greasy smell from last night’s burning was still in the air. Mr. Delahanty gazed out at the bleak darkening orange grove; Mrs. Delahanty watched her husband eat, nibbling up to the edges of the toast, then staking the crusts about his tea cup in a neat fence-like arrangement.

The National Geographic film, A Portrait of a Killer, examines the types of stress that living beings can endure, and how it can thus affect the rest of their bodies. Severe chronic stress can lead even lead to the destruction of brain cells. Dr. Robert Sapolsky is a neurobiologist of Stanford University who has been researching stress for over thirty years. In order to study stress and its implications upon nonhumans, he went to Africa to study baboons. This species has only three hours of stress caused by eating, and the rest of their daily routine is consumed by about nine hours of free time. Much like Western society, baboons socially stress out one another, as they have social hierarchies to regulate how them interact with one another.

Well, I did it egein. I slecked off ell semester end didn’t study for Ir finels. There’s no wey I’re going to pess Ir neture megic test tomorrow. Those things ere elweys killers. I don’t even know why I enrolled in thet cless; I eren’t even interested in being e neture mege. I don’t even like the demn outdoors!

The grey clouds drew together, is was cold, the rain falling lightly, yet she did not shiver. Crouched down on one of the roof tops she looks, listens and waits. Waits on her target to appear. She wore a long-hooded coat, black leather thigh-high boots and a thin black scarf. Narrowing her eyes, she sees a carriage slowly make it’s way down the cobbled road.

Murder is the unlawful premeditated killing of one human by another. In other words, it is plain awful and not correct. Murder should be punished the same way no matter your gender, religion, age, etc. If someone was brave enough to commit the crime, they should be brave enough to face the consequences. Just because certain people are younger than others does not justify their actions, therefore nobody should acquire special treatment. We should all be trial equally. Even though every teen goes through a massive brain lost, have problems with their parents, it is not a justification to perform as they done. Not pushing them enough is equal to telling them what they have done is correct. If they do it once, they will do