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newsfromstolenland · 1 year

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"Manitoba First Nations leaders are calling for the resignation of Winnipeg police chief Danny Smyth.

The Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs (AMC), alongside Long Plain First Nation Chief Kyra Wilson, called for Smyth to step down Thursday, due to the police service’s refusal to search the Prairie Green Landfill for remains of three victims of an alleged serial killer.

Smyth has said that the remains are likely in the landfill north of the city, but that no search is planned, due in part to the amount of time that has passed and the fact that there’s no known starting point for a search.

The manager of the site has also said a search would be difficult at the private landfill, due to the constant movement at the site, but said the company is cooperating fully with police and expressed condolences to the victims’ families.

Police said 10,000 truckloads of refuse were dumped in the area since May, when the murders of Morgan Harris, Marcedes Myran, and an unidentified victim, who is being referred to as Buffalo Woman (Mashkode Bizhiki’ikwe), are believed to have taken place. Trash at the landfill is also compacted with heavy mud at a depth of about 12 metres.

In an interview with 680 CJOB’s The Start on Thursday morning, prior to the call for his resignation, Smyth said the ability to search the landfill is outside of police expertise.

“The circumstances at Prairie Green are way different than Brady (Road Landfill),” the police chief said.

“Brady was within our skills. Prairie Green is not — it would be closer to a very hazardous archaeological dig, and that’s not a skill that we have.”

Jeremy Skibicki has been charged with first-degree murder in the deaths. He was previously charged with first-degree murder in the death of Rebecca Contois, whose remains were found earlier this year at the Brady Road landfill.

“Many communities, organizations, and public leaders across the nation, are asking for a thorough search to be conducted at the Prairie Green landfill,” Long Plain First Nation, the home community of both Harris and Myran, said in a statement Thursday.

“The families of the three women deserve to have closure. Morgan Harris, Marcedes Myran and Mashkode Bizhiki’ikwe deserve better. Leadership will continue to advocate to have them found and brought back to their home fires.”

Long Plain’s Wilson will appear with AMC Grand Chief Cathey Merrick at a news conference in Ottawa, where Indigenous leaders and families of the victims have been calling for federal assistance with the situation in recent days, on Thursday."

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To be clear, police chief Danny Smyth is refusing to search for the bodies of three Indigenous women who are victims of a (for legal reasons, alleged) serial killer, despite knowing that they are likely there. If the women in question were white, they would be searching that landfill by now. No question.

Their names are Morgan Harris, Marcedes Myran, and an unidentified woman who is being referred to as Mashkode Bizhiki’ikwe (meaning: buffalo woman).

We should all be outraged.

tagging: @allthecanadianpolitics

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polyamorouspunk · 4 months

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to the other anon, i actually have the opposite advice as punk, im in the same visual situation as you and ime conservative cis women are much more dangerous as they perceive anyone with "male" traits + breasts as a perverted man attempting to infringe on women's spaces, and they are extremely likely to call the police and inflict violence unfortunately. i tend to bring a large sweatshirt or hoodie and use the men's room in public, and i get bad looks, but nothing like the physical violence and cop interactions women did to me when i used the women's room as my default, it's gotten way better since i switched.

#punk gets mail #transphobia #cops tw

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ghostly-penumbra · 1 year

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DannyMay 2023. Day Seven

"Weapon"

Ao3

Warning: Cops being pigs.

- - -

“C’mon, man! Are you serious? I’m just a kid!” Dani growled as the cop, the pig, that was pushing her against his car, with her hands against the hood.

“Shut up, twerp!” He snapped at her, patting her roughly with his baton and emptying her hoodie’s pockets.

He wouldn’t find anything incriminating, she had no use for that and outside of getting food and finding places to sleep on (unlike the bench she had just been rudely woken up from), she didn’t care to break the law.

The cop found nothing of interest, she was the only weapon she needed.

#DannyMay2023 #Danny Phantom #Danielle 'Dani' Fenton #DannyMay 2023 #dannymay #day seven #weapon #cops tw #police shit #ghostly-scrypts #drabble

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maurawrites · 1 year

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Taylor Kinney as Kelly Severide in Chicago P.D.

#taylor kinney #taylorkinneyedit #kelly severide #chicago pd #chpdedit #chicagopdedit #onechicagoedit #kellyseverideedit #maura makes things #cops tw #police tw

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braingutzz · 2 months

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cops are fucking crazy

bro went crazy over an acorn i am CONVINCED that he was purposefully trying to just shoot the dude in the car and get away with it by claiming it was an accident

#acab #florida #police #cops tw #cops

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binders-and-beanies · 7 days

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#cops tw #bro I cannot handle one more thing happening istg #got pulled over on my way home after a 13 hour day #was already scared to drive at night and that just confirmed that I’m right to be scared #it was for running a red light n it was one of those situations of just not having time to stop on yellow #I was fully aware as it was happening that I was either going to slam on my brakes in the intersection or run a red and I could see the cop #so I knew I was getting pulled over either way I just hoped the yellow would be longer than .5 seconds. not so lucky #except I also Am so lucky bc he let me off with a warning #ig bc I don’t have any sort of serious history + with it being 420 once he saw I was sober he prob went easier #it’s the second time I’ve been pulled over in my life tho and it’s scary bc this is the first time since the accident #which maybe that was also ok bc it wasn’t my fault #I just know every warning or unlucky moment costs u more in the future if u happen to get unlucky again #like I know I got out of that bc I’m white. it was still a scary moment bc there were multiple cop cars #so it’s like is this guy abt to ruin my life am I gonna lose my license for being at the wrong place wrong time #when I’m already salty to be driving this late involuntarily #so it’s like I got unlucky And very very lucky #I just hate the confirmation that u can get pulled over at any given moment #I constantly rehearse every possible convo w cops in my head bc if u come off disabled u can die #or get arrested or whatever #and then they like don’t follow the script and u didn’t expect this to happen to u today anyway and I get flustered #anyway my point is. I’m fucking exhausted and too many things keep happening #it’s long day after long day w no end in sight rn and I’m like half asleep every day #I just want to sleep. without feeling like I’m already tired tomorrow #it’s too much. just all of it #and on top of it all. it’s 420 so the whole dorm building is basically a cloud of weed #happy u guys are having fun but u are physically harming me in my home #mine #txt #vent post #personal

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razzle-zazzle · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 05: you better pray i don't get up this time around

Debris

1957 Words; Buried Beneath

TW for a dead body, mild gore, discussion of murder, cops

AO3 ver

Frazie was still kneeling by the ditch when her parents found her.

It was a shallow depression in the dirt, almost too small to really be called a ditch. But it was deep enough to hide a body. She couldn’t stop staring at it, at the smashed-up face, at the smear of shimmery red and pink.

It wasn’t Dion’s body. She could at least be sure of that.

(That fact didn’t bring her as much comfort as it should have.)

Everything was a blur after that. Her parents talked to the owner of the fairgrounds, who had shown up to investigate her scream. More people showed up. Her father kept his arms around her shoulders all the way back to their camp, sitting her down in the caravan and asking if she wanted some water.

The owner called the cops. The cops sectioned off the ditch, picking through the leaves looking for evidence. Frazie found herself outside the caravan, all the way at the edge of her family’s camp, being questioned by an officer with a soft voice that wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

“I was looking for my brother,” She explained, “Last I saw he was at the old fence.” The shock was already more than worn off, but it had been replaced with a deep exhaustion. Her words fell out of her mouth slowly, as she worked her way through the events leading up to finding the body.

“And he wasn’t there?” The man asked, scribbling something down on a notepad.

“No.” Frazie confirmed. She wanted to lie down. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up from this dream where dead bodies turned up near fairgrounds and brothers went missing. “I felt his mind out in the woods, so I went looking there next.” And then she’d felt danger-help—and then nothing. She explained as much to the officer, who looked more and more dubious by the second. But it was the truth—she’d been unable to find Dion’s mind at all, and then she’d stumbled on the body.

“Thanks, Miss.” The officer put his notepad away. “We’ll just need you to come down to the station to give your statement in full—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Donatella’s hand was heavy on Frazie’s shoulder. “You’ve already gotten my daughter’s statement, no? My little figlia has had a long enough day.” She stared the officer down for a long, long moment.

Before the officer could formulate a response, a second officer came up. This one had broader shoulders and darker eyes; otherwise, he looked just as interchangeable as the first.

“Ma’am,” The second officer started, as the first one took the chance to sidle away. “We found this near the body.” He held up a plastic bag, “It looks like one of yours.”

“That’s…” Donatella swallowed. “That belongs to my son, yes.” And indeed, there was Dion’s vest, folded in that plastic bag, a leaf stuck to the collar. Frazie would know it anywhere.

Which meant that Dion’s vest had been found near the body. His vest had been found near the body.

Foreboding rose in Frazie’s throat like bile.

“Well,” The officer continued, “It looks to me like your son had something to do with that man’s death.” He snorted, looking at the vest. “Probably tossed this thing ‘cause it was recognizable.” The implications in the man’s words were not lost on Donatella. She opened her mouth to speak—

“He would never!” Frazie interjected. “He’s a jerk and an idiot but he wouldn’t just—” She stared the officer down, as if daring him to refute her words. “Dee wouldn’t just kill someone and leave. He wouldn’t.”

The officer shrugged. “Evidence is evidence, kid.” He sounded like he could care less, and Frazie wanted to punch him. “And as far as the evidence is concerned, your brother was the last person to see that man alive.”

Frazie tensed. She opened her mouth to speak—

“Now now, let’s all calm down,” Augustus’ hand was heavy on her other shoulder, his voice firm but not demanding. “Surely there’s an explanation for all of this.” He turned to the officer.

The cop shrugged. “We won’t know anything unless your son turns up.” He said. “But we’ll continue with our investigation.” He glanced around them, towards the camp. “I’d probably put off any performances, if I were you.”

Augustus’ voice was cordial. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

+=+=+=+=+

Queepie watched the cops mill about below him like ants, his legs swinging in the air. The top of the caravan was the perfect place to get himself some alone time with the radio—and, as he was quickly realizing, it was a great vantage point to watch the proceedings below.

He didn’t like this. Everything had been off since Frazie’s scream, like some awful raincloud had settled down over their family to ruin the whole day. Or the whole week. The men in blue hadn’t entered the camp, yet, but Queepie could see them hovering at the edge, talking to Mom and Dad and Frazie. He didn’t like this. He wanted these people to go away.

He leaned back, staring up at the sky. Wispy white clouds streaked across the slowly-darkening blue. It looked so peaceful up there. Nothing like the chaos down below.

The jingle of bells was the only warning Queepie got before Mirtala hauled herself up over the edge. She walked over and sat down right next to him, letting her legs hang over the edge.

Queepie frowned. “Get your own space.” He insisted, scooting away from her before he could be hit in the face with her braid hoop.

“Do you think Dee’s okay?” Mirtala asked, ignoring Queepie’s annoyance entirely. Her legs swung slowly, the heels of her boots smacking against the caravan.

Queepie turned back to the goings-on below. His brow furrowed. “What’s Dee got to do with anything?”

Mirtala turned to him, then, eyes wide. “They’re saying he killed someone.” She stated so matter-of-factly, like it was something trivial that their brother was being pinned for murder. “That he ran away so he wouldn’t get caught.” Her voice shrunk as she spoke, her arms wrapping around herself.

Queepie startled. That… didn’t sound right. “Why’re they saying that?”

“Because he’s missing.” Mirtala responded. “And they found his vest by the body.”

Body? There was a body? “Where’s the body?” Queepie asked, ready to climb down.

“I already tried looking at it.” Mirtala huffed, her arms crossed. “But the big stupid meanies wouldn’t let me near.” She uncrossed her arms. “But that was a while ago. They probably already took the body away.”

Queepie stuck his tongue out. “Why’d they do that?” He wanted to see the body. It was a dead body, he’d never seen one before, and how cool would it be for him to be able to say that he’d seen a dead body? Morris couldn’t say that.

“‘Cause they’re cops.” Mirtala replied, like that explained anything. “And cops are who you call to get rid of bodies.”

Queepie snorted. Yeah, that sounded right. He’d never really met any cops, but Mom and Dad had carefully walked him through how to talk to officers so that he wouldn’t get in trouble for stupid reasons. Well, they’d said so he wouldn’t get hurt, but Frazie said that if he got hurt it’d be because the cops decided he was trouble.

Queepie let himself lean all the way back, his legs hanging over the edge as he laid down. The sky looked so peaceful up there, free of missing brothers or bustling cops or bodies he couldn’t see. The music from his radio continued to play, like nothing was wrong in the world, like the awful awful feeling permeating the camp wasn’t there—

Queepie wished it could stay that peaceful. Wished he could float up there, among the deep blue and the wispy clouds, free and safe from everything going on below.

But it wasn’t, and he couldn’t.

He kept watching the sky anyway.

+=+=+=+=+

The air was tense.

The fair had been put on a brief halt, but it wasn’t long before the cops were satisfied with their search and festivities resumed. But the Aquatos were stuck at a standstill, unable to perform due to the investigation.

Not that they’d be able to perform to their best, with one of their own missing.

But the lack of shows to prepare for was wearing on everyone—and more than that, the investigation was a headache and a half. The cops had come back with their warrant, like they’d promised, and Augustus and Donatella could only watch as they went through everything. Half of their equipment was still in the cops’ possession as “evidence”—further limiting their ability to perform. The past week had been nothing but headache after headache, worry after worry.

Augustus had not seen Frazie much today. Worry trickled down his spine, even as he kept checking in with her mentally. She was still in the campground, still here and okay, but—

But he could not help but worry.

Augustus checked in on Mirtala and Queepie. They were both in their tent, playing with an old travel game that was missing a few pieces—but more importantly, they were still here and safe—before continuing on into the caravan. Donatella was already in there, talking to someone on the phone.

“No, I don’t know where he is!” Donatella all but shouted into the phone, “I’ve been nothing but worried for days because my son is missing!” She paced as far as the cord would allow, making tight little circles that threatened to wear a hole in the floor. “We’ve answered all of your questions, we’ve let ourselves be subjected to your scrutiny—let our home be raided like some drug den—and we’d like our equipment back, by the way, even if I have to come down to the station and get it all myself!—and we’ve received not a single answer!” She was quiet, for a moment, letting the person on the other end speak their piece—

“Now, you listen here, stronza,” Donatella gripped the receiver so tightly Augustus feared it might break, “I have not gone through this hell of a week just so you can continue to harass my family! You have told us nothing, and done nothing but pry and take! So you can take your pretty words and empty promises and ficcatelo su per il culo!” She slammed the receiver down, her shoulders shaking.

“Figlio di puttana, leccaculo coglione merda porca puttana, vaffanculo—” Donatella muttered. She took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. After a moment, she went over to the caravan door and pushed it open. “I’m getting our things back.”

“Do you want me to come with?” Augustus offered. Donatella paused in the doorway, considering.

“Someone needs to watch the kids, mio caro.” She told him. “And you need to talk to your aunt.”

Augustus nodded. “Of course. Come back safe.”

Donatella nodded. “You know I will.” And then she was gone, the caravan door swinging shut behind her. Augustus traced her mind as she made it to the edge of their camp, through the fairgrounds, off into town—

Augustus turned his attention back to the phone. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He had thought—had hoped—that this whole thing would blow over quickly, that his son would be back and innocent and they’d be able to move on—

But he was rarely so lucky.

Slowly, trying to swallow down the ever-encroaching dread crawling up his throat, Augustus dialed the phone in the Gulch. It rang once, twice—

“Gussy?” Lucrecia answered, “You’re calling earlier than usual.”“M—Aun—Lucrecia,” Oh, he hadn’t stumbled over his words like that in months, “We need to talk.”

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mockingjaysfm · 1 year

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event 001 . 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖊

trigger warnings for guns , murder , execution , police ( peacekeepers ) .

the day has come . . . tributes have been reaped and handed over to the capitol , scandal has ensued and loved ones have stepped forward to volunteer for this year’s hunger games . now , it is time to introduce this crop of tributes to the world in the first of the games’s traditional events ; the tribute parade .

your tribute will be styled to represent their district , offered to the world upon their golden chariots , thrust into superstardom . when the parade ends , your tributes will be escorted through the stables where they will await what comes next .

there’s nothing that the capitol loves more than a party , in fact , it’s all that your prep team can talk about above the excited buzz and chatter of the stables . the center bar has been decked out for a night of celebrations , cocktails and food unlike anything you’ve ever seen ! isn’t it fantastic ?

before the festivities can truly begin however , the lights in the stables flicker , and a collective intake of breath shudders throughout the room . the screens light up with the symbol of panem and we see three familiar faces : TRIFFEL GALLOWEED , TERRA COPVALE , HEATH OVALSON . victors who have been around for years , beloved by districts and the capitol alike . surely the citizens of panem are not seeing this , surely this is just meant for your kind . the dangerous ones . the rebellion .

it happens so quickly . the three victors are forced to their knees by peacekeepers and , one after the other , a bullet is put into each of their heads , and they are gone forever . sobs , shrieks , and an unsettling stillness settles over many of you . what does this mean ? it means that president snow still has the upper hand , that your actions will only hurt those that you love .

now move along , you have a party to get to , and it is mandatory .

the event will begin on monday 27th march at 8pm BST .

please unsure that you have caught up on the latest PLOTDROP and ensure your muse has a connection to the now deceased victors .

feel free to begin plotting threads and posting your muse’s outfits etc .

summary of the event is that tribute parade has taken place and the crowds are ecstatic . however , within the stables after the show , the screens go dark and 3 beloved victors are executed only for your character’s to see . a party is due to begin in the bar on the ground floor which is mandatory , even for your shaken up muses .

you are more than welcome to find a reason for your muse to have been in or out of the stables when this happened if you wish . only mentors , tributes , escorts & stylists are mandatory to be there .

please tag event related posts with mj.event !

have fun !

#appless rp #oc rp #mumu rp #rp #rpg #thg rp #fandom rp #mj.event #guns tw #execution tw #murder tw #police tw #cops tw #mj.one

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